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diff --git a/30477.txt b/30477.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c98a648 --- /dev/null +++ b/30477.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10354 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sign of Silence, by William Le Queux + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Sign of Silence + +Author: William Le Queux + +Release Date: November 15, 2009 [EBook #30477] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SIGN OF SILENCE *** + + + + +Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "'Well,' she asked, 'are you ready?'" (Chap. vi.) + +_The Sign of Silence_] [_Frontispiece_ +] + + + + +THE SIGN + +OF SILENCE + +BY + +WILLIAM LE QUEUX + +_Author of_ + +_"If Sinners Entice Thee," "The Room of Secrets," etc._ + + +WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED + +LONDON, MELBOURNE AND TORONTO + +1917 + + + + +"THE MASTER OF MYSTERY" + + +WILLIAM LE QUEUX'S NOVELS + + +_WORLD'S OPINIONS._ + +EUROPE. + +"Mr. William Le Queux retains his position as 'The Master of Mystery.' +... He is far too skilful to allow pause for thought; he whirls his +readers from incident to incident, holding their attention from the first +page to the close of the book."--_Pall Mall Gazette._ + +"There is no better companion on a railway journey than Mr. William Le +Queux."--_Daily Mail._ + +"Mr. William Le Queux is 'The Master of Mystery.' His reputation is +world-famed."--_Le Matin_ (Paris). + +"Mr. William Le Queux's romances are always enthralling. He is the Master +of the Mystery-story."--_Berliner Tageblatt_ (Berlin). + +"Mr. William Le Queux is the most entrancing and thrilling English +novelist of to-day."--_Neue Freie Presse_ (Vienna). + + +ASIA. + +"We always enjoy Mr. Le Queux's novels. His mysteries are +perfect."--_Englishman_ (Calcutta). + +"Mr. William Le Queux has justly earned the title of 'The Master of +Mystery.'"--_Hong Kong Telegraph._ + + +AFRICA. + +"As a weaver of mysteries, Mr. William Le Queux has surely no equal. To +dash about Europe in his company, hot on the heels of an enigma, is a +pastime both exciting and exhilarating."--_Johannesburg Star._ + + +AMERICA. + +"Mr. William Le Queux's popularity is steadily increasing. No writer has +brought mystery and adventure to such a high degree of art. He never +fails to enthral and entertain us."--_New York Herald._ + +"Mr. William Le Queux's work is always excellent, and always +exciting."--_San Francisco Examiner._ + +"Not without good cause has Mr. Le Queux earned his very apt title, 'The +Master of Mystery.'"--_El Diario_ (Buenos Ayres). + + +AUSTRALIA. + +"Mr. Le Queux is always fresh and original, and one can rely on being +interested and amused by his stories."--_Sydney Morning Herald._ + +"For mystery and sensation Mr. Le Queux cannot be beaten."--_Melbourne +Argus._ + +"Mr. Le Queux's large public are never satisfied. They always crave for +more from his pen."--_Christchurch Weekly Press_ (New Zealand). + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I.--INTRODUCES A GENTLEMAN 7 + + II.--THE SCENT 20 + + III.--DESCRIBES THE TRYSTING-PLACE 35 + + IV.--"DEAR OLD DIG" 45 + + V.--"TIME WILL PROVE" 54 + + VI.--THE PIECE OF CONVICTION 63 + + VII.--FATAL FINGERS 71 + + VIII.--CONTAINS FURTHER EVIDENCE 80 + + IX.--DESCRIBES THE YELLOW SIGN 89 + + X.--CHERCHEZ LA FEMME 97 + + XI.--IN WHICH AN ALLEGATION IS MADE 108 + + XII.--PHRIDA MAKES CONFESSION 117 + + XIII.--THE FUGITIVE'S SECRET 126 + + XIV.--REVEALS A FURTHER DECEPTION 136 + + XV.--AN EFFACED IDENTITY 144 + + XVI.--REVEALS ANOTHER ENIGMA 153 + + XVII.--CONCERNS MRS. PETRE 162 + + XVIII.--DISCLOSES THE TRAP 170 + + XIX.--THE SEAL OF SILENCE 179 + + XX.--FROM THE TOMB 187 + + XXI.--RECORDS A STRANGE STATEMENT 195 + + XXII.--"MARIE BRACQ!" 203 + + XXIII.--LOVE'S CONFESSION 213 + + XXIV.--OFFICIAL SECRECY 222 + + XXV.--FREMY, OF THE SURETE 231 + + XXVI.--SHOWS EXPERT METHODS 239 + + XXVII.--EDWARDS BECOMES MORE PUZZLED 248 + + XXVIII.--FURTHER ADMISSIONS 256 + + XXIX.--THE SELLER OF SHAWLS 265 + + XXX.--FACE TO FACE 274 + + XXXI.--SHOWS THE TRUTH-TELLER 284 + + XXXII.--IS THE CONCLUSION 294 + + + + +THE SIGN OF SILENCE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +INTRODUCES A GENTLEMAN. + + +"Then it's an entire mystery?" + +"Yes, Phrida." + +"But it's astounding! It really seems so utterly impossible," declared my +well-beloved, amazed at what I had just related. + +"I've simply stated hard facts." + +"But there's been nothing about this affair in the papers." + +"For certain reasons the authorities are not exactly anxious for any +publicity. It is a very puzzling problem, and they do not care to own +themselves baffled," I replied. + +"Really, it's the most extraordinary story of London life that I've ever +heard," Phrida Shand declared, leaning forward in her chair, clasping her +small white hands as, with her elbows upon the _table-a-deux_, she looked +at me with her wondrous dark eyes across the bowl of red tulips between +us. + +We were lunching together at the Berkeley, in Piccadilly, one January day +last year, and had just arrived at the dessert. + +"The whole thing is quite bewildering, Teddy--an utter enigma," she +exclaimed in a low, rather strained voice, her pretty, pointed chin +resting upon the back of her hand as she gazed upon me from beneath those +long, curved lashes. + +"I quite agree," was my answer. "The police are mystified, and so am I. +Sir Digby Kemsley is my friend, you know." + +"I remember," she said. "You once introduced me--at the opening of the +Motor Show at Olympia, I believe. A very brilliant and famous man, isn't +he?" + +"Rather! A famous engineer. He made the new railway across the Andes, and +possesses huge rubber interests in Peru. His name, both in Seina and +Valparaiso, is one to conjure with," was my reply; "but----" + +"But what?" queried my well-beloved. + +"Well, there's one fact which greatly increases the mystery--a fact which +is yet to be told." + +"What's that?" she asked eagerly. + +I hesitated. + +"Well, I've been making inquiries this morning," I replied with some +reluctance, "and I learn to my blank amazement that there is no such +person as my friend." + +"No such person!" she echoed, staring at me, her lips parted. Being +seated in a corner, no one could overhear our conversation. "I don't +follow you!" + +"Well, Sir Digby died somewhere in South America about a year ago," was +my quiet response. + +"What? Was your friend a fraud, eh?" + +"Apparently so. And yet, if he was, he must have been a man of marvellous +cunning and subterfuge," I said. "He was most popular at the club, known +at the Ritz and the Savoy, and other places about town." + +"He struck me as a man of great refinement--a gentleman, in fact," Phrida +said. "I recollect him perfectly: tall, rather thin, with a pointed, grey +beard, a long, oval face, and thinnish, grey hair. A very lithe, erect +man, whose polite, elegant manner was that of a diplomat, and in whose +dark eyes was an expression of constant merriment and good humour. He +spoke with a slight accent--Scotch, isn't it?" + +"Exactly. You remember him perfectly, dear. A most excellent +description," I said; "and that same description has been circulated this +morning to every police office throughout the United Kingdom, as well as +to the prefectures of police in all the European capitals. All the ports +are being watched, as it is expected he may make his way abroad." + +"But what do the authorities suspect?" asked Phrida, with a serious look. + +"Ah, that's just it! They haven't yet decided what to suspect." + +I looked across at her and thought, though slightly more pale than usual, +she had never appeared more charming. + +Sweet-faced, slim, with a soft, sibilant voice, and dainty to her +finger-tips, she did not look more than nineteen, though her age was +twenty-four. How shall I describe her save to say that her oval, +well-defined features were perfect, her dark, arched brows gave piquancy +to a countenance that was remarked wherever she went, a merry face, with +a touch of impudence in her smile--the face of an essentially London +girl. + +Only daughter of my father's late partner, James Shand, we had been +friends from childhood, and our friendship had, three years ago, +blossomed into a deep and mutual affection. Born and bred in Kensington, +she cared little for country life. She loved her London, its throbbing +streets, its life and movement, its concerts, its bright restaurants, +and, most of all, its theatres--for she was an ardent playgoer. + +My father, Edward Royle, was head of the firm of well-known chemical +manufacturers, Messrs. Royle and Shand, whose works were a feature of the +river landscape close to Greenwich, and whose offices were in St. Mary +Axe. He had died two years before, pre-deceasing his partner by a year. +The business--a big one, for we were the largest chemical manufacturers +in England--had been left solely in my hands. Shand's widow still lived +with Phrida in Cromwell Road, drawing from it an income of seven thousand +pounds yearly. + +As for myself, I was a bachelor, aged thirty-two, and if golf be a vice I +was greatly addicted to it. I occupied a cosy set of chambers, half-way +up Albemarle Street, and am thankful to say that in consequence of my +father's business acumen, my balance at my bankers was increasing +annually. At the works at Greenwich nearly two thousand hands were +employed, and it had always been the firm's proud boast that they +laboured under the most healthy conditions possible to secure in the +manufacture of chemicals. + +My father, upon his deathbed, had held my hand and expressed to me his +profoundest satisfaction at my engagement with the daughter of his +partner, and almost with his last breath had pronounced a blessing upon +our union. + +Yes, I loved Phrida--loved her with all my heart and all my soul. She was +mine--mine for ever. + +Yet, as I sat at that little table in the white-enamelled restaurant +gazing at her across the bowl of tulips, I felt a strange, a very curious +misgiving, an extraordinary misty suspicion, for which I could not in the +least account. + +I experienced a strange intuition of doubt and vague uncertainty. + +The facts we had just been discussing were, to say the least, amazing. + +Only the Metropolitan Police and myself were aware of the astounding +discovery which had been made that morning--a discovery of which the +ever-vigilant London evening newspapers had as yet no inkling. + +The affair was being carefully hushed up. In certain quarters--high +official quarters, I believe--a flutter of excitement had been caused at +noon, when it had become known that a mystery had occurred, one which at +the outset New Scotland Yard had acknowledged itself utterly without a +clue. + +About the affair there was nothing usual, nothing commonplace. The murder +mysteries of London always form exciting reading, for it is surely the +easiest work of the practised journalist to put forward from day to day +fresh clues and exciting propositions. + +The present case, however, was an entirely fresh and unheard-of mystery, +one such as London had never before known. + +In the whole annals of Scotland Yard no case presenting such unusual +features had previously been reported. + +"Have you no theory as to what really occurred?" Phrida asked slowly, +after a very long and pensive silence. + +"None whatever, dear," I replied. + +What theory could I form? Aye, what indeed? + +In order that the exact truth should be made entirely plain to the reader +and the mystery viewed in all its phases, it will be best for me to +briefly record the main facts prior to entering upon any detail. + +The following were the circumstances exactly as I knew them. + +At twenty-five minutes to ten on the previous night--the night of January +the sixth--I was at home in Albemarle Street, writing letters. Haines, my +man, had gone out, and I was alone, when the telephone bell rang. Taking +up the receiver I heard the cheery voice of Sir Digby Kemsley asking what +I was doing. My prompt reply was that I was staying at home that night, +whereupon his voice changed and he asked me in great earnestness to come +over to his flat in Harrington Gardens, South Kensington, at eleven +o'clock. + +"And look here," he added in a confidential tone, "the outside door will +be closed at half-past ten and the porter off duty. I'll go down just +before eleven and leave the door ajar. Don't let anyone see you come in. +Be extremely careful. I have reasons I'll explain afterwards." + +"Right," I replied, and shut off. + +His request seemed just a little curious. It struck me that he perhaps +wished to consult with me over some private matter, as he had done once +before. Therefore, just before eleven I hailed a taxi in Piccadilly and +drove westward past Gloucester Road Station, and into the quiet, +eminently select neighbourhood where my friend lived. + +At eleven o'clock Harrington Gardens--that long thoroughfare of big +rather gloomy houses, most of them residences of City merchants, or town +houses or flats of people who have seats in the country--was as silent as +the grave, and my taxi awoke its echoes until, about half way up, I +stopped the man, alighted, and paid him off. + +Then, after walking a couple of hundred yards, I found the door ajar and +slipped into the hall unobserved. + +Ascending the wide carpeted steps to the second floor, the door of the +flat was opened noiselessly by the owner himself, and a few seconds later +I found myself seated before a big fire in his snug sitting-room. + +My friend's face was grey and entirely changed, yet his manner was still +as polished, cheery, and buoyant as ever. + +The flat--quite a small one, though very expensive as he had once +remarked to me--was furnished throughout with elegance and taste. Upon +its walls everywhere hung curios and savage arms, which he had brought +from various parts of the world. The drawing-room was furnished entirely +in Arab style, with cedar-wood screens, semi-circular arches, low, soft +divans and silken rugs, which he had bought in Egypt, while, in contrast, +the little den in which we were sitting at that moment was panelled in +white with an old-rose carpet, rendering it essentially bright and +modern. + +The tall, grey-bearded, elegant man handed me a box of Perfectos Finos, +from which we selected, and then, throwing myself into a chair, I slowly +lit up. + +His back was turned from me at the moment, as he leaned over the +writing-table apparently gathering up some papers which he did not desire +that I should see. He was facing a circular mirror on the wall, and in it +I could see his countenance reflected. The expression upon his +face--cold, cynical, sinister--startled me. He placed the papers in a +drawer and locked it with a key upon his chain. + +"Well?" I asked. "Why all this confounded mystery, Digby?" + +He turned upon me quickly, his long face usually so full of merriment, +grey and drawn. I saw instantly that something very serious was amiss. + +"I--I want to ask your advice, Royle," he replied in a hard voice scarce +above a whisper. Walking to the pretty rug of old-rose and pale green +silk spread before the fire he stood upon it, facing me. "And--well, +truth to tell, I don't want it to be known that you've been here +to-night, old fellow." + +"Why?" + +"For certain private reasons--very strong reasons." + +"As you wish, my dear chap," was my response, as I drew at his perfect +cigar. + +Then he looked me straight in the face and said: "My motive in asking you +here to-night, Royle, is to beg of you to extend your valued friendship +to me at a moment which is the greatest crisis of my career. The fact is, +I've played the game of life falsely, and the truth must out, +unless--unless you will consent to save me." + +"I don't follow you," I said, staring at him. "What in heaven's name do +you mean?" + +"My dear boy, I'll put my cards down on the table at once," he said in a +slow, deep tone. "Let's see--we've known each other for nearly a year. +You have been my best friend, entirely devoted to my interests--a staunch +friend, better than whom no man could ever desire. In return I've lied to +you, led you to believe that I am what I am not. Why? Because--well, I +suppose I'm no different to any other man--or woman for the matter of +that--I have a skeleton in my cupboard--a grim skeleton, my dear Royle. +One which I've always striven to hide--until to-night," he added with +emotion. + +"But that hardly interferes with our friendship, does it? We all of us +have our private affairs, both of business and of heart," I said. + +"The heart," he echoed bitterly. "Ah! yes--the heart. You, my dear boy, +are a man of the world. You understand life. You are never +narrow-minded--eh?" he asked, advancing a step nearer to me. + +"I hope not," I said. "At any rate, I've always been your friend, ever +since our first meeting on the steamer on the Lake of Garda, last +February." + +The eminent engineer rolled his cigar between his fingers, and calmly +contemplated it in silence. + +Then, quite abruptly, he exclaimed: + +"Royle, my present misfortune is due to a woman." + +"Ah!" I sighed. "A woman! Always a woman in such cases! Well?" + +"Mind you, I don't blame her in the least," he went on quickly, "I--I was +hot-tempered, and I miscalculated her power. We quarrelled, and--and she, +though so young, refined and pretty, has arisen to crush me." + +"Anyone I know?" + +"No. I think not," was his slow reply, his dark eyes gazing full into +mine as he still stood astride upon the hearthrug. + +Then he fidgeted uneasily, stroked his well-clipped grey beard with his +strong, bronzed hand, and strode across the room and back again. + +"Look here, Royle," he exclaimed at last. "You're my friend, so I may as +well speak straight out. Will you help me?" + +"Certainly--if I can." + +"I'm in a hole--a confounded hole. I've been worried ever since I got +back from Egypt just before Christmas. Only you can save me." + +"Me! Why?" + +"I want you to remain my friend; to still believe in me, when--well--when +I've gone under," he answered brokenly, his brows contracting as he +spoke. + +"I don't understand you." + +"Then I'll speak more plainly. To-night is the last time we shall meet. +I've played the game, I tell you--and I've lost!" + +"You seem horribly hipped about something to-night, my dear fellow!" I +exclaimed in wonder at his strange words. In all my circle of friends no +man was more level-headed than Sir Digby Kemsley. + +"Yes, I'm not quite myself. Perhaps you wouldn't be, Royle, in the same +circumstances." Halting, he stood erect with his hands clasped behind his +back. Even then, at that moment of despair, he presented the fine figure +of a man in his well-cut dinner clothes and the single ruby in his pique +shirt-front. "I want to entrust a secret to you--a great secret," he went +on a few seconds later. "I tell you that to-night is the last occasion +we shall ever meet, but I beg--may I implore you to judge me with +leniency, to form no unjust conclusions, and when you remember me to +regard my memory as that of a man who was not a rogue, but a victim of +untoward circumstances." + +"Really, my dear fellow," I said, "you speak in enigmas. What do you +mean--you intend what?" + +"That matters nothing to you, Royle," was his hoarse reply. "I merely ask +for your continued friendship. I ask that you will treat my successor +here in the exact manner in which you have treated me--that you will +become his firm friend--and that you will perform for me one great and +most important service." + +"Your successor! Who will succeed you? You have no son!" + +"No, I have no male relation whatever," he replied. "But we were speaking +of the favour I am begging of you to perform for me. On the fourteenth of +January I shall not be here, but it is highly necessary that on that +evening, at eight o'clock, a secret message should be delivered into the +hands of a certain lady--a message from myself. Will you do it?" + +"Certainly. Are you going abroad again?" + +"I--well, I can hardly tell. I may be dead by then--who knows?" And he +smiled grimly. + +He returned to his writing-table, unlocked a drawer, and took therefrom a +letter which was carefully sealed with black wax. + +"Now, listen," he said, holding the letter in his fingers; "on the night +of the fourteenth, just at eight o'clock precisely, go to the Piccadilly +tube station, stand at the telephone box numbered four on the Haymarket +side, when a lady in black will approach you and ask news of me. In +response you will give her this note. But there is a further condition: +you may be watched and recognised, therefore be extremely careful that +you are not followed on that day, and, above all, adopt some effective +disguise. Go there dressed as a working-man, I would suggest." + +"That request, Kemsley, is certainly a very queer one," I remarked. "Is +she _the_ lady?" + +He smiled, and I took that as an affirmative. + +"You say she'll be dressed in black. Lots of ladies dress in black. I +might mistake her." + +"Not very likely. I forgot to tell you that she will wear a small spray +of mimosa." + +"Ah, that shows originality," I remarked. "Mimosa is not often worn on +the person." + +"It will serve as a distinguishing mark." Then, after a pause, he added, +handing me the letter: "There is one further request I want to make--or, +at least, I want you to give me your promise, Royle. I ask you to make a +solemn vow to me that if any suspicion arises within your mind, that you +will believe nothing without absolute and decisive proof. I mean that you +will not misjudge her." + +"I certainly will not." + +"Your hand upon it?" + +I put forth my hand and, gripping his warmly, gave him my word of honour. + +"I hope you will never regret this, Royle," he said in an earnest tone. + +"We are friends," I remarked simply. + +"And I trust, Royle, you will never regret the responsibility which you +have accepted on my behalf," he said in a deep, hard voice--the voice of +a desperate man. "Remember to treat my successor exactly as you have +treated me. Be his best friend, as he will be yours. You will be +astonished, amazed, mystified, no doubt, at the events which must, alas! +inevitably occur. But it is not my fault, Royle, believe me," he declared +with solemn emphasis. "It is, alas! my misfortune!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE SCENT. + + +After giving me the letter, and receiving my assurance that it would be +safely delivered, Sir Digby's spirits seemed somewhat to revive. + +He chatted in his old, good-humoured style, drank a whisky and soda, and, +just before one o'clock, let me out, urging me to descend the stairs +noiselessly lest the hall-porter should know that he had had a visitor. + +Time after time I had questioned him regarding his strange reference to +his successor, but to all my queries he was entirely dumb. He had, I +recollected, never been the same since his return from a flying visit to +Egypt. + +"The future will, no doubt, astound you, but I know, Royle, that you are +a man of honour and of your word, and that you will keep your promise at +all hazards," was all he would reply. + +The secrecy with which I had entered and left caused me considerable +curiosity. Kemsley was one of those free, bluff, open-hearted, +open-handed, men. He was never secretive, never elusive. I could only +account for his curious, mystifying actions by the fact that the +reputation of a woman was at stake--that he was acting for her +protection. + +And I was to meet that woman face to face in eight days' time! + +As I walked towards Gloucester Road Station--where I hoped to find a +taxi--all was silence. At that hour the streets of South Kensington are +as deserted as a graveyard, and as I bent towards the cutting wind from +the east, I wondered who could be the mysterious woman who had broken up +my dear friend's future plans. Yet he bore her no malice. Some men's +temperaments are really curious. + +Beneath a street-lamp I paused and looked at the superscription upon the +envelope. It ran: + + "For E. P. K." + +The initial K! Was the lady Digby's wife? That was the suspicion which at +once fell upon me, and by which I became convinced. + +At half-past one o'clock I let myself into my own flat in Albemarle +Street. The faithful Haines, who had been a marine wardroom servant in +the navy before entering my employ, was awaiting me. + +"The telephone bell rang ten minutes ago, sir," he said. "Sir Digby +Kemsley wishes to speak to you." + +"Very well!" I replied. "You can go to bed." + +The man placed my tray with whisky and soda upon the little table near my +chair, as was his habit, and, wishing me good-night, retired. + +I went to the telephone, and asked for Digby's number. + +After a few seconds a voice, which at first I failed to recognise, +replied to mine: + +"I say, Royle; I'm so sorry to disturb you, old chap, but could you +possibly come back here at once?" + +"What?" I asked, very surprised. "Is it so very important? Can't it wait +till to-morrow?" + +"No, unfortunately it can't. It's most imperative that I should see you. +Something has happened. Do come!" he begged. "But don't attract +attention--you understand!" + +"Something happened!" I echoed. "What?" + +"That woman. Come at once--do, there's a good fellow. Will you--for my +sake and hers?" + +The mention of the woman decided me, so I replied "All right!" and hung +up the receiver. + +Within half an hour I alighted in Courtfield Gardens and walked up +Harrington Gardens to the door of my friend's house, which I saw was +already ajar in anticipation of my arrival. + +Closing the door noiselessly, in order not to attract the attention of +the alert porter who lived in the basement, I crept up the carpeted +stairs to the door of the flat, which I found also ajar. + +Having closed the door, I slipped into the hall and made my way to the +warm, cosy room I had left earlier that night. + +The door was closed, and without ceremony I turned the handle. + +I threw it open laughingly in order to surprise my friend, but next +instant halted in amazement upon the threshold. + +I stood there breathless, staring in speechless wonder, and drawing back. + +"I'm really very sorry!" I exclaimed. "I thought Sir Digby was here!" + +The man who had risen from his chair and bowed when I opened the door was +about the same build, but, apparently, a trifle younger. He had iron-grey +hair and a pointed beard, but his face was more triangular, with higher +cheek-bones, and eyes more brilliant and deeper set. + +His thin countenance relaxed into a pleasant smile as he replied in a +calm, suave voice: + +"I am Sir Digby Kemsley, and you--I believe--are Mr. Edward Royle--my +friend--my very intimate friend--are you not?" + +"You!" I gasped, staring at him. + +And then, for several seconds I failed to articulate any further words. +The imposture was so utterly barefaced. + +"You are not Sir Digby Kemsley," I went on angrily at last. "What trick +is this?" + +"No trick whatever, my dear Royle," was the man's quiet reply as he stood +upon the hearthrug in the same position in which my friend had stood an +hour before. "I tell you that my name is Kemsley--Sir Digby Kemsley." + +"Then you assert that this flat is yours?" + +"Most certainly I do." + +"Bosh! How can you expect me to believe such a transparent tale?" I cried +impatiently. "Where is my friend?" + +"I am your friend, my dear Royle!" he laughed. + +"You're not." + +"But did you not, only an hour ago, promise him to treat his successor in +the same manner in which you had treated himself?" the man asked very +slowly, his high, deep-set eyes fixed upon me with a crafty, almost +snake-like expression, an expression that was distinctly one of evil. + +"True, I did," was my quick reply. "But I never bargained for this +attempted imposture." + +"I tell you it is no imposture!" declared the man before me. "You will, +perhaps, understand later. Have a cigar," and he took up Digby's box and +handed it to me. + +I declined very abruptly, and without much politeness, I fear. + +I was surveying the man who, with such astounding impudence, was +attempting to impose upon me a false identity. There was something +curiously striking in his appearance, but what it was I could not exactly +determine. His speech was soft and educated, in a slightly higher pitch +than my friend's; his hands white and carefully manicured, yet, as he +stood, I noted that his left shoulder was slightly higher than the other, +that his dress clothes ill-fitted him in consequence; that in his +shirt-front were two rare, orange-coloured gems such as I had never seen +before, and, further, that when I caught him side face, it much resembled +Digby's, so aquiline as to present an almost birdlike appearance. + +"Look here!" I exclaimed in anger a few moments later. "Why have you +called me over here? When you spoke to me your voice struck me as +peculiar, but I put it down to the distortion of sound on the telephone." + +"I wanted to see if you recognised my other self," he answered with a +smile. + +"At this late hour? Couldn't you have postponed your ghastly joke till +the morning?" I asked. + +"Joke!" he echoed, his face suddenly pale and serious. "This is no joke, +Royle, but a very serious matter. The most serious that can occur in any +man's life." + +"Well, what is it? Tell me the truth." + +"You shall know that later." + +"Where is Sir Digby?" + +"Here! I am Sir Digby, I tell you." + +"I mean my friend." + +"I am your friend," was the man's response, as he turned away towards the +writing-table. "The friend you first met on the Lake of Garda." + +"Now, why all this secrecy?" I asked. "I was first called here and warned +not to show myself, and, on arrival, find you here." + +"And who else did you expect to find?" he asked with a faint smile. + +"I expected to find my friend." + +"But I am your friend," he asserted. "You promised me only an hour ago +that you would treat my successor exactly as you treated me. And," he +added, "I am my own successor!" + +I stood much puzzled. + +There were certain features in his countenance that were much like +Digby's, and certain tones in his voice that were the same. His hands +seemed the same, too, and yet he was not Digby himself. + +"How can I believe you if you refuse to be frank and open with me?" I +asked. + +"You promised me, Royle, and a good deal depends upon your promise," he +replied, looking me squarely in the face. "Perhaps even your own +future." + +"My future!" I echoed. "What has that to do with you, pray?" I demanded +angrily. + +"More than you imagine," was his low response, his eyes fixed upon mine. + +"Well, all I know is that you are endeavouring to make me believe that +you are what you are not. Some evil purpose is, no doubt, behind it all. +But such an endeavour is an insult to my intelligence," I declared. + +The man laughed a low, harsh laugh and turned away. + +"I demand to know where my friend is!" I cried, stepping after him across +the room, and facing him again. + +"My dear Royle," he replied, in that curious, high-pitched voice, yet +with a calm, irritating demeanour. "Haven't I already told you I am your +friend?" + +"It's a lie! You are not Sir Digby!" I cried angrily. "I shall inform the +police that I've found you usurping his place and name, and leave them to +solve the mystery." + +"Act just as you think fit, my dear old fellow," he laughed. "Perhaps the +police might discover more than you yourself would care for them to +know." + +His words caused me to ponder. At what could he be hinting? + +He saw my hesitancy, and with a sudden movement placed his face close to +me, saying: + +"My dear fellow look--look into my countenance, you surely can penetrate +my disguise. It cannot be so very perfect, surely." + +I looked, but turned from him in disgust. + +"No. Stop this infernal fooling!" I cried. "I've never seen you before in +my life." + +He burst out laughing--laughed heartily, and with genuine amusement. + +His attitude held me in surprise. + +"You refuse to be my friend, Royle--but I desire to be yours, if you will +allow me," he said. + +"I can have no friend whom I cannot trust," I repeated. + +"Naturally. But I hope you will soon learn to trust me," was his quiet +retort. "I called you back to-night in order to see if you--my most +intimate friend--would recognise me. But you do not. I am, therefore, +safe--safe to go forth and perform a certain mission which it is +imperative that I should perform." + +"You are fooling me," I declared. + +For a second he looked straight and unflinchingly into my eyes, then with +a sudden movement he drew the left cuff of his dress shirt up to the +elbow and held out his forearm for me to gaze upon. + +I looked. + +Then I stood dumbfounded, for half-way up the forearm, on the inside, was +the cicatrice of an old knife wound which long ago, he had told me, had +been made by an Indian in South America who had attempted to kill him, +and whom he had shot in self-defence. + +"You believe me now?" he asked, in a voice scarce above a whisper. + +"Of course," I said. "Pardon me, Digby--but this change in your +personality is marvellous--almost superhuman!" + +"So I've been told before," he replied lightly. + +"But, really, didn't you penetrate it?" he asked, resuming his normal +voice. + +"No. I certainly did not," I answered, and helping myself to a drink, +swallowed it. + +"Well?" I went on. "What does this mean?" + +"At present I can't exactly tell you what I intend doing," he replied. +"To-night I wanted to test you, and have done so. It's late now," he +added, glancing at the clock, which showed it to be half-past two o'clock +in the morning. "Come in to-morrow at ten, will you?" he asked. "I want +to discuss the future with you very seriously. I have something to say +which concerns your own future, and which also closely concerns a friend +of yours. So come in your own interests, Royle--now don't fail, I beg of +you!" + +"But can't you tell me to-night," I asked. + +"Not until I know something of what my own movements are to be," he +replied. "I cannot know before to-morrow," he replied with a mysterious +air. "So if you wish to be forewarned of an impending peril, come and see +me and I will then explain. We shall, no doubt, be on closer terms +to-morrow. _Au revoir_," and he took my hand warmly and then let me out. + +The rather narrow, ill-lit staircase, the outer door of which had been +shut for hours, was close and stuffy, but as I descended the second +flight and was about to pass along the hall to the door, I distinctly +heard a movement in the shadow where, on my left, the hall continued +along to the door of the ground-floor flat. + +I peered over the banisters, but in the darkness could distinguish +nothing. + +That somebody was lurking there I instantly felt assured, and next +moment the truth became revealed by two facts. + +The first was a light, almost imperceptible noise, the jingle of a +woman's bangles, and, secondly, the faint odour of some subtle perfume, a +sweet, intoxicating scent such as my nostrils had never greeted before. + +For the moment I felt surprise, but as the hidden lady was apparently +standing outside the ground-floor flat--perhaps awaiting admittance--I +felt it to be no concern of mine, and proceeding, opened the outer door +and passed outside, closing it quietly after me. + +An unusually sweet perfume one can seldom forget. Even out in the keen +night air that delightful odour seemed to cling to my memory--the latest +creation of the Rue de la Paix, I supposed. + +Well, I duly returned home to Albemarle Street once again, utterly +mystified. + +What did it all mean? Why had Digby adopted such a marvellous disguise? +What did he mean by saying that he wished to stand my friend and +safeguard me from impending evil? + +Yes, it was all a mystery--but surely not so great a mystery as that +which was to follow. Ah! had I but suspected the astounding truth how +very differently would I have acted! + +Filled with curiosity regarding Digby's strange forebodings, I alighted +from a taxi in Harrington Gardens at a quarter to eleven that same +morning, but on entering found the uniformed hall-porter in a great state +of excitement and alarm. + +"Oh, sir!" he cried breathlessly, advancing towards me. "You're a friend +of Sir Digby's sir. The police are upstairs. Something extraordinary has +happened." + +"The police!" I gasped. "Why, what's happened?" + +"Well, sir. As his man left the day before yesterday, my wife went up to +Sir Digby's flat as usual this morning about eight, and put him his early +cup of tea outside his door. But when she went in again she found he had +not taken it into his room. She believed him to be asleep, so not till +ten o'clock did she go into the sitting-room to draw up the blinds, when, +to her horror, she found a young lady, a perfect stranger, lying +stretched on the floor there! She rushed down and told me, and I went up. +I found that Sir Digby's bed hadn't been slept in, and that though the +poor girl was unconscious, she was still breathing. So I at once called +in the constable on point duty at the corner of Collingham Road, and he +'phoned to the police station." + +"But the girl--is she dead?" I inquired quickly. + +"I don't know, sir. You'd better go upstairs. There's an inspector, two +plain-clothes men, and a doctor up there." + +He took me up in the lift, and a few moments later I stood beside Digby's +bed, whereon the men had laid the inanimate form of a well-dressed girl +whom I judged to be about twenty-two, whose dark hair, unbound, lay in +disorder upon the pillow. The face, white as marble, was handsome and +clean cut, but upon it, alas! was the ashen hue of death, the pale lips +slightly parted as though in a half-sarcastic smile. + +The doctor was bending over her making his examination. + +I looked upon her for a moment, but it was a countenance which I had +never seen before. Digby had many lady friends, but I had never seen her +among them. She was a perfect stranger. + +Her gown was of dark blue serge, smartly made, and beneath her coat she +wore a cream silk blouse with deep sailor collar open at the neck, and a +soft flowing bow of turquoise blue. This, however, had been disarranged +by the doctor in opening her blouse to listen to her breathing, and I saw +that upon it was a small crimson stain. + +Yes, she was remarkably good-looking, without a doubt. + +When I announced myself as an intimate friend of Sir Digby Kemsley, the +inspector at once took me into the adjoining room and began to eagerly +question me. + +With him I was perfectly frank; but I said nothing regarding my second +visit there in the night. + +My gravest concern was the whereabouts of my friend. + +"This is a very curious case, Mr. Royle," declared the inspector. "The +C.I.D. men have established one fact--that another woman was with the +stranger here in the early hours of this morning. This hair-comb"--and he +showed me a small side-comb of dark green horn--"was found close beside +her on the floor. Also a couple of hair-pins, which are different to +those in the dead woman's hair. There was a struggle, no doubt, and the +woman got away. In the poor girl's hair are two tortoiseshell +side-combs." + +"But what is her injury?" I asked breathlessly. + +"She's been stabbed," he replied. "Let's go back." + +Together we re-entered the room, but as we did so we saw that the doctor +had now left the bedside, and was speaking earnestly with the two +detectives. + +"Well, doctor?" asked the inspector in a low voice. + +"She's quite dead--murder, without a doubt," was his reply. "The girl was +struck beneath the left breast--a small punctured wound, but fatal!" + +"The woman who left this hair-comb behind knows something about the +affair evidently," exclaimed the inspector. "We must first discover Sir +Digby Kemsley. He seems to have been here up until eleven o'clock last +night. Then he mysteriously disappeared, and the stranger entered unseen, +two very curious and suspicious circumstances. I wonder who the poor girl +was?" + +The two detectives were discussing the affair in low voices. Here was a +complete and very remarkable mystery, which, from the first, the police +told me they intended to keep to themselves, and not allow a syllable of +it to leak out to the public through the newspapers. + +A woman had been there! + +Did there not exist vividly in my recollection that strange encounter in +the darkness of the stairs? The jingle of the golden bangles, and the +sweet odour of that delicious perfume? + +But I said nothing. I intended that the police should prosecute their +inquiries, find my friend, and establish the identity of the mysterious +girl who had met with such an untimely end presumably at the hands of +that woman who had been lurking in the darkness awaiting my departure. + +Truly it was a mystery, a most remarkable problem among the many which +occur each week amid the amazing labyrinth of humanity which we term +London life. + +Sir Digby Kemsley had disappeared. Where? + +Half an hour after noon I had left Harrington Gardens utterly bewildered, +and returned to Albemarle Street, and at half-past one met Phrida at the +Berkeley, where, as I have already described, we lunched together. + +I had revealed to her everything under seal of the secrecy placed upon me +by the police--everything save that suspicion I had had in the darkness, +and the suspicion the police also held--the suspicion of a woman. + +Relation of the curious affair seemed to have unnerved her. She had +become paler and was fidgeting with her serviette. Loving me so +devotedly, she seemed to entertain vague and ridiculous fears regarding +my own personal safety. + +"It was very foolish and hazardous of you to have returned there at that +hour, dear," she declared with sweet solicitation, as she drew on her +white gloves preparatory to leaving the restaurant, for I had already +paid the bill and drained my liqueur-glass. + +"I don't see why," I said. "Whatever could have happened to me, when----" + +My sentence remained unfinished. + +I held my breath. The colour must have left my cheeks, I know. + +My well-beloved had at that moment opened her handbag and taken out her +wisp of lace handkerchief. + +My nostrils were instantly filled with that same sweet, subtle perfume +which I so vividly recollected, the identical perfume of the woman +concealed in that dark passage-way! + +Her bangles, two thin gold ones, jingled as she moved--that same sound +which had come up to me from the blackness. I sat like a statue, staring +at her amazed, aghast, like a man in a dream. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +DESCRIBES THE TRYSTING-PLACE. + + +I drove Phrida back to Cromwell Road in a taxi. + +As I sat beside her, that sweet irritating perfume filled my senses, +almost intoxicating me. For some time I remained silent; then, unable to +longer restrain my curiosity, I exclaimed with a calm, irresponsible air, +though with great difficulty of self-restraint: + +"What awfully nice perfume you have, dearest! Surely it's new, isn't it? +I never remember smelling it before!" + +"Quite new, and rather delicious, don't you think? My cousin Arthur +brought it from Paris a few days ago. I only opened the bottle last +night. Mother declared it to be the sweetest she's ever smelt. It's so +very strong that one single drop is sufficient." + +"What do they call it?" + +"Parfait d'Amour. Lauzan, in the Place Vendome, makes it. It's quite new, +and not yet on the market, Arthur said. He got it--a sample bottle--from +a friend of his in the perfume trade." + +Not on the market! Those words of hers condemned her. Little did she +dream that I had smelt that same sweet, subtle odour as I descended the +stairs from Sir Digby's flat. She, no doubt, had recognised my silhouette +in the half darkness, yet nevertheless she felt herself quite safe, +knowing that I had not seen her. + +Why had she been lurking there? + +A black cloud of suspicion fell upon me. She kept up a desultory +conversation as we went along Piccadilly in the dreary gloom of that dull +January afternoon, but I only replied in monosyllables, until at length +she remarked: + +"Really, Teddy, you're not thinking of a word I'm saying. I suppose your +mind is centred upon your friend--the man who has turned out to be an +impostor." + +The conclusion of that sentence and its tone showed a distinct +antagonism. + +It was true that the man whom I had known as Sir Digby Kemsley--the man +who for years past had been so popular among a really good set in +London--was according to the police an impostor. + +The detective-inspector had told me so. From the flat in Harrington +Gardens the men of the Criminal Investigation Department had rung up New +Scotland Yard to make their report, and about noon, while I was resting +at home in Albemarle Street, I was told over the telephone that my whilom +friend was not the man I had believed him to be. + +As I had listened to the inspector's voice, I heard him say: + +"There's another complication of this affair, Mr. Royle. Your friend +could not have been Sir Digby Kemsley, for that gentleman died suddenly a +year ago, at Huacho, in Peru. There was some mystery about his death, it +seems, for it was reported by the British Consul at Lima. Inspector +Edwards, of the C.I. Department, will call upon you this afternoon. What +time could you conveniently be at home?" + +I named five o'clock, and that appointment I intended, at all hazards, to +keep. + +The big, heavily-furnished drawing-room in Cromwell Road was dark and +sombre as I stood with Phrida, who, bright and happy, pulled off her +gloves and declared to her mother--that charming, sedate, grey-haired, +but wonderfully preserved, woman--that she had had such "a jolly lunch." + +"I saw the Redmaynes there, mother," she was saying. "Mr. Redmayne has +asked us to lunch with them at the Carlton next Tuesday. Can we go?" + +"I think so, dear," was her mother's reply. "I'll look at my +engagements." + +"Oh, do let's go! Ida is coming home from her trip to the West Indies. I +do want to see her so much." + +Strange it was that my well-beloved, in face of that amazing mystery, +preserved such an extraordinary, nay, an astounding, calm. I was thinking +of the little side-comb of green horn, for I had seen her wearing a pair +exactly similar! + +Standing by I watched her pale sweet countenance, full of speechless +wonder. + +After the first moment of suspense she had found herself treading firm +ground, and now, feeling herself perfectly secure, she had assumed a +perfectly frank and confident attitude. + +Yet the perfume still arose to my nostrils--the sweet, subtle scent which +had condemned her. + +I briefly related to Mrs. Shand my amazing adventures of the previous +night, my eyes furtively upon Phrida's countenance the while. Strangely +enough, she betrayed no guilty knowledge, but fell to discussing the +mystery with ease and common-sense calm. + +"What I can't really make out is how your friend could have had the +audacity to pose as Sir Digby Kemsley, well knowing that the real person +was alive," she remarked. + +"The police have discovered that Sir Digby died in Peru last January," I +said. + +"While your friend was in London?" + +"Certainly. My friend--I shall still call him Sir Digby, for I have known +him by no other name--has not been abroad since last July, when he went +on business to Moscow." + +"How very extraordinary," remarked Mrs. Shand. "Your friend must surely +have had some object in posing as the dead man." + +"But he posed as a man who was still alive!" I exclaimed. + +"Until, perhaps, he was found out," observed Phrida shrewdly. "Then he +bolted." + +I glanced at her quickly. Did those words betray any knowledge of the +truth, I wondered. + +"Apparently there was some mystery surrounding the death of Sir Digby at +Huacho," I remarked. "The British Consul in Lima made a report upon it to +the Foreign Office, who, in turn, handed it to Scotland Yard. I wonder +what it was." + +"When you know, we shall be better able to judge the matter and to form +some theory," Phrida said, crossing the room and re-arranging the big +bowl of daffodils in the window. + +I remained about an hour, and then, amazed at the calmness of my +well-beloved, I returned to my rooms. + +In impatience I waited till a quarter past five, when Haines ushered in a +tall, well-dressed, clean-shaven man, wearing a dark grey overcoat and +white slip beneath his waistcoat, and who introduced himself as Inspector +Charles Edwards. + +"I've called, Mr. Royle, in order to make some further inquiries +regarding this person you have known as Sir Digby Kemsley," he said when +he had seated himself. "A very curious affair happened last night. I've +been down to Harrington Gardens, and have had a look around there myself. +Many features of the affair are unique." + +"Yes," I agreed. "It is curious--very curious." + +"I have a copy of your statement regarding your visit to the house during +the night," said the official, who was one of the Council of Seven at the +Yard, looking up at me suddenly from the cigarette he was about to light. +"Have you any suspicion who killed the young lady?" + +"How can I have--except that my friend----" + +"Is missing--eh?" + +"Exactly." + +"But now, tell me all about this friend whom you knew as Sir Digby +Kemsley. How did you first become acquainted with him?" + +"I met him on a steamer on the Lake of Garda this last summer," was my +reply. "I was staying at Riva, the little town at the north end of the +lake, over the Austrian frontier, and one day took the steamer down to +Gardone, in Italy. We sat next each other at lunch on board, and, owing +to a chance conversation, became friends." + +"What did he tell you?" + +"Well, only that he was travelling for his health. He mentioned that he +had been a great deal in South America, and was then over in Europe for +a holiday. Indeed, on the first day we met, he did not even mention his +name, and I quite forgot to ask for it. In travelling one meets so many +people who are only of brief passing interest. It was not until a week +later, when I found him staying in the same hotel as myself, the Cavour, +in Milan, I learnt from the hall-porter that he was Sir Digby Kemsley, +the great engineer. We travelled to Florence together, and stayed at the +Baglioni, but one morning when I came down I found a hurried note +awaiting me. From the hall-porter I learned that a gentleman had arrived +in the middle of the night, and Sir Digby, after an excited controversy, +left with him for London. In the note he gave me his address in +Harrington Gardens, and asked me not to fail to call on my return to +town." + +"Curious to have a visitor in the middle of the night," remarked the +detective reflectively. + +"I thought so at the time, but, knowing him to be a man of wide business +interests, concluded that it was someone who had brought him an urgent +message," I replied. "Well, the rest is quickly told. On my return home I +sought him out, with the result that we became great friends." + +"You had no suspicion that he was an impostor?" + +"None whatever. He seemed well known in London," I replied. "Besides, if +he was not the real Sir Digby, how is it possible that he could have so +completely deceived his friends! Why, he has visited the offices of +Colliers, the great railway contractors in Westminster--the firm who +constructed the railway in Peru. I recollect calling there with him in a +taxi one day." + +Edwards smiled. + +"He probably did that to impress you, sir," he replied. "They may have +known him as somebody else. Or he simply went in and made an inquiry. +He's evidently a very clever person." + +Personally, I could not see how my friend could possibly have posed as +Sir Digby Kemsley if he were not, even though Edwards pointed out that +the real Sir Digby had only been in London a fortnight for the past nine +years. + +Still, on viewing the whole situation, I confess inclination towards the +belief that my friend was, notwithstanding the allegations, the real Sir +Digby. + +And yet those strange words of his, spoken in such confidence on the +previous night, recurred to me. There was mystery somewhere--a far more +obscure mystery even than what was apparent at that moment. + +"Tell me what is known concerning Sir Digby's death in Peru," I asked. + +"From the report furnished to us at the Yard it seems that one day last +August, while the gentleman in question was riding upon a trolley on the +Cerro de Pasco railway, the conveyance was accidentally overturned into a +river, and he was badly injured in the spine. A friend of his, a somewhat +mysterious Englishman named Cane, brought him down to the hospital at +Lima, and after two months there, he becoming convalescent, was conveyed +for fresh air to Huacho, on the sea. Here he lived with Cane in a small +bungalow in a somewhat retired spot, until on one night in February last +year something occurred--but exactly what, nobody is able to tell. Sir +Digby was found by his Peruvian servant dead from snake-bite. Cane +evinced the greatest distress and horror until, of a sudden, a second +man-servant declared that he had heard his master cry out in terror as he +lay helpless in his bed. He heard him shriek: 'You--you blackguard, +Cane--take the thing away! Ah! God! You've--you've killed me!' Cane +denied it, and proved that he was at a friend's house playing cards at +the hour when the servant heard his master shout for help. Next day, +however, he disappeared. Our Consul in Lima took up the matter, and in +due course a full report of the affair was forwarded to the Yard, +together with a very detailed description of the man wanted. This we sent +around the world, but up to to-day without result." + +"Then the man Cane was apparently responsible for the death of the +invalid," I remarked. + +"I think so--without a doubt." + +"But who was the invalid? Was he the real Sir Digby?" + +"Aye, that's the question," said Edwards, thrusting his hands into his +trouser pockets. For some moments we both sat staring blankly into the +fire. + +"Among the papers sent to us," he said very slowly at last, "was this. +Read it, and tell me your opinion." + +And then he took from his pocket-book and handed me a half-sheet of thin +foreign notepaper, which had been closely written upon on both sides. It +was apparently a sheet from a letter, for there was no beginning and no +ending. + +The handwriting was educated, though small and crabbed, and the ink brown +and half-faded, perhaps because of its exposure to a tropical climate. It +had been written by a man, without a doubt. + +"That," said Edwards, "was found in a pocket-book belonging to Cane, +which, in his hasty flight, he apparently forgot. According to our report +the wallet was found concealed beneath the mattress of his bed, as though +he feared lest anyone should read and learn what it contained. Read it, +and tell me what you think." + +I took the sheet of thin paper in my fingers, and, crossing the room to a +brighter light, managed to decipher the writing as follows: + + "... At fourteen paces from where this wall rises from the lawn + stands the ever-plashing fountain. The basin is circular, while + around runs a paved path, hemmed in by smoke-blackened laurels + and cut off from the public way by iron railings. The water + falls with pleasant cadence into a small basin set upon a base + of moss-grown rockwork. Looking south one meets a vista of green + grass, of never-ceasing London traffic, and one tall distant + factory chimney away in the grey haze, while around the fountain + are four stunted trees. On the right stretches a strip of + garden, in spring green and gay with bulbs which bloom and die + unnoticed by the hundreds upon hundreds of London's workers who + pass and re-pass daily in their mad, reckless hurry to earn the + wherewithal to live. + + "Halt upon the gravel at that spot on the twenty-third of the + month punctually at noon, and she will pass wearing the yellow + flower. It is the only trysting-place. She has kept it + religiously for one whole year without--alas!--effecting a + meeting. Go there--tell her that I still live, shake her hand in + greeting and assure her that I will come there as soon as ever I + am given strength so to do. + + "I have been at that spot once only, yet every detail of its + appearance is impressed indelibly upon my memory. Alas! that I + do not know its name. Search and you will assuredly find it--and + you will see her. You will speak, and give her courage." + +I bit my lip. + +A sudden thought illuminated my mind. + +The yellow flower! + +Was not the mysterious woman whom I was to meet on the night of the +fourteenth also to wear a yellow flower--the mimosa! + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +"DEAR OLD DIG." + + +I told Edwards nothing of Sir Digby's curious request, of his strange +confidences, or of the mysterious letter to "E. P. K.", which now reposed +in a locked drawer in my writing-table. + +My friend, be he impostor or not, had always treated me strictly +honourably and well. Therefore, I did not intend to betray him, although +he might be a fugitive hunted by the police. + +Yet was he a fugitive? Did not his words to me and his marvellous +disguise prior to the tragedy imply an intention to disappear? + +The enigma was indeed beyond solution. + +At seven o'clock my visitor, finding necessity to revisit Harrington +Gardens, I eagerly accompanied him. + +There is a briskness and brightness in Piccadilly at seven o'clock on a +clear, cold, winter's night unequalled in any thoroughfare in the world. +On the pavements and in the motor-buses are thousands of London's workers +hurrying to their homes in western suburbs, mostly the female employees +of the hundreds of shops and work-rooms which supply the world's +fashions--for, after all, London has now ousted Paris as the centre of +the feminine mode--the shops are still gaily lit, the club windows have +not yet drawn their blinds, and as motors and taxis flash past eastward, +one catches glimpses of pretty women in gay evening gowns, accompanied by +their male escorts on pleasure bent: the restaurant, the theatre, and the +supper, until the unwelcome cry--that cry which resounds at half-past +twelve from end to end of Greater London, "Time, please, ladies and +gentlemen. Time!"--the pharisaical decree that further harmless merriment +is forbidden. How the foreigner laughs at our childish obedience to the +decree of the killjoys. And well he may, especially when we know full +well that while the good people of the middle class are forced to return +to the dulness of their particular suburb, the people of the class above +them can sneak in by back doors of unsuspected places, and indulge in +drinking, gambling, and dancing till daylight. Truly the middle-class +Londoner is a meek, obedient person. One day, however, he may revolt. + +Piccadilly was particularly bright and gay that night, as, passing the +end of St. James's Street, we sped forward in the taxi towards Brompton +Road and past the Natural History Museum to Gloucester Road. + +On our arrival the door of the flat was opened by a constable without a +helmet. Recognising the famous inspector, he saluted. + +The body of the unknown girl had been removed to the mortuary for a +post-mortem examination, but nothing else had been moved, and two +officers of the C.I.D. were busy making examination for finger-prints. + +I allowed them to take mine for comparison, but some they found upon the +mahogany table and upon the back of a chair were undoubtedly those of +the victim herself. + +The small glass-topped specimen-table still lay where it had been +overturned, and the fragments of the two green-glass flower-vases were +strewn upon the carpet with the drooping red anemones themselves. + +Regarding the overturned table the two detectives held that it had +separated the assassin from his victim; that the girl had been chased +around it several times before her assailant had thrown it down, suddenly +sprung upon her, and delivered the fatal blow, full in her chest. + +"We've thoroughly examined it for finger-prints, sir," the elder of the +two officers explained to my companion. "Both on the glass top and on the +mahogany edge there are a number of prints of the victim herself, as well +as a number made by another hand." + +"A man's?" I asked. + +"No; curiously enough, it seems to be a woman's," was the reply. + +"A woman's!" + +I thought of that sweet perfume, and of the person who had lurked in the +shadow of the stairs! + +"That's interesting," remarked Edwards. "They may be those of the woman +who wore green combs in her hair, or else of the porter's wife." + +"The owner's man-servant is away abroad on business for his master, we've +found out," answered the man addressed. "So of late the porter's wife, +who lives in the basement of the next house, has been in the habit of +coming in every day and tidying up the room. We took her prints this +morning, and have found quite a lot about the place. No," added the man +emphatically, "the finger-prints on that little table yonder are not +those of the porter's wife, but of another woman who's been here +recently. We only find them upon the door-handle and on the edge of the +writing-table, against which the woman must have leaned. We'll have them +photographed to-morrow." + +The men then showed us the marks in question--distinct impressions of +small finger-tips, which they had rendered vivid and undeniable by the +application of a finely-powdered chalk of a pale green colour. + +Apparently the two experts had devoted the whole day to the search for +finger-print clues, and they had established the fact that two women had +been there--the victim and another. + +Who was she? + +The investigation of the papers in my friend's writing-table had not yet +been made. Inspector Edwards had telephoned earlier in the day, stating +that he would himself go through them. + +Therefore, exercising every care not to obliterate the three finger-marks +upon the edge of the table, the officers proceeded to break open drawer +after drawer and methodically examine the contents while I looked on. + +The work was exciting. At any moment we might discover something which +would throw light upon the tragedy, the grim evidence of which remained +in that dark, still damp stain upon the carpet--the life-blood of the +unknown victim. + +Already the face of the dead girl had been photographed, and would, +before morning, be circulated everywhere in an endeavour to secure +identification. + +I had learnt from Edwards that before noon that morning, upon the +notice-board outside Bow Street Police Station, there had been posted one +of those pale, buff-coloured bills headed in great, bold capitals: "Body +found," in which the description had been filled in by a clerkish hand, +and at the bottom a statement that the corpse was lying at the Kensington +Mortuary awaiting identification. + +That she was a lady seemed established by her dress, her well-kept hands, +innocent of manual labour, by the costly rings and bracelet she was +wearing, and the fact that, in the pocket of her coat was found her purse +containing eleven pounds in gold and some silver. + +Sir Digby's papers promised to be extremely interesting, as we cleared +the books off a side-table and sat down to carefully investigate them. + +The writing-table was a pedestal one, with a centre drawer and four +drawers on either side. The first drawer burst open was the top one on +the left, and from it Edwards drew two bundles of letters, each secured +by faded pink tape. + +These bundles he handed to me, saying-- + +"See what you think of these, Mr. Royle!" + +One after another I opened them. They were all in the same sprawly +handwriting of a woman--a woman who simply signed herself "Mittie." + +They were love-letters written in the long ago, many commencing "My +darling," or "Dearest," and some with "Dear old Dig." + +Though it seemed mean of me to peer into the closed chapter of my +friend's history, I quickly found myself absorbed in them. They were the +passionate outpourings of a brave but overburdened heart. Most of them +were dated from hotels in the South of England and in Ireland, and were +apparently written at the end of the eighties. But as no envelopes had +been preserved they gave no clue to where the addressee had been at the +time. + +Nearly all were on foreign notepaper, so we agreed that he must have been +abroad. + +As I read, it became apparent that the writer and the addressee had been +deeply in love with one another, but the lady's parents had forbidden +their marriage; and as, alas! in so many like cases, she had been induced +to make an odious but wealthier marriage. The man's name was Francis. + + "He is, alas! just the same," she wrote in one letter dated + "Mount Ephraim Hotel, at Tunbridge Wells, Thursday": "We have + nothing in common. He only thinks of his dividends, his stocks + and shares, and his business in the City always. I am simply an + ornament of his life, a woman who acts as his hostess and + relieves him of much trouble in social anxieties. If father had + not owed him seventeen thousand pounds he would, I feel certain, + never have allowed me to marry him. But I paid my father's debt + with my happiness, with my very life. And you, dear old Dig, are + the only person who knows the secret of my broken heart. You + will be home in London seven weeks from to-day. I will meet you + at the old place at three o'clock on the first of October, for I + have much--so very much--to tell you. Father knows now how I + hate this dull, impossible life of mine, and how dearly I love + your own kind self. I told him so to-day, and he pities me. I + hope you will get this letter before you leave, but I shall + watch the movements of your ship, and I shall meet you on the + first of October. Till then adieu.--Ever your own MITTIE." + +At the old place! Where was it, I wondered? At what spot had the secret +meeting been effected between the man who had returned from abroad and +the woman who loved him so well, though she had been forced to become the +wife of another. + +That meeting had taken place more than twenty years ago. What had been +its result was shown in the next letter I opened. + +Written from the Queen's Hotel at Hastings on the fourth of October, the +unfortunate "Mittie," who seemed to spend her life travelling on the +South Coast, penned the following in a thin, uncertain hand:-- + + "Our meeting was a mistake, Dig, a grave mistake. We were + watched by somebody in the employ of Francis. When I returned to + Tunbridge Wells he taxed me with having met you, described our + trysting-place--the fountain--and how we had walked and walked + until, becoming too tired, we had entered that quiet little + restaurant to dine. He has misjudged me horribly. The sneak who + watched us must have lied to him, or he would never have spoken + to me as he did--he would not have insulted me. That night I + left him, and am here alone. Do not come near me, do not reply + to this. It might make matters worse. Though we are parted, Dig, + you know I love you and only you--_you_! Still your own MITTIE." + +I sat staring at that half-faded letter, taking no heed of what Edwards +was saying. + +The fountain! They had met at the fountain, and had been seen! + +Could that spot be the same as mentioned in the mysterious letter left +behind by the fugitive Cane after the sudden death of the Englishman away +in far-off Peru? + +Did someone, after all the lapse of years, go there on every twenty-third +of the month at noon wearing a yellow flower, to wait for a person who, +alas! never came? + +The thought filled me with romance, even though we were at that moment +investigating a very remarkable tragedy. Yet surely in no city in this +world is there so much romance, so much pathos, such whole-hearted love +and affection, or such deep and deadly hatred as in our great palpitating +metropolis, where secret assassinations are of daily occurrence, and +where the most unpardonable sin is that of being found out. + +"What's that you've got hold of?" Edwards asked me, as he crossed to the +table and bent over me. + +I started. + +Then, recovering myself--for I had no desire that he should +know--replied, quite coolly: + +"Oh, only a few old letters--written long ago, in the eighties." + +"Ah! Ancient history, eh?" + +"Yes," I replied, packing them together and retying them with the soiled, +pink tape. "But have you discovered anything?" + +"Well," he replied with a self-conscious smile, "I've found a letter here +which rather alters my theory," and I saw that he held a piece of grey +notepaper in his hand. "Here is a note addressed to him as long ago as +1900 in the name of Sir Digby Kemsley! Perhaps, after all, the man who +died so mysteriously in Peru was an impostor, and the owner of this place +was the real Sir Digby!" + +"Exactly my own theory," I declared. + +"But that fountain!" he remarked. "The fountain mentioned in the letter +left behind by the man Cane. We must take immediate steps to identify it, +and it must be watched on the twenty-third for the coming of the woman +who wears a yellow flower. When we find her, we shall be able to discover +something very interesting, Mr. Royle. Don't you agree?" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +"TIME WILL PROVE." + + +These are truly the fevered days of journalistic enterprise the world +over. + +There are no smarter journalists than those of Fleet Street, and none, +not even in New York, with scent more keen for sensational news. "The +day's story" is the first thought in every newspaper office, and surely +no story would have been a greater "scoop" for any journal than the +curious facts which I have related in the foregoing pages. + +But even though the gentlemen of the Press are ubiquitous, many a curious +happening, and many a remarkable coroner's inquiry, often remain +unreported. + +And so in this case. When, on the following morning, the coroner for the +borough of Kensington held his inquiry in the little court off the High +Street, no reporter was present, and only half a dozen idlers were seated +in the back of the gloomy room. + +When the jury had taken their seats after viewing the remains, according +to custom, the police inspector reported to the coroner that the body +remained unidentified, though the description had been telegraphed +everywhere. + +"I might add, sir," went on the inspector, "that there is strong belief +that the young lady may be a foreigner. Upon the tab of her coat she was +wearing was the name of a costumier: 'Sartori, Via Roma.' Only the name +of the street, and not the town is given. But it must be somewhere in +Italy. We are in communication with the Italian police with a view to +ascertaining the name of the town, and hope thus to identify the +deceased." + +"Very well!" said the coroner, a shrewd, middle-aged, clean-shaven man in +gold pince-nez. "Let us have the evidence," and he arranged his papers +with business-like exactitude. + +The procedure differed in no way from that in any other coroner's court +in the kingdom, the relation of dry details by matter-of-fact persons +spoken slowly in order that they might be carefully taken down. + +The scene was, indeed, a gloomy one, for the morning was dark, and the +place was lit by electric light. The jury--twelve honest householders of +Kensington--appeared from the outset eager to get back to their daily +avocations. They were unaware of the curious enigma about to be presented +to them. + +Not until I began to give my evidence did they appear to evince any +curiosity regarding the case. But presently, when I had related my +midnight interview with my friend, who was now a fugitive, the foreman +put to me several questions. + +"You say that after your return from your visit from this man, Sir Digby +Kemsley, he rang you up on the telephone?" + +"Yes." + +"What did he say?" inquired the foreman, a thin, white-headed man whose +social standing was no doubt slightly above that of his fellow jurymen. + +"He asked me to return to him at once," was my reply. + +"But this appears extraordinary----" + +"We are not here to criticise the evidence, sir!" interrupted the coroner +sharply. "We are only here to decide how the deceased came by her +death--by accident, or by violence. Have you any doubt?" + +The foreman replied in the negative, and refrained from further +cross-examining me. + +The coroner himself, however, put one or two pointed questions. He asked +me whether I believed that it had actually been Sir Digby speaking on the +second occasion, when I had been rung up, to which I replied: + +"At first, the voice sounded unfamiliar." + +"At first! Did you recognise it afterwards?" + +I paused for a few seconds, and then was compelled to admit that I had +not been entirely certain. + +"Voices are, of course, often distorted by the telephone," remarked the +coroner. "But in this case you may have believed the voice to have been +your friend's because he spoke of things which you had been discussing in +private only half-an-hour before. It may have been the voice of a +stranger." + +"That is my own opinion, sir," I replied. + +"Ah!" he ejaculated, "and I entirely agree with you, for if your friend +had contemplated the crime of murder he would scarcely have telephoned to +you to come back. He would be most anxious to get the longest start he +could before the raising of any hue and cry." + +This remark further aroused the curiosity of the hitherto apathetic jury, +who sat and listened intently to the medical evidence which followed. + +The result of the doctor's examination was quickly told, and not of great +interest. He had been called by the police and found the young woman +dying from a deep wound under the breast, which had penetrated to the +heart, the result of a savage blow with some long, thin, and very sharp +instrument. The girl was not dead when he first saw her, but she expired +about ten minutes afterwards. + +"I should think that the weapon used was a knife with a very sharp, +triangular blade judging from the wound," the spruce-looking doctor +explained. "The police, however, have failed to discover it." + +The words of the witness held me dumbfounded. + +"Have you ever met with knives with triangular blades, doctor?" inquired +the coroner. + +"Oh, yes!" was the reply. "One sees them in collections of mediaeval arms. +In ancient days they were carried almost universally in Southern +Europe--the blade about nine inches long, and sometimes perforated. Along +the blade, grease impregnated with mineral poison was placed, so that, on +striking, some of the grease would remain in the wound. This form of +knife was most deadly, and in Italy it was known as a misericordia." + +I sat there listening with open mouth. Why? Because I knew where one of +those curious knives had been--one with a carved handle of cracked, +yellow ivory. I had often taken it up and looked at the coat of arms +carved upon the ivory--the shield with the six balls of the princely +house of the Medici. + +"And in your opinion, doctor, the deceased came by her death from a blow +from such a weapon as you describe?" the coroner was asking. + +"That is my firm opinion. The wound penetrated to the heart, and death +was probably almost instantaneous." + +"Would she utter a cry?" + +"I think she would." + +"And yet no one seems to have heard any noise!" remarked the coroner. "Is +that so?" he asked, turning to the police inspector. + +"We have no evidence of any cry being heard," replied the officer. "I +purposely asked the other tenants of the flats above and below. But they +heard no unusual sound." + +One of the detective-sergeants was then called; Inspector Edwards, though +present, being purposely omitted. In reply to the coroner, he described +the finding of the body, its examination, and the investigation which +ensued. + +"I need not ask you if you have any clue to the assassin," said the +coroner, when he had concluded writing down the depositions. "I presume +you are actively prosecuting inquiries?" + +"Yes, sir," was the brief response. + +"I think, gentlemen," the coroner said, turning at last to the jury, +"that we can go no further with this inquiry to-day. We must leave it for +the police to investigate, and if we adjourn, let us say for a fortnight, +we may then, I hope, have evidence of identification before us. The case +certainly presents a number of curious features, not the least being the +fact that the owner of the flat has mysteriously fled. When he is found +he will, no doubt, throw some light upon the puzzling affair. I have to +thank you for your attendance to-day, gentlemen," he added, addressing +the dozen respectable householders, "and ask you to be present again this +day fortnight--at noon." + +There was evident dissatisfaction among the jury, as there is always when +a coroner's inquest is ever adjourned. + +It is certainly the reverse of pleasant to be compelled to keep an +appointment which may mean considerable out-of-pocket expense and much +personal inconvenience. + +One juror, indeed, raised an objection, as he had to go to do business in +Scotland. Whereupon the coroner, as he rose, expressed his regret but +declared himself unable to assist him. It was, he remarked, his duty as a +citizen to assist in this inquiry, and to arrive at a verdict. + +After that the court rose, and every one broke up into small groups to +discuss the strange affair of which the Press were at present in +ignorance. + +Edwards had crossed the room and was speaking to me. But I heard him not. +I was thinking of that triangular-bladed weapon--the "misericordia" of +the middle ages--so frequently used for stealthy knife-thrusts. + +"Coming?" he asked at last. This aroused me to a sense of my +surroundings, and I followed him blindly out into the afternoon shopping +bustle of High Street, Kensington. + +Outside the Underground Station were the flower-sellers. Some were +offering that tribute which the Riviera never fails to send to us +Londoners in spring--sprigs of mimosa: the yellow flower which would be +worn by the mysterious "E. P. K.," the written message to whom reposed in +my writing-table at home. + +Personally, I am not a man of mystery, but just an ordinary London +business man, differing in no way to thousands of others who are at the +head of prosperous commercial concerns. London with all its garish +glitter, its moods of dulness and of gaiety, its petrol-smelling streets, +its farces of passing life, and its hard and bitter dramas always +appealed to me. It was my home, the atmosphere in which I had been born +and bred, nay, my very existence. I loved London and was ever true to the +city of my birth, even though its climate might be derided, and Paris +claimed as the one city in which to find the acme of comfort and +enjoyment. + +I had not sought mystery--far from it. It had been thrust upon me, and +now, as we went along the High Street in Kensington, towards the +police-station, I found myself a sudden but important factor in a stern +chase--a man-hunt--such as London had seldom known, for Edwards was +saying to me: + +"At all hazards we must find your friend Kemsley, and you, Mr. Royle, +must help us. You know him, and can identify him. There are grave +suspicions against him, and these must be cleared up in view of the +mysterious tragedy in Harrington Gardens." + +"You surely don't expect me to denounce my friend!" I cried. + +"It is not a question of denouncing him. His own actions have rendered +the truth patent to every one. The girl was brutally killed, and he +disappeared. Therefore he must be found," Edwards said. + +"But who was it who telephoned to me, do you think?" I asked. + +"Himself, perhaps. He was full of inventiveness, and he may have adopted +that course hoping, when the time came, to prove an alibi. Who knows?" +asked the famous inspector. + +"Look here!" I said as we crossed the threshold of the police-station, "I +don't believe Sir Digby was either an impostor or an assassin." + +"Time will prove, Mr. Royle," he laughed with an incredulous air. "A man +don't take all these precautions before disappearing unless he has a +deeper motive. Your friend evidently knew of the lady's impending visit. +Indeed, how could she have entered the flat had he not admitted her?" + +"She might have had a key," I hazarded. + +"Might--but not very likely," he said. "No, my firm conviction is that +the man you know as Sir Digby Kemsley struck the fatal blow, and took the +knife away with him." + +I shrugged my shoulders, but did not reply. + +Inside the station, we passed into the long room devoted to the officers +of the Criminal Investigation Department attached to the division, and +there met two sergeants who had given evidence. + +I was shown the photograph of the dead unknown, calm, and even pretty, +just as I had seen her lying stretched in Digby's room. + +"The medical evidence was curious, Mr. Royle, wasn't it?" Edwards +remarked. "That triangular knife ought not to be very difficult to trace. +There surely are not many of them about." + +"No," I replied faintly, for the recollection of one which I had seen +only a few days prior to the tragic occurrence--the one with the arms of +the Medici carved upon its hilt, arose vividly before me. + +To me, alas! the awful truth was now plain. + +My suspicion regarding the culprit had, by the doctor's evidence, become +entirely confirmed. + +I set my jaws hard in agony of mind. What was a mystery of London was to +me no longer a mystery! + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE PIECE OF CONVICTION. + + +The morning of the tenth of January was one of those of gloom and +darkness which are, on occasions, the blots upon London's reputation. + +There seemed no fog, only a heavy, threatening cloud of night fell +suddenly upon the city, and at three o'clock it might have been midnight. +Streets, shops, and offices were lit everywhere, and buses and taxis +compelled to light up, while in the atmosphere was a sulphurous odour +with a black deposit which caused the eyes to smart and the lungs to +irritate. + +Londoners know those periods of unpleasant darkness only too well. + +I was sitting in my room in Albemarle Street, watching Haines, who was +cleaning a piece of old silver I had bought at an auction on the previous +day. The collecting of old silver is, I may say, my hobby, and the piece +was a very fine old Italian reliquary, about ten inches in height, with +the Sicilian mark of the seventeenth century. + +Haines, under my tuition, had become an expert and careful cleaner of +silver, and I was watching and exhorting him to exercise the greatest +care, as the ornamentation was thin, and some of the scrollwork around +the top extremely fragile. It had, according to the inscription at its +base, contained a bone of a certain saint--a local saint of Palermo it +seemed--but the relic had disappeared long ago. Yet the silver case +which, for centuries, had stood upon an altar somewhere, was a really +exquisite piece of the silversmith's art. + +Suddenly the telephone-bell rang, and on answering it I heard Phrida's +voice asking-- + +"I say, Teddy, is that you? Why haven't you been over since Thursday?" + +I started, recollecting that I had not been to Cromwell Road since the +afternoon of the inquest--three days ago. + +"Dear, do forgive me," I craved. "I--I've been so horribly busy. Had to +be at the works each day." + +"But you might have been over in the evening," she responded in a tone of +complaint. "You remember you promised to take me to the St. James's last +night, and I expected you." + +"Oh, dearest, I'm so sorry," I said. "But I've been awfully worried, you +know. Do forgive me!" + +"Yes, I know!" she answered. "Well, I'll forgive you if you'll run over +now and take me to tea at the Leslies. I've ordered the car for four +o'clock. Will that suit you?" + +The Leslies! They were snobbish folk with whom I had but little in +common. Yet what could I do but agree? + +And then my well-beloved rang off. + +When I got down to Cromwell Road just before four o'clock, the darkness +had not lifted. + +My feelings as I passed along the big, old-fashioned hall and up the +thickly-carpeted stairs to the drawing-room were mixed ones of doubt, +and yet of deep affection. + +Ah, I loved Phrida--loved her better than my own life--and yet----? + +Fresh in my memory was the doctor's evidence that the crime in Harrington +Gardens had been committed with a thin, triangular knife--a knife such as +that I had often seen lying upon the old-fashioned, walnut what-not in +the corner of the room I was just about to enter. I had known it lying in +the same place for years. + +Was it still there? + +Purposely, because I felt that it could no longer be there, I had +refrained from calling upon my love, and now, when I paused and turned +the handle of the drawing-room door, I hardly dared to cast my eyes upon +that antiquated piece of furniture. + +Phrida, who was sitting with her hat and coat already on, jumped up gaily +to meet me. + +"Oh, you really are prompt, Teddy!" she cried with a flush of pleasure. + +Then, as I bent over her mother's hand, the latter said-- + +"You're quite a stranger, Mr. Royle. I expect you have been very upset +over the curious disappearance of your friend. We've searched the papers +every day, but could find nothing whatever about it." + +Phrida had turned towards the fire, her pretty head bent as she buttoned +her glove. + +"No," I replied. "Up to the present the newspapers are in complete +ignorance of the affair. But no doubt they'll learn all about it before +long." + +Then, crossing the room to pick up a magazine lying upon a chair, I +halted against the old walnut what-not. + +Yes, the mediaeval poignard was still lying there, just as I had always +seen it! + +Had it been used, and afterwards replaced? + +I scarcely dared to glance at it, lest I should betray any unusual +interest. I felt that Phrida's eyes were watching me, that she suspected +my knowledge. + +I took up the magazine idly, glanced at it, and, replacing it, returned +to her side. + +"Well," she asked, "are you ready?" + +And then together we descended to the car. + +All the way up to Abbey Road she hardly spoke. She seemed unusually pale +and haggard. I asked her what was the matter, but she only replied in a +faint, unnatural voice-- + +"Matter? Why nothing--nothing, I assure you, Teddy!" + +I did not reply. I gazed upon the pretty, pale-faced figure at my side in +wonder and yet in fear. I loved her--ah! I loved her well and truly, with +all my soul. Yet was it possible that by means of that knife lying there +so openly in that West-End drawing-room a woman's life had been +treacherously taken. + +Had my friend Digby, the fugitive, actually committed the crime? + +When I put the whole matter clearly and with common-sense before myself, +I was bound to admit that I had a strong belief of his innocence. + +What would those finger-prints reveal? + +The thought held me breathless. Yes, to satisfy myself I would +surreptitiously secure finger-prints of my well-beloved and then in +secret compare them with those found in Sir Digby's rooms. + +But how? I was reflecting as the car passed by Apsley House and into the +Park on its way to St. John's Wood. + +Was I acting honestly? I doubted her, I quite admit. Yet I felt that if I +took some object--a glass, or something with a polished surface--that she +had touched, and submitted it to examination, I would be acting as a +sneak. + +The idea was repugnant to me. Yet with that horrible suspicion obsessing +me I felt that I must do something in order to satisfy myself. + +What inane small talk I uttered in the Leslies' big, over-furnished +drawing-room I know not. All I remember is that I sat with some insipid +girl whose hair was flaxen and as colourless as her mind, sipping my tea +while I listened to her silly chatter about a Cook's tour she had just +taken through Holland and Belgium. The estimable Cook is, alas! +responsible for much tea-table chatter among the fair sex. + +Our hostess was an obese, flashily-dressed, dogmatic lady, the wife of +the chairman of a big drapery concern who, having married her eldest +daughter to a purchased knighthood, fondly believed herself to be in +society--thanks to the "paid paragraphs" in the social columns of certain +morning newspapers. It is really wonderful what half-guineas will do +towards social advancement in these days! For a guinea one's presence can +be recorded at a dinner, or an at home, or one's departure from town can +be notified to the world in general in a paragraph all to one's self--a +paragraph which rubs shoulders with those concerning the highest in the +land. The snobbery of the "social column" would really be amusing were it +not so painfully apparent. A good press-agent will, for a fee, give one +as much publicity and newspaper popularity as that enjoyed by a duke, and +most amazing is it that such paragraphs are swallowed with keen avidity +by Suburbia. + +The Leslies were an average specimen of the upper middle-class, who were +struggling frantically to get into a good set. The old man was bald, +pompous, and always wore gold pince-nez and a fancy waistcoat. He carried +his shop manners into his drawing-room, retaining his habit of rubbing +his hands in true shop-walker style when he wished to be polite to his +guests. + +His wife was a loud-tongued and altogether impossible person, who, it was +said, had once served behind the counter in a small shop in Cardiff, but +who now regarded the poor workers in her husband's huge emporium as mere +money-making machines. + +By dint of careful cultivation at bazaars and such-like charitable +functions she had scraped acquaintance with a few women of title, to whom +she referred in conversation as "dear Lady So and So, who said to me the +other day," or "as my friend Lady Violet always says." + +She had buttonholed me at last, though I had endeavoured to escape her, +and was standing before me like a pouter-pigeon pluming herself and +endeavouring to be humorous at the expense of a very modest little +married woman who had been her guest that afternoon and had just left +after shaking my hand. + +Women of Mrs. Leslie's stamp are perhaps the most evil-tongued of all. +They rise from obscurity, and finding wealth at their command, imagine +that they can command obeisance and popularity. Woe betide other women +who arouse their jealousy, for they will scandalise and blight the +reputation of the purest of their sex in the suburban belief that the +invention of scandal is the hallmark of smartness. + +At last I got rid of her, thanks to the arrival of an elegant young man, +the younger son of a well-known peer, to whom, of course, she was at once +all smiles, and, presently, I found myself out in the hall with Phrida. I +breathed more freely when at last I passed into the keen air and entered +the car. + +"Those people are impossible, dearest," I blurted out when the car had +moved away from the door. "They are the most vulgar pair I know." + +"I quite agree," replied my well-beloved, pulling the fur rug over her +knees. "But they are old friends of mother's, so I'm compelled to go and +see them sometimes." + +"Ah!" I sighed. "I suppose the old draper will buy a knighthood at this +year's sale for the King's Birthday, and then his fat wife will have a +tin handle to her name." + +"Really, Teddy, you're simply awful," replied my companion. "If they +heard you I wonder what they would say?" + +"I don't care," I replied frankly. "I only speak the truth. The +Government sell their titles to anybody who cares to buy. Ah! I fear that +few men who really deserve honour ever get it in these days. No man can +become great unless he has the influence of money to back him. The +biggest swindler who ever walked up Threadneedle Street can buy a +peerage, always providing he is married and has no son. As old Leslie +buys his calicoes, ribbons and women's frills, so he'll buy his title. He +hasn't a son, so perhaps he'll fancy a peerage and become the Lord +Bargain of Sale." + +Phrida laughed heartily at my biting sarcasm. + +Truth to tell, though I was uttering bitter sentiments, my thoughts were +running in a very different direction. I was wondering how I could best +obtain the finger-prints of the woman who held my future so irrevocably +in her hands. + +I had become determined to satisfy myself of my love's innocence--or--can +I write the words?--of her guilt! + +And as I sat there beside her, my nostrils again became filled by that +sweet subtle perfume--the perfume of tragedy. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +FATAL FINGERS. + + +Two days passed. + +Those finger-prints--impressions left by a woman--upon the glass-topped +specimen table in Sir Digby's room and on the door handle, were puzzling +the police as they puzzled me. They had already been proved not to be +those of the porter's wife, the lines being lighter and more refined. + +According to Edwards, after the finger-prints had been photographed, +search had been made in the archives at Scotland Yard, but no record +could be found that they were those of any person previously convicted. + +Were they imprints of the hand of my well-beloved? + +I held my breath each time that black and terrible suspicion filled my +mind. I tried to put them aside, but, like a nightmare, they would recur +to me hourly until I felt impelled to endeavour to satisfy myself as to +her guilt or her innocence. + +I loved her. Yes, passionately and truly. Yet, somehow, I could not +prevent this ever-recurring suspicion to fill my mind. There were so many +small points to be elucidated--the jingle of the golden bangles, and +especially the perfume, which each time I entered her presence recalled +to me all the strange and unaccountable happenings of that fatal night. + +Again, who was the poor, unidentified victim--the pale-faced, pretty +young woman who had visited Digby clandestinely, and gone to her death? + +Up to the present the police notices circulated throughout the country +had failed to establish who she was. Yet, if she were a foreigner, as +seemed so likely, identification might be extremely difficult; indeed, +she might ever remain a mystery. + +It was nearly ten o'clock at night when I called at Cromwell Road, for I +had excused myself for not coming earlier, having an object in view. + +I found Phrida in the library, sweet and attractive in a pale blue gown +cut slightly _decolletee_. She and her mother had been out to dinner +somewhere in Holland Park, and had only just returned. + +Mrs. Shand drew an armchair for me to the fire, and we all three sat down +to chat in the cosiness of the sombre little book-lined den. Bain, the +old butler, who had known me almost since childhood, placed the tantalus, +a syphon and glasses near my elbow, and at Phrida's invitation I poured +myself out a drink and lit a cigarette. + +"Come," I said, "you will have your usual lemonade"; and at my suggestion +her mother ordered Bain to bring a syphon of that harmless beverage. + +My love reached forward for one of the glasses, whereupon I took one and, +with a word of apology, declared that it was not quite clean. + +"Not clean!" exclaimed Mrs. Shand quickly. + +"There are a few smears upon it," I said, and adding "Excuse my +handkerchief. It is quite clean," I took the silk handkerchief I carried +with me purposely, and polished it with the air of a professional waiter. + +Both Phrida and her mother laughed. + +"Really, Mr. Royle, you are full of eccentricities," declared Mrs. Shand. +"You always remind me of your poor father. He was most particular." + +"One cannot be too careful, or guard sufficiently against germs, you +know," I said, handling the clean glass carefully and pouring out the +lemonade from the syphon. + +Phrida took the glass from my hand, and laughing happily across its edge, +drank. Her fingers were leaving tell-tale impressions upon its surface. +And yet she was unconscious of my duplicity. Ah! yes, I hated myself for +my double dealing. And yet so filled was I now by dark and breathless +suspicion, that I found myself quite unable to resist an opportunity of +establishing proof. + +I watched her as she, in all innocence, leaned back in the big saddle-bag +chair holding her glass in her hand and now and then contemplating it. +The impressions--impressions which could not lie--would be the means of +exonerating her--or of condemning her. + +Those golden bangles upon her slim white wrist and that irritating +perfume held me entranced. What did she know concerning that strange +tragedy in Harrington Gardens. What, indeed, was the secret? + +My chief difficulty was to remain apparently indifferent. But to do so +was indeed a task. I loved her, aye, with all my strength, and all my +soul. Yet the black cloud which had fallen upon her was one of +impenetrable mystery, and as I sat gazing upon her through the haze of my +cigarette smoke, I fell to wondering, just as I had wondered during all +those hours which had elapsed since I had scented that first whiff of +Parfait d'Amour, with which her chiffons seemed impregnated. + +At last she put down her empty glass upon the bookshelf near her. Several +books had been removed, leaving a vacant space. + +Mrs. Shand had already risen and bade me good-night; therefore, we were +alone. So I rose from my chair and, bending over her, kissed her fondly +upon the brow. + +No. I would believe her innocent. That white hand--the soft little hand I +held in mine could never have taken a woman's life. I refused to believe +it, and yet! + +Did she know more of Sir Digby Kemsley than she had admitted? Why had she +gone to his flat at that hour, lurking upon the stairs until he should be +alone, and, no doubt, in ignorance that I was his visitor? + +As I bent over her, stroking her soft hair with my hand, I tried to +conjure up the scene which had taken place in Sir Digby's room--the +tragedy which had caused my friend to flee and hide himself. Surely, +something of a very terrible nature must have happened, or my +friend--impostor or not--would have remained, faced the music, and told +the truth. + +I knew Digby better than most men. The police had declared him to be an +impostor; nevertheless, I still believed in him, even though he was now a +fugitive. Edwards had laughed at my faith in the man who was my friend, +but I felt within me a strong conviction that he was not so black as +pigheaded officialdom had painted him. + +The Council of Seven at Scotland Yard might be a clever combination of +expert brains, but they were not infallible, as had been proved so many +times in the recent annals of London crime. + +Phrida had not referred to the tragedy, and I had not therefore mentioned +it. + +My sole object at the moment was to obtain possession of the empty glass +and carry it with me from the house. + +But how could I effect this without arousing her suspicion? + +She had risen and stood with her back to the blazing fire, her pretty +lips parted in a sweet smile. We were discussing a play at which she had +been on the previous evening, a comedy that had taken the town by storm. + +Her golden bangles jingled as she moved--that same light metallic sound I +had heard in the darkness of the staircase at Harrington Gardens. My +eager fingers itched to obtain possession of that glass which stood so +tantalisingly within a couple of feet of my hand. By its means I could +establish the truth. + +"Well, Teddy," my beloved said at last, as she glanced at the chiming +clock upon the mantelshelf. "It's past eleven, so I suppose I must go to +bed. Mallock is always in a bad temper if I keep her up after eleven." + +"I suppose that is only natural," I laughed. "She often waits hours and +hours for you. That I know." + +"Yes," she sighed. "But Mallock is really a model maid. So much better +than Rayne." + +Personally, I did not like the woman Mallock. She was a thin-nosed, +angular person, who wore pince-nez, and was of a decidedly inquisitive +disposition. But I, of course, had never shown any antagonism towards +her; indeed, I considered it diplomatic to treat her with tact and +consideration. She had been maid to the oldest daughter of a well-known +and popular countess before entering Phrida's service, and I could well +imagine that her principal topic of conversation in the servants' hall +was the superiority of her late mistress, whose service she had left on +her marriage to a wealthy peer. + +"I'm glad she is an improvement upon Rayne," I said, for want of +something else to say, and, rising, I took her little hand and pressed it +to my lips in farewell. + +When she had kissed me I said: + +"I'll just finish my cigarette, and I can let myself out." + +"Very well. But look in to-morrow, dear, won't you?" she replied, as I +opened the door for her to pass. "Better still, I'll ring you up about +three o'clock and see what you are doing. Oh! by the way, mother wants to +remind you of your promise to dine with us on Wednesday night. I quite +forgot. Of course you will--eight o'clock as usual." + +"Wednesday!" I exclaimed vaguely, recollecting the acceptance of Mrs. +Shand's invitation about a week previously. "What date is that?" + +"Why, the fourteenth." + +"The fourteenth!" I echoed. + +"Yes, why? Really, you look quite scared, Freddy. What's the matter. Is +anything terrible going to happen on that date?" she asked, looking at me +with some concern. + +"Going to happen--why?" I asked, striving to calm myself. + +"Oh--well, because you look so horribly pale. When I told you the date +you gave quite a jump!" + +"A jump? Did I?" I asked, striving to remain calm. "I didn't know, but, +really, I'm filled with great disappointment. I'm so sorry, but it will +be quite impossible for me to dine with you." + +"Another engagement?" she said in a rather irritated tone. "Going to some +people whom you like better than us, of course. You might tell the truth, +Teddy." + +"The truth is that I have a prior engagement," I said. "One that I cannot +break. I have to fulfill faithfully a promise I gave to a very dear +friend." + +"Couldn't you do it some other time?" + +"No," I answered. "Only on the evening of the fourteenth." + +"Then you can't come to us?" she asked with a pout. + +"I'll look in after," I promised. "But to dine is entirely out of the +question." + +I saw that she was annoyed, but next moment her lips parted again in a +pretty smile, and she said: + +"Very well, then. But remember, you will not be later than ten, will +you?" + +"I promise not to be, dearest," I answered, and kissing her, she ascended +to her room. + +The fourteenth! It was on that evening I had to carry out the promise +made to Digby and meet the mysterious lady at the Piccadilly Circus Tube +Station--the person whose initials were "E. P. K." and who would wear in +her breast a spray of mimosa. + +I returned to the library, and for a second stood thinking deeply. Would +I, by that romantic meeting, be placed in possession of some further fact +which might throw light upon the mystery? Ah! would I, I wondered? + +The empty glass caught my eye, and I was about to cross and secure it +when Bain suddenly entered. Seeing me, he drew back quickly, saying: "I +beg pardon, sir. I thought you had gone. Will you take anything more, +sir?" + +"No, not to-night, Bain," was my reply. + +Whereupon the old servant glanced around for the missing glass, and I saw +with heart-sinking that he placed it upon the tray to carry it back to +the servants' quarters. + +The link which I had been so careful in preparing was already vanishing +from my gaze, when of a sudden I said: + +"I'll change my mind, Bain. I wonder if you have a lemon in the house?" + +"I'll go to the kitchen and see if cook has one, sir," replied the old +man, who, placing down the tray, left to do my bidding. + +In an instant I sprang forward and seized the empty tumbler, handling it +carefully. Swiftly, I tore a piece off the evening paper, and wrapping it +around the glass, placed it in the pocket of my dinner jacket. + +Then, going into the hall, I put on my overcoat and hat, and awaited +Bain's return. + +"I shan't want that lemon!" I cried to him as he came up from the lower +regions. "Good-night, Bain!" and a few moments later I was in a taxi +speeding towards Albemarle Street, with the evidence I wanted safe in my +keeping. + +That finger-prints remained on the polished surface of the glass I knew +full well--the prints of my beloved's fingers. + +But would they turn out to be the same as the fingers which had rested +upon the glass-topped specimen-table in Digby's room? + +Opening the door with my latch-key, I dashed upstairs, eager to put my +evidence to the proof by means of the finely-powdered green chalk I had +already secured--the same as that used by the police. + +But on the threshold of my chambers Haines met me with a message--a +message which caused me to halt breathless and staggered. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +CONTAINS FURTHER EVIDENCE. + + +"Sir Digby Kemsley was here an hour ago, sir. He couldn't wait!" Haines +exclaimed, bringing himself to attention. + +"Sir Digby!" I gasped, starting. "Why, in heaven's name, didn't you ring +me up at Mrs. Shand's?" I cried. + +"Because he wouldn't allow me, sir. He came to see you in strictest +secrecy, sir. When I opened the door I didn't know him. He's shaved off +his beard and moustache, and was dressed like a clergyman." + +"A clergyman!" + +"Yes, sir. He looked just like a parson. I wouldn't have known him in the +street." + +"An excellent ruse!" I exclaimed. "Of course, Haines, you know +that--well--that the police are looking for him--eh?" + +"Perfectly well, but you can trust me, sir. I'll say nothing. Sir Digby's +a friend of yours." + +"Yes, a great friend, and I feel that he's falsely accused of that +terrible affair which happened at his flat," I said. "Did he promise to +call again?" + +"He scribbled this note for you," Haines said, taking up a letter from my +blotting-pad. + +With trembling fingers I tore it open, and upon a sheet of my own +notepaper read the hurriedly written words-- + + "Sorry you were out. Wanted to see you most urgently. Keep your + promise at Piccadilly Circus, and know nothing concerning me. My + movements are most uncertain, as something amazing has occurred + which prevents me making explanation. I will, however, send you + my address in secret as soon as I have one. I trust you, Teddy, + for you are my only friend. + + "Digby." + +I read the note several times, and gathered that he was in hourly fear of +arrest. Every corner held for him a grave danger. Yet what could have +occurred that was so amazing and which prevented him speaking the truth. + +That I had not been in when he called was truly unfortunate. But by the +fact that he was in clerical attire I surmised that he was living in +obscurity--perhaps somewhere in the suburbs. London is the safest city in +the world in which to hide, unless, of course, creditors or plaintiffs +make it necessary to seek peace "beyond the jurisdiction of the Court." + +Many a good man is driven to the latter course through no fault of his +own, but by the inexorable demands of the Commissioners of Income Tax, or +by undue pressure from antagonistic creditors. Every English colony on +the Continent contains some who have fallen victims--good, honest +Englishmen--who are dragging out the remainder of their lives in +obscurity, men whose names are perhaps household words, but who conceal +them beneath one assumed. + +Digby would probably join the throng of the exiled. So I could do naught +else than wait for his promised message, even though I was frantic in my +anxiety to see and to question him regarding the reason of the presence +of my well-beloved at his flat on that fatal night. + +Imagine my bitter chagrin that I had not been present to receive him! It +might be many months before I heard from him again, for his promise was +surely very vague. + +Presently I took the glass very carefully from my pocket, unwrapped it +from its paper, and locked it in a little cabinet in the corner of my +room, until next morning I brought it forth, and placing it upon a +newspaper powdered it well with the pale green chalk which revealed at +once a number of finger-marks--mine, Bain's, and Phrida's. + +I am something of a photographer, as everybody is in these days of photo +competitions. Therefore, I brought out my Kodak with its anastigmat +lens,--a camera which I had carried for some years up and down Europe, +and after considerable arrangement of the light, succeeded in taking a +number of pictures. It occupied me all the morning, and even then I was +not satisfied with the result. My films might, for aught I know, be +hopelessly fogged. + +Therefore, with infinite care, I took the glass to a professional +photographer I knew in Bond Street, and he also made a number of +pictures, which were duly developed and enlarged some hours later, and +showed the distinctive lines and curves of each finger-print. + +Not until the morning of the day following was I able to take these +latter to Edwards, and then a great difficulty presented itself. How was +I to explain how I had obtained the prints? + +I sat for an hour smoking cigarettes furiously and thinking deeply. + +At last a plan presented itself, and taking a taxi I went down to +Scotland Yard, where I had no difficulty in obtaining an interview in his +airy, barely-furnished business-like room. + +"Hulloa, Mr. Royle!" he exclaimed cheerily as I entered. "Sit down--well, +do you know anything more of that mysterious friend of yours--eh?" + +I did not reply. Why should I lie? Instead, I said: + +"I've been doing some amateur detective work. Have you the photographs of +those finger-prints found on the specimen-table in Sir Digby's room?" + +"Yes, of course," was his prompt reply, and going over to a cupboard he +brought out a pile of papers concerning the case, and from it produced a +number of photographic prints. + +My heart stood still when I saw them. Were either of them exactly similar +to any of those I carried with me? I almost feared to allow comparison to +be made. + +Edwards, noticing my hesitation, asked in what quarter my efforts had +been directed. + +"I've been getting some finger-prints, that's all," I blurted forth, and +from my pocket drew the large envelope containing the prints. + +The detective took them across to the window and regarded them very +closely for some time, while I looked eagerly over his shoulder. + +The curves and lines were extremely puzzling to me, unaccustomed as I +was to them. Edwards, too, remained in silent indecision. + +"We'll send them along to Inspector Tirrell in the Finger-print +Department," my friend said at last. "He's an expert, and will tell at a +glance if any marks are the same as ours." + +Then he rang a bell, and a constable, at his instructions, carried all +the prints to the department in question. + +"Well, Mr. Royle," exclaimed the inspector when the door had closed; "how +did you obtain those prints?" + +I was ready for his question, and a lie was at once glibly upon my lips. + +"Sir Digby, on the night of his disappearance, returned to me a small +steel despatch box which he had borrowed some weeks before; therefore, +after the affair, I examined it for finger-prints, with the result I have +shown you," I said. + +"Ah! but whatever prints were upon it were there before the entrance of +the victim to your friend's rooms," he exclaimed. "He gave it to you when +you bade him good-night, I suppose?" + +"Yes." + +"And you carried the box home with you?" + +"Yes," I repeated; in fear nevertheless, that my lie might in some way +incriminate me. Yet how could I tell him of my suspicion of Phrida. That +secret was mine--and mine alone, and, if necessary, I would carry it with +me to the grave. + +Edwards was again silent for some minutes. + +"No, Mr. Royle, I can't see that your evidence helps us in the least. If +there should be the same prints on your despatch box as we found upon the +specimen-table, then what do they prove?--why, nothing. If the box had +been in the room at the time of the tragedy, then it might have given us +an important clue, because such an object would probably be touched by +any malefactor or assassin. But----" + +"Ah!" I cried, interrupting. "Then you do not suspect Sir Digby, after +all--eh?" + +"Pardon me, Mr. Royle, but I did not say that I held no suspicion," was +his quiet answer. "Yet, if you wish to know the actual truth, I, at +present, am without suspicion of anyone--except of that second woman, the +mysterious woman whose finger-prints we have, and who was apparently in +the room at the same time as the unidentified victim." + +"You suspect her, then?" I asked breathlessly. + +"Not without further proof," he replied, with a calm, irritating smile. +"I never suspect unless I have good grounds for doing so. At present we +have three clear finger-prints of a woman whom nobody saw enter or leave, +just as nobody saw the victim enter. Your friend Sir Digby seems to have +held a midnight reception of persons of mysterious character, and with +tragic result." + +"I feel sure he is no assassin," I cried. + +"It may have been a drama of jealousy--who knows?" said Edwards, standing +erect near the window and gazing across at me. "Your friend, in any case, +did not care to remain and explain what happened. A girl--an unknown +girl--was struck down and killed." + +"By whom, do you think?" + +"Ah! Mr. Royle, the identity of the assassin is what we are endeavouring +to discover," he replied gravely. "We must first find this man who has so +successfully posed as Sir Digby Kemsley. He is a clever and elusive +scoundrel, without a doubt. But his portrait is already circulated both +here and on the Continent. The ports are all being watched, while I have +five of the best men I can get engaged on persistent inquiry. He'll try +to get abroad, no doubt. No doubt, also, he has a banking account +somewhere, and through that we shall eventually trace him. Every man +entrusts his banker with his address. He has to, in order to obtain +money." + +"Unless he draws his money out in cash and then goes to a tourist agency +and gets a letter of credit." + +"Ah, yes, that's often done," my friend admitted. "The tourist agencies +are of greatest use to thieves and forgers. They take stolen notes, +change them into foreign money, and before the numbers can be circulated +are off across the Channel with their booty. If we look for stolen notes +we are nearly certain to find them in the hands of a tourist agency or a +money-changer." + +"Then you anticipate that you may find my friend Digby through his +bankers?" + +"Perhaps," was his vague answer. "But as he is your friend, Mr. Royle, I +perhaps ought not to tell you of the channels of information we are +trying," he added, with a dry laugh. + +"Oh, I assure you I'm entirely ignorant of his whereabouts," I said. "If +I knew, I should certainly advise him to come and see you." + +"Ah! you believe in his innocence, I see?" + +"I most certainly do!" + +"Well,--we shall see--we shall see," he said in that pessimistic tone +which he so often adopted. + +"What are you doing about those letters--that letter which mentions the +fountain?" I asked. + +"Nothing. I've dismissed those as private correspondence regarding some +love episode of the long ago," he replied. "They form no clue, and are +not worth following." + +At that moment the constable re-entered bearing the photographs. + +"Well, what does Inspector Tirrell say?" Edwards asked quickly of the +man. + +"He has examined them under the glass, sir, and says that they are the +same prints in both sets of photographs--the thumb and index-finger of a +woman--probably a young and refined woman. He's written a memo there, +sir." + +Edwards took it quickly, and after glancing at it, handed it to me to +read. + +It was a mere scribbled line signed with the initials "W. H. T.," to the +effect that the same prints appeared in both photographs, and concluded +with the words "No record of this person is known in this department." + +I know I stood pale and breathless at the revelation--at the +incontestable proof that my well-beloved had actually been present in +Digby's room after my departure on that fatal night. + +Why? + +By dint of a great effort I succeeded in suppressing the flood of +emotions which so nearly overcame me, and listened to Edwards as he +remarked: + +"Well, after all, Mr. Royle, it doesn't carry us any further. Our one +object is to discover the identity of the woman in question, and I think +we can only do that from your absconding friend himself. If the marks are +upon your despatch-box as you state, then the evidence it furnishes +rather disproves the theory that the unknown woman was actually present +at the time of the tragedy." + +I hardly know what words I uttered. + +I had successfully misled the great detective of crime, but as I rode +along in the taxi back to my rooms, I was in a frenzy of despair, for I +had proved beyond a shadow of doubt that Phrida was aware of what had +occurred--that a black shadow of guilt lay upon her. + +The woman I had loved and trusted, she who was all the world to me, had +deceived me, though she smiled upon me so sweetly. She, alas! held within +her breast a guilty secret. + +Ah! in that hour of my bitterness and distress the sun of my life became +eclipsed. Only before me was outspread a limitless grey sea of dark +despair. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +DESCRIBES THE YELLOW SIGN. + + +The night of my mysterious tryst--the night of January the +fourteenth--was dark, rainy, and unpleasant. + +That afternoon I had taken out the sealed letter addressed to "E. P. K." +and turned it over thoughtfully in my hand. + +I recollected the words of the fugitive. He had said: + +"On the night of the fourteenth just at eight o'clock precisely, go to +the Piccadilly Tube Station and stand at the first telephone box numbered +four, on the Haymarket side, when a lady in black will approach you and +ask news of me. In response you will give her this note. But there is a +further condition. You may be watched and recognised. Therefore, be +extremely careful that you are not followed on that day, and, above all, +adopt some effective disguise. Go there dressed as a working man, I would +suggest." + +Very strange was that request of his. It filled me with eager curiosity. +What should I learn from the mysterious woman in black who was to come to +me for a message from my fugitive friend. + +Had he already contemplated flight when he had addressed the note to her +and made the appointment, I wondered. + +If so, the crime at Harrington Gardens must have been premeditated. + +I recollected, too, those strange, prophetic words which my friend had +afterwards uttered, namely: + +"I want you to give me your promise, Royle. I ask you to make a solemn +vow to me that if any suspicion arises within your mind, that you will +believe nothing without absolute and decisive proof. I mean, that you +will not misjudge her." + +By "her" he had indicated the lady whose initials were "E. P. K." + +It was certainly mysterious, and my whole mind was centred upon the +affair that day. + +As I stood before my glass at seven o'clock that evening, I presented a +strange, uncanny figure, dressed as I was in a shabby suit which I had +obtained during the day from a theatrical costumier's in Covent Garden. + +Haines, to whom I had invented a story that I was about to play a +practical joke, stood by much amused at my appearance. + +"Well, sir," he exclaimed; "you look just like a bricklayer's labourer!" + +The faded suit, frayed at the wrists and elbows, had once been grey, but +it was now patched, brown, smeared with plaster, and ingrained with white +dust, as was the ragged cap; while the trousers were ragged at the knees +and bottoms. Around my neck was a dirty white scarf and in my hand I +carried a tin tea-bottle as though I had just returned from work. + +"Yes," I remarked, regarding myself critically. "Not even Miss Shand +would recognise me--eh, Haines?" + +"No, sir. I'm sure she wouldn't. But you'll have to dirty your face and +hands a bit. Your hands will give you away if you're not careful." + +"Yes. I can't wear gloves, can I?" I remarked. + +Thereupon, I went to the grate and succeeded in rubbing ashes over my +hands and applying some of it to my cheeks--hardly a pleasant face +powder, I can assure you. + +At a quarter to eight, with the precious letter in the pocket of my +ragged jacket, I left Albemarle Street and sauntered along Piccadilly +towards the Circus. The rain had ceased, but it was wet underfoot, and +the motor buses plashed foot passengers from head to foot with liquid +mud. In my walk I passed, outside the Piccadilly Hotel, two men I knew. +One of them looked me straight in the face but failed to recognise me. + +Piccadilly Circus, the centre of the night-life of London, is unique, +with its jostling crowds on pleasure bent, its congestion of traffic, its +myriad lights, its flashing, illuminated signs, and the bright facade of +the Criterion on the one side and the Pavilion on the other. Surely one +sees the lure of London there more than at any other spot in the whole of +our great metropolis. + +Passing the Criterion and turning into the Haymarket, I halted for a +moment on the kerb, and for the first time in my life, perhaps, gazed +philosophically upon the frantic, hurrying panorama of human life passing +before my eyes. + +From where I stood I could see into the well-lit station entrance with +the row to the telephone boxes, at the end of which sat the smart young +operator, who was getting numbers and collecting fees. All the boxes +were engaged, and several persons were waiting, but in vain my eyes +searched for a lady in black wearing mimosa. + +The winter wind was bitterly cold, and as I was without an overcoat it +cut through my thin, shabby clothes, causing me to shiver. Nevertheless, +I kept my watchful vigil. By a neighbouring clock I could see that it was +already five minutes past the hour of the appointment. Still, I waited in +eager expectation of her coming. + +The only other person who seemed to loiter there was a thin, shivering +Oriental, who bore some rugs upon his shoulder--a hawker of shawls. + +Past me there went men and women of every grade and every station. Boys +were crying "Extrur spe-shull," and evil-looking loafers, those foreign +scoundrels who infest the West End, lurked about, sometimes casting a +suspicious glance at me, with the thought, perhaps, that I might be a +detective. + +Ah! the phantasmagora of life outside the Piccadilly Tube at eight +o'clock in the evening is indeed a strangely complex one. The world of +London has then ceased to work and has given itself over to pleasure, +and, alas! in so many cases, to evil. + +In patience I waited. The moments seemed hours, for in my suspense I was +dubious whether, after all, she would appear. Perhaps she already knew, +by some secret means, of Sir Digby's flight, and if so, she would not +keep the appointment. + +I strolled up and down the pavement, for a policeman, noticing me hanging +about, had gruffly ordered me to "Move on!" He, perhaps, suspected me of +"loitering for the purpose of committing a felony." + +Everywhere my eager eyes searched to catch sight of some person in black +wearing a spray of yellow blossom, but among that hurrying crowd there +was not one woman, young or old, wearing that flower so reminiscent of +the Riviera. + +I entered the station, and for some moments stood outside the telephone +box numbered 4. Then, with failing heart, I turned and went along to the +spacious booking-hall, where the lifts were ever descending with their +crowds of passengers. + +Would she ever come? Or, was my carefully planned errand entirely in +vain? + +I could not have mistaken the date, for I had made a note of it in my +diary directly on my return from Harrington Gardens, and before I had +learned of the tragedy. No. It now wanted a quarter to nine and she had +not appeared. At nine I would relinquish my vigil, and assume my normal +identity. I was sick to death of lounging there in the cutting east wind +with the smoke-blackened tin bottle in my hand. + +I had been idly reading an advertisement on the wall, and turned, when my +quick eyes suddenly caught sight of a tall, well-dressed woman of middle +age, who, standing with her back to me, was speaking to the +telephone-operator. + +I hurried eagerly past her, when my heart gave a great bound. In the +corsage of her fur-trimmed coat she wore the sign for which I had been +searching for an hour--a sprig of mimosa! + +With my heart beating quickly in wild excitement, I drew back to watch +her movements. + +She had asked the operator for a number, paid him, and was told that she +was "on" at box No. 4. + +I saw her enter, and watched her through the glass door speaking +vehemently with some gesticulation. The answer she received over the wire +seemed to cause her the greatest surprise, for I saw how her dark, +handsome face fell when she heard the response. + +In a second her manner changed. From a bold, commanding attitude she at +once became apprehensive and appealing. Though I could not hear the words +amid all that hubbub and noise, I knew that she was begging the person at +the other end to tell her something, but was being met with a flat +refusal. + +I saw how the black-gloved hand, resting upon the little ledge, clenched +itself tightly as she listened. I fancied that tears had come into her +big, dark eyes, but perhaps it was only my imagination. + +At last she put down the receiver and emerged from the box, with a +strange look of despair upon her handsome countenance. + +What, I wondered, had happened? + +She halted outside the box for a moment, gazing about her as though in +expectation of meeting someone. She saw me, but seeing only a labourer, +took no heed of my presence. Then she glanced at the tiny gold watch in +her bracelet, and noting that it was just upon nine, drew a long +breath--a sigh as though of despair. + +I waited until she slowly walked out towards the street, and following, +came up beside her and said in a low voice: + +"I wonder, madame, if you are looking for me?" + +She glanced at me quickly, with distinct suspicion, and noting my dress, +regarded me with some disdain. + +Her dark brows were knit for a second in distinct displeasure, even of +apprehension, and then in an instant I recollected my friend's injunction +that I might be watched and followed. In giving her the message the +greatest secrecy was to be observed. + +She halted, as though in hesitation, took from her bag a tiny lace +handkerchief and dabbed her face, then beneath her breath, and without +glancing further at me, said: + +"Follow me, and I will speak to you presently--when there is no danger." + +Upon that I moved away and leisurely lit my pipe, as though entirely +unconcerned, while she still stood in the doorway leading to the +Haymarket, looking up and down as though awaiting somebody. + +Yes, she was a distinctly handsome woman; tall, erect, and well +preserved. Her gown fitted her perfectly, and her black jacket, trimmed +with some rich dark fur, was a garment which gave her the stamp of a +woman of wealth and refinement. She wore a neat felt hat also trimmed +with fur, white gloves, and smart shoes, extremely small, even girlish, +for a woman so well developed. + +Presently she sauntered forth down the Haymarket, and a few moments +afterwards, still smoking and carrying my bottle, I lounged lazily after +her. + +At the corner, by the Carlton, she turned into Pall Mall, continuing +along that thoroughfare without once looking back. Opposite the United +Service Club she crossed the road, and passing across the square in +front of the Athenaeum, descended the long flight of steps which led into +the Mall. + +There in the darkness, beneath the trees, where there were no +onlookers--for at that hour the Mall is practically deserted, save for a +few loving couples and a stray taxi or two--she suddenly paused, and I +quickly approached and raised my cap politely. + +"Well?" she asked sharply, almost in a tone of annoyance. "What is it? +What do you want with me, my man?" + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +CHERCHEZ LA FEMME. + + +I confess that her attitude took me aback. + +I was certainly unprepared for such a reception. + +"I believed, madame, that you were in search of me?" I said, with polite +apology. + +"I certainly was not. I don't know you in the least," was her reply. "I +went to the Tube to meet a friend who did not keep his appointment. Is it +possible that you have been sent by him? In any case, it was very +injudicious for you to approach me in that crowd. One never knows who +might have been watching." + +"I come as messenger from my friend, Sir Digby Kemsley," I said in a low +voice. + +"From him?" she gasped eagerly. "I--ah! I expected him. Is he prevented +from coming? It was so very important, so highly essential, that we +should meet," she added in frantic anxiety as we stood there in the +darkness beneath the bare trees, through the branches of which the wind +whistled weirdly. + +"I have this letter," I said, drawing it from my pocket. "It is addressed +'For E. P. K.'" + +"For me?" she cried with eagerness, as she took it in her gloved hand, +and then leaving my side she hurried to a street lamp, where she tore it +open and read the contents. + +From where I stood I heard her utter an ejaculation of sudden terror. I +saw how she crushed the paper in one hand while with the other she +pressed her brow. Whatever the letter contained it was news which caused +her the greatest apprehension and fear, for dashing back to me she asked: + +"When did he give you this? How long ago?" + +"On the night of January the sixth," was my reply. "The night when he +left Harrington Gardens in mysterious circumstances." + +"Mysterious circumstances!" she echoed. "What do you mean? Is he no +longer there?" + +"No, madame. He has left, and though I am, perhaps, his most intimate +friend, I am unaware of his whereabouts. There were," I added, "reasons, +I fear, for his disappearance." + +"Who are you? Tell me, first." + +"My name is Edward Royle," was my brief response. + +"Ah! Mr. Royle," the woman cried, "he has spoken of you many times. You +were his best friend, he said. I am glad, indeed, to meet you, but--but +tell me why he has disappeared--what has occurred?" + +"I thought you would probably know that my friend is wanted by the +police," I replied gravely. "His description has been circulated +everywhere." + +"But why?" she gasped, staring at me. "Why are the police in search of +him?" + +For a few seconds I hesitated, disinclined to repeat the grave charge +against him. + +"Well," I said at last in a low, earnest voice, "the fact is the police +have discovered that Sir Digby Kemsley died in South America some months +ago." + +"I don't follow you," she said. + +"Then I will be more plain. The police, having had a report of the death +of Sir Digby, believe our mutual friend to be an impostor!" + +"An impostor! How utterly ridiculous. Why, I myself can prove his +identity. The dead man must have been some adventurer who used his name." + +"That is a point which I hope with your assistance to prove," I said. +"The police at present regard our friend with distinct suspicion." + +"And I suppose his worst enemy has made some serious allegation against +him--that woman who hates him so. Ah! I see it all now. I see why he has +written this to me--this confession which astounds me. Ah! Mr. Royle," +she added, her gloved hands tightly clenched in her despair. "You do not +know in what deadly peril Sir Digby now is. Yes, I see it plainly. There +is a charge against him--a grave and terrible charge--which he is unable +to refute, and yet he is perfectly innocent. Oh, what can I do? How can I +act to save him?" and her voice became broken by emotion. + +"First tell me the name of this woman who was such a deadly enemy of his. +If you reveal this to me, I may be able to throw some light upon +circumstances which are at the present moment a complete mystery." + +"No, that is his secret," was her low, calm reply. "He made me swear +never to reveal the woman's name." + +"But his honour--nay, his liberty--is now at stake," I urged. + +"That does not exonerate me from breaking my word of honour, Mr. Royle." + +"Then he probably entertains affection for the woman, and is hence loth +to do anything which might cause her pain. Strangely enough, men often +love women whom they know are their bitterest enemies." + +"Quite so. But the present case is full of strange and romantic +facts--facts, which if written down, would never be believed. I know many +of them myself, and can vouch for them." + +"Well, is this unnamed woman a very vengeful person?" I asked, +remembering the victim who had been found dead at Harrington Gardens. + +"Probably so. All women, when they hate a man, are vengeful." + +"Why did she hate him so?" + +"Because she believed a story told of him--an entirely false story--of +how he had treated the man she loved. I taxed him with it, and he denied +it, and brought me conclusive proof that the allegation was a pure +invention." + +"Is she young or middle-aged?" + +"Young, and distinctly pretty," was her reply. + +Was it possible that this woman was speaking of that girl whom I had seen +lying dead in my friend's flat? Had he killed her because he feared what +she might reveal? How dearly I wished that I had with me at that moment a +copy of the police photographs of the unidentified body. + +But even then she would probably declare it not to be the same person, +so deeply had Sir Digby impressed upon her the necessity of regarding the +affair as strictly secret. + +Indeed, as I walked slowly at her side, I saw that, whatever the note +contained, it certainly had the effect upon her of preserving her +silence. + +In that case, could the crime have been premeditated by my friend? Had he +written her that secret message well knowing that he intended to kill the +mysterious woman who was his deadliest enemy. + +That theory flashed across my brain as I walked with her, and I believed +it to be the correct one. I accepted it the more readily because it +removed from my mind those dark suspicions concerning Phrida, and, also, +in face of facts which this unknown lady had dropped, it seemed to be +entirely feasible. + +Either the unsuspecting woman fell by the hand of Digby Kemsley or--how +can I pen the words--by the hand of Phrida, the woman I loved. There was +the evidence that a knife with a triangular blade had been used, and such +a knife had been, and was still, in the possession of my well-beloved; +but from what I had learned that night it seemed that, little as I had +dreamed the truth, my friend Digby had been held in bondage by a woman, +whose tongue he feared. + +Ah! How very many men in London are the slaves of women whom they fear. +All of us are human, and the woman with evil heart is, alas! only too +ready to seize the opportunity of the frailty of the opposite sex, and +whatever may be the secret she learns, of business or of private life, +she will most certainly turn it to her advantage. + +It was similar circumstances I feared in the case of dear old Digby. + +I was wondering, as I walked, whether I should reveal to my +companion--whose name she had told me was Mrs. Petre--the whole of the +tragic circumstances. + +"Is it long ago since you last saw Digby?" I asked her presently, as we +strolled slowly together, and after I had given her my address, and we +had laughed together over my effective disguise. + +"Nearly two months," she replied. "I've been in Egypt since the beginning +of November--at Assuan." + +"I was there two seasons ago," I said. "How delightful it is in Upper +Egypt--and what a climate in winter! Why, it is said that it has never +rained there for thirty years!" + +"I had a most awfully jolly time at the Cataract. It was full of smart +people, for only the suburbs, the demi-monde, and Germans go to the +Riviera nowadays. It's so terribly played out, and the Carnival gaiety is +so childish and artificial." + +"It amuses the Cookites," I laughed; "and it puts money in the pockets of +the hotel-keepers of Nice and the neighbourhood." + +"Monte is no longer _chic_," she declared. "German women in blouses +predominate; and the really smart world has forsaken the Rooms for Cairo, +Heliopolis, and Assuan. They are too far off and too expensive for the +bearer of Cook's coupons." + +I laughed. She spoke with the nonchalant air of the smart woman of the +world, evidently much travelled and cosmopolitan. + +But I again turned the conversation to our mutual friend, and strove +with all the diplomatic powers I possessed to induce her to reveal the +name or give me a description of the woman whom she had alleged to be his +enemy--the woman who was under a delusion that he had wronged her lover. +To all my questions, however, she remained dumb. That letter which I had +placed in her hand had, no doubt, put a seal of silence upon her lips. + +At one moment she assumed a haughtiness of demeanour which suited her +manner and bearing, at the next she became sympathetic and eager. She +was, I gauged, a woman of strangely complex character. Yet whom could she +be? I knew most, perhaps even all, of Digby's friends, I believed. He +often used to give cosy little tea parties, to which women--many of them +well known in society--came. Towards them he always assumed quite a +paternal attitude, for he was nothing if not a ladies' man. + +She seemed very anxious to know in what circumstances he had handed me +the note, and what instructions he had given me. To her questions I +replied quite frankly. Indeed, I repeated his words. + +"Ah! yes," she cried. "He urged you not to misjudge me. Then you will +not, Mr. Royle--will you?" she asked me with sudden earnestness. + +"I have no reason to misjudge you, Mrs. Petre," I said, quietly. "Why +should I?" + +"Ah! but you may. Indeed, you most certainly will." + +"When?" I asked, in some surprise. + +"When--when you know the bitter truth." + +"The truth of what?" I gasped, my thoughts reverting to the tragedy in +Harrington Gardens. Though I had not referred to it I felt that she must +be aware of what had occurred, and of the real reason of Digby's flight. + +"The truth which you must know ere long," she answered hoarsely as we +halted again beneath the leafless trees. "And when you learn it you will +most certainly condemn me. But believe me, Mr. Royle, I am like your +friend, Sir Digby, more sinned against than sinning." + +"You speak in enigmas," I said. + +"Because I cannot--I dare not tell you what I know. I dare not reveal the +terrible and astounding secret entrusted to me. You will know it all soon +enough. But--there," she added in a voice broken in despair, "what can +matter now that Digby has shown the white feather--and fled." + +"He was not a coward, Mrs. Petre," I remarked very calmly. + +"No. He was a brave and honest man until----" and she paused, her low +voice fading to a whisper that I did not catch. + +"Until what?" I asked. "Did something happen?" + +"Yes, it did," she replied in a hard, dry tone. "Something happened which +changed his life." + +"Then he is not the impostor the police believe?" I demanded. + +"Certainly not," was her prompt reply. "Why he has thought fit to +disappear fills me with anger. And yet--yet from this letter he has sent +to me I can now see the reason. He was, no doubt, compelled to fly, poor +fellow. His enemy forced him to do so." + +"The woman--eh?" + +"Yes, the woman," she admitted, bitter hatred in her voice. + +Then, after a pause, I said: "If I can be of any service to you, Mrs. +Petre, for we are both friends of Digby's, I trust you will not fail to +command me." + +And I handed her a card from my case, which I had carried expressly. + +"You are very kind, Mr. Royle," she replied. "Perhaps I may be very glad +of your services one day. Who knows? I live at Park Mansions." + +"And may I call?" + +"For the present, no. I let my flat while I went abroad, and it is still +occupied for several weeks. I shall not be there before the first week in +March." + +"But I want to find Digby--I want to see him most urgently," I said. + +"And so do I!" + +"How can we trace him?" I asked. + +"Ah! I am afraid he is far too elusive. If he wishes to hide himself we +need not hope to find him until he allows us to," she replied. "No, all +we can do is to remain patient and hopeful." + +Again a silence fell between us. I felt instinctively that she wished to +confide in me, but dare not do so. + +Therefore I exclaimed suddenly: + +"Will you not tell me, Mrs. Petre, the identity of this great enemy of +our friend--this woman? Upon information which you yourself may give, +Digby's future entirely depends," I added earnestly. + +"His future!" she echoed. "What do you mean?" + +"I mean only that I am trying to clear his good name of the stigma now +resting upon it." + +The handsome woman bit her lip. + +"No," she replied with a great effort. "I'm sorry--deeply sorry--but I am +now in a most embarrassing position. I have made a vow to him, and that +vow I cannot break without first obtaining his permission. I am upon my +honour." + +I was silent. What could I say? + +This woman certainly knew something--something which, if revealed, would +place me in possession of the truth of what had actually occurred at +Harrington Gardens on that fatal night. If she spoke she might clear +Phrida of all suspicion. + +Suddenly, after a pause, I made up my mind to try and clear up one +point--that serious, crucial point which had for days so obsessed me. + +"Mrs. Petre," I said, "I wonder if you will answer me a single question, +one which does not really affect the situation much. Indeed, as we are, I +hope, friends, I ask it more out of curiosity than anything else." + +"Well, what is it?" she asked, regarding me strangely. + +"I want to know whether, being a friend of Digby's, you have ever met or +ever heard of a certain young lady living in Kensington named Phrida +Shand." + +The effect of my words was almost electrical. She sprung towards me, with +fire in her big, dark eyes. + +"Phrida Shand!" she cried wildly, her white-gloved hands again clenched. +"Phrida Shand! You know that woman, eh? You know her, Mr. Royle. Is she a +friend of yours?--or--or is she your enemy? Your friend, perhaps, +because she is pretty. Oh, yes!" she laughed, hysterically. "Oh, yes! Of +course, she is your friend. If she is--then curse her, Mr. Royle--invoke +all the curses of hell upon her, as she so richly deserves!" + +And from her lips came a peal of laughter that was little short of +demoniacal, while I stood glaring at her in blank dismay. + +What did she mean? Aye, what, indeed? + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +IN WHICH AN ALLEGATION IS MADE. + + +I stood aghast at her words. + +I strove to induce her to speak more openly, and to tell me why I should +not regard Phrida as my friend. + +But she only laughed mysteriously, saying: + +"Wait, and you will see." + +"You make a distinct charge against her, therefore I think you ought to +substantiate it," I said in a tone of distinct annoyance. + +"Ah! Mr. Royle. Heed my words, I beg of you." + +"But, tell me, is Miss Shand the same person as you have denounced as +Digby's enemy?" I asked in breathless apprehension. "Surely you will tell +me, Mrs. Petre, now that we are friends." + +"Ah! but are we friends?" she asked, looking at me strangely beneath the +light of the street-lamp in that deserted thoroughfare, where all was +silence save the distant hum of the traffic. The dark trees above stood +out distinct against the dull red night-glare of London, as the +mysterious woman stood before me uttering that query. + +"Because we are mutual friends of Sir Digby's. I hope I may call you a +friend," I replied, as calmly as I was able. + +She paused for a moment in indecision. Then she said: + +"You admit that you are friendly with the girl Shand--eh?" + +"Certainly." + +"More than friendly, I wonder?" she asked in a sharp tone. + +"Well--I'll be perfectly frank," was my answer. "I am engaged to be +married to her." + +"Married," she gasped, "to her! Are you mad, Mr. Royle?" + +"I think not," I answered, greatly surprised at her sudden attitude. +"Why?" + +"Because--because," she replied in a low, earnest voice, scarce above a +whisper, "because, before you take such a step make further inquiry." + +"Inquiry about what?" I demanded. + +"About--well, about what has occurred at Harrington Gardens." + +"Then you know!" I cried. "You know the truth, Mrs. Petre?" + +"No," she replied quite calmly. "I know from this letter what must have +occurred there. But who killed the girl I cannot say." + +"Who was the girl they found dead?" I asked breathlessly. + +"Ah! How can I tell? I did not see her." + +In a few quick words I described the deceased, but either she did not +recognise her from the description, or she refused to tell me. In any +case, she declared herself in ignorance. + +The situation was galling and tantalising. I was so near discovering the +truth, and yet my inquiries had only plunged me more deeply into a +quagmire of suspicion and horror. The more I tried to extricate myself +the deeper I sank. + +"But whoever the poor girl may have been, you still maintain that Phrida +Shand was Digby's most deadly enemy?" I asked quickly, setting a trap for +her. + +I took her unawares, and she fell into it. + +"Yes," was her prompt response. An instant later, however, realising how +she had been led to make an allegation which she had not intended, she +hastened to correct herself, saying: "Ah, no! Of course, I do not allege +that. I--I only know that Digby was acquainted with her, and that----" + +"Well?" I asked slowly, when she paused. + +"That--that he regretted the acquaintanceship." + +"Regretted? Why?" + +The woman shrugged her shoulders. All along she had been cognisant of the +tragedy, yet with her innate cleverness she had not admitted her +knowledge. + +"A man often regrets his friendship with a woman," she said, with a +mysterious air. + +"What!" I cried fiercely. "Do you make an insinuation that----" + +"My dear Mr. Royle," she laughed, "I make no insinuation. It was you who +have endeavoured to compel me to condemn her as Digby's enemy. You +yourself suggested it!" + +"But you have told me that his fiercest and most bitter enemy was a +woman!" + +"Certainly. But I have not told you that woman's name, nor do I intend to +break my vow of secrecy to Digby--fugitive that he may be at this moment. +Yet, depend upon it, he will return and crush his enemies in the dust." + +"I hope he will," was my fervent reply. "Yet I love Phrida Shand, and +upon her there rests a terrible cloud of suspicion." + +She was silent for a moment, still standing beneath the lamp, gazing at +me with those big, dark eyes. + +At last she said: + +"The way out is quite easy." + +"How?" + +"If you have any regard for your future put your love aside," was her +hard response. + +"You hate her!" I said, knitting my brows, yet recollecting the proof I +had secured of her presence in Digby's flat. + +"Yes," was her prompt response. "I hate her--I have cause to hate her!" + +"What cause?" + +"That is my own affair, Mr. Royle--my own secret. Find Digby, and he +will, no doubt, tell you the truth." + +"The truth concerning Phrida?" + +"Yes." + +"But he knew I was engaged to her! Why did he not speak?" + +"And expose her secret?" she asked. "Would he have acted as a gentleman +had he done so? Does a man so lightly betray a woman's honour?" + +"A woman's honour!" I gasped, staring at her, staggered as though she +had struck me a blow. "What do you mean?" + +"I mean nothing," was her cold reply. "Take it as you may, Mr. Royle, +only be warned." + +"But if Digby knew that she was worthless, he would surely have made some +remark to arouse my suspicion?" I exclaimed. + +"Why should he?" she queried. "A true gentleman does not usually expose a +woman's secret." + +I saw her point, and my heart sank within me. Were these scandalous +allegations of hers based upon truth, or was she actuated by ill-feeling, +perhaps, indeed, of jealousy? + +We walked on again slowly until we reached St. James's Palace, and passed +out into the end of Pall Mall, where it joined St. James's Street. Yet +her attitude was one of complete mystery. I was uncertain whether the +admission she had so unconsciously made regarding Phrida--that she was +Digby's worst enemy--was the actual truth or not. + +One thing was plain. This Mrs. Petre was a clever, far-seeing woman of +the world, who had with great ingenuity held from me her knowledge of the +crime. + +A problem was, therefore, presented to me. By what means could she be +aware of it? First, she had expected to meet Digby that evening; +secondly, the letter I had brought was written before the assassination +of the unknown girl. + +How could she have obtained knowledge of the affair if it were not +premeditated and hinted at in the letter I had so faithfully delivered? + +Half way up St. James's Street my companion suddenly exclaimed: + +"I must be going! Would you please hail me a taxi, Mr. Royle?" + +"I will--when you have answered my question," I said, with great +politeness. + +"I have already replied to it," was her response. "You love Phrida Shand, +but if you have any self-respect, any regard for your future, break off +Whatever infatuation she has exercised over you. If you are Digby's +friend, you will be a man, and act as such!" + +"I really don't follow you," I said, bewildered. + +"Perhaps not. But surely my words are plain enough!" + +"Is she the enemy of Digby, of whom you have spoken?" + +"That question I am not permitted to answer." + +I was silent a few seconds. Then I asked earnestly: + +"Tell me openly and frankly, Mrs. Petre. Is she the person you suspect of +having committed the crime?" + +She gave vent to a short dry laugh. + +"Really, Mr. Royle," she exclaimed, "you put to me the most difficult +riddles. How can I possibly suspect anyone of a crime of which I know +nothing, and of which even the papers appear to be in ignorance?" + +"But you are not in ignorance," I said. "How, pray, did you learn that a +tragedy had occurred?" + +"Ah!" she laughed. "That is my secret. You were very careful not to tell +me the true cause of poor Digby's flight. Yes, Mr. Royle, I congratulate +you upon your ingenuity in protecting the honour of your friend. Rest +assured he will not forget the great services you have already rendered +him." + +"I look for no reward. He was my friend," was my reply. + +"Then, if he was your friend and you are still his, heed my warning +concerning Phrida Shand." + +"But tell me what you know?" I cried, clutching her arm as we walked +together. "You don't understand that you are making allegations--terrible +allegations--against the woman I love dearest in all the world. You have +made an assertion, and I demand that you shall substantiate it," I added +in frantic anxiety. + +She shook off my hand angrily, declaring that nothing more need be said, +and adding that if I refused to heed her, then the peril would be mine. + +"But you shall not leave me until you have furnished me with proof of +these perfidious actions of my love!" I declared vehemently. + +"Mr. Royle, we really cannot use high words in the public street," she +replied in a low tone of reproof. "I am sorry that I am not permitted to +say more." + +"But you shall!" I persisted. "Tell me--what do you know? Is Digby the +real Sir Digby?" + +"Of course he is!" + +"And what are his exact relations with Phrida?" + +"Ah!" she laughed. "You had better ask her yourself, Mr. Royle. She will, +no doubt, tell you. Of course, she will--well, if you are to marry her. +But there, I see that you are not quite responsible for your words this +evening. It is, perhaps, natural in the circumstances; therefore I will +forgive you." + +"Natural!" I echoed. "I should think it is natural that I should resent +such dastardly allegations when made against the woman I love." + +"All I repeat is--go and ask her for yourself," was the woman's quiet +response as she drew herself up, and pulled her fur more closely about +her throat. "I really can't be seen here talking with you in that garb," +she added. + +"But you must tell me," I persisted. + +"I can tell you no more than I have done. The girl you love will tell you +everything, or--at least, if you have a grain of ingenuity, as you no +doubt have--you will find out everything for yourself." + +"Ah! but----" + +"No, not another word, please, Mr. Royle--not to-night. If after making +inquiry into the matter you care to come and see me when I am back in +Park Mansions, I shall be very happy to receive you. By that time, +however, I hope we shall have had news of poor Digby's whereabouts." + +"If I hear from him--as I expect to--how can I communicate with you?" I +asked. + +For a few seconds she stood wondering. + +"Write to me to Park Mansions," she replied. "My letters are always +forwarded." + +And raising her umbrella she herself hailed a passing taxi. + +"Remember my warning," were her final words as she gave the man an +address in Regent's Park, and entered the conveyance. "Go and see Phrida +Shand at once and tell her what I have said." + +"May I mention your name?" I asked hoarsely. + +"Yes," she replied. "Good-night." + +And a moment later I was gazing at the red back-lamp of the taxi, while +soon afterwards I again caught a glimpse of the same lonely seller of +shawls whom I had seen at the Tube station, trudging wearily homeward, +there being no business doing at that hour of the evening. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +PHRIDA MAKES CONFESSION. + + +I sat in my rooms in Albemarle Street utterly bewildered. + +My meeting with the mysterious woman who wore the spray of mimosa had, +instead of assisting to clear up the mystery, increased it a hundredfold. + +The grave suspicions I had entertained of Phrida had been corroborated by +her strangely direct insinuations and her suggestion that I should go to +her and tell her plainly what had been alleged. + +Therefore, after a sleepless night, I went to Cromwell Road next morning, +determined to know the truth. You can well imagine my state of mind when +I entered Mrs. Shand's pretty morning-room, where great bowls of +daffodils lent colour to the otherwise rather dull apartment. + +Phrida entered, gay, fresh, and charming, in a dark skirt and white +blouse, having just risen from breakfast. + +"Really, Teddy," she laughed, "you ought to be awarded a prize for early +rising. I fear I'm horribly late. It's ten o'clock. But mother and I went +last night to the Aldwych, and afterwards with the Baileys to supper at +the Savoy. So I may be forgiven, may I not--eh?" + +"Certainly, dear," I replied, placing my hand upon her shoulder. "What +are you doing to-day?" + +"Oh! I'm quite full up with engagements," she replied, crossing to the +writing-table and consulting a porcelain writing tablet. + +"I'm due at my dressmaker's at half-past eleven, then I've to call in +Mount Street at half-past twelve, lunch at the Berkeley, where mother has +two women to lunch with her, and a concert at Queen's Hall at +three--quite a day, isn't it?" she laughed. + +"Yes," I said. "You are very busy--too busy even to talk seriously with +me--eh?" + +"Talk seriously!" she echoed, looking me straight in the face. "What do +you mean, Teddy? Why, what's the matter?" + +"Oh! nothing very much, dearest," was my reply, for I was striving to +remain calm, not withstanding my great anxiety and tortured mind. + +"But there is," she persisted, clutching at my hand and looking eagerly +into my face. "What is amiss? Tell me," she added, in low earnestness. + +I was silent for a moment, and leaving her I crossed to the window and +gazed out into the broad, grey thoroughfare, grim and dispiriting on that +chilly January morning. + +For a moment I held my breath, then, with sudden determination, I walked +back to where she was standing, and placing both hands upon her +shoulders, kissed her passionately upon the lips. + +"You are upset to-day, Teddy," she said, with deep concern. "What has +happened? Tell me, dear." + +"I--I hardly know what's happened," I replied in a low voice. "But, +Phrida," I said, looking straight into her great eyes, "I want to--to ask +you a question." + +"A question--what?" she demanded, her cheeks paling slightly. + +"Yes. I want you to tell me what you know of a Mrs. Petre, a----" + +"Mrs. Petre!" she gasped, stepping back from me, her face pale as death +in an instant. "That woman!" + +"Yes, that woman, Phrida. Who is she--what is she?" + +"Please don't ask me, Teddy," my love cried in distress, covering her +pretty face with her hands and bursting suddenly into tears. + +"But I must, Phrida--I must, for my own peace of mind," I said. + +"Why? Do you know the woman?" + +"I met her last night," I explained. "I delivered to her a note which my +friend Digby had entrusted to me." + +"I thought your friend had disappeared?" she said quickly. + +"It was given to me before his flight," was my response. "I fulfilled a +confidential mission with which he entrusted me. And--and I met her. She +knows you--isn't that so?" + +I stood with my eyes full upon the white face of the woman I loved, +surveying her coldly and critically, so full of black suspicion. Was my +heart at that moment wholly hers? In imagination, place yourself, my +reader, in a similar position. Put before yourself the problem with +which, at that second, I found myself face to face. + +I loved Phrida, and yet had I not obtained proof positive of her +clandestine visit to my friend on that fateful night? Were her +finger-prints not upon the little glass-topped specimen-table in his +room? + +And yet so clever, so ingenious had she been, so subtle was her woman's +wit, that she had never admitted to me any knowledge of him further than +a formal introduction I had once made long ago. + +I had trusted her--aye, trusted her with all the open sincerity of an +honourable man--for I loved her better than anything else on earth. And +with what result? + +With my own senses of smell and of hearing I had detected her presence on +the stairs--waiting, it seemed, to visit my friend in secret after I had +left. + +No doubt she had been unaware of my identity as his visitor, or she would +never dared to have lurked there. + +As I stood with my hand tenderly upon her arm, the gaze of my +well-beloved was directed to the ground. Guilt seemed written upon her +white brow, for she dared not raise her eyes to mine. + +"Phrida, you know that woman--you can't deny knowledge of her--can you?" + +She stood like a statue, with her hands clenched, her mouth half open, +her jaws fixed. + +"I--I--I don't know what you mean," she faltered at last, in a hard voice +quite unusual to her. + +"I mean that I have a suspicion, Phrida--a horrible suspicion--that you +have deceived me," I said. + +"How?" she asked, with her harsh, forced laugh. + +I paused. How should I tell her? How should I begin? + +"You have suppressed from me certain knowledge of which you know I ought +to have been in possession for my friend Digby's sake, and----" + +"Ah! Digby Kemsley again!" she cried impatiently. "You've not been the +same to me since that man disappeared." + +"Because you know more concerning him than you have ever admitted to me, +Phrida," I said in a firm, earnest voice, grasping her by the arm and +whispering into her ear. "Now, be open and frank with me--tell me the +truth." + +"Of what?" she faltered, raising her eyes to mine with a frightened look. + +"Of what Mrs. Petre has told me." + +"That woman! What has she said against me?" my love demanded with quick +resentment. + +"She is not your friend, in any case," I said slowly. + +"My friend!" she echoed. "I should think not. She----" + +And my love's little hands clenched themselves and she burst again into +tears without concluding her sentence. + +"I know, dearest," I said, striving to calm her, and stroking her hair +from her white brow. "I tell you at once that I do not give credence to +any of her foul allegations, only--well, in order to satisfy myself, I +have come direct to you to hear your explanation." + +"My--my explanation!" she gasped, placing her hand to her brow and bowing +her head. "Ah! what explanation can I make of allegations I have never +heard?" she demanded. "Surely, Teddy, you are asking too much." + +I grasped her hand, and holding it in mine gazed again upon her. We were +standing together near the centre of the room where the glowing fire +shed a genial warmth and lit up the otherwise gloomy and solemn +apartment. + +Ah! how sweet she seemed to me, how dainty, how charming, how very pure. +And yet? Ah! the recollection of that woman's insinuations on the +previous night ate like a canker-worm into my heart. And yet how I loved +the pale, agitated girl before me! Was she not all the world to me? + +A long and painful silence had fallen between us, a silence only broken +by the whirl of a taxi passing outside and the chiming of the long, +old-fashioned clock on the stairs. + +At last I summoned courage to say in a calm, low voice; + +"I am not asking too much, Phrida. I am only pressing you to act with +your usual honesty, and tell me the truth. Surely you can have nothing to +conceal?" + +"How absurd you are, Teddy!" she said in her usual voice. "What can I +possibly have to conceal from you?" + +"Pardon me," I said; "but you have already concealed from me certain very +important facts concerning my friend Digby." + +"Who has told you that? The woman Petre, I suppose," she cried in anger. +"Very well, believe her, if you wish." + +"But I don't believe her," I protested. + +"Then why ask me for an explanation?" + +"Because one is, I consider, due from you in the circumstances." + +"Then you have set yourself up to be my judge, have you?" she asked, +drawing herself up proudly, all traces of her tears having vanished. I +saw that the attitude she had now assumed was one of defiance; therefore +I knew that if I were to obtain the information I desired I must act with +greatest discretion. + +"No, Phrida," I answered. "I do not mistrust or misjudge you. All I ask +of you is the truth. What do you know of my friend Digby Kemsley?" + +"Know of him--why, nothing--except that you introduced us." + +For a second I remained silent. Then with severity I remarked: + +"Pardon me, but I think you rather misunderstood my question. I meant to +ask whether you have ever been to his flat in Harrington Gardens?" + +"Ah! I see," she cried instantly. "That woman Petre has endeavoured to +set you against me, Teddy, because I love you. She has invented some +cruel lie or other, just as she did in another case within my knowledge. +Come," she added, "tell me out plainly what she has alleged against me?" + +She was very firm and resolute now, and I saw in her face a hard, defiant +expression--an expression of bitter hatred against the woman who had +betrayed her. + +"Well," I said; "loving you as intensely as I do, I can hardly bring +myself to repeat her insinuations." + +"But I demand to know them," she protested, standing erect and facing me. +"I am attacked; therefore, I am within my right to know what charges the +woman has brought against me." + +"She has brought no direct charges," was my slow reply. "But she has +suggested certain things--certain scandalous things." + +"What are they?" she gasped, suddenly pale as death. + +"First tell me the truth, Phrida," I cried, holding her in my arms and +looking straight into those splendid eyes I admired so much. "Admit +it--you knew Digby. He--he was a friend of yours?" + +"A--a friend--" she gasped, half choking with emotion. "A--friend--yes." + +"You knew him intimately. You visited him at his rooms unknown to me!" I +went on fiercely. + +"Ah!" she shrieked. "Don't torture me like this, Teddy, when I love you +so deeply. You don't know--you can never know all I have suffered--and +now this woman has sought to ruin and crush me!" + +"Has she spoken the truth when she says that you visited Digby--at +night--in secret!" I demanded, bitterly, between my teeth, still holding +her, her white, hard-set face but a few inches from my own. + +She drew a long, deep breath, and in her eyes was a strange +half-fascinated look--a look that I had never seen in them before. + +"Ah! Teddy," she gasped. "This--this is the death of all our love. I +foresee only darkness and ruin before me. But I will not lie to you. No! +I--I----" + +Then she paused, and a shudder ran through her slim frame which I held +within my grasp. "I'll tell you the truth. Yes. I--I--went to see your +friend unknown to you." + +"You did!" I cried hoarsely, with fierce anger possessing my soul. + +"Yes, dear," she faltered in a voice so low that I could scarce catch her +reply. "Yes--I--I went there," she faltered, "because--because he--he +compelled me." + +"Compelled you!" I echoed in blank dismay. + +But at that instant I saw that the blackness of unconsciousness had +fallen upon my love even as I held her in my embrace. + +And for me, too, alas! the sun of life had ceased to shine, and the world +was dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE FUGITIVE'S SECRET. + + +Tenderly I placed my love upon the couch, and then rang the bell. + +In answer to my summons the young Italian man-servant appeared. + +"Send Mallock here quickly," I said. "Miss Shand is not well. But say +nothing of this to your mistress, or to the other servants. You +understand, Egisto?" + +"Cer-tainly, sare," replied the smart young Tuscan, and a few moments +later the door re-opened to admit the thin-faced maid in black, wearing +her muslin apron and gold-rimmed glasses. + +She dashed across to the couch in an instant, and bent, looking into the +white, immobile face of my well-beloved. + +"I fear your mistress has fainted, Mallock, so I thought it best to call +you. I have, unfortunately, imparted to her some news which has upset +her. Will you please see after her?" + +"Of course, sir. I'll go and get some smelling salts and some water." + +And quickly the girl disappeared. Then, when she had gone, I stood +before the inanimate form of the woman I loved so well, and wondered what +could be the real, actual truth. + +Her admission had taken me aback. She had confessed to visiting my +friend, but had alleged that he had compelled her. Was she actually +beneath some mysterious thraldom--was she held in some secret bondage by +the man I had trusted and who was my best friend? + +The very suspicion of it filled me with a fierce irresponsible anger, and +I clenched my fists. + +Ah! I would find him and face him. I would clutch his throat and force +the truth from his lips. + +And if he had betrayed me--if he had exercised any evil influence over +Phrida--then, by heaven! I would take his life! + +Mallock bustled in the next moment, and sinking upon her knees began to +apply restoratives. + +"Tell your mistress that I will return after luncheon, if she will see +me," I said. + +"Yes, sir." + +"And--and tell her, Mallock, to remain calm until I see her. Will you?" + +"Yes, sir," answered the maid, and then I went out into the hall, +struggled into my overcoat, and left the house. + +Out in Cromwell Road the scene, grey, dull and dismal, was, alas! in +accord with my own feelings. + +The blow I had feared had fallen. The terrible suspicion I had held from +that moment when, upon the stairs at Harrington Gardens, I had smelt that +sweet, unusual perfume and heard the jingle of golden bangles, had been +proved. + +She had actually admitted her presence there--with the man I had believed +to be my friend, the man, whom, up to the present, I had sought to shield +and protect! + +I hailed a taxi, and not knowing what I did, drove to the Reform. As I +passed up the steps from Pall Mall the porter handed me my letters, and +then, heedless of where my footsteps carried me, I entered the big, +square hall and turned into the writing-room on the left--a room historic +in the annals of British politics, for many a State secret had been +discussed there by Ministers of the Crown, many a point of the Cabinet's +policy had been decided, and also the fate of many a bill. + +The long, sombre room with the writing tables covered with blue cloth, +was empty, as it usually is, and I flung myself down to scribble a +note--an apology for not keeping an appointment that afternoon. + +My overburdened heart was full of chagrin and grief, for my idol had been +shattered by a single blow, and only the wreck of all my hopes and +aspirations now remained. + +In a week's time the coroner would hold his adjourned inquiry into the +tragedy at Harrington Gardens, and then what startling revelations might +be made! By that time it was probable that the police would be able to +establish the identity of the accused, and, moreover, with Mrs. Petre +vengeful and incensed against Phrida, might she not make a statement to +the authorities? + +If so, what then? + +I sat with my elbows upon the table staring out into Pall Mall, which +wore such a cold and cheerless aspect that morning. + +What could I do? How should I act? Ah! yes, at that moment I sat utterly +bewildered, and trying in vain to discern some way out of that maze of +mystery. + +I had not looked at the unopened letters beneath my hand, but suddenly +chancing to glance at them, I noticed one in an unfamiliar feminine +handwriting. + +I tore it open carelessly, expecting to find some invitation or other, +when, within, I found three hastily scrawled lines written on the +notepaper of the Great Eastern Hotel at Liverpool Street. It read: + + "Since I saw you something has happened. Can you meet me again + as soon as possible? Please wire me, Mrs. Petre, Melbourne + House, Colchester." + +I gazed at the note in extreme satisfaction. At least, I had the woman's +address. Yes, after I had again seen Phrida I would see her and force +from her lips the truth. + +I rose quickly, placed the other letters in my pocket without opening +them, and drove down to the City, where I was compelled to keep a +business appointment. + +At half-past three Egisto admitted me to Mrs. Shand's, and in reply to my +question, told me that the "Signorina," as he always called Phrida, was +in the morning-room. + +Dressed in a pale grey gown, relieved with lace at the collar and wrists, +she rose slowly from a big armchair as I entered, and came across to me, +her face pale, drawn, and anxious. + +"Ah! dearest," I cried. "I'm glad to see you better. Are you quite +yourself again now?" + +"Quite, thanks," was her low, rather weak reply. "I--I felt very unwell +this morning. I--I don't know what was the matter." Then clinging to me +suddenly, she added, "Ah! forgive me, Teddy, won't you?" + +"There is nothing to forgive, dear," was my reply, as, placing my arm +tenderly about her slim waist, I looked into the depths of those +wonderful dark eyes of hers, trying to fathom what secret lay hidden +there. + +"Ah!" she ejaculated. "I know, dear, that though you affect to have +forgiven me--that you have not. How could you possibly forgive?" + +"I am not angry with you in the least, Phrida!" I assured her quite +calmly. "Because you have not yet told me the truth. I am here to learn +it." + +"Yes," she gasped, sinking into a chair and staring straight into the +fire. The short winter's day was dying, and already the light had nearly +faded. But the fire threw a mellow glow upon her pale, hard-set features, +and she presented a strangely dramatic picture as she sat there with head +bent in shame. "Ah! yes. You are here again to torture me, I suppose," +she sighed bitterly. + +"I have no desire in the least to torture you," I said, standing erect +before her. "But I certainly think that some explanation of your conduct +is due to me--the man whom you are to marry." + +"Marry!" she echoed in a blank voice, with a shrug of her shoulders, her +eyes still fixed upon the fire. + +"Yes, marry," I repeated. "You made an admission to me this morning--one +of which any man would in such circumstances demand explanation. You said +that my friend had forced you to go to Harrington Gardens. Tell me why? +What power does that man hold over you?" + +"Ah, no! Teddy!" she cried, starting wildly to her feet. "No, no!" she +protested, grasping my hands frantically. "Don't ask that question. Spare +me that! Spare me that, for the sake of the love you once bore for me." + +"No. I repeat my question," I said slowly, but very determinedly. + +"Ah! no. I--I can't answer it. I----" + +For a few moments a silence fell between us. + +Then I said in a low, meaning tone: + +"You can't answer it, Phrida, because you are ashamed, eh?" + +She sprang upon me in an instant, her face full of resentful fire. + +"No!" she declared vehemently. "I am not ashamed--only I--I cannot tell +you the reason I went to Harrington Gardens. That's all." + +"Yours is, to say the least, a rather thin excuse, is it not?" I asked. + +"What else can I say? Simply I can tell you nothing." + +"But you admit that you went to Harrington Gardens. Did you go more than +once?" I asked very quietly. + +She nodded in the affirmative. + +"And the last occasion was on the night when my friend was forced to +fly, eh?" I suggested. + +I saw that she was about to elude answering my question. Therefore, I +added: + +"I already know you were there. I have established your presence beyond +the shadow of doubt. So you may just as well admit it." + +"I--I do," she faltered, sinking again into her chair and resting her +elbows upon her knees. + +"You were there--you were present when the crime was committed," I said, +looking straight at her as I stood before her with folded arms. + +"Whoever has said that tells wicked lies," was her quick response. + +"You were in Digby's room that night--after I left," I declared. + +"How do you know." + +"Because the police have photographs of your finger-prints," was my quiet +reply. + +The effect of my words upon her was electrical. + +"The police!" she gasped, her face instantly pale as death. "Do they +know?" + +"Inspector Edwards is in possession of your finger-prints," I replied +briefly. + +"Then--then they will suspect me!" she shrieked in despair. "Ah! Teddy! +If you love me, save me!" + +And she flung herself wildly at my feet, clutching my hands and raising +her face to mine in frantic appeal. + +"For that very reason I have returned here to you to-day, Phrida," I +replied in a low tone of sympathy. "If I can save you from being +implicated in this terrible affair, I will. But you must tell me the +whole truth from the start. Then I may be able to devise a plan to +ensure your security." + +And I slowly assisted her to her feet and led her back to her chair. + +She sat without moving or speaking for some moments, gravely thinking. +Then of a sudden, she said in a hard, hoarse voice: + +"Ah! you don't know, Teddy, what I have suffered--how I have been the +innocent victim of a foul and dastardly plot. I--I was entrapped--I----" + +"Entrapped!" I echoed. "By whom? Not by Digby Kemsley? He was not the +sort of man." + +"He is your friend, I know. But if you knew the truth you would hate +him--hate him, with as deep and fierce a hatred as I do now," she +declared, with a strange look in her great eyes. + +"You told me he had forced you to go to his flat." + +"He did." + +"Why?" + +"Because he wanted to tell me something--to----" + +"To tell you what?" + +"I refuse to explain--I can't tell you, Teddy." + +"Because it would be betraying his secret--eh?" I remarked with +bitterness. "And, yet, in the same breath you have told me you hate him. +Surely, this attitude of yours is an unusual one--is it not? You cannot +hate him and strive to shield him at the same moment!" + +She paused for a second before replying. Then she said: + +"I admit that my attitude towards your friend is a somewhat strange one, +but there are reasons--strong, personal reasons of my own--which prevent +me revealing to you the whole of what is a strange and ghastly story. +Surely it will suffice you to know that I did not conceal all knowledge +of your friend and call upon him in secret all of my own free will. No, +Teddy, I loved you--and I still love you, dear--far too well for that." + +"I trusted you, Phrida, but you deceived me," I replied, with a poignant +bitterness in my heart. + +"Under compulsion. Because----" and she paused with a look of terror in +her eyes. + +"Because what?" I asked slowly, placing my hand tenderly upon her +shoulder. + +She shrank from contact with me. + +"No. I--I can't tell you. It--it's all too terrible, too horrible!" she +whispered hoarsely, covering her white face with her hands. "I loved you, +but, alas! all my happiness, all the joy of which I have so long dreamed, +has slipped away from me because of the one false step--my one foolish +action--of which I have so long repented." + +"Tell me, Phrida," I urged, in deep earnestness, bending down to her. +"Confide in me." + +"No," she replied, with an air of determination. "It is my own affair. I +have acted foolishly and must bear the consequences." + +"But surely you will not sacrifice our love rather than tell me the +truth!" I cried. + +Hot tears welled in her eyes, and I felt her frail form tremble beneath +my touch. + +"Alas! I am compelled," she faltered. + +"Then you refuse to tell me--you refuse to explain why this man whom I +believed to be my friend, and to whom I have rendered many services, has +held you in his thraldom?" I exclaimed bitterly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +REVEALS A FURTHER DECEPTION. + + +My love paused. She remained silent for a long time. Then, with her head +bowed, she faltered: + +"Yes. I--I am compelled to refuse." + +"Why compelled?" I demanded. + +"I--I cannot tell you," she whispered hoarsely. "I dare not." + +"Dare not? Is your secret so terrible, then?" + +"Yes. It is all a mystery. I do not know the truth myself," she replied. +"I only know that I--that I love you, and that now, because that woman +has spoken, I have lost you and am left to face the world--the +police--alone!" + +"Have I not told you, dearest, that I will do my best to protect and +defend you if you will only reveal the truth to me," I said. + +"But I can't." + +"You still wish to shield this blackguard who has held you in secret in +his hands?" I cried in anger. + +"No, I don't," she cried in despair. "I tell you, Teddy, now--even if +this is the last time we ever meet--that I love you and you alone. I +have fallen the victim of a clever and dastardly plot, believe me, or +believe me not. What I tell you is the truth." + +"I do believe you," I replied fervently. "But if you love me, Phrida, as +you declare, you will surely reveal to me the perfidy of this man I have +trusted!" + +"I--I can't now," she said in a voice of excuse. "It is impossible. But +you may know some day." + +"You knew that I visited him on that fatal night. Answer me?" + +She hesitated. Then presently, in a low tone, replied-- + +"Yes, Teddy, I knew. Ah!" she went on, her face white and haggard. "You +cannot know the torture I have undergone--fearing that you might be aware +of my presence there. Each time I met you I feared to look you in the +face." + +"Because your secret is a guilty one--eh?" + +"I fell into a trap, and I cannot extricate myself," she declared +hoarsely. "Now that the police know, there is only one way out for me," +she added, in a tone of blank despair. "I cannot face it--no--I--now that +I have lost your love, dear. I care for naught more. My enemies will +hound me to my death!" + +And she burst into a torrent of bitter tears. + +"No, no," I answered her, placing my hand tenderly upon her shoulder. +"Reveal the truth to me, and I will protect you and shield you from them. +At present, though the police are in possession of your finger-prints, as +being those of a person who had entered the flat on that night, they have +no knowledge of your identity, therefore, dear, have no fear." + +"Ah! but I am in peril!" she cried, and I felt her shudder beneath my +touch. "That woman--ah!--she may tell the police!" + +"What woman?" + +"Mrs. Petre, the woman who has already betrayed me to you." + +"Then she knows--she knows your secret?" I gasped. + +She bent her head slowly in the affirmative. + +I saw in her eyes a look of terror and despair, such as I had never +before seen in the eyes of any person before--a haunted, agonised +expression that caused my heart to go out in sympathy for her--for even +though she might be guilty--guilty of that crime of vengeance, yet, after +all, she was mine and she possessed my heart. + +"Is there no way of closing that woman's lips?" I asked very slowly. + +She was silent, for, apparently, the suggestion had not before occurred +to her. Of a sudden, she looked up into my face earnestly, and asked: + +"Tell me, Teddy. Will you promise me--promise not to prejudge me?" + +"I do not prejudge you at all, dearest," I declared with a smile. "My +annoyance is due to your refusal to reveal to me anything concerning the +man who has falsely posed as my friend." + +"I would tell you all, dearest," she assured me, "but it is impossible. +If I spoke I should only further arouse your suspicions, for you would +never believe that I spoke the truth." + +"Then you prefer that I should remain in ignorance, and by doing so your +own peril becomes increased!" I remarked, rather harshly. + +"Alas! my silence is imperative," was all she would reply. + +Again and again I pressed her to tell me the reason of the evil influence +held over her by the man who was now a fugitive, but with the greatest +ingenuity she evaded my questions, afterwards declaring that all my +inquiries were futile. The secret was hers. + +"And so you intend to shield this man, Phrida," I remarked at last, in +bitter reproach. + +"I am not silent for his sake!" my love cried, starting up in quick +resentment. "I hate him too much. No, I refuse to reveal the truth +because I am compelled." + +"But supposing you were compelled to clear yourself in a criminal court," +I said. "Supposing that this woman went to the police! What then? You +would be compelled to speak the truth." + +"No. I--I'd rather kill myself!" she declared, in frantic despair. +"Indeed, that is what I intend to do--now that I know I have lost you!" + +"No, no," I cried. "You have not lost me, Phrida. I still believe in your +purity and honesty," I went on, clasping her passionately to my heart, +she sobbing bitterly the while. "I love you and I still believe in you," +I whispered into her ear. + +She heaved a great sigh. + +"Ah! I wonder if you really speak the truth?" she murmured. "If I thought +you still believed in me, how happy I should be. I would face my enemies, +and defy them." + +"I repeat, Phrida, that notwithstanding this suspicion upon you, I love +you," I said very earnestly. + +"Then you will not prejudge me!" she asked, raising her tear-stained eyes +to mine. "You will not believe evil of me until--until I can prove to +you the contrary. You will not believe what Mrs. Petre has told you?" she +implored. + +"I promise, dearest, that I will believe nothing against you," I said +fervently, kissing her cold, hard lips. "But cannot you, in return, +assist me in solving the mystery of Harrington Gardens. Who was the girl +found there? Surely you know?" + +"No, I don't. I swear I don't," was her quick reply, though her face was +blanched to the lips. + +"But Mrs. Petre gave me to understand that you knew her," I said. + +"Yes--that woman!" she cried in anger. "She has lied to you, as to the +others. Have I not told you that she is my most deadly enemy?" + +"Then she may go to the police--who knows! How can we close her mouth?" + +My love drew a long breath and shook her head. The light had faded, and +only the fitful flames of the fire illuminated the sombre room. In the +dark shadows she presented a pale, pathetic little figure, her face white +as death, her thin, delicate hands clasped before her in dismay and +despair. + +"Have you any idea where Digby is at this moment?" I asked her slowly, +wondering whether if he were an intimate friend he had let her know his +hiding-place. + +"No. I have not the slightest idea," was her faint reply. + +"Ah! If only I could discover him I would wring the truth from him," I +exclaimed between my teeth. + +"And if you did so, I myself would be imperilled," she remarked. "No, +Teddy, you must not do that if--if you love me and would protect me." + +"Why?" + +"If you went to him he would know that I had spoken, and then he would +fulfil the threats he has so often made. No, you must not utter a single +word. You must, for my sake, still remain his friend. Will you, dear?" + +"After what you have told me!" I cried. "Never!" + +"But you must," she implored, grasping both my hands in hers. "If he had +the slightest suspicion that I had admitted my friendship with him, he +would act as he has always declared he would." + +"How would he act?" + +"He would reveal something--he would bring proofs that even you would +consider irrefutable," she answered in a low, hard whisper. "No, dear," +and her grip upon my hands tightened. "In any case there only remains to +me one course--to end it all, for in any case, I must lose you. Your +confidence and love can never be restored." + +"You must not speak like that," I said very gravely. "I have not yet lost +confidence in you, Phrida. I----" + +"Ah! I know how generous you are, dear," she interrupted, "but how can I +conceal from myself the true position? You have discovered that I visited +that man's flat clandestinely, that--that we were friends--and that----" + +She paused, not concluding her sentence, and bursting again into tears, +rushed from the room before I could grasp and detain her. + +I stood silent, utterly dumbfounded. + +Were those words an admission of her guilt? + +Was it by her hand, as that woman had insinuated, the unknown girl's life +had been taken? + +I recollected the nature of the wound, as revealed by the medical +evidence, and I recalled that knife which was lying upon the table in +the drawing-room above. + +Why did Phrida so carefully conceal from me the exact truth concerning +her friendship with the man I had trusted? What secret power did he +exercise over her? And why did she fear to reveal anything to me--even +though I had assured her that my confidence in her remained unshaken. + +Was not guilt written upon that hard, white face? + +I stood staring out of the window in blank indecision. What I had all +along half feared had been proved. Between my love and the man of whom I +had never had the slightest suspicion, some secret--some guilty +secret--existed. + +And even now, even at risk of losing my affection, she was seeking to +shield him! + +My blood boiled within me, and I clenched my fists as I strode angrily up +and down that dark room. + +All her admissions came back to me--her frantic appeal to me not to +prejudge her, and her final and out-spoken decision to take her own life +rather than reveal the truth. + +What could it mean? What was the real solution of that strange problem of +crime in which, quite unwittingly, I had become so deeply implicated? + +I was passing the grate in pacing the room, as I had already done several +times, when my eyes fell upon a piece of paper which had been screwed up +and flung there. Curiosity prompted me to pick it out of the cinders, for +it struck me that it must have been thrown there by Phrida before I had +entered the room. + +To my surprise I saw the moment I held it in my hand that it was a +telegram. Opening it carefully I found that it was addressed to her, +therefore she had no doubt cast it upon the fire when I had so suddenly +entered. + +I read it, and stood open-mouthed and amazed. + +By it the perfidy of the woman I loved, alas! became revealed. + +She had deceived me! + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +AN EFFACED IDENTITY. + + +The telegram was signed with the initial "D."--Digby! + +The words I read were--"Have discovered T suspects. Exercise greatest +care, and remember your promise. We shall meet again soon." + +The message showed that it had been handed in at Brussels at one o'clock +that afternoon. + +Brussels! So he was hiding there. Yes, I would lose no time in crossing +to the gay little Belgian capital and search him out. + +Before giving him up to the police I would meet him face to face and +demand the truth. I would compel him to speak. + +Should I retain possession of the message? I reflected. But, on +consideration, I saw that when I had left, Phrida might return to recover +it. If I replaced it where I had found it she would remain in ignorance +of the knowledge I had gained. + +So I screwed it up again and put it back among the cinders in the grate, +afterwards leaving the house. + +Next morning I stepped out upon the platform of the great Gare du Nord in +Brussels--a city I knew well, as I had often been there on business--and +drove in a taxi along the busy, bustling Boulevard Auspach to the Grand +Hotel. + +In the courtyard, as I got out, the frock-coated and urbane manager +welcomed me warmly, for I had frequently been his guest, and I was shown +to a large room overlooking the Boulevard where I had a wash and changed. + +Then descending, I called a taxi and immediately began a tour of the +various hotels where I thought it most likely that the man I sought might +be. + +The morning was crisp and cold, with a perfect sky and brilliant +sunshine, bright and cheerful indeed after the mist and gloom of January +in London. + +Somehow the aspect, even in winter, is always brighter across the channel +than in our much maligned little island. They know not the "pea-souper" +on the other side of the Straits of Dover, and the light, invigorating +atmosphere is markedly apparent directly one enters France or Belgium. + +The business boulevards, the Boulevarde Auspach, and the Boulevard du +Nord, with their smart shops, their big cafes, and their hustling crowds, +were bright and gay as my taxi sped on, first to the Metropole, in the +Place de Brouckere. + +The name of Kemsley was unknown there. The old concierge glanced at his +book, shook his head, and elevating his shoulders, replied: + +"Non, m'sieur." + +Thence I went to the Palace, in front of the station, the great new hotel +and one of the finest in Europe, a huge, garish place of gilt and luxury. +But there I met with equal success. + +Then I made the tour of the tree-lined outer boulevards, up past the +Botanical Gardens and along the Rue Royale, first to the Hotel de France, +then to the Europe, the Belle Vue, the Carlton in the Avenue Louise, the +new Wiltscher's a few doors away, and a very noted English house from the +Boulevard Waterloo, as well as a dozen other houses in various parts of +the town--the Cecil in the Boulevard du Nord, the Astoria in the Rue +Royale, and even one or two of the cheaper pensions--the Dufour, De +Boek's, and Nettell's, but all to no purpose. + +Though I spent the whole of that day making investigations I met with no +success. + +Though I administered judicious tips to concierge after concierge, I +could not stir the memory of a single one that within the past ten days +any English gentleman answering the description I gave had stayed at +their establishment. + +Until the day faded, and the street lamps were lit, I continued my +search, my taxi-driver having entered into the spirit of my quest, and +from time to time suggesting other and more obscure hotels of which I had +never heard. + +But the reply was the same--a regretful "Non, m'sieur." + +It had, of course, occurred to me that if the fugitive was hiding from +the Belgian police, who no doubt had received his description from +Scotland Yard, he would most certainly assume a false name. + +But I hoped by my minute description to be able to stir the memory of one +or other of the dozens of uniformed hall-porters whom I interviewed. The +majority of such men have a remarkably retentive memory for a face, due +to long cultivation, just as that possessed by one's club hall-porter, +who can at once address any of the thousand or so members by name. + +I confess, however, when at five o'clock, I sat in the huge, noisy Cafe +Metropole over a glass of coffee and a liqueur of cognac, I began to +realise the utter hopelessness of my search. + +Digby Kemsley was ever an evasive person--a past master in avoiding +observation, as I well knew. It had always been a hobby of his, he had +told me, of watching persons without himself being seen. + +Once he had remarked to me while we had been smoking together in that +well-remembered room wherein the tragedy had taken place: + +"I should make a really successful detective, Royle. I've had at certain +periods of my life to efface myself and watch unseen. Now I've brought it +to a fine art. If ever circumstances make it imperative for me to +disappear--which I hope not," he laughed, "well--nobody will ever find +me, I'm positive." + +These words of his now came back to me as I sat there pensively smoking, +and wondering if, after all, I had better not return again to London and +remain patient for the additional police evidence which would no doubt be +forthcoming at the adjourned inquest in a week's time. + +I thought of the clever cunning exercised by the girl whom I so dearly +loved and in whose innocence I had so confidently believed, of her blank +refusal to satisfy me, and alas! of her avowed determination to shield +the scoundrel who had posed as my friend, and whom the police had +declared to be only a vulgar impostor. + +My bitter reflection maddened me. + +The jingle and chatter of that noisy cafe, full to overflowing at that +hour, for rain had commenced to fall outside in the boulevard, irritated +me. From where I sat in the window I could see the crowds of business +people, hurrying through the rain to their trams and trains--the +neat-waisted little modistes, the felt-hatted young clerks, the obese and +over-dressed and whiskered men from their offices on the Bourse, the +hawkers crying the "Soir," and the "Derniere Heure," with strident +voices, the poor girls with rusty shawls and pinched faces, selling +flowers, and the gaping, idling Cookites who seem to eternally pass and +re-pass the Metropole at all hours of the day and the night. + +Before my eyes was there presented the whole phantasmagoria of the life +of the thrifty, hard-working Bruxellois, that active, energetic race +which the French have so sarcastically designated "the brave Belgians." + +After a lonely dinner in the big, glaring salle-a-manger, at the Grand, I +went forth again upon my quest. That the fugitive had been in Brussels on +the previous day was proved by his telegram, yet evasive as he was, he +might have already left. Yet I hoped he still remained in the capital, +and if so he would, I anticipated, probably go to one of the music-halls +or variety theatres. Therefore I set out upon another round. + +I strolled eagerly through the crowded promenade of the chief music-hall +of Brussels--the Pole Nord, the lounge wherein men and women were +promenading, laughing, and drinking, but I saw nothing of the man of whom +I was in search. + +I knew that he had shaved off his beard and otherwise altered his +appearance. Therefore my attention upon those about me was compelled to +be most acute. + +I surveyed both stalls and boxes, but amid that gay, well-dressed crowd I +could discover nobody the least resembling him. + +From the Pole Nord I went to the Scala, where I watched part of an +amusing revue; but my search there was likewise in vain, as it was also +at Olympia, the Capucines, and the Folies Bergeres, which I visited in +turn. Then, at midnight, I turned my attention to the big cafes, +wandering from the Bourse along the Boulevard Auspach, entering each cafe +and glancing around, until at two o'clock in the morning I returned to +the Grand, utterly fagged out by my long vigil of over fifteen hours. + +In my room I threw off my overcoat and flung myself upon the bed in utter +despair. + +Until I met that man face to face I could not, I saw, learn the truth +concerning my love's friendship with him. + +Mrs. Petre had made foul insinuations, and now that my suspicions had +been aroused that Phrida might actually be guilty of that terrible crime +at Harrington Gardens, the whole attitude of my well-beloved seemed to +prove that my suspicions were well grounded. + +Indeed, her last unfinished sentence as she had rushed from the room +seemed conclusive proof of the guilty secret by which her mind was now +overburdened. + +She had never dreamed that I held the slightest suspicion. It was only +when she knew that the woman Petre had met me and had talked with me that +she saw herself betrayed. Then, when I had spoken frankly, and told her +what the woman had said, she saw that to further conceal her friendship +with Digby was impossible. + +Every word she had spoken, every evasive sentence, every protest that she +was compelled to remain silent, recurred to me as I lay there staring +blankly at the painted ceiling. + +She had told me that she was unaware of the fugitive's whereabouts, and +yet not half an hour before she had received a telegram from him. + +Yes, Phrida--the woman I trusted and loved with such a fierce, passionate +affection, had lied to me deliberately and barefacedly. + +But I was on the fellow's track, and cost what it might in time, or in +money, I did not intend to relinquish my search until I came face to face +with him. + +That night, as I tossed restlessly in bed, it occurred to me that even +though he might be in Brussels, it was most probable in the circumstances +that he would exercise every precaution in his movements, and knowing +that the police were in search of him, would perhaps not go forth in the +daytime. + +Many are the Englishmen living "under a cloud" in Brussels, as well as in +Paris, and there is not a Continental city of note which does not contain +one or more of those who have "gone under" at home. + +Seedy and down-at-heel, they lounge about the cafes and hotels frequented +by English travellers. Sometimes they sit apart, pretend to sip their cup +of coffee and read a newspaper, but in reality they are listening with +avidity to their own language being spoken by their own people--poor, +lonely, solitary exiles. + +Every man who knows the by-ways of the Continent has met them often in +far-off, obscure towns, where they bury themselves in the lonely +wilderness of a drab back street and live high-up for the sake of fresh +air and that single streak of sunshine which is the sole pleasure of +their broken, blighted lives. + +Yes, the more I reflected, the more apparent did it become that if the +man whom Inspector Edwards had declared to be a gross impostor was still +in the Belgian capital, he would most probably be in safe concealment in +one or other of the cheaper suburbs. + +But how could I trace him? + +To go to the bureau of police and make a statement would only defeat my +own ends. + +No; if I intended to learn the truth I must act upon my own initiative. +Official interference would only thwart my own endeavours. + +I knew Digby Kemsley. He was as shrewd and cunning as any of the famous +detectives, whether in real life or in fiction. Therefore, to be a match +for him, I would, I already realised, be compelled to fight him with his +own weapons. + +I did not intend that he should escape me before he told me, with his own +lips, the secret of my well-beloved. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +REVEALS ANOTHER ENIGMA. + + +"The identity of the victim has not yet been established, sir." + +These words were spoken to the coroner by Inspector Edwards at the +adjourned inquest held on January the twenty-second. + +Few people were in court, for, until the present, the public had had no +inkling as to what had occurred on that fatal night in Harrington +Gardens. The first inquest had not been "covered" by any reporter, as the +police had exercised considerable ingenuity in keeping the affair a +secret. + +But now, at the adjourned inquiry, secrecy was no longer possible, and +the three reporters present were full of inquisitiveness regarding the +evidence given on the previous occasion, and listened with attention +while it was being read over. + +Inspector Edwards, however, had dealt with them in his usually genial +manner, and by the exercise of considerable diplomacy had succeeded in +allaying their suspicions that there was any really good newspaper +"story" in connection with it. + +The medical witnesses were recalled, but neither had anything to add to +the depositions they had already made. The deceased had been fatally +stabbed by a very keen knife with a blade of peculiar shape. That was +all. + +The unknown had been buried, and all that remained in evidence was a +bundle of blood-stained clothing, some articles of jewellery, a pair of +boots, hat, coat, gloves, and a green leather vanity-bag. + +"Endeavours had been made, sir, to trace some of the articles worn by the +deceased, and also to establish the laundry marks on the underclothing," +the inspector went on, "but, unfortunately, the marks have been +pronounced by experts to be foreign ones, and the whole of the young +lady's clothes appear to have been made abroad--in France or Belgium, it +is thought." + +"The laundry marks are foreign, eh?" remarked the coroner, peering at the +witness through his pince-nez, and poising his pen in his hand. "Are you +endeavouring to make inquiry abroad concerning them?" + +"Every inquiry is being made, sir, in a dozen cities on the continent. In +fact, in all the capitals." + +"And the description of the deceased has been circulated?" + +"Yes, sir. Photographs have been sent through all the channels in Europe. +But up to the present we have met with no success," Edwards replied. +"There is a suspicion because of a name upon a tab in the young girl's +coat that she may be Italian. Hence the most ardent search is being made +by the Italian authorities into the manner and descriptions of females +lately reported as missing." + +"The affair seems remarkably curious," said the coroner. "It would +certainly appear that the lady who lost her life was a stranger to +London." + +"That is what we believe, sir," Edwards replied. Seated near him, I saw +how keen and shrewd was the expression upon his face. "We have evidence +that certain persons visited the flat on the night in question, but these +have not yet been identified. The owner of the flat has not yet been +found, he having absconded." + +"Gone abroad, I suppose?" + +"It would appear so, sir." + +"And his description has been circulated also?" asked the coroner. + +"Yes, a detailed description, together with a recent photograph," was +Edwards' reply. Then he added: "We have received this at Scotland Yard, +sir--an anonymous communication which may or may not throw considerable +light on to the affair," and he handed a letter on blue paper to the +coroner, which the latter perused curiously, afterwards passing it over +to the foreman of the jury. + +"Rather remarkable!" he exclaimed. + +Then, when the jury had completed reading the anonymous letter, +addressing them, he said: + +"It is not for you, gentlemen, to regard that letter in the light of +evidence, but, nevertheless, it raises a very curious and mysterious +point. The writer, as you will note, is prepared to reveal the truth of +the whole affair in return for a monetary reward. It is, of course, a +matter to be left entirely at the discretion of the police." + +I started at this statement, and gazed across the court--dull and +cheerless on that cold winter's afternoon. + +Who had written that anonymous letter? Who could it be who was ready to +reveal the truth if paid for doing so? + +Was Phrida's terrible secret known? + +I held my breath, and listened to the slow, hard words of the coroner, as +he again addressed some questions to the great detective. + +"Yes, sir," Edwards was saying. "There is distinct evidence of the +presence at the flat on the night in question of some person--a woman +whose identity we have not yet been successful in establishing. We, +however, have formed a theory which certainly appears to be borne out by +the writer of the letter I have just handed you." + +"That the unknown was struck down by the hand of a woman--eh?" asked the +Coroner, looking sharply across at the Inspector, who briefly replied in +the affirmative, while I sat staring straight before me, like a man in a +dream. + +I heard the Coroner addressing the jury in hard, business-like tones, but +I know not what he said. My heart was too full to think of anything else +besides the peril of the one whom I loved. + +I know that the verdict returned by the jury was one of "Wilful murder." +Then I went out into the fading light of that brief London day, and, +seeking Edwards, walked at his side towards the busy Kensington High +Street. + +We had not met for several days, and he, of course, had no knowledge of +my visit to Brussels. Our greeting was a cordial one, whereupon I asked +him what was contained in the anonymous letter addressed to "The Yard"? + +"Ah! Mr. Royle. It's very curious," he said. "The Coroner has it at this +moment, or I'd show it to you. The handwriting is a woman's, and it has +been posted at Colchester." + +"At Colchester!" I echoed in dismay. + +"Yes, why?" he asked, looking at me in surprise. + +"Oh, nothing. Only--well, Colchester is a curious place for anyone to +live who knows the truth about an affair in Kensington," was my reply, +for fortunately I quickly recovered myself. + +"Why not Colchester as well as Clapham--eh?" + +"Yes, of course," I laughed. "But, tell me, what does the woman say?" + +"She simply declares that she can elucidate the mystery and give us the +correct clue--even bring evidence if required--as to the actual person +who committed the crime, if we, on our part, will pay for the +information." + +"And what shall you do?" I asked eagerly. + +"I don't exactly know. The letter only arrived this morning. To-morrow +the Council of Seven will decide what action we take." + +"Does the woman give her name?" I asked with affected carelessness. + +"No. She only gives the name of 'G. Payne,' and the address as 'The +G.P.O., London.' She's evidently a rather cute person." + +"G. Payne"--the woman Petre without a doubt. + +I recollected her telegram asking me to meet her. She had said that +something had "happened," and she had urged me to see her as soon as +possible. Was it because I had not replied that she had penned that +anonymous letter to the police? + +The letter bore the Colchester post-mark, and she, I knew, lived at +Melbourne House in that town. + +"I suppose you will get into communication with her," I exclaimed +presently. + +"Of course. Any line of action in the elucidation of the mystery is worth +trying. But what I cannot quite understand is, why she requires +blood-money," remarked the detective as we strolled together in the +arcaded entrance to the Underground Station at High Street, Kensington. +"I always look askance at such letters. We receive many of them at the +Yard. Not a single murder mystery comes before us, but we receive letters +from cranks and others offering to point out the guilty person." + +"But may not the writers of such letters be endeavouring to fasten guilt +upon perfectly innocent persons against whom they have spite?" I +suggested. + +"Ah! That's just it, Mr. Royle," exclaimed my companion gravely. "Yet it +is so terribly difficult to discriminate, and I fear we often, in our +hesitation, place aside letters, the writers of which could really give +valuable information." + +"But in this case, what are your natural inclinations?" I asked. "I know +that you possess a curious, almost unique, intuition as to what is fact +and what is fiction. What is, may I term it, your private opinion?" + +He halted against the long shop-windows of Derry & Toms, and paused for +several minutes. + +"Well," he said at last in a deeply earnest tone, "I tell you frankly, +Mr. Royle, what I believe. First, I don't think that the man Kemsley, +although an impostor, was the actual assassin." + +"Why?" I gasped. + +"Well--I've very carefully studied the whole problem. I've looked at it +from every point of view," he said. "I confess the one fact puzzles me, +that this man Kemsley could live so long in London and pose as the dead +Sir Digby if he were not the actual man himself, has amazed me! In his +position as Sir Digby, the great engineer, he must have met in society +many persons who knew him. We have evidence that he constantly moved in +the best circles in Mayfair, and apparently without the slightest +compunction. Yet, in contradiction, we have the remarkable fact that the +real Sir Digby died in South America in very mysterious and tragic +circumstances." + +I saw that a problem was presented to Inspector Edwards which sorely +puzzled him, as it certainly did myself. + +"Well," I asked after a pause, and then with some trepidation put the +question, "what do you intend doing?" + +"Doing!" he echoed. "There is but one course to pursue. We must get in +touch with this woman who says she knows the truth, and obtain what +information we can from her. Perhaps she can reveal the identity of the +woman whose fingers touched that glass-topped table in the room where +the crime was committed. If so, that will tell us a great deal, Mr. +Royle." Then, taking a cigarette from his pocket and tapping it, he +added, "Do you know, I've been wondering of late how it is that you got +those finger-prints which so exactly corresponded with the ones which we +secured in the flat. How did you obtain them?" + +His question non-plussed me. + +"I had a suspicion," I replied in a faltering voice, "and I tried to +corroborate it." + +"But you have corroborated it," he declared. "Why, Mr. Royle, those +prints you brought to the Yard are a most important clue. Where did you +get them?" + +I was silent for a moment, jostled by the crowd of passers-by. + +"Well," I said with a faint smile, realising what a grave mistake I had +made in inculpating my well-beloved, "I simply made some experiments as +an amateur in solving the mystery." + +"Yes, but those prints were the same as those we got from the flat. +Whence did they come?" + +"I obtained them upon my own initiative," I replied, with a forced laugh. + +"But you must surely tell me, Mr. Royle," he urged quickly. "It's a most +important point." + +"No," I replied. "I'm not a detective, remember. I simply put to the test +a suspicion I have entertained." + +"Suspicion of what?" + +"Whether my theory was correct or not." + +"Whatever theory you hold, Mr. Royle, the truth remains the same. I +truly believe," he said, looking hard at me, "namely that the unknown +victim was struck down by the hand which imprinted the marks you brought +to me--a woman's hand. And if I am not mistaken, sir--you know the +identity of the guilty woman!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +CONCERNS MRS. PETRE. + + +Days, weeks, passed, but I could obtain no further clue. The month of +March lengthened into April, but we were as far as ever from a solution +of the mystery. + +Since my return from Brussels I had, of course seen Phrida many, many +times, and though I had never reverted again to the painful subject, yet +her manner and bearing showed only too plainly that she existed in +constant dread! + +Her face had become thin and haggard, with dark rings around her eyes and +upon it was a wild, hunted expression, which she strove to disguise, but +in vain. + +She now treated me with a strange, cold indifference, so unlike her real +self, while her attitude was one of constant attention and strained +alertness. + +The woman Petre had apparently not been approached by Scotland Yard, +therefore as the days went by I became more and more anxious to see her, +to speak with her--and, if necessary, to come to terms with her. + +Therefore, without a word to anyone, I one evening caught the six o'clock +train from Liverpool Street, and before eight was eating my dinner in the +big upstairs room of The Cups Hotel, while the hall-porter was +endeavouring to discover for me the whereabouts of Melbourne House. + +I had nearly finished my meal when the uniformed servant entered, cap in +hand, saying: + +"I've found, sir, that the house you've been inquiring for is out on the +road to Marks Tey, about a mile. An old lady named Miss Morgan lived +there for many years, but she died last autumn, and the place has, they +say, been let furnished to a lady--a Mrs. Petre. Is that the lady you are +trying to find?" + +"It certainly is," I replied, much gratified at the man's success. Then, +placing a tip in his palm, I drank off my coffee, put on my overcoat, and +descended to the taxi which he had summoned for me. + +He gave directions to the driver, and soon we were whirling along the +broad streets of Colchester, and out of the town on the dark, open road +which led towards London. Presently we pulled up, and getting out, I +found myself before a long, low, ivy-covered house standing back behind a +high hedge of clipped box, which divided the small, bare front garden +from the road. Lonely and completely isolated, it stood on the top of a +hill with high, leafless trees behind, and on the left a thick copse. In +front were wide, bare, open fields. + +Opening the iron gate I walked up the gravelled path to the door and +rang. In a window on the right a light showed, and as I listened I heard +the tramp of a man's foot upon the oilcloth of the hall, and next moment +the door was unlocked and opened. + +A tall, thin-faced young man of somewhat sallow complexion confronted me. +He had keen, deep-set eyes, broad forehead, and pointed chin. + +"Is Mrs. Petre at home?" I inquired briefly. + +In a second he looked at me as though with distrust, then apparently +seeing the taxi waiting, and satisfying himself that I was a person of +respectability, he replied in a refined voice: + +"I really don't know, but I'll see, if you will step in?" and he ushered +me into a small room at the rear of the house, a cosy but +plainly-furnished little sitting-room, wherein a wood fire burned with +pleasant glow. + +I handed him my card and sat down to wait, in the meanwhile inspecting my +surroundings with some curiosity. + +Now, even as I recall that night, I cannot tell why I should have +experienced such a sense of grave insecurity as I did when I sat there +awaiting the woman's coming. I suppose we all of us possess in some +degree that strange intuition of impending danger. It was so with me that +night--just as I have on other occasions been obsessed by that curious, +indescribable feeling that "something is about to happen." + +There was about that house an air of mystery which caused me to hesitate +in suspicion. Whether it was owing to its lonely position, to the heavy +mantle of ivy which hid its walls, to the rather weird and unusual +appearance of the young man who had admitted me, or to the mere fact that +I was there to meet the woman who undoubtedly knew the truth concerning +the tragic affair, I know not. But I recollect a distinct feeling of +personal insecurity. + +I knew the woman I was about to meet to be a cold, hard, unscrupulous +person, who, no doubt, held my love's liberty--perhaps her life--in the +hollow of her hand. + +That horrifying thought had just crossed my mind when my reflections were +interrupted by the door opening suddenly and there swept into the room +the lady upon whom I had called. + +"Ah! Mr. Royle!" she cried in warm welcome, extending her rather large +hand as she stood before me, dressed quietly in black, relieved by a +scarlet, artificial rose in her waistband. "So you've come at last. Ah! +do you know I've wanted to meet you for days. I expected you would come +to me the moment you returned from Brussels." + +I started, and stood staring at her without replying. She knew I had been +to Belgium. Yet, as far as I was aware, nobody knew of my visit--not even +Haines. + +"You certainly seem very well acquainted with my movements, Mrs. Petre," +I laughed. + +But she only shrugged her shoulders. Then she said: + +"I suppose there was no secrecy regarding your journey, was there?" + +"Not in the least," I replied. "I had business over there, as I very +often have. My firm do a big business in Belgium and Holland." + +She smiled incredulously. + +"Did your business necessitate your visiting all the hotels and +music-halls?" + +"How did you know that?" I asked in quick surprise. + +But she only pursed her lips, refusing to give me satisfaction. I saw +that I must have been watched--perhaps by Digby himself. The only +explanation I could think of was that he, with his clever cunning, had +watched me, and had written to this woman, his accomplice, telling her of +my search. + +"Oh! don't betray the source of your information if you consider it so +indiscreet," I said with sarcasm a few moments later. "I came here, Mrs. +Petre, in response to your invitation. You wished to see me?" + +"I did. But I fear it is now too late to avert what I had intended," was +her quiet response. The door was closed, the room was silent, and we were +alone. + +Seated in an armchair the woman leaned back and gazed at me strangely +from beneath her long, half-closed lashes, as though undecided what she +should say. I instantly detected her hesitation, and said: + +"You told me in your message that something unexpected had occurred. What +is it? Does it concern our mutual friend, Digby?" + +"Friend!" she echoed. "You call him your friend, and yet at the same time +you have been in search of him, intending to betray him to the police!" + +"Such was certainly not my intention," I declared firmly. "I admit that I +have endeavoured to find him, but it was because I wished to speak with +him." + +"Ah! of course," she sneered. "That girl Shand has, perhaps, made a +statement to you, and now you want to be inquisitive, eh? She's been +trying to clear herself by telling you some fairy-tale or another, I +suppose?" + +"I repeat, Mrs. Petre," I said with anger, "I have no desire nor +intention to act towards Digby in any way other than with friendliness." + +"Ah! You expect me to believe that, my dear sir," she laughed, snapping +her fingers airily. "No, that girl is his enemy, and I am hers." + +"And that is the reason why you have sent the anonymous letter to the +police!" I said in a low, hard voice, my eyes full upon her. + +She started at my words. + +"What letter?" she asked, in pretence of ignorance. + +"The one mentioned at the adjourned inquest at Kensington," I replied. +"The one in which you offer to sell the life of the woman I love!" + +"So you know she is guilty--eh?" the woman asked. "She has confessed it +to you--has she not?" + +"No. She is innocent," I cried. "I will never believe in her guilt until +it is proved." + +"Then it will not be long, Mr. Royle, before you will have quite +sufficient proof," she replied with a triumphant smile upon her lips. + +"You are prepared to sell those proofs, I understand," I said, suddenly +assuming an air of extreme gravity. "Now, I'm a business man. If you wish +to dispose of this information, why not sell it to me?" + +She laughed in my face. + +"No, not to you, my dear sir. My business is with the police, not with +the girl's lover," was her quick response. + +"But the price," I said. "I will outbid the police if necessary." + +"No doubt you would be only too glad of the chance of saving the girl who +has so cleverly deceived you. But, without offence, Mr. Royle, I +certainly think you are a fool to act as you are now acting," she added. +"A foul crime of jealousy has been committed, and the assassin must pay +the penalty of her crime." + +"And you allege jealousy as the motive?" I gasped. + +"Most certainly," she answered. Then, after a pause of a few seconds, she +added--"The girl you have so foolishly trusted and in whom you still +believe so implicitly, left her home in Cromwell Road in the night, as +she had often done before, and walked round to Harrington Gardens in +order to see Digby. There, in his rooms, she met her rival--she had +suspicions and went there on purpose armed with a knife. And with it she +struck the girl down, and killed her." + +"It's a lie!" I cried, starting to my feet. "A foul, wicked lie!" + +"But what I say can be proved." + +"At a price," I said bitterly. + +"As you are a business man, so I am a business woman, Mr. Royle," she +replied quite calmly. "When I see an opportunity of making money, I do +not hesitate to seize it." + +"But if you know the truth--if this is the actual truth which at present +I will not believe--then it is your duty, nay, you are bound by law to go +to the police and tell them what you know." + +"I shall do that, never fear," she laughed. "But first I shall try and +get something for my trouble." + +"And whom do you intend to bring up as witness against Miss Shand?" I +asked. + +"Wait and see. There will be a witness--an eye-witness, who was present, +and whose evidence will be corroborated," she declared in due course +with a self-satisfied air. "I have not resolved to reveal the truth +without fully reviewing the situation. When the police know--as they +certainly will--you will then find that I have not lied, and perhaps you +will alter your opinion of the girl you now hold in such high esteem." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +DISCLOSES THE TRAP. + + +The woman's words held me speechless. + +She seemed so cold, so determined, so certain of her facts that I felt, +when I came to consider what I already had proved, that she was actually +telling me the ghastly truth. + +And yet I loved Phrida. No. I refused to allow my suspicions to be +increased by this woman who had approached the police openly and asked +for payment for her information. + +She was Phrida's enemy. Therefore it was my duty to treat her as such, +and in a moment I had decided upon my course of action. + +"So I am to take it that both Digby and yourself are antagonistic towards +Phrida Shand?" I exclaimed, leaning against the round mahogany table and +facing her. + +She did not speak for a few seconds, then, springing to her feet, +exclaimed: + +"Would you excuse me for a few seconds? I forgot to give an order to my +servant who is just going out." + +And she bustled from the room, leaving me alone with my own confused +thoughts. + +Ah! The puzzling problem was maddening me. In my investigations I now +found myself in a cul-de-sac from which there seemed no escape. The net, +cleverly woven without a doubt, was slowly closing about my poor darling, +now so pale, and anxious, and trembling. + +Had she not already threatened to take her own life at first sign of +suspicion being cast upon her by the police! + +Was that not in itself, alas! a sign that her secret was a guilty one? + +I knew not what to do, or how to act. + +I suppose my hostess had been absent for about five minutes when the door +suddenly re-opened, and she entered. + +"When we were interrupted, Mrs. Petre," I said, as she advanced towards +me, "I was asking you a plain question. Please give me a plain reply. You +and Phrida Shand are enemies, are you not?" + +"Well, we are not exactly friends," she laughed, "after all that has +occurred. I think I told you that in London." + +"I remember all that you told me," I replied. "But I want to know the +true position, if--whether we are friends, or enemies? For myself, it +matters not. I will be your friend with just as great a satisfaction as I +will be your enemy. Now, let us understand each other. I have told you, +I'm a man of business." + +The woman, clever and resourceful, smiled sweetly, and in a calm voice +replied: + +"Really, Mr. Royle, I don't see why, after all, we should be enemies, +that is, if what you tell me is the positive truth, that you owe my +friend Digby no ill-will." + +"I owe no man ill-will until his perfidy is proved," was my reply. "I +merely went to Brussels to try and find him and request an explanation. +He charged me with a mission which I discharged with the best of my +ability, but which, it seems, has only brought upon me a grave +calamity--the loss of the one I love. Hence I am entitled to some +explanation from his own lips!" + +"Which I promise you that you shall have in due course. So rest assured +upon that point," she urged. "But that is in the future. We are, however, +discussing the present. By the way--you'll take something to drink, won't +you?" + +"No, thank you," I protested. + +"But you must have something. I'm sorry I have no whisky to offer you, +but I have some rather decent port," and disregarding my repeated +protests, she rang the bell, whereupon the young man who had admitted +me--whom I now found to my surprise to be a servant--entered and bowed. + +"Bring some port," his mistress ordered, and a few moments later he +reappeared with a decanter and glasses upon a silver tray. + +She poured me out a glass, but refused to have any herself. + +"No, no," she laughed, "at my time of life port wine would only make me +fat--and Heaven knows I'm growing horribly stout now. You don't know, Mr. +Royle, what horror we women have of stoutness. In men it is a sign of +ease and prosperity, in women it is suggestive of alcoholism and puts ten +years on their ages." + +Out of politeness, I raised my glass to her and drank. Her demeanour had +altered, and we were now becoming friends, a fact which delighted me, +for I saw I might, by the exercise of a little judicious diplomacy, act +so as to secure protection for Phrida. + +While we were chatting, I suddenly heard the engine of my taxi started, +and the clutch put in with a jerk. + +"Why!" I exclaimed, surprised. "I believe that's my taxi going away. I +hope the man isn't tired of waiting!" + +"No. I think it is my servant. I 'phoned for a cab for her, as I want her +to take a message into Colchester," Mrs. Petre replied. Then, settling +herself in the big chair, she asked: + +"Now, why can't we be friends, Mr. Royle?" + +"That I am only too anxious to be," I declared. + +"It is only your absurd infatuation for Phrida Shand that prevents you," +she said. "Ah!" she sighed. "How grossly that girl has deceived you!" + +I bit my lip. My suspicions were surely bitter enough without the sore +being re-opened by this woman. + +Had not Phrida's admissions been a self-condemnation to which, even +though loving her as fervently as I did, I could not altogether blind +myself. + +I did not speak. My heart was too full, and strangely enough my head +seemed swimming, but certainly not on account of the wine I had drunk, +for I had not swallowed more than half the glass contained. + +The little room seemed to suddenly become stifling. Yet that woman with +the dark eyes seemed to watch me intently as I sat there, watch me with a +strange, deep, evil glance--an expression of fierce animosity which even +at that moment she could not conceal. + +She had openly avowed that the hand of my well-beloved had killed the +unknown victim because of jealousy. Well, when I considered all the facts +calmly and deliberately, her words certainly seemed to bear the impress +of truth. + +Phrida had confessed to me that, rather than face inquiry and +condemnation she would take her own life. Was not that in itself +sufficient evidence of guilt? + +But no! I strove to put such thoughts behind me. My brain was awhirl, +nay, even aflame, for gradually there crept over me a strange, uncanny +feeling of giddiness such as I had never before experienced, a faint, +sinking feeling, as though the chair was giving way beneath me. + +"I don't know why, but I'm feeling rather unwell," I remarked to my +hostess. Surely it could not be due to my overwrought senses and my +strained anxiety for Phrida's safety. + +"Oh! Perhaps it's the heat of the room," the woman replied. "This place +gets unpleasantly warm at night. You'll be better in a minute or two, no +doubt. I'll run and get some smelling salts. It is really terribly close +in here," and, rising quickly, she left me alone. + +I remember that instantly she had disappeared a red mist gathered before +my eyes, and with a fearful feeling of asphyxiation I struggled +violently, and fell back exhausted into my chair, while my limbs grew +suddenly icy cold, though my brow was burning. + +To what could it be due? + +I recollect striving to think, to recall facts, to reason within myself, +but in vain. My thoughts were so confused that grim, weird shadows and +grotesque forms arose within my imagination. Scenes, ludicrous and +tragic, wildly fantastic and yet horrible, were conjured up in my +disordered brain, and with them all, pains--excruciating pains, which +shot through from the sockets of my eyes to the back of my skull, +inflicting upon me tortures indescribable. + +I set my teeth in determination not to lose consciousness beneath the +strain, and my eyes were fixed upon the wall opposite. I remember now the +exact pattern of the wallpaper, a design of pale blue trellis-work with +crimson rambler roses. + +I suppose I must have remained in that position, sunk into a heap in the +chair, for fully five minutes, though to me it seemed hours when I +suddenly became conscious of the presence of persons behind me. + +I tried to move--to turn and look--but found that every muscle in my body +had become paralysed. I could not lift a finger, neither would my lips +articulate any sound other than a gurgle when I tried to cry out. And yet +I remained in a state of consciousness, half blotted out by those weird, +fantastic and dreamy shapes, due apparently to the effect of that wine +upon my brain. + +Had I been deliberately poisoned? The startling truth flashed across my +mind just as I heard a low stealthy movement behind me. + +Yes. I was helpless there, in the hands of my enemies. I, wary as I +believed myself to be, had fallen into a trap cunningly prepared by that +clever woman who was Digby's accomplice. + +I now believed all that Edwards had told me of the man's cunning and his +imposture. How that he had assumed the identity of a clever and renowned +man who had died so mysteriously in South America. Perhaps he had killed +him--who could tell? + +As these bitter thoughts regarding the man whom I had looked upon as a +friend flitted through my brain, I saw to my amazement, standing boldly +before me, the woman Petre with two men, one a dark-bearded, +beetle-browed, middle-aged man of Hindu type--a half-caste +probably--while the other was the young man who had admitted me. + +The Hindu bent until his scraggy whiskers almost touched my cheek, +looking straight into my eyes with keen, intent gaze, but without +speaking. + +I saw that the young man had carried a small deal box about eighteen +inches square, which he had placed upon the round mahogany table in the +centre of the room. + +This table the woman pushed towards my chair until I was seated before +it. But she hardly gave me a glance. + +I tried to speak, to inquire the reason of such strange proceedings, but +it seemed that the drug which had been given me in that wine had produced +entire muscular paralysis. I could not move, neither could I speak. My +brain was on fire and swimming, yet I remained perfectly conscious, +horrified to find myself so utterly and entirely helpless. + +The sallow-faced man, in whose black eyes was an evil, murderous look, +and upon whose thin lips there played a slight, but triumphant smile, +took both my arms and laid them straight upon the table. + +I tried with all my power to move them, but to no purpose. As he placed +them, so they remained. + +Then, for the first time, the woman spoke, and addressing me, said in a +hard, harsh tone: + +"You are Digby's enemy, and mine, Mr. Royle. Therefore you will now see +the manner in which we treat those who endeavour to thwart our ends. You +have been brave, but your valour has not availed you much. The secret of +Digby Kemsley is still a secret--and will ever be a secret," she added in +a slow, meaning voice. + +And as she uttered those words the half-bred Indian took my head in his +hands and forced my body forward until my head rested upon the table +between my outstretched arms. + +Again I tried to raise myself, and to utter protest, but only a low +gurgling escaped my parched lips. My jaws were set and I could not move +them. + +Ah! the situation was the strangest in which I have ever found myself in +all my life. + +Suddenly, while my head lay upon the polished table I saw the Hindu put a +short double-reed pipe to his mouth, and next instant the room was filled +with weird, shrill music, while at the same moment he unfastened the side +of the little box and let down the hinged flap. + +Again the native music sounded more shrill than before, while the woman +and the young man-servant had retreated backward towards the door, their +eyes fixed upon the mysterious box upon the table. + +I, too, had my eyes upon the box. + +Suddenly I caught sight of something within, and next second held my +breath, realising the horrible torture that was intended. + +I lay there helpless, powerless to draw back and save myself. + +Again the sounds of the pipe rose and then died away slowly in a long +drawn-out wail. + +My eyes were fixed upon that innocent-looking little box in horror and +fascination. + +Ah! Something moved again within. + +I saw it--saw it quite plainly. + +I tried to cry out--to protest, to shout for help. But in vain. + +Surely this woman's vengeance was indeed a fiendish and relentless one. + +My face was not more than a foot away from the mysterious box, and when I +fully realised, in my terror, what was intended, I think my brain must +have given way. + +I became insane! + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE SEAL OF SILENCE. + + +Yes, there was no doubt about it. Terror and horror had driven me mad. + +And surely the deadly peril in which I found myself was in itself +sufficient to cause the cheek of the bravest man to pale, for from that +box there slowly issued forth a large, hideous cobra, which, coiling with +sinuous slowness in front of my face held its hooded head erect, ready to +strike. + +While the Hindu played that weird music on the pipes its head with the +two beady eyes and flickering tongue, moved slowly to and fro. It was +watching me and ready to deal its fatal blow. + +The woman saw the perspiration standing upon my white brow, and burst out +laughing, still standing at a safe distance near the door. + +"Ah! Mr. Royle, you won't have much further opportunity of +investigation," she exclaimed. "You have become far too inquisitive, and +you constitute a danger--hence this action. I'm very sorry, but it must +be so," declared the brutal, inhuman woman. + +She was watching, gloating over her triumph; waiting, indeed, for my +death. + +Surely I was not their first victim! All had been carried out in a method +which showed that the paralysing drug and the deadly reptile had been +used before by this strange trio. + +The music, now being played incessantly, apparently prevented the snake +from darting at me, as it was, no doubt, under the hypnotic influence of +its master. But I knew that the moment the music ceased it would be my +last. + +With frantic efforts I struggled to withdraw my head and hands from the +reptile's reach, but every muscle seemed powerless. I could not budge an +inch. + +Again I tried to speak, to shout for help, but no word could I +articulate. I was dead in all save consciousness. + +"Oh, yes," laughed Mrs. Petre hoarsely; "we're just playing you a little +music--to send you to sleep--to put the seal of silence upon you, Mr. +Royle. And I hope you'll sleep very well to-night--very well--as no doubt +you will!" and she gave vent to a loud peal of harsh laughter. + +Then, for a moment she hesitated, until suddenly she cried to the Hindu: + +"Enough!" + +The music ceased instantly, and the snake, whose hooded head had been +swaying to and fro slowly, suddenly shot up erect. + +The spell of the music was broken, and I knew my doom was sealed. + +Those small, brilliant eyes were fastened upon mine, staring straight at +me, the head moving very slowly, while those three brutes actually +watched my agony of terror, and exchanged smiles as they waited for the +reptile to strike its fatal blow. + +In an instant its fangs would, I knew, be in my face, and into my blood +would be injected that deadly venom which must inevitably prove fatal. + +Yes, I had been entrapped, and they held the honours in the game. After +my death Phrida would be denounced, accused, and convicted as an +assassin. Because, perhaps, I might be a witness in her favour, or even +assist her to escape arrest, this woman had taken the drastic step of +closing my lips for ever. + +But was it with Digby's knowledge? Had he ever been her accomplice in +similar deeds to this? + +Suddenly I recollected with a start what Edwards had told me--that the +real Sir Digby Kemsley, an invalid, had died of snake-bite in mysterious +circumstances, in Peru; and that his friend, a somewhat shady Englishman +named Cane, had been suspected of placing the reptile near him, owing to +the shouts of terror of the doomed man being overheard by a Peruvian +man-servant. + +Was it possible that the man whom I had known as Digby was actually Cane? + +The method of the snake was the same as that practised at Huacho! + +These, and other thoughts, flashed across my brain in an instant, for I +knew that the agony of a fearful death would be quickly upon me. + +I tried to utter a curse upon those three brutes who stood looking on +without raising a hand to save me, but still I could not speak. + +Suddenly, something black shot across my startled eyes. The reptile had +darted. + +The horror of that moment held me transfixed. + +I felt a sharp sting upon my left cheek, and next instant, petrified by a +terror indescribable, I lost consciousness. + +What happened afterwards I have no idea. I can only surmise. + +How long I remained senseless I cannot tell. All I am aware of is that +when I returned to a knowledge of things about me I had a feeling that my +limbs were benumbed and cramped. Against my head was a cold, slimy wall, +and my body was lying in water. + +For a time, dazed as I was, I could not distinguish my position. My +thoughts were all confused; all seemed pitch darkness, and the silence +was complete save for the slow trickling of water somewhere near my head. + +I must have lain there a full hour, slowly gathering my senses. The back +of my head was very sore, for it seemed as though I had received a heavy +blow, while my elbows and knees seemed cut and bruised. + +In the close darkness I tried to discover where I was, but my brain was +swimming with an excruciating pain in the top of my skull. + +Slowly, very slowly, recollections of the past came back to +me--remembrance of that terrible, final half-hour. + +Yes, Joy! I was still alive; the loathsome reptile's fang had not +produced death. It may have bitten some object and evacuated its venom +just prior to biting me. That was the theory which occurred to me, and I +believe it to be the correct one. + +I could raise my hand, too. I was no longer paralysed. I could speak. I +shouted, but my voice seemed deadened and stifled. + +On feeling my head I found that I had a long scalp-wound, upon which the +blood was congealed. My clothes were rent, and as I groped about I +quickly found that my prison was a circular wall of stone, wet and +slimy, about four feet across, and that I was half reclining in water +with soft, yielding mud beneath me, while the air seemed close and foul. + +The roof above me seemed high, for my voice appeared to ascend very far. +I looked above me and high up, so high that I could only just distinguish +it was a tiny ray of light--the light of day. + +With frantic fingers I felt those circular walls, thick with the +encrustations and slime of ages. Then all of a sudden the truth flashed +upon me. My enemies, believing me dead, had thrown me down a well! + +I shouted and shouted, yelled again and again. But my voice only echoed +high up, and no one came to my assistance. + +My legs, immersed as they were in icy-cold water, were cramped and +benumbed, so that I had no feeling in them, while my hands were wet and +cold, and my head hot as fire. + +As far as I could judge in the darkness, the well must have been fully +eighty feet or so deep, and after I had been flung headlong down it the +wooden trap-door had been re-closed. It was through the chink between the +two flaps that I could see the blessed light of day. + +I shouted again, yelling with all my might: "Help! Help!" in the hope +that somebody in the vicinity might hear me and investigate. + +I was struggling in order to shift into a more comfortable position, and +in doing so my feet sank deeper into the mud at the bottom of the +well--the accumulation of many years, no doubt. + +Two perils faced me--starvation, or the rising of the water: for if it +should rain above, the water percolating through the earth would cause it +to rise in the well and overwhelm me. By the dampness of the wall I +could feel that it was not long since the water was much higher than my +head, as I now stood upright. + +Would assistance come? + +My heart sank within me when I thought of the possibility that I had been +precipitated into the well in the garden of Melbourne House, in which +case I could certainly not hope for succour. + +Again I put out my hands, frantically groping about me, when something I +touched in the darkness caused me to withdraw my hand with a start. + +Cautiously I felt again. My eager fingers touched it, for it seemed to be +floating on the surface of the water. It was cold, round, and long--the +body of a snake! + +I drew my hand away. Its contact thrilled me. + +The cobra had been killed and flung in after me! In that case the +precious trio had, without a doubt, fled. + +Realisation of the utter hopelessness of the situation sent a cold +shudder through me. I had miraculously escaped death by the snake's +fangs, and was I now to die of starvation deep in that narrow well? + +Again and again I shouted with all my might, straining my eyes to that +narrow chink which showed so far above. Would assistance never come? I +felt faint and hungry, while my wounds gave me considerable pain, and my +head throbbed so that I felt it would burst at any moment. + +I found a large stone in the mud, and with it struck hard against the +wall. But the sound was not such as might attract the attention of +anybody who happened to be near the vicinity of the well. Therefore I +shouted and shouted again until my voice grew hoarse, and I was +compelled to desist on account of my exhaustion. + +For fully another half-hour I was compelled to remain in impatience and +anxiety in order to recover my voice and strength for, weak as I was, the +exertion had almost proved too much for me. So I stood there with my back +to the slimy wall, water reaching beyond my knees, waiting and hoping +against hope. + +At last I shouted again, as loudly as before, but, alas! only the weird +echo came back to me in the silence of that deeply-sunk shaft. I felt +stifled, but, fortunately for me, the air was not foul. + +Yes, my assassins had hidden me, together with the repulsive instrument +of their crime, in that disused well, confident that no one would descend +to investigate and discover my remains. How many persons, I wonder, are +yearly thrown down wells where the water is known to be impure, or where +the existence of the well itself is a secret to all but the assassin? + +I saw it all now. My taxi-man must have been paid and dismissed by that +thin-faced young man, yet how cleverly the woman had evaded my question, +and how glib her explanation of her servant going into the town in a +taxi. + +When she had risen from her chair and left me, it was, no doubt, to +swiftly arrange how my death should be encompassed. + +Surely that isolated, ivy-covered house was a house of grim shadows--nay, +a house of death--for I certainly was not the first person who had been +foully done to death within its walls. + +As I waited, trying to possess myself with patience, and hoping against +hope that I might still be rescued from my living tomb, the little streak +of light grew brighter high above, as though the wintry sun was shining. + +I strained my ears to catch any sound beyond the slow trickling of the +water from the spring, but, alas! could distinguish nothing. + +Suddenly, however, I heard a dull report above, followed quickly by a +second, and then another in the distance, and another. At first I +listened much puzzled; but next moment I realised the truth. + +There was a shooting-party in the vicinity! + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +FROM THE TOMB. + + +Again I shouted--yelled aloud with all my might. I placed my hands to my +mouth, making a trumpet of them, and shouted upwards: + +"Help! For God's sake! Help! I'm down here--dying! Help!--_Help!_" + +A dozen times I yelled my appeal, but with the same negative result. +Whoever had fired in the vicinity was either too far away, or too +occupied with his sport to hear me. + +I heard another shot fired--more distant than the rest. Then my heart +sank within me--the party were receding. + +I don't know how long I waited--perhaps another hour--when I thought I +would try again. Therefore I recommenced my shouts for assistance, +yelling frantically towards the high-up opening. + +Suddenly the streak of light became obscured, and dust and gravel fell +upon me, the latter striking my head with great force from such a height. + +I heard a noise above--a footstep upon the wooden flap of the well. My +heart gave a bound. + +"Help!" I yelled. "Open the well! I'm down here--dying. Save me! Fetch +assistance!" + +The feet above moved, and a moment later I saw above me a round disc of +daylight and a head--a girl's head--silhouetted within it. + +"Who's there?" she asked in a timid, half-frightened voice. + +"It's me!" I cried. "Get me out of this! I'm dying. Get me a rope or +something, quickly!" + +"Who are you?" asked the girl, still frightened at her discovery. + +"I'm a man who's been thrown down here, and I can't get out. Get somebody +to help me, I beg of you!" + +"All right!" she replied. "There's some men, shooting here. I'll run and +tell them." + +And her face disappeared from the disc of daylight. + +At last! Help was forthcoming, and I breathed more freely. + +I suppose about five minutes must have elapsed before I saw above me the +heads of two men in golf-caps, peering over the edge of the well. + +"Hulloa!" cried one in a refined voice, "what are you doing down there?" + +"Doing!" I echoed, "you should come down and see!" I said with some +sarcasm. "But, I say! Send me down a rope, will you? I'm a prisoner +here." + +"Have you been thrown in there?" asked the voice. "This lady says you +have." + +"Yes, I have. I'll tell you a strange story when you get me out." + +"All right!" exclaimed the other. "Hold on! We'll go over to the farm and +get a rope. Why, I was here half-an-hour ago, and never dreamt you were +down there. Hold on!" + +And the two faces disappeared, their places being taken by the silhouette +of the girl. + +"I say!" I cried. "Where am I? What do they call this place?" + +"Well, this is one of the fields of Coppin's Farm, just outside Lexden +Park." + +"Do you know Melbourne House?" I asked. + +"Oh, yes. Miss Morgan's. She's dead," replied the girl's voice from +above. "It's out on the high road--close by." + +"Is this well in the middle of a field, then?" I asked. + +"In the corner. Some old, half-ruined cottages stood here till a couple +of years ago, when they were pulled down." + +"And this was the well belonging to them?" + +"I suppose so," she replied, and a few minutes later I heard voices and +saw several heads peering down at me, while now and then gravel fell upon +my unprotected head, causing me to put my hands up to protect it. + +"I say!" cried the man's voice who had first addressed me, "We're sending +down a rope. Can you fasten it round you, and then we'll haul you up? I +expect you're in a pretty state, aren't you?" + +"Yes; I'm not very presentable, I fear," I laughed. + +Then down came a stout farmer's rope, several lengths of which were +knotted together after some delay, until its end dangled before me. + +"I hope you've joined it all right," I cried. "I don't want to drop +down!" + +"No, it's all right!" one of the men--evidently a labourer--declared. +"You needn't fear, mister." + +I made a knot in the end, then, placing it around both my thighs, made a +slip knot and clung to the rope above. This took me some minutes. Then, +when all was ready, I gave the signal to haul. + +"Slowly!" I shouted, for I was swinging from side to side of the well, +bruising my elbows and knees. "Haul slower! I'm getting smashed to +pieces!" + +They heeded me, and with care I was gradually drawn up to the blessed +light of day--a light which, for a few minutes, nearly blinded me, so +exhausted and dazed was I. + +Naturally I was beset by a hundred queries as to how I came to be +imprisoned in such a place. + +But I sat down upon the ground, a strange, begrimed and muddy figure, no +doubt, gazing about me for a few moments unable to speak. + +I was in the corner of a bare, brown field, with a high hedgerow close +by. Around were the foundations of demolished cottages, and I was seated +upon a heap of brick-rubbish and plaster. + +The two who were dressed in rough, shooting kit I took to be military +men, while three others were farm-hands, and the girl--a tall, rather +good-looking open-air girl, was dressed in a short, tweed skirt, +well-cut, a thick jacket, a soft felt hat, and heavy, serviceable boots. +No second glance was needed to show that, although so roughly dressed, +she was undoubtedly a lady. + +One of the men called her Maisie, and later I knew that her name was +Maisie Morrice, that she was his sister, who had been walking with the +"guns." + +My presence down the well certainly needed explanation, and as they had +rescued me, it was necessary to satisfy their natural curiosity. + +"I had a curious adventure here last night," I told them, after pausing +to take breath. "I came from London to see a lady living at Melbourne +House. A lady named Petre--but I was given some drugged wine, and--well, +when I came to I found myself down there. That's all." + +"A very unpleasant experience, I should say," remarked the elder of the +two sportsmen, a tall, grey-moustached man, as he surveyed me. "I suppose +you'll go back to Melbourne House and get even with the lady? I would!" + +"Melbourne House!" echoed the other man. "Why, Maisie, that's where old +Miss Morgan lived, and it's been taken by some woman with an Indian +servant, hasn't it?" + +"Yes," replied the girl. "She's been there a month or two, but quite a +mystery. Nobody has called on her. Mother wouldn't let me." + +"Apparently she's not a very desirable acquaintance," remarked her +brother grimly. + +"I want to go there," I said feebly, trying to rise. + +"You seem to have hurt your head pretty badly," remarked the elder +sportsman. "I suppose you'd better go into Colchester and see the +police--eh?" + +"I'll drive him in, sir," volunteered one of the men, whom I took to be +the farmer. + +"Yes, Mr. Cuppin," exclaimed the girl. "Get your trap and drive this +gentleman to the doctor and the police." + +"Thank you," I replied. "But I don't want the people at Melbourne House +to know that I'm alive. They believe me dead, and it will be a pretty +surprise for them when I return, after seeing the doctor. So I ask you +all to remain silent about this affair--at least for an hour or so. Will +you?" + +They all agreed to do so, and, being supported by two of the men, I made +my way across the field to the farm; and ten minutes later was driving +into Colchester in the farmer's dog-cart. + +At the "Cups" my appearance caused some sensation, but, ascending to my +room, I quickly washed, changed my ruined suit, and made myself +presentable, and then went to see an elderly and rather fussy doctor, who +put on his most serious professional air, and who was probably the most +renowned medical man in the town. The provincial medico, when he becomes +a consultant, nearly always becomes pompous and egotistical, and in his +own estimation is the only reliable man out of Harley Street. + +The man I visited was one of the usual type, a man of civic honours, with +the aspirations of a mayoralty, I surmised. I think he believed that I +had injured my head while in a state of intoxication, so I did not +undeceive him, and allowed his assistant to bathe and bandage my wound +and also the bite upon my cheek, while the farmer waited outside for me. + +When at last I emerged, I hesitated. + +Should I go to the police and tell them what had occurred? Or should I +return alone to Melbourne House, and by my presence thwart whatever +sinister plans might be in progress. + +If I went to the police I would be forced to explain much that I desired, +at least for the present, to keep secret. And, after all, the local +police could not render me much assistance. I might give the woman and +her accomplices in charge for attempted murder, but would such course +help in the solution of the Harrington Gardens affair? + +After a few moments' reflection I decided to drive straight to the house +of shadows and demand an explanation of the dastardly attempt upon me. + +A quarter of an hour later Mr. Cuppin pulled up near the long, +ivy-covered house, and, alighting, I made my way within the iron gate and +up the gravelled path to the front door, where I rang. + +I listened attentively, and heard someone moving. + +Yes, the house was not empty, as I had half feared. + +A moment later a neat maid-servant opened the door, and regarded me with +some surprise. + +"Is Mrs. Petre at home?" I inquired. + +"No, sir, she isn't," replied the girl with a strong East Anglian accent. + +"When will she be in?" I asked. + +"I really don't know, sir," she said. "She hasn't left word where she's +gone." + +"Is anyone else at home?" + +"No, sir." + +"How long have you been with Mrs. Petre?" I asked, adding, in an +apologetic tone, "I hope I'm not too inquisitive?" + +"I've been here about two months--ever since she took the house." + +"Don't you think your mistress a rather curious person?" I asked, +slipping half-a-sovereign into her hand. She regarded the coin, and then +looked at me with a smile of surprise and satisfaction. + +"I--I hardly know what you mean, sir," she faltered. + +"Well, I'll be quite frank with you," I said. "I'm anxious to know +something about what company she keeps here. Last night, for instance, a +gentleman called in a taxi. Did you see him?" + +"No, sir," she answered. "Mistress sent me out on an errand to the other +side of the town, and when I came back just before half-past eleven I +found the front door ajar, and everybody gone. And nobody's been back +here since." + +After disposing of my body, then, the precious trio had fled. + +I knew that Phrida must now be in hourly peril of arrest--for that woman +would, now that she believed me dead, lose not an instant in making a +damning statement to the police regarding what had occurred on that night +in Harrington Gardens. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +RECORDS A STRANGE STATEMENT. + + +"Will you permit me to come inside a moment?" I asked the girl. "I want +you to tell me one or two things, if you will." + +At first she hesitated, but having surveyed me critically and finding, I +suppose, that I was not a tramp she opened the door wider and admitted me +to the room wherein her mistress had entertained me on the previous +night. + +I glanced quickly around. Yes, nothing had been altered. There was the +chair in which I had sat, and the round, mahogany table upon which my +head had laid so helplessly while the reptile, charmed by the Hindu's +music, had sat erect with swaying head. + +Ah! as that terrible scene again arose before my eyes I stood horrified. +The girl noticed my demeanour, and looked askance at me. + +"Does your mistress have many visitors?" I asked her. "To tell you the +truth, I'm making these confidential inquiries on behalf of an insurance +company in London. So you can be perfectly open with me. Mrs. Petre will +never know that you have spoken." + +"Well, sir," replied the dark-eyed maid, after a pause, during which time +she twisted her dainty little apron in her hand, "I suppose I really +ought not to say anything, but the fact is mistress acts very curiously +sometimes. Besides, I don't like Ali." + +"You mean the Indian?" + +"Yes. He's too crafty and cunning," she replied. "Sometimes in the middle +of the night I wake up and hear Ali, shut up in his room, playing on his +flute--such horrible music. And on such occasions the mistress and +Horton, the man, are usually with him--listening to his concert, I +suppose." + +"On those occasions, have there been guests in the house?" I asked +quickly. + +"Once, I think about a fortnight ago, a gentleman had called earlier in +the evening. But I did not see him." + +"Did you see him next morning?" + +"Oh, no; he did not stay the night." + +"But on this particular occasion, how did you know that Mrs. Petre and +Horton were in the room with him?" + +"Because I listened from the top of the stairs, and could hear voices. +The gentleman was in there too, I believe, listening to the noise of +Ali's pipes." + +Had the stranger fallen a victim to the serpent, I wondered? + +Who could he have been, and what was his fate? + +"Has your mistress and her two servants left you suddenly like this +before?" I inquired. + +"Never, sir. I can't make it out. They seem to have gone out with the +gentleman who called--and evidently they left all of a hurry." + +"Why?" + +"Because when I got back I found that my mistress had pulled out the +first coat and hat she could find, and had not taken even a handbag. +Besides, if she knew she was to be absent she would have left me a note." +And she added in a tone of resentment: "It isn't fair to leave me by +myself in a lonely house like this!" + +"No, it isn't," I agreed. "But, tell me, does your mistress have many +callers?" + +"Very few. She has had a visitor lately--a gentleman. He stayed a few +days, and then left suddenly." + +"Young or old?" + +"Elderly, clean-shaven, and grey hair. She used to call him Digby." + +"Digby!" I echoed. "When was he here? Tell me quickly!" + +"Oh, about four days ago, I think. Yes--he went away last Sunday night." + +"Tell me all about him," I urged her. "He's a friend of mine." + +"Oh, then perhaps I ought not to say anything," said the girl a little +confused. + +"On the contrary, you will be doing me the very greatest service if you +tell me all that you know concerning him," I declared. "Don't think that +anything you say will annoy me, for it won't. He was my friend, but he +served me a very evil trick." + +"Well, sir," she replied, "he arrived here very late one night, and my +mistress sat with him in the drawing-room nearly all night talking to +him. I crept down to try and hear what was going on, but they were +speaking so low, almost whispering, so that I could catch only a few +words." + +"What did you hear?" I inquired breathlessly. + +"Well, from what I could gather the gentleman was in some grave +danger--something to do with a girl. Mistress seemed very excited and +talked about another girl, which she called Freda, or something like +that, and then the gentleman mentioned somebody named Royle, whereon +mistress seemed to fly into a passion. I heard her say distinctly, 'You +are a fool, Digby! If you're not very careful you'll give the game away.' +Then he said, 'If the truth comes out, she will suffer, not me.'" + +"Whom did you infer he meant by she?" I asked. + +"Ah, sir, that's impossible to say," was her response. "Well, they were +alone there for hours. He seemed to be begging her to tell him something, +but she steadily refused. And every time he mentioned the name of Royle +she became angry and excited. Once I heard her say, 'As long as you keep +carefully out of the way, you need not fear anything. Nobody--not even +the girl--suspects the truth. So I don't see that you need have the +slightest apprehension. But mind, you're going to play the straight game +with me, Digby, or, by heaven! it will be the worse for you!'" + +"Then she threatened him?" I remarked. + +"Yes. She seemed very determined and spoke in a low, hard voice. Of +course, I could only catch a few disjointed words, and out of them I +tried to make sense. But I overheard sufficient to know that the visitor +was in a state of great agitation and fear." + +"Did he go out much?" + +"All the time he was here I never knew him to go further than the +garden," said the maid, who seemed to be unusually intelligent. + +"What about Ali?" + +"Ali was his constant companion. When they were together they spoke in +some foreign language." + +A sudden thought flashed across my mind. + +Could Ali be a Peruvian Indian and not a Hindu? Was he the accomplice of +the mysterious Englishman named Cane--the man suspected of causing the +death of Sir Digby Kemsley? + +What this girl was revealing was certainly amazing. + +"You are quite sure that this man she called Digby left the neighbourhood +last Sunday?" I asked her. + +"Quite. I overheard him speaking with the mistress late on Saturday +night. He said, 'By this time to-morrow I shall be back in Brussels.' And +I know he went there, for next day I posted a letter to Brussels." + +"To him?" I cried. "What was the address?" + +"The name was Bryant, and it was addressed Poste Restante, Brussels. I +remember it, because I carefully made a note of it, as the whole affair +seemed so extraordinary." + +"But this man she called Digby. Was he well-dressed?" I inquired. + +"Oh, no--not at all. He seemed poor and shabby. He only had with him a +little handbag, but I believe he came from a considerable distance, +probably from abroad, expressly to see her." + +"Then you think he is in Brussels now?" + +"Well, I posted the letter on Monday night. To-day is Wednesday," she +said. + +I reflected. My first impulse was to go straight to Brussels and send a +message to Mr. Bryant at the Poste Restante--a message that would trap +him into an appointment with me. + +But in face of Phrida's present peril could I possibly leave London? + +I was at the parting of the ways. To hesitate might be to lose trace of +the man who had proved such a false friend, while, by crossing to +Brussels again, I would be leaving Phrida to her fate. + +"You heard no other mention of the person named Royle?" I asked her after +a brief pause, during which I placed a second half-sovereign in her hand. + +She reflected for a moment, her eyes cast down upon the carpet, as we +stood together in that sombre little room of horrors. + +"Well, yes," she replied thoughtfully. "One afternoon when I was taking +tea into the drawing-room where they were sitting together I heard +mistress say, 'I don't like that man Royle at all. He means +mischief--more especially as he loves the girl.' The gentleman only +laughed and said, 'Have no fear on that score. He knows nothing, and is +not likely to know, unless you tell him.' Then mistress said, 'I've been +a fool, perhaps, but when we met I told him one or two things--sufficient +to cause him to think.' Then the gentleman stood up angrily and cried out +in quite a loud voice: 'What! you fool! You've actually told him--you've +allowed your infernal tongue to wag and let out the truth!' But she said +that she had not told all the truth, and started abusing him--so much so +that he left the room and went out into the garden, where, a few minutes +later, I saw him talking excitedly to Ali. But when the two men talked I +could, of course, understand nothing," added the girl. + +"Then your mistress declared that she didn't like the man Royle, eh?" + +"Yes; she seemed to fear him--fear that he knew too much about some +business or other," replied the maid. "And to tell you quite frankly, +sir, after watching the mistress and her visitor very narrowly for a +couple of days I came to the conclusion that the gentleman was +hiding--that perhaps the police were after him." + +"Why?" I inquired in a casual tone. "What made you think that?" + +"I hardly know. Perhaps from the scraps of conversation I overheard, +perhaps from his cunning, secret manner--not but what he was always nice +to me, and gave me something when he left." + +"You didn't hear any other names of persons mentioned?" I asked. "Try and +think, as all that you tell me is of the greatest importance to me." + +The girl stood silent, while I paced up and down that room in which, not +many hours before, I had endured that awful mental torture. She drew her +hand across her brow, trying to recall. + +"Yes, there was another name," she admitted at last, "but I can't at the +moment recall it." + +"Ah, do!" I implored her. "Try and recall it. I am in no hurry to leave." + +Again the dark-eyed maid in the dainty apron was silent--both hands upon +her brow, as she had turned from me and was striving to remember. + +"It was some foreign name--a woman's name," she said. + +I recollected the dead girl was believed to have been a foreigner! + +Suddenly she cried-- + +"Ah, I remember! The name was Mary Brack." + +"Mary Brack!" I repeated. + +"Yes. Of course I don't know how it's spelt." + +"Well, if it were a foreign name it would probably be Marie B-r-a-c-q--if +you are sure you've pronounced it right." + +"Oh, yes. I'm quite sure. Mistress called her 'poor girl!' so I can only +suppose that something must have happened to her." + +I held my breath at her words. + +Yes, without a doubt I had secured a clue to the identity of the girl who +lost her life at Harrington Gardens. + +Her name, in all probability, was Marie Bracq! + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +"MARIE BRACQ!" + + +Marie Bracq! The name rang in my ears in the express all the way from +Colchester to Liverpool Street. + +Just before six o'clock I alighted from a taxi in Scotland Yard, and, +ascending in the lift, soon found myself sitting with Inspector Edwards. + +At that moment I deemed it judicious to tell him nothing regarding my +night adventure in the country, except to say: + +"Well, I've had a strange experience--the strangest any man could have, +because I have dared to investigate on my own account the mystery of +Harrington Gardens." + +"Oh! tell me about it, Mr. Royle," he urged, leaning back in his chair +before the littered writing-table. + +"There's nothing much to tell," was my reply. "I'll describe it all some +day. At present there's no time to waste. I believe I am correct in +saying that the name of the murdered girl is Marie Bracq." + +Edwards looked me straight in the face. "That's not an English name, is +it?" he said. + +"No, Belgian, I should say." + +"Belgian? Yes, most probably," he said. "A rather uncommon name, and one +which ought not to be difficult to trace. How did you find this out?" + +"Oh, it's a long story, Mr. Edwards," I said. "But I honestly believe +that at last we are on the scent. Cannot you discover whether any girl of +that name is missing?" + +"Of course. I'll wire to the Brussels police at once. Perhaps it will be +well to ask the Prefect of Police in Paris if they have any person of +that name reported missing," he said, and, ringing a bell, a clerk +appeared almost instantly with a writing-pad and pencil. + +"Wire to Brussels and Paris and ask if they have any person named Marie +Bracq--be careful of the spelling--missing. If so, we will send them over +a photo." + +"Yes, sir," the man replied, and disappeared. + +"Well," I asked casually, when we were alone, "have you traced the tailor +who made the dead girl's costume?" + +"Not yet. The Italian police are making every inquiry." + +"And what have you decided regarding that letter offering to give +information?" + +"Nothing," was his prompt reply. "And if this information you have +obtained as to the identity of the deceased proves correct, we shall do +nothing. It will be far more satisfactory to work out the problem for +ourselves, rather than risk being misled by somebody who has an axe to +grind." + +"Ah! I'm pleased that you view the matter in that light," I said, much +relieved. "I feel confident that I have gained the true name of the +victim." + +"But how did you manage it, Mr. Royle?" he asked, much interested. + +I, however, refused to satisfy his curiosity. + +"You certainly seem to know more about the affair than we do," he +remarked with a smile. + +"Well, was I not a friend of the man who is now a fugitive?" I remarked. + +"Ah, of course! And depend upon it, Mr. Royle, when this affair is +cleared up, we shall find that your friend was a man of very curious +character," he said, pursing his lips. "Inquiries have shown that many +mysteries concerning him remain to be explained." + +For a moment I did not speak. Then I asked: + +"Is anything known concerning a woman friend of his named Petre?" + +"Petre?" he echoed. "No, not that I'm aware of. But it seemed that he was +essentially what might be called a ladies' man." + +"I know that. He used to delight in entertaining his lady friends." + +"But who is this woman Petre whom you've mentioned?" he inquired with +some curiosity. + +"The woman who is ready to give you information for a consideration," I +replied. + +"How do you know that?" + +"Well, I am acquainted with her. I was with her last night," was my quick +response. "Her intention is to condemn a perfectly innocent woman." + +"Whom?" he asked sharply. "The woman who lost that green horn comb at the +flat?" + +I held my breath. + +"No, Edwards," I answered, "That question is unfair. As a gentleman, I +cannot mention a lady's name. If she chooses to do so that's another +matter. But if she does--as from motives of jealousy she easily may +do--please do not take any action without first consulting me. Ere long I +shall have a strange, almost incredible, story to put before you." + +"Why not now?" he asked, instantly interested. + +"Because I have not yet substantiated all my facts," was my reply. + +"Cannot I assist you? Why keep me in the dark?" he protested. + +"I'm afraid you can render me no other assistance except to hesitate to +accept the allegations of that woman Petre," I replied. + +"Well, we shall wait until she approaches us again," he said. + +"This I feel certain she will do," I exclaimed. "But if you see her, make +no mention whatever of me--you understand? She believes me to be dead, +and therefore not likely to disprove her allegations." + +"Dead!" he echoed. "Really, Mr. Royle, all this sounds most interesting." + +"It is," I declared. "I believe I am now upon the verge of a very +remarkable discovery--that ere long we shall know the details of that +crime in South Kensington." + +"Well, if you do succeed in elucidating the mystery you will accomplish a +marvellous feat," said the great detective, placing his hands together +and looking at me across his table. "I confess that I'm completely +baffled. That friend of yours who called himself Kemsley has disappeared +as completely as though the ground had opened and swallowed him." + +"Ah, Edwards, London's a big place," I laughed, "and your men are really +not very astute." + +"Why not?" + +"Because the man you want called at my rooms in Albemarle Street only a +few days ago." + +"What?" he cried, staring at me surprised. + +"Yes, I was unfortunately out, but he left a message with my man that he +would let me know his address later." + +"Amazing impudence!" cried my friend. "He called in order to show his +utter defiance of the police, I should think." + +"No. My belief is that he wished to tell me something," I said. "Anyhow, +he will either return or send his address." + +"I very much doubt it. He's a clever rogue, but, like all men of his +elusiveness and cunning, he never takes undue chances. No, Mr. Royle, +depend upon it, he'll never visit you again." + +"But I may be able to find him. Who knows?" + +The detective moved his papers aside, and with a sigh admitted: + +"Yes, you may have luck, to be sure." + +Then, after some further conversation, he looked at the piece of sticking +plaster on my head and remarked: + +"I see you've had a knock. How did you manage it?" + +I made an excuse that in bending before my own fireplace I had struck it +on the corner of the mantelshelf. Afterwards I suddenly said: + +"You recollect those facts you told me regarding the alleged death of the +real Kemsley in Peru, don't you?" + +"Of course." + +"Well, they've interested me deeply. I'd so much like to know any further +details." + +Edwards reflected a moment, recalling the report. + +"Well," he said, taking from one of the drawers in his table a voluminous +official file of papers. "There really isn't very much more than what you +already know. The Consul's report is a very full one, and contains a +quantity of depositions taken on the spot--mostly evidence of Peruvians, +in which little credence can, perhaps, be placed. Of course," he added, +"the suspected man Cane seems to have been a very bad lot. He was at one +time manager of a rubber plantation belonging to a Portuguese company, +and some very queer stories were current regarding him." + +"What kind of stories?" I asked. + +"Oh, his outrageous cruelty to the natives when they did not collect +sufficient rubber. He used, they said, to burn the native villages and +massacre the inhabitants without the slightest compunction. He was known +by the natives as 'The Red Englishman.' They were terrified by him. His +name, it seems, was Herbert Cane, and so bad became his reputation that +he was dismissed by the company after an inquiry by a commission sent +from Lisbon, and drifted into Argentina, sinking lower and lower in the +social scale." + +Then, after referring to several closely-written pages of foolscap, each +one bearing the blue embossed stamp of the British Consulate in Lima, he +went on: + +"Inquiries showed that for a few months the man Cane was in Monte Video, +endeavouring to obtain a railway concession for a German group of +financiers, but his reputation became noised abroad and he found it +better to leave that city. Afterwards he seems to have met Sir Digby and +to have become his bosom friend." + +"And what were the exact circumstances of Sir Digby's death?" I asked +anxiously. + +"Ah! they are veiled in mystery," was the detective's response, turning +again to the official report and depositions of witnesses. "As I think I +told you, Sir Digby had met with an accident and injured his spine. Cane, +whose acquaintance he made, brought him down to Lima, and a couple of +months later, under the doctor's advice, removed him to a bungalow at +Huacho. Here they lived with a couple of Peruvian men-servants, named +Senos and Luis. Cane seemed devoted to his friend, leading the life of a +quiet, studious, refined man--very different to his wild life on the +rubber plantation. One morning, however, on a servant entering Sir +Digby's room, he found him dead, and an examination showed that he had +been bitten in the arm by a poisonous snake. There were signs of a +struggle, showing the poor fellow's agony before he died. Cane, entering +shortly afterwards, was distracted with grief, and telegraphed himself to +the British Consul at Lima. And, according to custom in that country, +that same evening the unfortunate man was buried." + +"Without any inquiry?" I asked. + +"Yes. At the time, remember, there was no suspicion. A good many people +die annually in Peru of snake-bite," Edwards replied, again referring to +the file of papers before him. "It seems, however, that three days later, +the second Peruvian servant--a man known as Senos--declared that during +the night of the tragic affair he had heard his master suddenly yell with +terror and cry out 'You blackguard, Cane, you hell-fiend; take the thing +away. Ah! God! You--why, you've killed me!'" + +"Yes," I said. "But was this told to Cane?" + +"Cane saw the man and strenuously denied his allegation. He, indeed, went +to the local Commissary of Police and lodged a complaint against the man +Senos for falsely accusing him, saying that he had done so out of spite, +because a few days before he had had occasion to reprimand him for +inattention to his duties. Further, Cane brought up a man living five +miles from Huacho who swore that the accused man was at his bungalow on +that night, arriving at nine o'clock. He drank so heavily that he could +not get home, so he remained there the night, returning at eight o'clock +next morning." + +"And the police officials believed him--eh?" I asked. + +"Yes. But next day he left Huacho, expressing a determination to go to +Lima and make a statement to the Consul there. But he never arrived at +the capital, and he has never been seen since." + +"Then a grave suspicion rests upon him?" I remarked, reflecting upon my +startling adventure of the previous night. + +"Certainly. But the curious thing is that no attempt seems to have been +made by the police authorities in Lima to trace the man. They allowed him +to disappear, and took no notice of the affair, even when the British +Consul reported it. I fancy police methods must be very lax ones there," +he added. + +"But what could have been the method of the assassin?" I asked. + +"Why, simply to allow the snake to strike at the sleeping man, I +presume," said the detective. "Yet, one would have thought that after the +snake had bitten him he would have cried out for help. But he did not." + +Had the victim, I wondered, swallowed that same tasteless drug that I had +swallowed, and been paralysed, as I had been? + +"And the motive of the crime?" I asked. + +Edwards shrugged his shoulders, and raised his brows. + +"Robbery, I should say," was his reply. "But, strangely enough, there is +no suggestion of theft in this report; neither does there seem to be any +woman in the case." + +"You, of course, suspect that my friend Digby and the man Cane, are one +and the same person!" I said. "But is it feasible that if Cane were +really responsible for the death of the real Sir Digby, would he have the +bold audacity to return to London and actually pose as his victim?" + +"Yes, Mr. Royle," replied the detective, "I think it most feasible. Great +criminals have the most remarkable audacity. Some really astounding cases +of most impudent impersonation have come under my own observation during +my career in this office." + +"Then you adhere to the theory which you formed at first?" + +"Most decidedly," he replied; "and while it seems that you have a +surprise to spring upon me very shortly, so have I one to spring upon +you--one which I fear, Mr. Royle," he added very slowly, looking me +gravely in the face--"I fear may come as a great shock to you." + +I sat staring at him, unable to utter a syllable. + +He was alluding to Phrida, and to the damning evidence against her. + +What could he know? Ah! who had betrayed my love? + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +LOVE'S CONFESSION. + + +I dined alone at the Club, and afterwards sat over my coffee in one of +the smaller white-panelled rooms, gazing up at the Adams ceiling, and my +mind full of the gravest thoughts. + +What had Edwards meant when he promised me an unpleasant surprise? Had +the woman Petre already made a statement incriminating my well-beloved? + +If so, I would at once demand the arrest of her and her accomplices for +attempted murder. It had suggested itself to me to make a complete +revelation to Edwards of the whole of my exciting adventure at +Colchester, but on mature consideration I saw that such a course might +thwart my endeavours to come face to face with Digby. + +Therefore I had held my tongue. + +But were Edwards' suspicions that the assassin Cane and the man I knew as +Sir Digby Kemsley were one and the same, correct, or were they not? + +The method by which the unfortunate Englishman in Peru had been foully +done to death was similar to the means employed against myself at +Colchester on the previous night. Again, the fact that the victim did not +shout and call for aid was, no doubt, due to the administration of that +drug which produced complete paralysis of the muscles, and yet left the +senses perfectly normal. + +Was that Indian whom they called Ali really a Peruvian native--the +accomplice of Cane? I now felt confident that this was so. + +But in what manner could the impostor have obtained power over Phrida? +Why did she not take courage and reveal to me the truth? + +Presently, I took a taxi down to Cromwell Road and found my well-beloved, +with thin, pale, drawn face, endeavouring to do some fancy needlework by +the drawing-room fire. Her mother had retired with a bad headache, she +said, and she was alone. + +"I expected you yesterday, Teddy," she said, taking my hand. "I waited +all day, but you never came." + +"I had to go into the country," I replied somewhat lamely. + +Then after a brief conversation upon trivialities, during which time I +sat regarding her closely, and noting how nervous and agitated she +seemed, she suddenly asked: + +"Well! Have you heard anything more of that woman, Mrs. Petre?" + +"I believe she's gone abroad," I replied, with evasion. + +Phrida's lips twitched convulsively, and she gave vent to a slight sigh, +of relief, perhaps. + +"Tell me, dearest," I said, bending and stroking her soft hair from her +white brow. "Are you still so full of anxiety? Do you still fear the +exposure of the truth?" + +She did not reply, but of a sudden buried her face upon my shoulder and +burst into tears. + +"Ah!" I sighed, still stroking her hair sympathetically, "I know what you +must suffer, darling--of the terrible mental strain upon you. I believe +in your innocence--I still believe in it, and if you will bear a stout +heart and trust me, I believe I shall succeed in worsting your enemies." + +In a moment her tear-stained face was raised to mine. + +"Do you really believe that you can, dear?" she asked anxiously. "Do you +actually anticipate extricating me from this terrible position of doubt, +uncertainty, and guilt?" + +"I do--if you will only trust me, and keep a brave heart, darling," I +said. "Already I have made several discoveries--startling ones." + +"About Mrs. Petre, perhaps?" + +"About her and about others." + +"What about her?" + +"I have found out where she is living--down at Colchester." + +"What?" she gasped, starting. "You've been down there?" + +"Yes, I was there yesterday, and I saw Ali and the two servants." + +"You saw them--and spoke to them?" she cried incredibly. + +"Yes." + +"But, Teddy--ah! You don't know how injudicious it was for you to visit +them. Why, you might have----" + +"Might have what?" I asked, endeavouring to betray no surprise at her +words. + +"Well, I mean you should not have ventured into the enemy's camp like +that. It was dangerous," she declared. + +"Why?" + +"They are quite unscrupulous," she replied briefly. + +"They are your enemies, I know. But I cannot see why they should be +mine," I remarked. + +"My enemies--yes!" my love cried bitterly. "It will not be long before +that woman makes a charge against me, Teddy--one which I shall not be +able to refute." + +"But I will assist you against them. I love you, Phrida, and it is my +duty to defend you," I declared. + +"Ah! You were always so good and generous," she remarked wistfully. "But +in this case I cannot, alas, see how you can render me any aid! The +police will make inquiries, and--and then the end," she added in a voice +scarce above a whisper. + +"No, no!" I urged. "Don't speak in that hopeless strain, darling. I know +your position is a terrible one. We need not refer to details; as they +are painful to both of us. But I am straining every nerve--working night +and day to clear up the mystery and lift from you this cloud of +suspicion. I have already commenced by learning one or two facts--facts +of which the police remain in ignorance. Although you refused to tell +me--why, I cannot discern--the name of the unfortunate girl who lost her +life, I have succeeded in gaining knowledge of it. Was not the girl named +Marie Bracq?" + +She started again at hearing the name. + +"Yes," she replied at once. "Who told you?" + +"I discovered it for myself," I replied. "Who was the girl--tell me?" + +"A friend of Digby Kemsley's." + +"A foreigner, of course?" + +"Yes, Belgian, I believe." + +"From Brussels, eh?" + +"Perhaps. I don't know for certain." + +"And she learned some great secret of Digby's, which was the motive of +the crime," I suggested. + +But my love only shook her pretty head blankly, saying--"I don't know. +Perhaps she knew something to his detriment." + +"And in order to silence her, she was killed," I suggested. + +"Perhaps." + +She made no protest of her own innocence, I noticed. She seemed to place +herself unreservedly in my hands to judge her as I thought fit. + +Yet had not her own admissions been extremely strange ones. Had she not +practically avowed her guilt? + +"Can you tell me nothing concerning this Belgian girl?" I asked her a few +moments later. + +"I only knew her but very slightly." + +"Pardon me putting to you such a pointed question, Phrida. But were you +jealous of her?" + +"Jealous!" she ejaculated. "Why, dear me, no. Why should I be jealous? +Who suggested that?" + +"Mrs. Petre. She declares that your jealousy was the motive of the crime, +and that Digby himself can bear witness to it." + +"She said that?" cried my love, her eyes flashing in fierce anger. "She's +a wicked liar." + +"I know she is, and I intend to prove her so," I replied with confidence. +"When she and I meet again we have an account to settle. You will see." + +"Ah! Teddy, beware of her! She's a dangerous woman--highly dangerous," +declared my love apprehensively. "You don't know her as I do--you do not +know the grave evil and utter ruin she has brought upon others. So I beg +of you to be careful not to be entrapped." + +"Have others been entrapped, then?" I asked with great curiosity. + +"I don't know. No. Please don't ask me," she protested. "I don't know." + +Her response was unreal. My well-beloved was I knew in possession of some +terrible secret which she dared not betray. Yet why were her lips sealed? +What did she fear? + +"I intend to find Digby, and demand the truth from him," I said after we +had been silent for a long time. "I will never rest until I stand before +him face to face." + +"Ah! no dear!" she cried in quick alarm, starting up and flinging both +her arms about my neck. "No, don't do that?" she implored. + +"Why not?" + +"Because he will condemn me--he will think you have learned something +from me," she declared in deep distress. + +"But I shall reveal to him my sources of information," I said. "Since +that fatal night I have learned that the man whom I believed was my firm +friend has betrayed me. An explanation is due to me, and I intend to have +one." + +"At my expense--eh?" she asked in bitter reproach. + +"No, dearest. The result shall not fall upon you," I said. "I will see to +that. A foul and dastardly crime has been committed, and the assassin +shall be brought to punishment." + +My well-beloved shuddered in my arms as she heard my words--as though the +guilt were upon her. + +I detected it, and became more than ever puzzled. Why did she seek to +secure this man's freedom? + +I asked her that question point-blank, whereupon in a hard, faltering +voice, she replied: + +"Because, dear, while he is still a fugitive from justice I feel myself +safe. The hour he is arrested is the hour of my doom." + +"Why speak so despondently?" I asked. "Have I not promised to protect you +from those people?" + +"How can you if they make allegations against me and bring up witnesses +who will commit perjury--who will swear anything in order that the guilt +shall be placed upon my head," she asked in despair. + +"Though the justice often dispensed by country magistrates is a +disgraceful travesty of right and wrong, yet we still have in England +justice in the criminal courts," I said. "Rest assured that no jury will +convict an innocent woman of the crime of murder." + +She stood slightly away from me, staring blankly straight before her. +Then suddenly she pressed both hands upon her brow and cried in a low, +intense voice: + +"May God have pity on me!" + +"Yes," I said very earnestly. "Trust in Him, dearest, and He will help +you." + +"Ah!" she cried. "You don't know how I suffer--of all the terror--all the +dread that haunts me night and day. Each ring at the door I fear may be +the police--every man who passes the house I fear may be a detective +watching. This torture is too awful. I feel I shall go mad--_mad_!" + +And she paced the room in her despair, while I stood watching her, unable +to still the wild, frantic terror that had gripped her young heart. + +What could I do? What could I think? + +"This cannot go on, Phrida!" I cried at last in desperation. "I will +search out this man. I'll grip him by the throat and force the truth from +him," I declared, setting my teeth hard. "I love you, and I will not +stand by and see you suffer like this!" + +"Ah, no!" she implored, suddenly approaching me, flinging herself upon +her knees and gripping my hands. "No, I beg of you not to do that!" she +cried hoarsely. + +"But why?" I demanded. "Surely you can tell me the reason of your fear!" +I went on--"the man is a rank impostor. That has been proved already by +the police." + +"Do you know that?" she asked, in an instant grave. "Are you quite +certain of that? Remember, you have all along believed him to be the real +Sir Digby." + +"What is your belief, Phrida?" I asked her very earnestly. + +She drew a long breath and hesitated. + +"Truth to tell, dear, I don't know what to think. Sometimes I believe he +must be the real person--and at other times I am filled with doubt." + +"But now tell me," I urged, assisting her to rise to her feet and then +placing my arm about her neck, so that her pretty head fell upon my +shoulder. "Answer me truthfully this one question, for all depends upon +it. How is it that this man has secured such a hold upon you--how is it +that with you his word is law--that though he is a fugitive from justice +you refuse to say a single word against him or to give me one clue to +the solution of this mystery?" + +Her face was blanched to the lips, she trembled in my embrace, drawing a +long breath. + +"I--I'm sorry, dear--but I--I can't tell you. I--I dare not. Can't you +understand?" she asked with despair in her great, wide-open eyes. "_I +dare not!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +OFFICIAL SECRECY. + + +The following evening was damp, grey, and dull, as I stood shivering at +the corner of the narrow Rue de l'Eveque and the broad Place de la Monnie +in Brussels. The lamps were lit, and around me everywhere was the bustle +of business. + +I had crossed by the morning service by way of Ostend, and had arrived +again at the Grand only half an hour before. + +The woman Petre had sent a letter to Digby Kemsley to the Poste Restante +in Brussels under the name of Bryant. If this were so, the fugitive must +be in the habit of calling for his letters, and it was the great black +facade of the chief post-office in Brussels that I was watching. + +The business-day was just drawing to a close, the streets were thronged, +the traffic rattled noisily over the uneven granite paving of the big +square. Opposite the Post Office the arc lamps were shedding a bright +light outside the theatre, while all the shops around were a blaze of +light, while on every side the streets were agog with life. + +Up and down the broad flight of steps which led to the entrance of the +Post Office hundreds of people ascended and descended, passing and +re-passing the four swing-doors which gave entrance to the huge hall with +its dozens of departments ranged around and its partitioned desks for +writing. + +The mails from France and England were just in, and dozens of men came +with their keys to obtain their correspondence from the range of private +boxes, and as I watched, the whole bustle of business life passed before +me. + +I was keeping a sharp eye upon all who passed up and down that long +flight of granite steps, but at that hour of the evening, and in that +crowd, it was no easy matter. + +Would I be successful? That was the one thought which filled my mind. + +As I stood there, my eager gaze upon that endless stream of people, I +felt wearied and fagged. The Channel crossing had been a bad one, as it +so often is in January, and I had not yet recovered from my weird +experience at Colchester. The heavy overcoat I wore was, I found, not +proof against the cutting east wind which swept around the corner from +the Boulevard Auspach, hence I was compelled to change my position and +seek shelter in a doorway opposite the point where I expected the man I +sought would enter. + +I had already surveyed the interior and presented the card of a friend to +an official at the Poste Restante, though I knew there was no letter for +him. I uttered some words of politeness to the man in order to make his +acquaintance, as he might, perhaps, be of use to me ere my quest was at +an end. + +At the Poste Restante were two windows, one distributing correspondence +for people whose surname began with the letters A to L, and the other +from M to Z. + +It was at the first window I inquired, the clerk there being a pleasant, +fair-haired, middle-aged man in a holland coat as worn by postal +employees. I longed to ask him if he had any letters for the name of +Bryant, or if any Englishman of that name had called, but I dared not do +so. He would, no doubt, snub me and tell me to mind my own business. + +So instead, I was extremely polite, regretted to have troubled him, and, +raising my hat, withdrew. + +I saw that to remain within the big office for hours was impossible. The +uniformed doorkeeper who sat upon a high desk overlooking everything, +would quickly demand my business, and expel me. + +No, my only place was out in the open street. Not a pleasant prospect in +winter, and for how many days I could not tell. + +For aught I knew, the fugitive had called for the woman's letter and left +the capital. But he, being aware that the police were in search of him, +would, I thought, if he called at the post office at all for letters, +come there after dark. Hence, I had lost no time in mounting guard. + +My thoughts, as I stood there, were, indeed, bitter and confused. + +The woman Petre had not, as far as I could make out, made any +incriminating statement to the police. Yet she undoubtedly believed me to +be dead, and I reflected in triumph upon the unpleasant surprise in store +for her when we met--as meet we undoubtedly would. + +The amazing problem, viewed briefly, stood thus: The girl, Marie Bracq, +had been killed by a knife with a three-cornered blade, such knife having +been and being still in the possession of Phrida, my well-beloved, whose +finger-prints were found in the room near the body of the poor girl. The +grave and terrible suspicion resting upon Phrida was increased and even +corroborated by her firm resolve to preserve secrecy, her admissions, and +her avowed determination to take her own life rather than face +accusation. + +On the other hand, there was the mystery of the identity of Marie Bracq, +the mystery of the identity of the man who had passed as Sir Digby +Kemsley, the reason of his flight, if Phrida were guilty, and the mystery +of the woman Petre, and her accomplices. + +Yes. The whole affair was one great and complete problem, the extent of +which even Edwards, expert as he was, had, as yet, failed to discover. +The more I tried to solve it the more hopelessly complicated did it +become. + +I could see no light through the veil of mystery and suspicion in which +my well-beloved had become enveloped. + +Why had that man--the man I now hated with so fierce an hatred--held her +in the hollow of his unscrupulous hands? She had admitted that, whenever +he ordered her to do any action, she was bound to obey. + +Yes. My love was that man's slave! I ground my teeth when the bitter +thought flashed across my perturbed mind. + +Ah! what a poor, ignorant fool I had been! And how that scoundrel must +have laughed at me! + +I was anxious to meet him face to face--to force from his lips the truth, +to compel him to answer to me. + +And with that object I waited--waited in the cold and rain for three long +hours, until at last the great doors were closed and locked for the +night, and people ascended those steps no longer. + +Then I turned away faint and disheartened, chilled to the bone, and +wearied out. A few steps along the Boulevard brought me to the hotel, +where I ate some dinner, and retired to my room to fling myself upon the +couch and think. + +Why was Phrida in such fear lest I should meet the man who held her so +mysteriously and completely in his power? What could she fear from our +meeting if she were, as I still tried to believe, innocent? + +Again, was it possible that after their dastardly attempt upon my life, +Mrs. Petre and her accomplices had fled to join the fugitive? Were they +with him? Perhaps so! Perhaps they were there in Brussels! + +The unfortunate victim, Marie Bracq, had probably been a Belgian. Bracq +was certainly a Belgian name. + +The idea crossed my mind to go on the following day to the central Police +Bureau I had noticed in the Rue de la Regence, and make inquiry whether +they knew of any person of that name to be missing. It was not a bad +suggestion, I reflected, and I felt greatly inclined to carry it out. + +Next day, I was up early, but recognised the futility of watching at the +Poste Restante until the daylight faded. On the other hand, if Mrs. +Petre was actually in that city, she would have no fear to go about +openly. Yet, after due consideration, I decided not to go to the post +office till twilight set in. + +The morning I spent idling on the Boulevards and in the cafes, but I +became sick of such inactivity, for I was frantically eager and anxious +to learn the truth. + +At noon I made up my mind, and taking a taxi, alighted at the Prefecture +of Police, where, after some time, I was seen by the _Chef du Surete_, a +grey-haired, dry-as-dust looking official--a narrow-eyed little man, in +black, whose name was Monsieur Van Huffel, and who sat at a writing-table +in a rather bare room, the walls of which were painted dark green. He +eyed me with some curiosity as I entered and bowed. + +"Be seated, I pray, m'sieur," he said in French, indicating a chair on +the opposite side of the table, and leaning back, placed his fingers +together in a judicial attitude. + +The police functionary on the continent is possessed of an ultra-grave +demeanour, and is always of a funereal type. + +"M'sieur wishes to make an inquiry, I hear?" he began. + +"Yes," I said. "I am very anxious to know whether you have any report of +a young person named Marie Bracq being missing." + +"Marie Bracq!" he echoed in surprise, leaning forward towards me. "And +what do you know, m'sieur, regarding Marie Bracq?" + +"I merely called to ascertain if any person of that name, is reported to +you as missing," I said, much surprised at the effect which mention of +the victim had produced upon him. + +"You are English, of course?" he asked. + +"Yes, m'sieur." + +"Well, curiously enough, only this morning I have had a similar inquiry +from your Scotland Yard. They are asking if we are acquainted with any +person named Marie Bracq. And we are, m'sieur," said Monsieur Van Huffel. +"But first please explain what you know of her." + +"I have no personal acquaintance with her," was my reply. "I know of +her--that is all. But it may not be the same person." + +He opened a drawer, turned over a quantity of papers, and a few seconds +later produced a photograph which he passed across to me. + +It was a half-length cabinet portrait of a girl in a fur coat and hat. +But no second glance was needed to tell me that it was actually the +picture of the girl found murdered in London. + +"I see you recognise her, m'sieur," remarked the police official in a +cold, matter-of-fact tone. "Please tell me all you know." + +I paused for a few seconds with the portrait in my hand. My object was to +get all the facts I could from the functionary before me, and give him +the least information possible. + +"Unfortunately, I know but very little," was my rather lame reply. "This +lady was a friend of a lady friend of mine." + +"An English lady was your friend--eh?" + +"Yes." + +"In London?" + +I nodded in the affirmative, while the shrewd little man who was +questioning me sat twiddling a pen with his thin fingers. + +"And she told you of Marie Bracq? In what circumstances?" + +"Well," I said. "It is a long story. Before I tell you, I would like to +ask you one question, m'sieur. Have you received from Scotland Yard the +description of a man named Digby Kemsley--Sir Digby Kemsley--who is +wanted for murder?" + +The dry little official with the parchment face repeated the name, then +consulting a book at his elbow, replied: + +"Yes. We have circulated the description and photograph. It is believed +by your police that his real name is Cane." + +"He has been in Brussels during the past few days to my own certain +knowledge," I said. + +"In Brussels," echoed the man seated in the writing chair. "Where?" + +"Here, in your city. And I expect he is here now." + +"And you know him?" asked the _Chef du Surete_, his eyes betraying slight +excitement. + +"Quite well. He was my friend." + +"I see he is accused of murdering a woman, name unknown, in his +apartment," remarked the official. + +"The name is now known--it has been discovered by me, m'sieur. The name +of the dead girl is Marie Bracq." + +The little man half rose from his chair and stared at me. + +"Is this the truth, m'sieur?" he cried. "Is this man named Kemsley, or +Cane, accused of the assassination of Marie Bracq?" + +"Yes," I replied. + +"But this is most astounding," the Belgian functionary declared +excitedly. "Marie Bracq dead! Ah! it cannot be possible, m'sieur! You do +not know what this information means to us--what an enormous sensation it +will cause if the press scents the truth. Tell me quickly--tell me all +you know," he urged, at the same time taking up the telephone receiver +from his table and then listening for a second, said in a quick, +impetuous voice, "I want Inspector Fremy at once!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +FREMY, OF THE SURETE. + + +After a few moments a short, stout, clean-shaven man with a round, +pleasant face, and dressed in black, entered and bowed to his chief. + +He carried his soft felt hat and cane in his hand, and seated himself at +the invitation of Van Huffel. + +"This is Inspector Fremy--Monsieur Edouard Royle, of Londres," exclaimed +the _Chef du Surete_, introducing us. + +The detective, the most famous police officer in Belgium, who had been +for years under Monsieur Hennion, in Paris, and had now transferred his +services to Belgium, bowed and looked at me with his small, inquisitive +eyes. + +"Monsieur Fremy. This gentleman has called with regard to the case of +Marie Bracq," said Van Huffel in French. + +The detective was quickly interested. + +"She is dead--been assassinated in London," his chief went on. + +Fremy stared at the speaker in surprise, and the two men exchanged +strange glances. + +"Monsieur tells me that the man, Sir Digby Kemsley, wanted by Scotland +Yard, is accused of the murder of Marie Bracq--and, further," added Van +Huffel, "the accused has been here in Brussels quite recently." + +"In Brussels?" echoed the round-faced man. + +"Yes," I said. "He has letters addressed to the Poste Restante in the +name of Bryant." And I spelt it as the detective carefully wrote down the +name. + +"He will not be difficult to find if he is still in Brussels," declared +the inspector. "We had an inquiry from Scotland Yard asking if we had any +report concerning Marie Bracq only this morning," he added. + +"It was sent to you by my friend, Inspector Edwards, and whom I am +assisting in this inquiry," I explained. + +"You said that Marie Bracq was a friend of a lady friend of yours, +M'sieur Royle," continued the _Chef du Surete_. "Will you do us the +favour and tell us all you know concerning the tragedy--how the young +lady lost her life?" + +"Ah! m'sieur," I replied, "I fear I cannot do that. How she was killed is +still a mystery. Only within the past few hours have I been able to +establish the dead girl's identity, and only then after narrowly escaping +falling the victim of a most dastardly plot." + +"Perhaps you will be good enough to make a statement of all you know, +M'sieur Royle," urged the grey-haired little man; "and if we can be of +any service in bringing the culprit to justice, you may rely upon us." + +"But first, m'sieur, allow me to put observation upon the Poste +Restante?" asked Fremy, rising and going to the telephone, where he got +on to one of his subordinates, and gave him instructions in Flemish, a +language I do not understand. + +Then, when he returned to his chair, I began to briefly relate what I +knew concerning Sir Digby, and what had occurred, as far as I knew, on +that fatal night of the sixth of January. + +I, of course, made no mention of the black suspicion cast upon the woman +I loved, nor of the delivery of Digby's letter, my meeting with the woman +Petre and its exciting results. + +Yet had I not met that woman I should still have been in ignorance of the +identity of the dead girl, and, besides, I would not have met the +sallow-faced Ali, or been aware of his methods--those methods so +strangely similar to that adopted when Sir Digby Kemsley lost his life in +Peru. + +The two police functionaries listened very attentively to my story +without uttering a word. + +I had spoken of the woman Petre as being an accomplice of the man who was +a fugitive, whereupon Fremy asked: + +"Do you suppose that the woman is with him?" + +"She has, I believe, left England, and, therefore, in all probability, is +with him." + +"Are there any others of the gang--for there is, of course, a gang? Such +people never act singly." + +"Two other men, as far as I know. One, a young man, who acts as servant, +and the other, a tall, copper-faced man with sleek black hair--probably a +Peruvian native. They call him Ali, and he pretends he is a Hindu." + +"A Hindu!" gasped the detective. "Why, I saw one talking to a rather +stout Englishwoman at the Gare du Nord yesterday evening, just before +the Orient Express left for the East!" He gave a quick description of +both the man and the woman, and I at once said: + +"Yes, that was certainly Ali, and the woman was Mrs. Petre!" + +"They probably left by the Orient Express!" he cried, starting up, and +crossing to his chief's table snatched up the orange-coloured official +time table. + +"Ah! yes," he exclaimed, after searching a few moments. "The Orient +Express will reach Wels, in Austria, at 2.17, no time for a telegram to +get through. No. The next stop is Vienna--the Westbahnhof--at 6. I will +wire to the Commissary of Police to board the train, and if they are in +it, to detain them." + +"Excellent," remarked his chief, and, ringing a bell, a clerk appeared +and took down the official telegram, giving the description of the woman +and her accomplice. + +"I suppose the fugitive Englishman is not with them?" suggested the _Chef +du Surete_. + +"I did not see him at the station--or, at least, I did not recognise +anyone answering to the description," replied the inspector; "but we may +as well add his description in the telegram and ask for an immediate +reply." + +Thereupon the official description of Digby, as supplied to the Belgian +police by Scotland Yard, was translated into French and placed in the +message. + +After the clerk had left with it, Fremy, standing near the window, +exclaimed: + +"Dieu! Had I but known who they were last night! But we may still get +them. I will see the employee at the Poste Restante. This Monsieur +Bryant, if he receives letters, may have given an address for them to be +forwarded." + +After a slight pause, during which time the two functionaries conversed +in Flemish, I turned to Van Huffel, and said: + +"I have related all I know, m'sieur; therefore, I beg of you to tell me +something concerning the young person Marie Bracq. Was she a lady?" + +"A lady!" he echoed with a laugh. "Most certainly--the daughter of one of +the princely houses of Europe." + +"What?" I gasped. "Tell me all about her!" + +But the dry-as-dust little man shook his grey head and replied: + +"I fear, m'sieur, in my position, I am not permitted to reveal secrets +entrusted to me. And her identity is a secret--a great secret." + +"But I have discovered her identity where our English police had failed!" +I protested. "Besides, am I not assisting you?" + +"Very greatly, and we are greatly indebted to you, M'sieur Royle," he +replied, with exquisite politeness; "but it is not within my province as +_Chef du Surete_ to tell you facts which have been revealed to me under +pledge of secrecy." + +"Perhaps M'sieur Fremy may be able to tell me some facts," I suggested. +"Remember, I am greatly interested in the mysterious affair." + +"From mere curiosity--eh?" asked Van Huffel with a smile. + +"No, m'sieur," was my earnest reply. "Because the arrest and condemnation +of the assassin of Marie Bracq means all the world to me." + +"How?" + +I hesitated for some moments, then, hoping to enlist his sympathy, I told +him the truth. + +"Upon the lady who is my promised wife rests a grave suspicion," I said, +in a low, hard voice. "I decline to believe ill of her, or to think that +she could be guilty of a crime, or----" + +"Of the assassination of Marie Bracq?" interrupted Van Huffel. "Do you +suspect that? Is there any question as to the guilt of the man Kemsley?" +he asked quickly. + +"No one has any suspicion of the lady in question," I said. "Only--only +from certain facts within my knowledge and certain words which she +herself has uttered, a terrible and horrible thought has seized me." + +"That Marie Bracq was killed by her hand--eh? Ah, m'sieur, I quite +understand," he said. "And you are seeking the truth--in order to clear +the woman you love?" + +"Exactly. That is the truth. That is why I am devoting all my time--all +that I possess in order to solve the mystery and get at the actual +truth." + +Fremy glanced at his chief, then at me. + +"Bien, m'sieur," exclaimed Van Huffel. "But there is no great necessity +for you to know the actual identity of Marie Bracq. So long as you are +able to remove the stigma from the lady in question, who is to be your +wife, and to whom you are undoubtedly devoted, what matters whether the +dead girl was the daughter of a prince or of a rag-picker? We will assist +you in every degree in our power," he went on. "M'sieur Fremy will +question the postal clerk, watch will be kept at the Poste Restante, at +each of the railway stations, and in various other quarters, so that if +any of the gang are in the city they cannot leave it without +detection----" + +"Except by automobile," I interrupted. + +"Ah! I see m'sieur possesses forethought," he said with a smile. "Of +course, they can easily hire an automobile and run to Namur, Ghent, or +Antwerp--or even to one or other of the frontiers. But M'sieur Fremy is +in touch with all persons who have motor-cars for hire. If they attempted +to leave by car when once their descriptions are circulated, we should +know in half an hour, while to cross the frontier by car would be +impossible." Then, turning to the inspector, he said, "You will see that +precautions are immediately taken that if they are here they cannot +leave." + +"The matter is in my hands, m'sieur," answered the great detective +simply. + +"Then m'sieur refuses to satisfy me as to the exact identity of Marie +Bracq?" I asked Van Huffel in my most persuasive tone. + +"A thousand regrets, m'sieur, but as I have already explained, I am +compelled to regard the secret entrusted to me." + +"I take it that her real name is not Marie Bracq?" I said, looking him in +the face. + +"You are correct. It is not." + +"Is she a Belgian subject?" I asked. + +"No, m'sieur, the lady is not." + +"You said that a great sensation would be caused if the press knew the +truth?" + +"Yes. I ask you to do me the favour, and promise me absolute secrecy in +this matter. If we are to be successful in the arrest of these +individuals, then the press must know nothing--not a syllable. Do I have +your promise, M'sieur Royle?" + +"If you wish," I answered. + +"And we on our part will assist you to clear this lady who is to be your +wife--but upon one condition." + +"And that is what?" I asked. + +"That you do not seek to inquire into the real identity of the poor young +lady who has lost her life--the lady known to you and others as Marie +Bracq," he said, looking straight into my eyes very seriously. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +SHOWS EXPERT METHODS. + + +It being the luncheon hour, Fremy and myself ate our meal at the highly +popular restaurant, the Taverne Joseph, close to the Bourse, where the +cooking is, perhaps, the best in Brussels and where the cosmopolitan, who +knows where to eat, usually makes for when in the Belgian capital. + +After our coffee, cigarettes, and a "triple-sec" each, we strolled round +to the General Post Office. As we approached that long flight of granite +steps I knew so well, a poor-looking, ill-dressed man with the pinch of +poverty upon his face, and his coat buttoned tightly against the cold, +edged up to my companion on the pavement and whispered a word, afterwards +hurrying on. + +"Our interesting friend has not been here yet," the detective remarked to +me. "We will have a talk with the clerk at the Poste Restante." + +Entering the great hall, busy as it is all day, we approached the window +where letters were distributed from A to L, and where sat the same +pleasant, fair-haired man sorting letters. + +"Bon jour, m'sieur!" he exclaimed, when he caught sight of Fremy. "What +weather, eh?" + +The great detective returned his greetings, and then putting his head +further into the window so that others should not overhear, said in +French: + +"I am looking for an individual, an Englishman, name of Bryant, and am +keeping watch outside. He is wanted in England for a serious offence. Has +he been here?" + +"Bryant?" repeated the clerk thoughtfully. + +"Yes," said Fremy, and then I spelt the name slowly. + +The clerk reached his hand to the pigeon-hole wherein were letters for +callers whose names began with B, and placing them against a little block +of black wood on the counter before him, looked eagerly through while we +watched intently. + +Once or twice he stopped to scrutinise an address, but his fingers went +on again through the letters to the end. + +"Nothing," he remarked laconically, replacing the packet in the +pigeon-hole. "But there has been correspondence for him. I recollect--a +thin-faced man, with grey hair and clean shaven. Yes. I remember him +distinctly. He always called just before the office was closed." + +"When did he call last?" asked Fremy quickly. + +"The night before last, I think," was the man's answer. "A lady was with +him--a rather stout English lady." + +We both started. + +"Did the lady ask for any letters?" + +"Yes. But I forget the name." + +"Petre is her right name," I interrupted. Then I suggested to Fremy: +"Ask the other clerk to look through the letter 'P.'" + +"Non, m'sieur!" exclaimed the fair-haired employee. "The name she asked +for was in my division. It was not P." + +"Then she must have asked for a name that was not her own," I said. + +"And it seems very much as though we have lost the gang by a few hours," +Fremy said disappointedly. "My own opinion is that they left Brussels by +the Orient Express last night. They did not call at the usual time +yesterday." + +"They may come this evening," I suggested. + +"Certainly they may. We shall, of course, watch," he replied. + +"When the man and woman called the day before yesterday," continued the +employee, "there was a second man--a dark-faced Indian with them, I +believe. He stood some distance away, and followed them out. It was his +presence which attracted my attention and caused me to remember the +incident." + +Fremy exchanged looks with me. I knew he was cursing his fate which had +allowed the precious trio to slip through his fingers. + +Yet the thought was gratifying that when the express ran into the Great +Westbahnhof at Vienna, the detectives would at once search it for the +fugitives. + +My companion had told me that by eight o'clock we would know the result +of the enquiry, and I was anxious for that hour to arrive. + +Already Fremy had ordered search to be made of arrivals at all hotels and +pensions in the city for the name of Bryant, therefore, we could do +nothing more than possess ourselves in patience. So we left the post +office, his poverty-stricken assistant remaining on the watch, just as I +had watched in the cold on the previous night. + +With my companion I walked round to the big Cafe Metropole on the +Boulevard, and over our "bocks," at a table where we could not be +overheard, we discussed the situation. + +That big cafe, one of the principal in Brussels, is usually deserted +between the hours of three and four. At other times it is filled with +business men discussing their affairs, or playing dominoes with that +rattle which is characteristic of the foreign cafe. + +"Why is it," I asked him, "that your chief absolutely refuses to betray +the identity of the girl Marie Bracq?" + +The round-faced man before me smiled thoughtfully as he idly puffed his +cigarette. Then, shrugging his shoulders, he replied: + +"Well, m'sieur, to tell the truth, there is a very curious complication. +In connection with the affair there is a scandal which must never be +allowed to get out to the public." + +"Then you know the truth--eh?" I asked. + +"A portion of it. Not all," he replied. "But I tell you that the news of +the young lady's death has caused us the greatest amazement and surprise. +We knew that she was missing, but never dreamed that she had been the +victim of an assassin." + +"But who are her friends?" I demanded. + +"Unfortunately, I am not permitted to say," was his response. "When they +know the terrible truth they may give us permission to reveal the truth +to you. Till then, my duty is to preserve their secret." + +"But I am all anxiety to know." + +"I quite recognise that, M'sieur Royle," he said. "I know how I should +feel were I in your position. But duty is duty, is it not?" + +"I have assisted you, and I have given you a clue to the mystery," I +protested. + +"And we, on our part, will assist you to clear the stigma resting upon +the lady who is your promised wife," he said. "Whatever I can do in that +direction, m'sieur may rely upon me." + +I was silent, for I saw that to attempt to probe further then the mystery +of the actual identity of Marie Bracq was impossible. There seemed a +conspiracy of silence against me. + +But I would work myself. I would exert all the cunning and ingenuity I +possessed--nay, I would spend every penny I had in the world--in order to +clear my well-beloved of that terrible suspicion that by her hand this +daughter of a princely house had fallen. + +"Well," I asked at last. "What more can we do?" + +"Ah!" sighed the stout man, blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke from his +lips and drawing his glass. "What can we do? The Poste Restante is being +watched, the records of all hotels and pensions for the past month are +being inspected, and we have put a guard upon the Orient Express. No! We +can do nothing," he said, "until we get a telegram from Vienna. Will you +call at the Prefecture of Police at eight o'clock to-night? I will be +there to see you." + +I promised, then having paid the waiter, we strolled out of the cafe, and +parted on the Boulevard, he going towards the Nord Station, while I went +along in the opposite direction to the Grand. + +For the appointed hour I waited in greatest anxiety. What if the trio had +been arrested in Vienna? + +That afternoon I wrote a long and encouraging letter to Phrida, telling +her that I was exerting every effort on her behalf and urging her to keep +a stout heart against her enemies, who now seemed to be in full flight. + +At last, eight o'clock came, and I entered the small courtyard of the +Prefecture of Police, where a uniformed official conducted me up to the +room of Inspector Fremy. + +The big, merry-faced man rose as I entered and placed his cigar in an ash +tray. + +"Bad luck, m'sieur!" he exclaimed in French. "They left Brussels in the +Orient, as I suspected--all three of them. Here is the reply," and he +handed me an official telegram in German, which translated into English +read: + + "To Prefet of Police, Brussels, from Prefet of Police, Vienna: + + "In response to telegram of to-day's date, the three persons + described left Brussels by Orient Express, travelled to Wels, + and there left the train at 2.17 this afternoon. Telephonic + inquiry of police at Wels results that they left at 4.10 by the + express for Paris." + +"I have already telegraphed to Paris," Fremy said. "But there is time, of +course, to get across to Paris, and meet the express from Constantinople +on its arrival there. Our friends evidently know their way about the +Continent!" + +"Shall we go to Paris," I suggested eagerly, anticipating in triumph +their arrest as they alighted at the Gare de l'Est. I had travelled by +the express from Vienna on one occasion about a year before, and +remembered that it arrived in Paris about nine o'clock in the morning. + +"With the permission of my chief I will willingly accompany you, +m'sieur," replied the detective, and, leaving me, he was absent for five +minutes or so, while I sat gazing around his bare, official-looking +bureau, where upon the walls were many police notices and photographs of +wanted persons, "rats d'hotel," and other malefactors. Brussels is one of +the most important police centres in Europe, as well as being the centre +of the political secret service of the Powers. + +On his return he said: + +"Bien, m'sieur. We leave the Midi Station at midnight and arrive in Paris +at half-past five. I will engage sleeping berths, and I will telephone to +my friend, Inspector Dricot, at the Prefecture, to send an agent of the +brigade mobile to meet us. Non d'un chien! What a surprise it will be for +the fugitives. But," he added, "they are clever and elusive. Fancy, in +order to go from Brussels to Paris they travel right away into Austria, +and with through tickets to Belgrade, too! Yes, they know the routes on +the Continent--the routes used by the international thieves, I mean. The +Wels route by which they travelled, is one of them." + +Then I left him, promising to meet him at the station ten minutes before +midnight. I had told Edwards I would notify him by wire any change of +address, therefore, on leaving the Prefecture of Police, I went to the +Grand and from there sent a telegram to him at Scotland Yard, telling him +that I should call at the office of the inspector of police at the East +railway station in Paris at ten on the following morning--if he had +anything to communicate. + +All through that night we travelled on in the close, stuffy _wagon-lit_ +by way of Mons to Paris arriving with some three hours and a half to +spare, which we idled in one of the all-night cafes near the station, +having been met by a little ferret-eyed Frenchman, named Jappe, who had +been one of Fremy's subordinates when he was in the French service. + +Just before nine o'clock, after our _cafe-au-lait_ in the buffet, we +walked out upon the long arrival platform where the Orient Express from +its long journey from Constantinople was due. + +It was a quarter of an hour late, but at length the luggage porters began +to assemble, and with bated breath I watched the train of dusty +sleeping-cars slowly draw into the terminus. + +In a moment Fremy and his colleague were all eyes, while I stood near the +engine waiting the result of their quest. + +But in five minutes the truth was plain. Fremy was in conversation with +one of the brown-uniformed conductors, who told him that the three +passengers we sought did join at Wels, but had left again at Munich on +the previous evening! + +My heart sank. Our quest was in vain. They had again eluded us! + +"I will go to Munich," Fremy said at once. "I may find trace of them +yet." + +"And I will accompany you!" I exclaimed eagerly. "They must not escape +us." + +But my plans were at once altered, and Fremy was compelled to leave for +Germany alone, for at the police office at the station half an hour +later I received a brief message from Edwards urging me to return to +London immediately, and stating that an important discovery had been +made. + +So I drove across to the Gare du Nord, and left for London by the next +train. + +What, I wondered, had been discovered? + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +EDWARDS BECOMES MORE PUZZLED. + + +At half-past seven on that same evening, Edwards, in response to a +telegram I sent him from Calais, called upon me in Albemarle Street. + +He looked extremely grave when he entered my room. After Haines had taken +his hat and coat and we were alone, he said in a low voice: + +"Mr. Royle, I have a rather painful communication to make to you. I much +regret it--but the truth must be faced." + +"Well?" I asked, in quick apprehension; "what is it?" + +"We have received from an anonymous correspondent--who turns out to be +the woman Petre, whom you know--a letter making the gravest accusations +against Miss Shand. She denounces her as the assassin of the girl Marie +Bracq." + +"It's a lie! a foul, abominable lie!" I cried angrily. "I told you that +she would seek to condemn the woman I love." + +"Yes, I recollect. But it is a clue which I am in duty bound to +investigate." + +"You have not been to Miss Shand--you have not yet questioned her?" I +gasped anxiously. + +"Not before I saw you," he replied. "I may as well tell you at once that +I had some slight suspicion that the young lady in question was +acquainted with your friend who posed as Sir Digby." + +"How?" I asked. + +He hesitated. "Well, I thought it most likely that as you and he were +such great friends, you might have introduced them," he said, rather +lamely. + +"But surely you are not going to believe the words of this woman Petre?" +I cried. "Listen, and I will tell you how she has already endeavoured to +take my life, and thus leave Miss Shand at her mercy." + +Then, as he sat listening, his feet stretched towards the fender, I +related in detail the startling adventure which befel me at Colchester. + +"Extraordinary, Mr. Royle!" he exclaimed, in blank surprise. "Why, in +heaven's name, didn't you tell me this before! The snake! Why, that is +exactly the method used by Cane to secure the death of the real Sir +Digby!" + +"What was the use of telling you?" I queried. "What is the use even now? +The woman has fled and, at the same time, takes a dastardly revenge upon +the woman I love." + +"Tell me, Mr. Royle," said the inspector, who, in his dinner coat and +black tie, presented the appearance of the West End club man rather than +a police official. "Have you yourself any suspicion that Miss Shand has +knowledge of the affair?" + +His question non-plussed me for the moment. + +"Ah! I see you hesitate!" he exclaimed, shrewdly. "You have a +suspicion--now admit it." + +He pressed me, and seeing that my demeanour had, alas! betrayed my +thoughts, I was compelled to speak the truth. + +"Yes," I said, in a low, strained voice. "To tell you the truth, +Edwards, there are certain facts which I am utterly unable to +understand--facts which Miss Shand has admitted to me. But I still refuse +to believe that she is a murderess." + +"Naturally," he remarked, and I thought I detected a slightly sarcastic +curl of the lips. "But though Miss Shand is unaware of it, I have made +certain secret inquiries--inquiries which have given astounding results," +he said slowly. "I have, unknown to the young lady, secured some of her +finger-prints, which, on comparison, have coincided exactly with those +found upon the glass-topped table at Harrington Gardens, and also with +those which you brought to me so mysteriously." And he added, "To be +quite frank, it was that action of yours which first aroused my suspicion +regarding Miss Shand. I saw that you suspected some one--that you were +trying to prove to your own satisfaction that your theory was wrong." + +I held my breath, cursing myself for such injudicious action. + +"Again, this letter from the woman Petre has corroborated my +apprehensions," he went on. "Miss Shand was a friend of the man who +called himself Sir Digby. She met him clandestinely, unknown, to +you--eh?" he asked. + +"Please do not question me, Edwards," I implored. "This is all so +extremely painful to me." + +"I regret, but it is my duty, Mr. Royle," he replied in a tone of +sympathy. "Is not my suggestion the true one?" + +I admitted that it was. + +Then, in quick, brief sentences I told him of my visit to the Prefecture +of Police in Brussels and all that I had discovered regarding the +fugitives, to which he listened most attentively. + +"They have not replied to my inquiry concerning the dead girl Marie +Bracq," he remarked presently. + +"They know her," I replied. "Van Huffel, the _Chef du Surete_, stood +aghast when I told him that the man Kemsley was wanted by you on a charge +of murdering her. He declared that the allegation utterly astounded him, +and that the press must have no suspicion of the affair, as a great +scandal would result." + +"But who is the girl?" he inquired quickly. + +"Van Huffel refused to satisfy my curiosity. He declared that her +identity was a secret which he was not permitted to divulge, but he added +when I pressed him, that she was a daughter of one of the princely houses +of Europe!" + +Edwards stared at me. + +"I wonder what is her real name?" he said, reflectively. "Really, Mr. +Royle, the affair grows more and more interesting and puzzling." + +"It does," I said, and then I related in detail my fruitless journey to +Paris, and how the three fugitives had alighted at Munich from the +westbound express from the Near East, and disappeared. + +"Fremy, whom I think you know, has gone after them," I added. + +"If Fremy once gets on the scent he'll, no doubt, find them," remarked my +companion. "He's one of the most astute and clever detectives in Europe. +So, if the case is in his hands, I'm quite contented that all will be +done to trace them." + +For two hours we sat together, while I related what the girl at Melbourne +House had told me, and, in fact, put before him practically all that I +have recorded in the foregoing pages. + +Then, at last, I stood before him boldly and asked: + +"In face of all this, can you suspect Miss Shand? Is she not that man's +victim?" + +He did not speak for several moments; his gaze was fixed upon the fire. + +"Well," he replied, stirring himself at last, "to tell you the truth, Mr. +Royle, I'm just as puzzled as you are. She may be the victim of this man +we know to be an unscrupulous adventurer, but, at the same time, her hand +may have used that triangular-bladed knife which we have been unable to +find." + +The knife! I held my breath. Was it not lying openly upon that table in +the corner of the drawing-room at Cromwell Road? Would not analysis +reveal upon it a trace of human blood? Would not its possession in itself +convict her? + +"Then what is your intention?" I asked, at last. + +"To see her and put a few questions, Mr. Royle," he answered slowly. "I +know how much this must pain you, bearing in mind your deep affection for +the young lady, but, unfortunately, it is my duty, and I cannot see how +such a course can be avoided." + +"No. I beg of you not to do this," I implored. "Keep what observation you +like, but do not approach her--at least, not yet. In her present frame of +mind, haunted by the shadow of the crime and hemmed in by suspicion of +which she cannot clear herself, it would be fatal." + +"Fatal! I don't understand you." + +"Well--she would take her own life," I said in a low whisper. + +"She has threatened--eh?" he asked. + +I nodded in the affirmative. + +"Then does not that, in itself, justify my decision to see and question +her?" + +"No, it does not!" I protested. "She is not guilty, but this terrible +dread and anxiety is, I know, gradually unbalancing her brain. She is a +girl of calm determination, and if she believed that you suspected her +she would be driven by sheer terror to carry out her threat." + +He smiled. + +"Most women threaten suicide at one time or other of their lives. Their +thoughts seem to revert to romance as soon as they find themselves in a +corner. No," he added. "I never believe in threats of suicide in either +man or woman. Life is always too precious for that, and especially if a +woman loves, as she does." + +"You don't know her." + +"No, but I know women, Mr. Royle--I know all their idiosyncrasies as well +as most men, I think," he said. + +I begged him not to approach my well-beloved, but he was inexorable. + +"I must see her--and I must know the truth," he declared decisively. + +But I implored again of him, begging him to spare her--begged her life. + +I had gripped him by the hand, and looking into his face I pointed out +that I had done and was doing all I could to elucidate the mystery. + +"At least," I cried, "you will wait until the fugitives are arrested!" + +"There is only one--the impostor," he said. "There is no charge against +the others." + +"Then I will lay a charge to-night against the woman Petre and the man +Ali of attempting to kill me." I said. "The two names can then be added +to the warrant." + +"Very well," he said. "We'll go to the Yard, and I will take your +information." + +"And you will not approach Phrida until you hear something from +Brussels--eh?" I asked persuasively. "In the meantime, I will do all I +can. Leave Miss Shand to me." + +"If I did it would be a grave dereliction of duty," he replied slowly. + +"But is it a dereliction of duty to disregard allegations made by a woman +who has fled in that man's company, and who is, we now know, his +accomplice?" I protested. "Did not you yourself tell me that you, at +Scotland Yard, always regarded lightly any anonymous communication?" + +"As a rule we do. But past history shows that many have been genuine," he +said. "Before the commission of nearly all the Jack the Ripper crimes +there were anonymous letters, written in red ink. We have them now framed +and hanging up in the Black Museum." + +"But such letters are not denunciations. They were promises of a further +sensation," I argued. "The triumphant and gleeful declarations of the mad +but mysterious assassin. No. Promise me, Edwards, that you will postpone +this projected step of yours, which can, in any case, even though my love +be innocent, only result in dire disaster." + +He saw how earnest was my appeal, and realised, I think, the extreme +gravity of the situation, and how deeply it concerned me. He seemed, +also, to recognise that in discovering the name of the victim and in +going a second time to Brussels, I had been able to considerably advance +the most difficult inquiry; therefore, after still another quarter of an +hour of persuasion, I induced him to withhold. + +"Very well," he replied, "though I can make no definite promise, Mr. +Royle. I will not see the lady before I have again consulted with you. +But," he added, "I must be frank with you. I shall continue my +investigations in that quarter, and most probably watch will be kept upon +her movements." + +"And if she recognises that you suspect her?" I gasped. + +"Ah!" he exclaimed, with a slight shrug of the shoulders. "I cannot +accept any responsibility for that. How can I?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +FURTHER ADMISSIONS. + + +"The secret of Digby Kemsley is still a secret, and will ever remain a +secret." + +I recollected Mrs. Petre uttering those words to me as that dark-faced +villain Ali had forced my inert head down upon the table. + +Well, that same night when I had begged of Edwards my love's life, I sat +in his room at Scotland Yard and there made a formal declaration of what +had happened to me on that well-remembered night outside Colchester. I +formally demanded the arrest of the woman, of Ali, and of the young +man-servant, all of whom had conspired to take my life. + +The clerk calmly took down my statement, which Edwards read over to me, +and I duly signed it. + +Then, gripping his hand, I went forth into Parliament Street, and took a +taxi to Cromwell Road. + +I had not seen Phrida for several days, and she was delighted at my +visit. + +She presented a pale, frail, little figure in her simple gown of pale +pink ninon, cut slightly open at the neck and girdled narrow with +turquoise blue. Her skirt was narrow, as was the mode, and her long +white arms were bare to the shoulders. + +She had been curled up before the fire reading when I entered, but she +jumped up with an expression of welcome upon her lips. + +But not until her mother had bade me good-night and discreetly withdrew, +did she refer to the subject which I knew obsessed her by night and by +day. + +"Well, Teddy," she asked, when I sat alone with her upon the pale green +silk-covered couch, her little hand in mine, "Where have you been? Why +have you remained silent?" + +"I've been in Brussels," I replied, and then, quite frankly, I explained +my quest after the impostor. + +She sat looking straight before her, her eyes fixed like a person, in a +dream. At last she spoke: + +"I thought," she said in a strained voice, "that you would have shown +greater respect for me than to do that--when you knew it would place you +in such great peril!" + +"I have acted in your own interests, dearest," I replied, placing my arm +tenderly about her neck. "Ah! in what manner you will never know." + +"My interests!" she echoed, in despair. "Have I not told you that on the +day Digby Kemsley is arrested I intend to end my life," and as she drew a +long breath, I saw in her eyes that haunted, terrified look which told me +that she was driven to desperation. + +"No, no," I urged, stroking her hair with tenderness. "I know all that +you must suffer, Phrida, but I am your friend and your protector. I will +never rest until I get at the truth." + +"Ah! Revelation of the truth will, alas! prove my undoing!" she +whispered, in a voice full of fear. "You don't know, dear, how your +relentless chase of that man is placing me in danger." + +"But he is an adventurer, an impostor--a fugitive from justice, and he +merits punishment!" I cried. + +"Ah! And if you say that," she cried, wildly starting to her feet. "So do +I! So do I!" + +"Come, calm yourself, dearest," I said, placing my hand upon her shoulder +and forcing her back into her chair. "You are upset to-night," and I +kissed her cold, white lips. "May I ring for Mallock? Wouldn't you like +to go to your room?" + +She drew a deep sigh, and with an effort repressed the tears welling in +her deep-set, haunted eyes. + +"Yes," she faltered in her emotion. "Perhaps I had better. I--I cannot +bear this strain much longer. You told me that the police did not suspect +me, but--but, now I know they do. A man has been watching outside the +house all day for two days past. Yes," she sobbed, "they will come, come +to arrest me, but they will only find that--that I've cheated them!" + +"They will not come," I answered her. "I happen to know more than I can +tell you, Phrida," I whispered. "You need have no fear of arrest." + +"But that woman Petre! She may denounce me--she will, I know!" + +"They take no notice of such allegations at Scotland Yard. They receive +too much wild correspondence," I declared. "No, dearest, go to bed and +rest--rest quite assured that at present you are in no peril, and, +further, that every hour which elapses brings us nearer a solution of the +tragic and tantalising problem. May I ring for Mallock?" I asked, again +kissing her passionately upon those lips, hard and cold as marble, my +heart full of sympathy for her in her tragic despair. + +"Yes," she responded faintly in a voice so low that I could hardly catch +it. So I crossed and rang the bell for her maid. + +Then, when she had kissed me good-night, looking into my eyes with a +strange expression of wistfulness, and left the room, I dashed across to +that little table whereon the ivory-hilted knife was lying and seized the +important piece of evidence, so that it might not fall into Edwards' +hands. + +I held it within my fingers, and taking it across to the fireplace, +examined it in the strong light. The ivory was yellow and old, carved +with the escutcheon bearing the three balls, the arms of the great House +of Medici. The blade, about seven inches long, was keen, triangular, and, +at the point, sharp as a needle. Into it the rust of centuries had eaten, +though in parts it was quite bright, evidently due to recent cleaning. + +I was examining it for any stains that might be upon it--stains of the +life-blood of Marie Bracq. But I could find none. No. They had been +carefully removed, yet chemical analysis would, without doubt, reveal +inevitable traces of the ghastly truth. + +I had my back to the door, and was still holding the deadly weapon in my +hand, scrutinising it closely, when I heard a slight movement behind me, +and turning, confronted Phrida, standing erect and rigid, like a statue. + +Her face was white as death, her thin hands clenched, her haunted eyes +fixed upon me. + +"Ah! I see!" she cried hoarsely. "You know--eh? You _know_!" + +"No. I do not _know_, Phrida," was my deep reply, as I snatched her hand +and held it in my own. "I only surmise that this knife was used on that +fatal night, because of the unusual shape of its blade--because of the +medical evidence that by such a knife Marie Bracq was killed." + +She drew a deep breath. + +"And you are taking it as evidence--against me!" + +"Evidence against you, darling!" I echoed in reproach. "Do you think that +I, the man who loves you, is endeavouring to convict you of a crime? No. +Leave matters to me. I am your friend--not your enemy!" + +A silence fell between us. She neither answered nor did she move for some +moments. Then she said in a deep wistful tone: + +"Ah! if I could only believe that you are!" + +"But I am," I declared vehemently. "I love you, Phrida, with all my soul, +and I will never believe ill of you--never, never!" + +"How can you do otherwise in these terrible circumstances?" she queried, +with a strange contraction of her brows. + +"I love you, and because I love you so dearly--because you are all the +world to me," I said, pressing her to my heart, "I will never accept what +an enemy may allege--never, until you are permitted to relate your own +story." + +I still held the weapon in my hand, and I saw that her eyes wandered to +it. + +"Ah! Teddy!" she cried, with sudden emotion. "How can I thank you +sufficiently for those words? Take that horrible thing and hide it--hide +it anywhere from my eyes, for sight of it brings all the past back to me. +Yet--yet I was afraid," she went on, "I dare not hide it, lest any one +should ask what had become of it, and thus suspicions might be aroused. +Ah! every time I have come into this room it has haunted me--I seem to +see that terrible scene before my eyes--how--how they----" + +But she broke off short, and covering her face with both hands added, +after a few seconds' silence: + +"Ah! yes, take it away--never let me gaze upon it again. But I beg of +you, dear, to--to preserve my secret--my terrible secret!" + +And she burst into tears. + +"Not a single word shall pass my lips, neither shall a single soul see +this knife. I will take it and cast it away--better to the bottom of the +Thames. To-night it shall be in a place where it can never be found. So +go to your room, and rest assured that you, darling, have at least one +friend--myself." + +I felt her breast heave and fall as I held her in my strong embrace. + +Then without words she raised her white, tear-stained face and kissed me +long and fondly; afterwards she left me, and in silence tottered from the +room, closing the door after her. + +I still held the knife in my hand--the weapon by which the terrible deed +had been perpetrated. + +What could I think? What would you, my reader, have thought if the woman +you love stood in the same position as Phrida Shand--which God forbid? + +I stood reflecting, gazing upon the antique poignard. Then slowly and +deliberately I made up my mind, and placing the unsheathed knife in my +breast pocket I went out into the hall, put on my coat and hat, and left +the house. + +Half an hour later I halted casually upon Westminster Bridge, and when no +one was near, cast the ancient "Misericordia" into the dark flowing +waters of the river, knowing that Edwards and his inquisitive assistants +could never recover it as evidence against my love. + +Four days later I received a letter from Fremy, dated from the Hotel +National at Strasbourg, stating that he had traced the fugitives from +Munich to the latter city, but there he had lost all trace of them. He +believed they had gone to Paris, and with his chief's permission he was +leaving for the French capital that night. + +Weeks passed--weeks of terror and apprehension for my love, and of +keenest anxiety for myself. + +The month of May went by, spring with all her beauties appeared in the +parks and faded in the heat and dust, while the London season commenced. +Men who were otherwise never seen in town, strolled up and down St. +James's Street and Piccadilly, smart women rode in the Row in the morning +and gave parties at night, while the usual crop of charitable functions, +society scandals, Parliamentary debates, and puff-paragraphs in the +papers about Lady Nobody's dances showed the gay world of London to be in +full swing. + +My mantelshelf was well decorated with cards of invitation, for, +nowadays, the bachelor in London can have a really good time if he +chooses, yet I accepted few, spending most of my days immersed in +business--in order to occupy my thoughts--while my evenings I spent at +Cromwell Road. + +For weeks Phrida had not referred to the tragedy in any way, and I had +been extremely careful to avoid the subject. Yet, from her pale, drawn +countenance--so unlike her former self--I knew how recollection of it +ever haunted her, and what dread terror had gripped her young heart. + +Mrs. Shand, ignorant of the truth, had many times expressed to me +confidentially, fear that her daughter was falling into a bad state of +health; and, against Phrida's wishes, had called in the family doctor, +who, likewise ignorant, had ordered her abroad. + +"Get her out of the dullness of this road, Mrs. Shand," he had said. "She +wants change and excitement. Take her to some gay place on the +Continent--Dinard, Trouville, Aix-les-Bains, Ostend--some place where +there is brightness and movement. A few weeks there will effect a great +change in her, I'm certain." + +But Phrida refused to leave London, though I begged her to follow the +doctor's advice, and even offered to accompany them. + +As far as I could gather, Van Huffel, in Brussels, had given up the +search for the fugitives; though, the more I reflected upon his replies +to my questions as to the real identity of Marie Bracq, the more +remarkable they seemed. + +Who was she? That was the great problem uppermost always in my mind. +Phrida had declared that she only knew her by that name--that she knew +nothing further concerning her. And so frankly had she said this, that I +believed her. + +Yet I argued that, if the death of Marie Bracq was of such serious moment +as the _Chef du Surete_ had declared, then he surely would not allow the +inquiry to drop without making the most strenuous efforts to arrest those +suspected of the crime. + +But were his suspicions, too, directed towards Phrida? Had he, I +wondered, been in consultation with Edwards, and had the latter, in +confidence, revealed to him his own theory? + +I held my breath each time that idea crossed my mind--as it did so very +often. + +From Fremy I had had several letters dated from the Prefecture of Police, +Brussels, but the tenor of all was the same--nothing to report. + +One thing gratified me. Edwards had not approached my love, although I +knew full well, just as Phrida did, that day after day observation was +being kept upon the house in Cromwell Road, yet perhaps only because the +detective's duty demanded it. At least I tried to think so. + +Still the one fact remained that, after all our efforts--the efforts of +Scotland Yard, of the Belgian police, and of my own eager inquiries--a +solution of the problem was as far off as ever. + +Somewhere there existed a secret--a secret that, as Phrida had declared +to me, was inviolable. + +Would it ever be revealed? Would the ghastly truth ever be laid bare? + +The affair of Harrington Gardens was indeed a mystery of London--as +absolute and perfect an enigma of crime as had ever been placed before +that committee of experts at Scotland Yard--the Council of Seven. + +Even they had failed to find a solution! How, then, could I ever hope to +be successful? + +When I thought of it, I paced my lonely room in a frenzy of despair. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +THE SELLER OF SHAWLS. + + +After much eloquent persuasion on my part, and much straight talking on +the part of the spectacled family doctor, and of Mrs. Shand, Phrida at +last, towards the last days of June, allowed us to take her to Dinard, +where, at the Hotel Royal, we spent three pleasant weeks, making many +automobile excursions to Trouville, to Dinan, and other places in the +neighbourhood. + +The season had scarcely commenced, nevertheless the weather was perfect, +and gradually I had the satisfaction of seeing the colour return to the +soft cheeks of my well-beloved. + +Before leaving London I had, of course, seen Edwards, and, knowing that +watch was being kept upon her, I accepted the responsibility of reporting +daily upon my love's movements, she being still under suspicion. + +"I ought not to do this, Mr. Royle," he had said, "but the circumstances +are so unusual that I feel I may stretch a point in the young lady's +favour without neglecting my duty. And after all," he added, "we have no +direct evidence--at least not sufficient to justify an arrest." + +"Why doesn't that woman Petre come forward and boldly make her statement +personally?" I had queried. + +"Well, she may know that you are still alive"--he laughed--"and if +so--she's afraid to go further." + +I questioned him regarding his inquiries concerning the actual identity +of Marie Bracq, but he only raised his eyebrows and replied: + +"My dear Mr. Royle, I know nothing more than you do. They no doubt +possess some information in Brussels, but they are careful to keep it +there." + +And so I had accompanied Phrida and her mother, hoping that the change of +air and scenery might cause her to forget the shadow of guilt which now +seemed to rest upon her and to crush all life and hope from her young +heart. + +Tiring of Dinard, Mrs. Shand hired a big, grey touring-car, and together +we went first through Brittany, then to Vannes, Nantes, and up to Tours, +afterwards visiting the famous chateaux of Touraine, Amboise Loches, and +the rest, the weather being warm and delightful, and the journey one of +the pleasantest and most picturesque in Europe. + +When July came, Phrida appeared greatly improved in both health and +spirits. Yet was it only pretence? Did she in the lonely watches of the +night still suffer that mental torture which I knew, alas! she had +suffered, for her own deep-set eyes, and pale, sunken cheeks had revealed +to me the truth. Each time I sat down and wrote that confidential note to +Edwards, I hated myself--that I was set to spy upon the woman I loved +with all my heart and soul. + +Would the truth never be told? Would the mystery of that tragic January +night in South Kensington never be elucidated? + +One evening in the busy but pleasant town of Tours, Mrs. Shand having +complained of headache after a long, all-day excursion in the car, Phrida +and I sauntered out after dinner, and after a brief walk sat down outside +one of those big cafes where the tables are placed out beneath the leafy +chestnut trees of the boulevard. + +The night was hot and stifling, and as we sat there chatting over our +coffee amid a crowd of people enjoying the air after the heat of the day, +a dark-faced, narrow-eyed Oriental in a fez, with a number of Oriental +rugs and cheap shawls, came and stood before us, in the manner of those +itinerant vendors who haunt Continental cafes. + +He said nothing, but, standing like a bronze statue, he looked hard at me +and pointed solemnly at a quantity of lace which he held in his left +hand. + +"No, I want nothing," I replied in French, shaking my head. + +"Ve-ry cheep, sare!" he exclaimed in broken English at last. "You no buy +for laidee?" and he showed his white teeth with a pleasant grin. + +I again replied in the negative, perhaps a little impatiently, when +suddenly Phrida whispered to me: + +"Why, we saw this same man in Dinard, and in another place--I forget +where. He haunts us!" + +"These men go from town to town," I explained. "They make a complete +round of France." + +Then I suddenly recollected that the man's face was familiar. I had seen +him outside the Piccadilly Tube Station on the night of my tryst with +Mrs. Petre! + +"Yes, laidee!" exclaimed the man, who had overheard Phrida's words. "I +see you Dinard--Hotel Royal--eh?" he said with a smile. "Will you buy my +lace--seelk lace; ve-ry cheep?" + +"I know it's cheap," I laughed; "but we don't want it." + +Nevertheless, he placed it upon the little marble-topped table for our +inspection, and then bending, he whispered into my ear a question: + +"Mee-ster Royle you--eh?" + +"Yes," I said, starting. + +"I want see you, to-night, alone. Say no-ting to laidee till I see +you--outside your hotel eleven o'clock, sare--eh?" + +I sat staring at him in blank surprise, but in a low voice I consented. + +Then, very cleverly he asked in his normal voice, looking at me with his +narrow eyes, with dark brows meeting: + +"You no buy at that price--eh? Ah!" and he sighed as he gathered up his +wares: "Cheep, laidee--very goot and cheep!" + +And bowing, he slung them upon the heavy pile already on his shoulder and +stalked away. + +"What did he say?" Phrida asked when he had gone. + +"Oh, only wanted me to buy the lot for five francs!" I replied, for he +had enjoined secrecy, and I knew not but he might be an emissary of Fremy +or of Edwards. Therefore I deemed it best for the time to evade her +question. + +Still, both excited and puzzled, I eagerly kept the appointment. + +When I emerged from the hotel on the stroke of eleven I saw the man +without his pile of merchandise standing in the shadow beneath a tree, on +the opposite side of the boulevard, awaiting me. + +Quickly I crossed to him, and asked: + +"Well, what do you want with me?" + +"Ah, Mee-ster Royle! I have watched you and the young laidee a long time. +You travel so quickly, and I go by train from town to town--slowly." + +"Yes, but why?" I asked, as we strolled together under the trees. + +"I want to tell you some-zing, mee-ster. I no Arabe--I Senos, from +Huacho." + +"From Huacho!" I gasped quickly. + +"Yees. My dead master he English--Sir Digby Kemsley!" + +"Sir Digby!" I cried. "And you were his servant. You knew this man +Cane--why, you were the man who heard your master curse the man who +placed the deadly reptile against his face. You made a statement to the +police, did you not?" I asked frantically. + +"Yees, Mee-ster Royle--I did! I know a lot," he replied in his slow way, +stalking along in the short breeches, red velvet jacket, and fez of an +Oriental. + +"You will tell me, Senos?" I said. "You will tell me everything?" I +urged. "Tell me all that you know!" + +He grinned in triumph, saying: + +"I know a lot--I know all. Cane killed my master--killed him with the +snake--he and Luis together. I know--I saw. But the Englishman is always +great, and his word believed by the commissary of police--not the word of +Senos. Oh, no! but I have followed; I have watched. I have been beside +Cane night and day when he never dream I was near. I tell the young lady +all the truth, and--ah!--she tell him after I beg her to be silent." + +"But where is Cane now?" I asked eagerly. "Do you know?" + +"The 'Red' Englishman--he with Madame Petre and Luis--he call himself +Ali, the Indian." + +"Where? Can you take me to them?" I asked. "You know there is a warrant +out for their arrest?" + +"I know--but----" + +"But what?" I cried. + +"No, not yet. I wait," he laughed. "I know every-ting. He kill my master; +I kill him. My master be very good master." + +"Yes, I know he was," I said. + +"That man Cane--very bad man. Your poor young laidee--ah? She not know +me. I know her. You no say you see me--eh? I tell every-ting later. You +go Ostend; I meet you. Then we see them." + +"At Ostend!" I cried. "Are they there?" + +"You go Ostend to-morrow. Tell me your hotel. Senos come--eh? Senos see +them with you. Oh! Oh!" he said in his quaint way, grinning from ear to +ear. + +I looked at the curious figure beside me. He was the actual man who had +heard the dying cries of Sir Digby Kemsley. + +"But, tell me," I urged, "have you been in London? Do you know that a +young lady died in Cane's apartment--was killed there?" + +"Senos knows," he laughed grimly. "Senos has not left him--ah, no! He +kill my master. I never leave him till I crush him--never!" + +"Then you know, of what occurred at Harrington Gardens?" I repeated. + +"Yes, Senos know. He tell in Ostend when we meet," he replied. "You go +to-morrow, eh?" and he looked at me anxiously with those dark, rather +blood-shot eyes of his. + +"I will go to-morrow," I answered without hesitation; and, taking out my +wallet I gave him three notes of a hundred francs each, saying: + +"This will pay your fare. I will go straight to the Grand Hotel, on the +Digue. You will meet me there." + +"And the laidee--eh? She must be there too." + +"Yes, Miss Shand will be with me," I said. + +"Good, sare--very good!" he replied, thrusting the notes into the inner +pocket of his red velvet jacket. "I get other clothes--these only to sell +things," and he smiled. + +I tried to induce him to tell me more, but he refused, saying: + +"At Ostend Senos show you. He tell you all he know--he tell the truth +about the 'Red' Englishman." + +And presently, after he had refused the drink I offered him, the +Peruvian, who was earning his living as an Arab of North Africa, bowed +with politeness and left me, saying: + +"I meet you, Mee-ster Royle, at Grand Hotel in Ostend. But be careful +neither of you seen. They are sharp, clever, alert--oh, ve-ry! We leave +to-morrow--eh? Good!" + +And a moment later the quaint figure was lost in the darkness. + +An hour later, though past midnight, I despatched two long telegrams--one +to Fremy in Brussels, and the other to Edwards in London. + +Then, two days later, by dint of an excuse that I had urgent business in +Ostend, I found myself with Phrida and Mrs. Shand, duly installed, in +rooms overlooking the long, sunny Digue, one of the finest sea-promenades +in Europe. + +Ostend had begun her season, the racing season had commenced, and all the +hotels had put on coats of new, white paint, and opened their doors, +while in the huge Kursaal they played childish games of chance now that +M. Marquet was no longer king--yet the magnificent orchestra was worth a +journey to listen to. + +On the afternoon of our arrival, all was gay and bright; outside the blue +sea, the crowd of well-dressed promenaders, and the golden sands where +the bathing was so merry and so chic. + +But I had no eyes for the beauties or gaiety of the place. I sat closeted +in my room with two friends, Fremy and Edwards, whom I introduced and who +quickly fraternised. + +A long explanatory letter I had written to Brussels had reached Fremy +before his departure from the capital. + +"Excellent," he was saying, his round, clean-shaven face beaming. "This +Peruvian evidently knows where they are, and like all natives, wants to +make a _coup-de-theatre_. I've brought two reliable men with me from +Brussels, and we ought--if they are really here--to make a good capture." + +"Miss Shand knows nothing, you say?" Edwards remarked, seated on the edge +of my bed. + +"No. This man Senos was very decided upon the point." + +"He has reasons, no doubt," remarked the detective. + +"It is just four o'clock," I remarked. "He has given me a rendezvous at +the Cafe de la Regence, a little place at the corner of the Place +d'Armes. I went round to find it as soon as I arrived. We're due there in +a quarter of an hour." + +"Then let us go, messieurs," Fremy suggested. + +"And what about Miss Shand?" I asked. + +The two detectives held a brief discussion. Then Edwards, addressing me, +said: + +"I really think that she ought to be present, Mr. Royle. Would you bring +her? Prepare her for a scene--as there no doubt will be--and then follow +us." + +"But Senos will not speak without I am present," I said. + +"Then go along to Miss Shand, give her my official compliments and ask +her to accompany us upon our expedition," he replied. + +And upon his suggestion I at once acted. + +Truly those moments were breathless and exciting. I could hear my own +heart beat as I went along the hotel corridor to knock at the door of her +room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +FACE TO FACE. + + +We had, all four of us, ranged ourselves up under the wall of a big white +house in the Chausee de Nieuport, which formed the south side of the +racecourse, and where, between us and the sea, rose the colossal Royal +Palace Hotel, when Fremy advanced to the big varnished oak door, built +wide for the entrance of automobiles, and rang the electric bell. + +In response there came out a sedate, white-whiskered man-servant in black +coat and striped yellow waistcoat, the novel Belgium livery, but in an +instant he was pinioned by the two detectives from Brussels, and the way +opened for us. + +"No harm, old one!" cried the detectives in French, after the man had +admitted his master was at home. "We are police-agents, and doing our +duty. We don't want you, only we don't intend you to cry out, that's all. +Keep a still tongue, old one, and you're all right!" they laughed as they +kept grip of him. The Continental detective is always humorous in the +exercise of his duty. I once witnessed in Italy a man arrested for +murder. He had on a thin light suit, and having been to bed in it, the +back was terribly pleated and creased. "Hulloa!" cried the detective, "so +it is you. Come along, old dried fig!" I was compelled to laugh, for the +culprit's thin, brown coat had all the creases of a Christmas fig. + +The house we rushed in was a big, luxurious one, with a wide passage +running through to the Garage, and on the left a big, wide marble +staircase with windows of stained glass and statues of dancing girls of +the art nouveau. + +Fremy, leaving his assistants below with the man-servant, and crying to +Edwards to look out for anybody trying to escape, sprang up the marble +steps three at a time, followed by the narrow-eyed Peruvian, while +Phrida, clinging to my arm, held her breath in quick apprehension. She +was full of fear and amazement. + +I had had much difficulty in persuading her to accompany us, for she +seemed in terror of denunciation. Indeed, not until I told her that +Edwards had demanded her presence, had she consented. + +On the first landing, a big, thick-carpeted place with a number of long, +white doors leading into various apartments, Fremy halted and raised his +finger in silence to us. + +He stood glancing from door to door, wondering which to enter. + +Then suddenly he stood and gave a yell as though of fearful pain. + +In an instant there was a quick movement in a room on the right, the door +opened and the woman Petre came forth in alarm. + +Next second, however, finding herself face to face with me, she halted +upon the threshold and fell back against the lintel of the door while we +rushed in to encounter the man I had known as Digby, standing defiant, +with arms folded and brows knit. + +"Well," he demanded of me angrily. "What do you want here?" + +"I've brought a friend of yours to see you, Mr. Cane," I said quietly, +and Edwards stepped aside from the door to admit the Peruvian Senos. + +The effect was instant and indeed dramatic. His face fell, his eyes +glared, his teeth set, and his nails dug themselves into his palms. + +"Mee-ster Cane," laughed the dark-faced native, in triumph. "You no like +see Senos--eh? No, no. He know too much--eh? He watch you always after he +see you with laidee in Marseilles--he see you in London--ha! ha! Senos +know every-ting. You kill my master, and you----" + +"It's a lie!" cried the man accused. "This fellow made the same statement +at Huacho, and it was disproved." + +"Then you admit you are not Sir Digby Kemsley?" exclaimed Edwards +quickly. "You are Herbert Cane, and I have a warrant for your arrest for +murder." + +"Ah!" he laughed with an air of forced gaiety. "That is amusing!" + +"I'm very glad you think so, my dear sir," remarked the detective, +glancing round to where the woman Petre had been placed in an armchair +quite unconscious. + +Phrida was clinging to my arm, but uttered no word. I felt her fingers +trembling as she gripped me. + +"I suppose you believe this native--eh?" asked the accused with sarcasm. +"He tried to blackmail me in Peru, and because I refused to be bled he +made a statement that I had killed my friend." + +"Ah!" exclaimed the native. "Senos knows--he see with his own eyes. He +see Luis and you with snake in a box. Luis could charm snakes by music. +Senos watch you both that night!" + +"Oh! tell what infernal lies you like," cried Cane in angry disgust. + +"You, the 'Red' Englishman, are well known in Peru, and so is your +friend--the woman there, who help you in all your bad schemes," said +Senos, indicating the inanimate form of Mrs. Petre. "You introduced her +to my master, but he no like her--he snub her--so you send her to Lima to +wait for you--till you kill him, and get the paper--eh? I saw you steal +paper--big blue paper with big seals--from master's despatch-box after +snake bite him." + +"Paper!" echoed Edwards. "What paper?" + +"Perhaps I can explain something," Fremy interrupted in French. "I learnt +some strange facts only three days ago which throw a great deal of light +on this case." + +"I don't want to listen to all these romances," laughed Cane defiantly. +He was an astute and polished adventurer, one of the cleverest and most +elusive in Europe, and he had all the adventurer's nonchalance and +impudence. At this moment he was living in that fine house he had taken +furnished for the summer and passing as Mr. Charles K. Munday, banker, of +Chicago. Certainly he had so altered his personal appearance that at +first I scarcely recognised him as the elegant, refined man whom I had so +foolishly trusted as a friend. + +"But now you are under arrest, mon cher ami, you will be compelled to +listen to a good many unpleasant reminders," Fremy remarked with a broad +grin of triumph upon his round, clean-shaven face. + +"If you arrest me, then you must arrest that woman there, Phrida Shand, +for the murder of Marie Bracq in my flat in London. She was jealous of +her--and killed her with a knife she brought with her for the purpose," +Cane said with a laugh. "If I must suffer--then so must she! She killed +the girl. She can't deny it!" + +"Phrida!" I gasped, turning to my love, who still clung to me +convulsively. "You hear what this man says--this vile charge he brings +against you--a charge of murder! Say that it is not the truth," I +implored. "Tell me that he lies!" + +Her big eyes were fixed upon mine, her countenance blanched to the lips, +and her breath came and went in short, quick gasps. + +At last her lips moved, as we all gazed at her. Her voice was only a +hoarse, broken whisper. + +"I--I can't!" she replied, and fell back into my arms in a swoon. + +"You see!" laughed the accused man. "You, Royle, are so clever that you +only bring grief and disaster upon yourself. I prevented Mrs. Petre from +telling the truth because I thought you had decided to drop the affair." + +"What?" I cried. "When your accomplice--that woman Petre--made a +dastardly attempt upon my life at your instigation, and left me for dead. +Drop the affair--never! You are an assassin, and you shall suffer the +penalty." + +"And so will Phrida Shand. She deceived you finely--eh? I admire her +cleverness," he laughed "She was a thorough Sport, she----" + +"Enough!" commanded Edwards roughly. "I give you into the custody of +Inspector Fremy, of the Belgian Surete, on a charge of murder committed +within the Republic of Peru." + +"And I also arrest the prisoner," added Fremy, "for offences committed in +London and within the Grand Duchy of Luxemburg." + +The man, pale and haggard-eyed notwithstanding his bravado, started +visibly at the famous detective's words, while at that moment the two men +from Brussels appeared in the room, having released the white-whiskered +man-servant, who stood aghast and astounded on the threshold. I supported +my love, now quite unconscious, in my strong arms, and was trying to +restore her, in which I was immediately aided by one of the detectives. + +The scene was an intensely dramatic one--truly an unusual scene to take +place in the house of the sedate old Baron Terwindt, ancient Ministre de +la Justice of Belgium. + +I was bending over my love and dashing water into her face when we were +all suddenly startled by a loud explosion, and then we saw in Cane's hand +a smoking revolver. + +He had fired at me--and, fortunately, missed me. + +In a second, however, the officers fell upon him, and after a brief but +desperate struggle, in which a table and chairs were overturned, the +weapon was wrenched from his grasp. + +"Eh! bien," exclaimed Fremy, when the weapon had been secured from the +accused. "As you will have some unpleasant things to hear, you may as +well listen to some of them now. You have denied your guilt. Well, I will +tell Inspector Edwards what I have discovered concerning you and your +cunning and dastardly treatment of the girl known as Marie Bracq." + +"I don't want to hear, I tell you!" he shouted in English. "If I'm +arrested, take me away, put me into prison and send me over to England, +where I shall get a fair trial." + +"But you shall hear," replied the big-faced official. "There is plenty of +time to take you to Brussels, you know. Listen. The man Senos has alleged +that you stole from the man you murdered a blue paper--bearing a number +of seals. He is perfectly right. You sold that paper on the eighth of +January last for a quarter of a million francs. Ah! my dear friend, you +cannot deny that. The purchaser will give evidence--and what then?" + +Cane stood silent. His teeth were set, his gaze fixed, his grey brows +contracted. + +The game was up, and he knew it. Yet his marvellously active mind was +already seeking a way out. He was amazingly resourceful, as later on was +shown, when the details of his astounding career came to be revealed. + +"Now the true facts are these--and perhaps mademoiselle and the man Senos +will be able to supplement them--his Highness the Grand Duke of +Luxemburg, about two years ago, granted to an American named Cassell a +valuable concession for a strategic railway to run across his country +from Echternach, on the eastern, or German, frontier of the Grand Duchy, +to Arlon on the Belgian frontier, the Government of the latter State +agreeing at the same time to continue the line direct to Sedan, and thus +create a main route from Coblenz, on the Rhine, to Paris--a line which +Germany had long wanted for military purposes, as it would be of +incalculable value in the event of further hostilities with France. This +concession, for which the American paid to the Grand Duke a considerable +sum, was afterwards purchased by Sir Digby Kemsley--with his Highness's +full sanction, he knowing him to be a great English railroad engineer. +Meanwhile, as time went on, the Grand Duke was approached by the French +Government with a view to rescinding the concession, as it was realised +what superiority such a line would give Germany in the event of the +massing of her troops in Eastern France. At first the Grand Duke refused +to listen, but both Russia and Austria presented their protests, and his +Highness found himself in a dilemma. All this was known to you, m'sieur +Cane, through one Ludwig Mayer, a German secret agent, who inadvertently +spoke about it while you were on a brief visit to Paris. You then +resolved to return at once to Peru, make the acquaintance of Sir Digby +Kemsley, and obtain the concession. You went, you were fortunate, +inasmuch as he was injured and helpless, and you deliberately killed him, +and securing the document, sailed for Europe, assuming the identity of +the actual purchaser of the concession. Oh, yes!" he laughed, "you were +exceedingly cunning and clever, for you did not at once deal with it. No, +you went to Luxemburg. You made certain observations and inquiries. You +stayed at the Hotel Brasseur for a week, and then, you were afraid to +approach the Grand Duke with an offer to sell back the stolen concession, +but--well, by that time you had resolved upon a very pretty and romantic +plan of action," and he paused for a moment and gazed around at us. + +"Then robbery was the motive of the crime in Peru!" I exclaimed. + +"Certainly," Fremy replied. "But I will now relate how I came into the +inquiry. In the last days of January, I was called in secret to Luxemburg +by the Grand Duke, who, when we sat alone together, informed me that his +only daughter Stephanie, aged twenty-one, who was a rather erratic young +lady, and fond of travelling incognito, had disappeared. The last heard +of her was three weeks before--in Paris--where she had, on her return +from Egypt, been staying a couple of days at the Hotel Maurice with her +aunt, the Grand Duchess of Baden, but she had packed her things and left, +and nothing more had been heard of her. Search in her room, however, had +revealed two letters, signed 'Phrida,' and addressed to a certain Marie +Bracq." + +"Why, I never wrote to her in my life!" my love declared, for she had now +regained her senses. + +"His Highness further revealed to me the fact that his daughter had, +while in Egypt, made the acquaintance at the Hotel Savoy on the Island of +Elephantine, of the great English railroad engineer, Sir Digby Kemsley, +who had purchased a railway concession he had given, and which he was +exceedingly anxious to re-purchase and thus continue on friendly terms +with France. His daughter, on her return to Luxemburg, and before going +to Paris, had mentioned her acquaintance with Sir Digby, and that he held +the concession. Therefore, through her intermediary, Sir Digby--who was, +of course, none other than this assassin, Cane--went again to Luxemburg +and parted with the important document for a quarter of a million francs. +That was on the eighth of January." + +"After the affair at Harrington Gardens," Edwards remarked. + +"Yes; after the murder of Marie Bracq, he lost no time in disposing of +the concession." + +"It's a lie!" cried the accused. "That girl there killed her. I +didn't--she was jealous of her!" + +My love shrank at the man's words, yet still clinging to me, her +beautiful countenance pale as death, her lips half parted, her eyes +staring straight in front of her. + +"Phrida," I said in a low voice, full of sympathy, "you hear what this +man has alleged? Now that the truth is being told, will you, too, not +speak? Speak!" I cried in my despair, "speak, dearest, I beg of you!" + +"No," she sighed. "You--you would turn from me--you would hate me!" + +And at her words Cane burst into a peal of harsh, triumphant laughter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +SHOWS THE TRUTH-TELLER. + + +"Speak, laidee," urged the Peruvian. "Speak--tell truth. Senos know--he +know!" + +But my love was still obdurate. + +"I prefer to face death," she whispered, "than to reveal the bitter truth +to you, dear." + +What could I do? The others heard her words, and Cane was full of +triumph. + +"I think, Miss Shand, that you should now tell whatever you know of this +complicated affair. The truth will certainly have to be threshed out in a +criminal court." + +But she made no answer, standing there, swaying slightly, with her white +face devoid of expression. + +"Let Senos tell you some-tings," urged the narrow-eyed native. "When that +man kill my master he fly to Lisbon. There Mrs. Petre meet him and go +London. There he become Sir Digby Kemsley, and I see him often, often, +because I crossed as stoker on same boat. He go to Luxemburg. I follow. +One day he see Grand Duke's daughter--pretty young laidee--and somebody +tell him she go to Egypt. She go, and he follow. I wait in Marseilles. I +sell my rugs, wait three, four weeks and meet each steamer from +Alexandria. At last he come with three laidees, and go to the Louvre et +Paix, where I sell my rugs outside the cafe. I see he always with +her--walking, driving, laughing. I want to tell her the truth--that the +man is not my master, but his assassin. Ah! but no opportunity. They go +to Paris. Then she and the laidees go to Luxemburg, and he to London. I +follow her, and stay in Luxemburg to sell my shawls, and to see her. She +drive out of the palace every day. Once I try and speak to her, but +police arrest me and keep me prison two days--ugh! After a week she with +another laidee go to Paris; then she alone go to Carlton Hotel in London. +I watch there and see Cane call on her. He no see me--ah, no! I often +watch him to his home in Harrington Gardens; often see him with that +woman Petre, and once I saw Luis with them. I have much patience till one +day the young lady leave the hotel herself and walk along Pall Mall. I +follow and stop her. She very afraid of dark man, but I tell her no be +afraid of Senos. Quick, in few words, I tell her that her friend not my +master, Sir Digby--only the man who killed him. She dumbstruck. Tells me +I am a liar, she will not believe. I repeat what I said, and she declares +I will have to prove what I say. I tell her I am ready, and she askes me +to meet her at same place and same time to-morrow. She greatly excited, +and we part. Senos laughs, for he has saved young laidee--daughter of a +king--from that man." + +"What? You actually told her Highness!" cried Fremy in surprise. + +"I told her how my master had been killed by that man--with the +snake--and I warned her to avoid him. But she hesitated to believe +Senos," was the native's reply. "Of course, she not know me. That was +date six January. I remember it, for that night, poor young laidee--she +die. She killed!" + +"What?" Edwards cried, staring at the speaker. "She was killed, you say?" + +"Yes," Fremy interrupted, "Marie Bracq was the name assumed by her +Highness, the daughter of the Grand Duke. She loved freedom from all the +trammels of court life, and as I have told you, went about Europe with +her maid as her companion, travelling in different names. Mademoiselle +Marie Bracq was one that it seems she used, only we did not discover this +until after her death, and after his Highness had paid the quarter of a +million francs to regain the concession he had granted--money which, I +believe, the French Government really supplied from their secret service +fund." + +"Then it was the daughter of the Grand Duke who fell a victim in Cane's +flat?" I gasped in utter surprise at this latest revelation. + +"Yes, m'sieur," replied Fremy. "You will recollect, when you told us at +the Prefecture of the name of the victim, how dumbfounded we were." + +"Ah, yes, I recollect!" I said. "I remember how your chief point-blank +refused to betray the confidence reposed in him." + +And to all this the assassin of Sir Digby Kemsley listened without a +word, save to point to my love, and declare: + +"There stands the woman who killed Marie Bracq. Arrest her!" + +Phrida stood rigid, motionless as a statue. + +"Yes," she exclaimed at last, with all her courage, "I--I will speak. +I--I'll tell you everything. I will confess, for I cannot bear this +longer. And yet, dearest," she cried, turning her face to me and looking +straight into my eyes, "I love you, though I now know that after I have +spoken--after I have told the truth--you will despise and hate me! Ah, +God alone knows how I have suffered! how I have prayed for deliverance +from this. But it cannot be. I have sinned, I suppose, and I must bear +just punishment." + +There was silence. + +We all looked at her, though the woman Petre was still lying in her chair +unconscious, and upon the assassin's lips was a grim smile. + +"You recollect," Phrida said, turning to me, "you remember the day when +you introduced that man to me. Well, from that hour I knew no peace. He +wrote to me, asking me to meet him, as he had something to tell me +concerning my future. Well, I foolishly met him one afternoon in +Rumpelmeyer's, in St. James's Street, when he told me that he had +purchased a very important German patent for the manufacture of certain +chemicals which would revolutionise prices, and would bring upon your +firm inevitable ruin, as you pursued the old-fashioned methods. But, +being your friend, and respecting us both, he had decided not to go +further with the new process, and though he had given a large sum of +money for it, he would, in our mutual interests, not allow it to be +developed. Naturally, in my innocence I thanked him, and from that +moment, professing great friendliness towards you, we became friends. +Sometimes I met him at the houses of friends, but he always impressed +upon me the necessity of keeping our acquaintance a secret." + +And she paused, placing her hand upon her heart as though to stay its +throbbing. + +"One afternoon," she resumed, "the day of the tragedy, I received a +telegram urging me to meet him without fail at five o'clock at +Rumpelmeyer's. This I did, when he imparted to me a secret--that you, +dear, were in the habit of meeting, at his flat, a foreign woman named +Marie Bracq, daughter of a hair-dresser in the Edgware Road; that you, +whom I loved, were infatuated with her, and--and that----" + +"The liar!" I cried. + +"He told me many things which naturally excited me, and which, loving you +as I did, drove me to madness. I refused at first to heed his words, for +somehow I mistrusted him--I know not why! But he offered to give me +proof. If I went that night, or early in the morning, to Harrington +Gardens, I would find her there, and I might question her. Imagine my +state of mind after what he had revealed to me. I promised I would come +there in secret, and I went home, my mind full of the lies and suspicion +which he had, I now see, so cleverly suggested. I didn't then know him to +be an assassin, but, mistrusting him as I did, I took for my own +protection the old knife from the table in the drawing-room, and +concealed it inside my blouse. At one o'clock next morning I crept out of +the house noiselessly, and walked to Harrington Gardens, where I opened +the outer door with the latch-key he had given me. On ascending to his +flat I heard voices--I heard your voice, dear--therefore I descended into +the dark and waited--waited until you came down the stairs and left. I +saw you, and I was mad--mad! Then I went up, and he admitted me. The trap +was already laid for me. I crossed that threshold to my doom!" + +"How?" I asked in my despair. "Tell me all, Phrida,--everything!" + +But at this point the Peruvian, Senos, interrupted, saying: + +"Let me speak, sare. I tell you," he cried quickly. + +"When I speak to the lady in Pall Mall I follow her. She go that +afternoon to Harrington Gardens, but there see Mrs. Petre, whom she +already know. Mrs. Petre find her excited, and after questioning her, +induce her to tell her what I say--that Cane he kill my master. Then Mrs. +Petre say, Sir Digby away in the country--not return to London--at +Paddington--till one o'clock in the morning. I listen to it all, for +Senos friend of the hall-porter--eh? So young laidee she says she come +late in the night--half-past one or two o'clock--and ask himself the +truth. But Cane in his room all the time, of course." + +"Well, Phrida?" I asked quickly. "Tell us what happened on that night +when you entered." + +"Yes," cried Cane sarcastically, "Lie to them--they'll believe you, of +course!" + +"When I entered that man took me into the sitting-room, and I sat down. +Naturally I was very upset. Mrs. Petre, whom I had met before, was there, +and after he had told me many things about your relations with the +daughter of a hair-dresser--things which maddened me--Mrs. Petre admitted +her from the adjoining room. I was mad with jealousy, loving you as I +did. What happened between us I do not know. I--I only fear that--that I +took the knife from my breast and, in a frenzy of madness--killed her!" +And she covered her face with her hands. + +"Exactly!" cried Cane. "I'm glad you have the moral courage to admit it." + +"But describe exactly what occurred--as far as you know," Edwards said, +pressing her. + +"I know that I was in a frenzy of passion, and hysterical, perhaps," she +said at last. "I recollect Mrs. Petre saying that I looked very unwell, +and fetching me some smelling-salts from the next room. I smelt them, but +the odour was faint and strange, and a few moments later I--well, I knew +no more." + +"And then--afterwards?" I asked very gravely. + +"When, later on I came to my senses," she said in slow, hard tones, as +though reflecting, "I found the girl whom I believed to be my rival in +your affections lying on the ground. In her breast was the knife. Ah, +shall I ever forget that moment when I realised what I had done! Cane was +bending over me, urging me to remain calm. He told me that my rival was +dead--that I had killed her and that she would not further interfere with +my future. I--I saw him bend over the body, withdraw the knife, and wipe +it upon his handkerchief, while that woman, his accomplice, looked on. +Then he gave me back the knife, which instinctively I concealed, and bade +me go quickly and noiselessly back home, promising secrecy, and declaring +that both he and Mrs. Petre would say nothing--that my terrible secret +was safe in their hands. I believed them, and I crept down the stairs out +into the road, and walked home to Cromwell Road. I replaced the knife in +the drawing-room, and I believed them until--until I knew that you +guessed my secret! Then came that woman's betrayal, and I knew that my +doom was sealed," she added, her chin sinking upon her breast. + +"You see," laughed Cane defiantly, "that the girl admits her guilt. She +was jealous of Marie Bracq, and in a frenzy of passion struck her down. +Mrs. Petre was there and witnessed it. She will describe it all to you, +no doubt, when she recovers." + +"And what she will say is one big lie," declared Senos, coming forward +again. "We all know Mrs. Petre," he laughed in his high-pitched voice; +"she is your tool--she and Luis. But he become a snake-charmer and give +exhibitions at music-halls. He bit by one snake at Darlington, a month +ago, and die quick. Ah, yes! Senos know! Snake bite him, because he +brought snake and give him to that man to bite my poor master." + +"Why will Mrs. Petre tell lies, Senos?" demanded Edwards who, with Fremy, +was listening with the greatest interest and putting the threads of the +tangled skein together in their proper sequence. + +"Because I, Senos, was at Harrington Gardens that night. I knew that the +laidee I had spoken to was going there, and I feared that some-ting might +happen, for Cane a desperate man when charged with the truth." + +"You were there!" I gasped. "What do you know?" + +"Well, this," said the narrow-eyed man who had hunted down the assassin +of his master. "I waited outside the house--waited some hours--when about +eleven Cane he came down and unfastened the door and leave it a little +open. I creep in, and soon after you, Mr. Royle, you come in. I wait and +see you go upstairs. Then I creep up and get out of the window on the +landing and on to the roof, where I see inside Cane's room--see all that +goes on. My friend, the hall-porter, he tell me this sometime before, and +I find the spot where, kneeling down, I see between the blinds. I see you +talk with him and I see you go. Then I see Miss Shand--she come in and +Mrs. Petre, and Cane talk to her. She very excited when she meet young +laidee, and Mrs. Petre she give her bottle to smell. Then she faint off. +The laidee, daughter of great Duke, she say something to Cane. He +furious. She repeat what I say to her. Then Mrs. Petre, who had given +Miss Shand the smelling-salts, find knife in her breast and secretly puts +it into Cane's hand. In a moment Cane strikes the young lady with it--ah! +full in the chest--and she sinks on the floor--dead! It went into her +heart. Cane and the woman Petre talk in low whispers for few minutes, +both very afraid. Then Miss Shand she wakes, opens her eyes, and sees the +young laidee dead on the floor. She scream, but Mrs. Petre puts her hand +over her mouth. Cane take out the knife, wipe it, and after telling her +something, Miss Shand creep away. Oh, yes, Senos he see it all! Miss +Shand quite innocent--she do nothing. Cane kill daughter of the great +Duke--he with his own hand--he kill her. Senos saw him--with his own +eyes!" + +"Ah!" I cried, rushing towards the native, and gripping both his brown +hands. "Thank you, Senos, for those words. You have saved the woman I +love, for you are an eye-witness to that man's crime which with such +subtle ingenuity he has endeavoured to fasten upon her, and would have +succeeded had it not been for your dogged perseverance and astuteness." + +"He kill my master," replied the Peruvian simply. "I watch him and +convict him. He bad assassin, gentlemens--very bad man!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +IS THE CONCLUSION. + + +"Do you really believe that man?" asked Cane, turning to us quite coolly, +a sarcastic smile upon his lips. + +He was a marvellous actor, for he now betrayed not the slightest +confusion. He even laughed at the allegations made against him. His bold +defiance utterly amazed us. Yet we knew now how resourceful and how +utterly unscrupulous he was. + +"Yes, I do!" was the officer's reply. "You murdered her Highness, fearing +that she should go to her father and expose you before you could have +time to dispose of your stolen concession to him. Had she gone to him, +the police would hunt you down as Sir Digby's assassin. But by closing +her lips you hoped to be able to sell back the concession and still +preserve your guilty secret." + +"Of course," remarked Fremy, "the whole affair is now quite plain. Poor +Miss Shand was drawn into the net in order to become this scoundrel's +victim. He intended from the first to make use of her in some way, and +did so at last by making her believe she had killed her alleged rival in +Mr. Royle's affection. Truly this man is a clever and unscrupulous +scoundrel, for he succeeded in obtaining a quarter of a million francs +from a reigning sovereign for a document, to obtain which he had +committed a foul and dastardly crime!" + +"A lie--lies, all of it!" shouted the accused angrily, his face as white +as paper. + +"Oh, do not trouble," laughed Fremy, speaking in French. "You will have +an opportunity to make your defence before the judge--you and your +ingenious accomplice, Mrs. Petre." + +"We want her in England for the attempted murder of Mr. Royle," Edwards +remarked. "I'll apply for her extradition to-morrow. Your chief will, no +doubt, decide to keep Cane here--at least, for the present. We shall want +him for the murder of the Englishman, Sir Digby Kemsley." + +"You may want me," laughed the culprit with an air of supreme defiance, +"but you'll never have me! Oh, no, no! I'll remain over here, and leave +you wanting me." + +"Prisoner, what is the use of these denials and this defiance?" asked +Fremy severely in French, advancing towards him. "You are in my +custody--and under the law of the Kingdom of Belgium I arrest you for the +murder of Sir Digby Kemsley, in Peru, and for the murder of Stephanie, +daughter of his Highness the Grand Duke of Luxemburg." Then, turning to +his two subordinates, he added briefly: "Put the handcuffs on him! He may +give trouble!" + +"Handcuffs! Ha, ha!" cried Senos the Peruvian, laughing and snapping his +brown fingers in the prisoner's face. "It is my triumph now. Senos has +avenged the death of his poor, good master!" + +"A moment," exclaimed the prisoner. "I may at least be permitted to +secure my papers before I leave here, and hand them over to you? They +will, perhaps, interest you," he said quite coolly. Then he took from his +watch-chain a small key, and with it opened a little cupboard in the +wall, from whence he took a small, square deed-box of japanned tin, which +he placed upon the table before us. + +With another and smaller key, and with a slight grin upon his face, he +opened the lid, but a cry of dismay escaped us, for next second we saw +that he held in his hand a small, black object, sinuous and writhing--a +small, thin, but highly venomous black snake! + +It was over in an instant, ere we could realise the truth. Upon his white +wrist I saw a tiny bead of blood, where the reptile had struck and bitten +him, and as he flung it back into the box and banged down the lid he +turned upon us in defiance, and said: + +"Now take me! I am ready," he cried, uttering a peal of fiendish +laughter. "Carry me where you will, for in a few moments I shall be dead. +Ah! yes, my good friends! I have played the great game--and lost. Yet +I've cheated you all, as I always declared that I would." + +The two men sprang forward to slip the metal gyves upon his wrists, but +Fremy, noticing the instant change in the assassin's countenance, +motioned them off. + +The culprit's face grew ashen grey, his thin jaws were fixed. He tried to +utter some further words, but no sound came from him, only a low gurgle. + +We stood by and watched. He placed both his palms to his brow and stood +for a few seconds in the centre of the room. Then a paroxysm of pain +seemed to double him completely up, and he fell to the carpet writhing in +most fearful agony. It was horrible to witness, and Phrida, with a cry, +turned away. + +Then suddenly he lay stiff, and stretched his limbs to such an extent +that we could hear the bones crack. His back became arched, and then he +expired with horrible convulsions, which held his limbs stiffened and +extended to their utmost limits--truly, the most awful and agonising of +deaths, and a torture in the last moments that must have been +excruciating--a punishment worse, indeed, than any that man-made law +might allow. + + * * * * * + +As Herbert Cane paid the penalty of his crimes the woman Petre at last +recovered consciousness. + +I saw the look of abject terror upon her face as her eyes fell upon the +man lying dead upon the carpet before us. + +She realised the terrible truth at once, and giving vent to a loud, +hysterical scream, rose and threw herself on her knees beside the man +whose wide-open eyes, staring into space, were fast glazing in death. + +Edwards bent, and asked in a low voice whether I wished to give her into +custody for the attempt upon me. + +But I replied in the negative. + +"The assassin has received his just punishment and must answer to his +Maker," I replied. "That is enough. This scene will assuredly be a lesson +to her." + +"She falsely accused Miss Shand, remember," he said. "She knew all the +time that Cane struck the poor girl down." + +"No," I replied. "Now that the stigma has been removed from the one I +love, I will be generous. I will prefer no charge against her." + +"Ah! dearest," cried Phrida, "I am glad of that. Let us forgive, and +endeavour, if possible, to forget these dark, black days and weeks when +both our lives were blighted, and the future seemed so hopeless and full +of tragedy." + +"Yes," I said, "let us go forth and forget." + +And with a last glance at the dead man, with the woman with dishevelled +hair kneeling in despair at his side, I took the arm of my beloved, and +kissing her before them all, led her out, away from the scene so full of +bitterness and horror. + + * * * * * + +To further prolong the relation of this tragic chapter of my life's +history would serve no purpose. + +What more need I tell you than to say Mrs. Petre disappeared entirely, +apparently thankful to escape, and that at St. Mary Abbots, in +Kensington, a month ago, Phrida and I became man and wife, both Edwards +and Fremy being present. + +As I pen these final lines I am sitting upon the balcony of the great +Winter Palace Hotel, in Luxor, within sight of the colossal ruins of +Karnak, for we are spending a delightful honeymoon in Upper Egypt, that +region where the sun always shines and rain never falls. Phrida, in her +thin white cotton gown and white sun helmet, though it is January, is +seated beside me, her little hand in mine. Below us, in the great +garden, rise the high, feathery palms, above a riot of roses and +poinsettias, magnolias, and other sweet-smelling flowers. + +It is the silent, breathless hour of the desert sunset. Before us, away +beyond the little strip of vegetation watered by the broad, ever-flowing +Nile, the clear, pale green sky is aflame with crimson, a sunset mystic +and wonderful, such as one only sees in Egypt, that golden land of the +long-forgotten. + +From somewhere behind comes up the long-drawn nasal song of an Arab +boatman--that quaint, plaintive, sing-song rhythm accompanied by a +tom-tom, which encourages the rowers to bend at their oars, while away +still further behind across the river, lays the desolate ruins of the +once-powerful Thebes, and that weird, arid wilderness which is so +impressive--the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings. + +Phrida has been reading what I have here written, and as I kiss her sweet +lips, she looks lovingly into my eyes and says: + +"It is enough, dearest. Say that you and I are happy--ah! so supremely +happy at last, in each other's love. No pair in the whole world could +trust each other as we have done. I know that I was guilty of a very +grave fault--the fault of concealing my friendship with that man from +you. But I foolishly thought I was acting in your interests--that being +your friend, he was mine also. I never dreamed that such a refined face +could hide so black and vile a heart." + +"But I have forgiven all, darling," I hasten to reassure her! "I know now +what a clever and ingenious scoundrel that man was, and how full of +resource and amazing cunning. You were his victim, just as I was +myself--just as were the others. No," I add, "life, love, and happiness +are before us. So let us learn to forget." + +And as our lips meet once again in a long, fond, passionate caress, I lay +down my pen in order to press her more closely to my breast. + +She is mine--my own beloved--mine for now and evermore. + +THE END. + +Butler & Tanner Frome and London + + + + +WARD, LOCK & CO.'S + +New and Recent Fiction. + + +Finished + +H. RIDER HAGGARD. + +Here we have Mr. Rider Haggard at his best. The book is alive with +adventure, and characters black and white. + +Mr. Haggard makes all his characters interesting; they live for us, no +matter how extraordinary the circumstances, and these circumstances are +described in such a way, so vividly and yet so quietly, that we accept +them without question. "Finished" is indeed as full of good points as it +is of adventures. + + +Thorgils of Treadholt + +MAURICE HEWLETT. + +This new work by the author of "The Forest Lovers" is told with the +wealth of detail and vivid actuality which have made the author's +excursions into primitive Scandinavian history and legend as fascinating +and as strongly human in their appeal as the mediaeval romances which +first made him famous. + + +Carmen's Messenger + +HAROLD BINDLOSS. + +Mr. Bindloss is an author who can deftly use sensationalism to his +purpose without forcing it for mere effect, and who can also depict the +character of a strong man as honest as determined in love with a sweet +woman. He tells a story with rare skill. + + +Lonesome Heights + +HALLIWELL SUTCLIFFE. + +A thoroughly enjoyable story, without a dull page, and in the front rank +of the author's work. Plot and characterisation are equally good. + + +The Just Men of Cordova + +EDGAR WALLACE. + +An adventure story dealing with another episode in the career of the +"Four Just Men" who have appeared in several of Mr Wallace's most popular +novels. + + +The Rattlesnake + +KATHARINE TYNAN. + +A strong knowledge of human nature, for which Katharine Tynan is famous, +is well portrayed in the pages of this novel, and this, in conjunction +with the interesting nature of the plot, renders it particularly +successful. The book will be appreciated by novel readers. + + +Adam + +PAUL TRENT. + +A strikingly original novel. It tells of a young man who is kept in +seclusion and entirely without knowledge of the world until the age of +twenty-one. His development, especially from the religious standpoint, is +strikingly realistic and enthralling. A novel likely to be talked about. + +MORNING POST.--"Mr. Paul Trent tells a tale well. He has a narrative +style that grips and interests, and we are grateful to him for a real and +enjoyable story." + + +No Greater Love + +WILLIAM LE QUEUX. + +A remarkable story, crowded with the most exciting situations, and +bristling with crimes which only the brain of a most versatile author +could conceive. + +THE SCOTSMAN.--"Few novelists, if any, surpass Mr. Wm. Le Queux in the +art of making a frankly and formidably melodramatic story go with +alluring lightness in its intensity." + + +WARD, LOCK & CO.'S + +TWO-SHILLING FICTION + +_Crown 8vo. Cloth Gilt. With Illustrations. 2/- net._ + + 1 =Lawrence Clavering= A. E. W. Mason + 3 =Limitations= E. F. Benson + 7 =Roger Trewinion= Joseph Hocking + 8 =Half a Hero= Anthony Hope + 9 =Ayesha= H. Rider Haggard + 10 =A Study in Scarlet= A. Conan Doyle + 12 =To Leeward= F. Marion Crawford + 13 =Comedies of Courtship= A. Hope + 16 =Lady Barbarity= J. C. Snaith + 17 =As We Forgive Them= Wm. 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Fletcher + 95 =Greater Love= Joseph Hocking + 96 =The Secret= E. P. Oppenheim + 97 =A Prince of this World= Joseph Hocking + + +WARD, LOCK & CO.'S + +SHILLING FICTION + +_Foolscap 8vo. Cloth Gilt. 1/- net._ + +LATEST LIST + + 78 =Ayesha= H. Rider Haggard + 80 =The Open Road= Halliwell Sutcliffe + 82 =An Enemy Hath Done This= Joseph Hocking + 88 =The Scarlet Woman= Joseph Hocking + 93 =The Holy Flower= H. Rider Haggard + 94 =The Traitors= E. Phillips Oppenheim + 95 =The Strength of the Hills= Halliwell Sutcliffe + 96 =The Pathway= Gertrude Page + 97 =The Blind Spot= Justus M. Forman + 98 =The Broken Thread= Wm. Le Queux + 99 =The Intruder= Harold Bindloss + 100 =Faith Tresilian= Eden Phillpotts + 101 =Leila and Her Lover= Max Pemberton + 102 =Nesbit's Compact= Paul Trent + 103 =A Man and His Kingdom= E. P. Oppenheim + 104 =The White Horses= Halliwell Sutcliffe + 105 =Delia Blanchflower= Mrs. Humphry Ward + 106 =The Secret of the Reef= Harold Bindloss + 107 =The Mysterious Three= Wm. Le Queux + 108 =A Lovers' Tale= Maurice Hewlett + 109 =A Prince of Sinners= E. P. Oppenheim + 110 =Rainbow Island= Louis Tracy + 111 =The Place of Dragons= Wm. Le Queux + 112 =The Purple Robe= Joseph Hocking + 113 =When Greek meets Greek= Paul Trent + 114 =A Risky Game= Harold Bindloss + + +WARD, LOCK & CO.'S + +NINEPENNY NOVELS + +_Cloth Gilt, with Frontispiece and Attractive Wrapper in colours. 9d. +net._ + + 1 =The Garden of Lies= Justus M. Forman + 2 =Anna, The Adventuress= E. P. Oppenheim + 4 =The Beautiful White Devil= Guy Boothby + 5 =The Impostor= Harold Bindloss + 7 =A Study In Scarlet= A. Conan Doyle + 9 =The Mother= Eden Phillpotts + 10 =The Crimson Blind= Fred M. White + 14 =A Maker of History= E. P. Oppenheim + 16 =The Pillar of Light= Louis Tracy + 17 =A Bid for Fortune= Guy Boothby + 21 =Mr. Wingrave, Millionaire= E. P. Oppenheim + 31 =The Secret= E. P. Oppenheim + 34 =Darby and Joan= "Rita" + 36 =The Temptress= Wm. Le Queux + 43 =The Missioner= E. P. Oppenheim + 47 =Dr. Nikola= Guy Boothby + 53 =His Lady's Pleasure= H. Bindloss + 54 =A Courier of Fortune= A. W. Marchmont + 58 =Heart of Gold= L. G. Moberly + 65 =Hawtrey's Deputy= Harold Bindloss + 67 =A Maker of Nations= Guy Boothby + 69 =A Millionaire of Yesterday= E. P. Oppenheim + 72 =Long Live the King= Guy Boothby + 75 =The World's Great Snare= E. P. Oppenheim + 76 =Helen of the Moor= A. & C. Askew + 77 =League of the Leopard= Harold Bindloss + 78 =Her Splendid Sin= Headon Hill + 79 =Dr. Nikola's Experiment= Guy Boothby + 80 =Whoso Findeth a Wife= Wm. Le Queux + 81 =The Stowaway= Louis Tracy + 82 =The Law of the Land= Fred. M. White + 83 =Mr. Marx's Secret= E. P. Oppenheim + 84 =Sanders of the River= Edgar Wallace + 85 =Under the Black Eagle= A. W. Marchmont + 86 =Joy: a Happy Soul= L. G. Moberly + 87 =The Red Rat's Daughter= Guy Boothby + 88 =The Dream Daughter= A. & C. Askew + 89 =The Liberationist= Harold Bindloss + 90 =Lord Stranleigh Abroad= R. Barr + 91 =Jeanne of the Marshes= E. P. Oppenheim + 92 =A Race with Ruin= Headon Hill + 93 =A Fatal Legacy= Louis Tracy + 95 =A Fatal Dose= Fred M. White + 96 =The Kidnapped President= Guy Boothby + 97 =The People of the River= Edgar Wallace + 98 =Christina= L. G. Moberly + 99 =The Master Mummer= E. P. Oppenheim + 100 =The Golden Girl= A. & C. Askew + 101 =The Silent Barrier= Louis Tracy + 102 =The Cottage in the Chine= Headon Hill + 103 =My Indian Queen= Guy Boothby + 104 =The Idol of the Town= Wm. Le Queux + 105 =False Evidence= E. P. Oppenheim + 106 =The Cardinal Moth= Fred M. White + 107 =The Protector= Harold Bindloss + 108 =His Little Girl= L. G. Moberly + 109 =White Walls= Max Pemberton + 110 =Money or Wife= Effie A. Rowlands + 111 =Farewell, Nikola= Guy Boothby + 112 =The Council of Justice= E. Wallace + 113 =The House Next Door= A. & C. Askew + 114 =Conspirators= E. P. Oppenheim + 115 =The Master Spirit= Sir Wm. Magnay + 116 =A Traitor's Wooing= Headon Hill + 117 =Sheilah McLeod= Guy Boothby + 118 =The Sign of the Stranger= Wm. Le Queux + 119 =The Pioneer= Harold Bindloss + 120 =The Open Door= Fred M. White + 121 =The Betrayal= E. P. Oppenheim + 122 =Diana= L. G. Moberly + 123 =The Vow= Paul Trent + 124 =Fennell's Tower= Louis Tracy + 125 =The Admirable Carfew= E. Wallace + 126 =Through Folly's Mill= A. & C. Askew + 127 =Love Made Manifest= Guy Boothby + 128 =The Tickencote Treasure= Wm. Le Queux + 129 =Craven Fortune= Fred M. White + 130 =The Yellow Crayon= E. P. Oppenheim + 131 =Cleansing Fires= L. G. Moberly + 132 =The Lovers= Eden Phillpotts + 133 =Sunset and Dawn= Effie A. Rowlands + 134 =The Trustee= Harold Bindloss + 135 =The Foundling= Paul Trent + 136 =The Heir to the Throne= A. W. Marchmont + + +WARD, LOCK & CO.'S + +Sixpenny Copyright + +NOVELS + +_Large Demy 8vo. Coloured Covers. Price 6d._ + + 1 =A Bid for Fortune= Guy Boothby + 18 =A Monk of Cruta= E. P. Oppenheim + 26 =A Daughter of the Marionis= E. P. Oppenheim + 33 =Love Made Manifest= Guy Boothby + 48 =The Secret Service= Wm. Le Queux + 51 =The Temptress= Wm. Le Queux + 73 =Belles and Ringers= Hawley Smart + 74 =Sarchedon= G. J. Whyte-Melville + 77 =Across the World for a Wife= Guy Boothby + 82 =A Sailor's Bride= Guy Boothby + 87 =The Survivor= E. P. Oppenheim + 98 =In Strange Company= Guy Boothby + 116 =The Traitors= E. P. Oppenheim + 122 =Dr. Nikola= Guy Boothby + 127 =The Crimson Blind= Fred M. White + 145 =A Bid for Freedom= Guy Boothby + 155 =The Betrayal= E. P. Oppenheim + 160 =A Study in Scarlet= A. Conan Doyle + 171 =The Master Mummer= E. P. Oppenheim + 179 =The King of Diamonds= Louis Tracy + 199 =Beneath Her Station= Harold Bindloss + 233 =The Liberationist= Harold Bindloss + 237 =The Mother= Eden Phillpotts + 248 =The League of the Leopard= Harold Bindloss + 266 =The Powers of Mischief= Sir Wm. Magnay, Bart. + 277 =The Sundial= Fred. M. White + 279 =In White Raiment= Wm. Le Queux + 282 =The Missioner= E. P. Oppenheim + 286 =Lorna Doone= R. D. Blackmore + 305 =The Sporting Chance= A. & C. Askew + 323 =Vivienne= "Rita" + 342 =Countess Londa= Guy Boothby + 343 =Heath Hover Mystery= Bertram Mitford + 351 =The Sin of Alison Dering= L. G. Moberly + 355 =Rogues in Arcady= Sir Wm. Magnay + 357 =Jim Crowshaw's Mary= Fred. M. White + 361 =Angela's Marriage= L. G. Moberly + 362 =Bianca's Daughter= Justus M. Forman + 365 =The Legacy= A. & C. Askew + 367 =A Son of the Immortals= Louis Tracy + 368 =The Witness of the Ring= Marie Connor Leighton + 369 =Christina= L. G. Moberly + 370 =Mr. Marx's Secret= E. P. Oppenheim + 372 =Lady Clara= Fred M. White + 374 =The Secret of the Sands= Fred M. White + 375 =The House of the Black Panther= A. & C. Askew + 376 =Hawtrey's Deputy= Harold Bindloss + 377 =The Mystery Queen= Fergus Hume + 379 =Sylvia's Chauffeur= Louis Tracy + 381 =The Peer and the Women= E. P. Oppenheim + 382 =A Scarlet Sin= A. & C. Askew + 383 =Her Sacrifice= Arthur Applin + 384 =Justice= Marie Connor Leighton + 386 =His Little Girl= L. G. Moberly + 387 =Radford Shone= Headon Hill + 388 =The Open Door= Fred M. White + 409 =A Prince of Darkness= Florence Warden + 412 =The Van Dylk Diamonds= Arthur Applin + 417 =Pallard, the Punter= Edgar Wallace + 420 =The Supplanter= Paul Trent + 422 =Until Seventy Times Seven= L. G. Moberly + 423 =The Secret Cargo= J. S. Fletcher + 425 =A Royal Wrong= Fred M. White + 428 =One of the Family= Keble Howard + 429 =Ducks and Drakes= Marie Connor Leighton + 430 =Gilded London= A. & C. Askew + 431 =That Preposterous Will= L. G. Moberly + 450 =The Court of the Angels= Justus M. Forman + 469 =False Evidence= E. P. Oppenheim + 472 =The Woman Who Tempted= Gertrude Warden + 490 =Souls in Pawn= Lindsay Russell + 494 =Blackthorn Farm= Arthur Applin + 495 =All Men are Liars= Joseph Hocking + 500 =The Girl from Nippon= Carlton Dawe + 506 =The Caretaker= Fergus Hume + 507 =The Man Who Bought London= Edgar Wallace + 508 =The Cloak of Darkness= Sir Wm. Magnay + 509 =Paul Quentin= Fred M. White + 510 =The Gates of Sorrow= Marie Connor Leighton + 511 =Jabez Easterbrook= Joseph Hocking + 512 =The Gates of Silence= Lindsay Russell + 514 =After Long Years= L. G. Moberly + 515 =The Flying Girl= Richard Marsh + 516 =The King _versus_ Wargrave= J. S. Fletcher + 517 =The Weavers Plot= A. & C. Askew + 518 =The Opening Door= Justus M. Forman + 519 =The Pearl Necklace= Arthur Applin + 520 =Uncle Peter's Will= Silas K. Hocking + 521 =A Woman's Word= A. & C. Askew + 522 =A Hazardous Wooing= James Blyth + 523 =Human Nature= Marie Connor Leighton + 524 =The Salt of the Earth= Fred M. White + 525 =A Debt Discharged= Edgar Wallace + 526 =The Annexation Society= J. S. Fletcher + 527 =The Allinson Honour= Harold Bindloss + 528 =The Wraith of Olverstone= Florence Warden + 529 =The Interior= Lindsay Russell + 530 =The Footlight Glare= A. & C. Askew + 531 =The Open Road= Halliwell Sutcliffe + 532 =The Master of Merripit= Eden Phillpotts + 533 =The Atonement= James Blyth + 534 =An Enemy Hath Done This= Joseph Hocking + 535 =In the Cause of Freedom= A. W. Marchmont + 536 =Story of a Great Sin= Marie Connor Leighton + 537 =The Red Bicycle= Fergus Hume + 538 =Maid Marjory= L. G. Moberly + 539 =The Little Anarchist= A. W. Marchmont + 540 =A Maker of Secrets= Wm. Le Queux + 541 =Max Logan= Paul Trent + 542 =Ambition's Slave= Fred M. White + 543 =The Tomb of Ts'in= Edgar Wallace + + +WARD, LOCK & CO.'S + +STANDARD & DETECTIVE NOVELS + +_Large Demy 8vo. Attractive Wrapper and Frontispiece. 6d._ + + 2 =Kenilworth= Sir Walter Scott + 12 =Midshipman Easy= Capt. Marryat + 13 =Japhet in Search of a Father= Ditto + 14 =Jacob Faithful= Ditto + 15 =Peter Simple= Ditto + 16 =The Pickwick Papers= Chas. Dickens + 18 =Barnaby Rudge= Ditto + 19 =Old Curiosity Shop= Ditto + 20 =Martin Chuzzlewit= Ditto + 21 =Oliver Twist= Ditto + 22 =Dombey and Son= Ditto + 26 =The Innocents Abroad= Mark Twain + 27 =Valentine Vox= Henry Cockton + 33 =Ben-Hur= Lew Wallace + 37 =Helen's Babies= J. Habberton + 38 =Other People's Children= Ditto + 39 =A Bad Boy's Diary= + 40 =Blunders of a Bashful Man= + 41 =Catching a Husband= + 45 =Out of the Hurly Burly= Max Adeler + 48 =A Strange Disappearance= A. K. Green + 51 =The Leavenworth Case= Ditto + 52 =The Circular Study= Ditto + 53 =Marked "Personal"= Ditto + 59 =Shadowed by Three= L. L. Lynch + 61 =The Diamond Coterie= Ditto + 62 =Detective's Daughter= Ditto + 63 =Out of a Labyrinth= Ditto + 65 =The Lost Witness= Ditto + 68 =A Slender Clue= Ditto + 76 =Toilers of the Sea= Victor Hugo + 77 =History of a Crime= Ditto + 78 =Ninety-Three= Ditto + 80 =Margaret Catchpole= Rev. R. Cobbold + 81 =Freston Tower= Ditto + 84 =The Mystery of Orcival= E. Gaboriau + 85 =Detective's Dilemma= Ditto + 86 =Detective's Triumph= Ditto + 88 =Caught in the Net= Ditto + 89 =The Champdoce Mystery= Ditto + 91 =Mr. Barnes of New York= A. C. Gunter + 92 =The Princess of Copper= Ditto + 95 =Jane Eyre= Charlotte Bronte + 97 =Looking Backward= Edward Bellamy + 103 =Frank Fairlegh= Frank Smedley + 104 =Alice's Adventures in Wonderland= Lewis Carroll + 106 =Tom Brown's School Days= Hughes + 133 =Crime and the Criminal= R. Marsh + 150 =Her Splendid Sin= Headon Hill + 151 =Caged= Ditto + 152 =The Avengers= Ditto + 160 =Lorna Doone= R. Blackmore + 162 =For the Term of His Natural Life= Marcus Clarke + 169 =East Lynne= Mrs. Henry Wood + 171 =The Shadow of Ashlydyat= Ditto + 172 =The Channings= Ditto + 173 =Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles= Ditto + 175 =Roland Yorke= Ditto + + +Ward, Lock & Co., Ltd., London, Melbourne & Toronto. + + + + +TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES + + +Page 6: FREMY standardised to FREMY; SURETE standardised to SURETE + +Page 33: hand-bag standardised to handbag + +Page 35: Place in the phrase "in the Place Vendome" as in the original + +Page 41: " changed to ' before You--you blackguard, and after +You've--you've killed me! + +Page 42: note-paper standardised to notepaper + +Page 47: anenomes corrected to anemones in the phrase "drooping red +anenomes"; manservant standardised to man-servant + +Page 126: reopened standardised to re-opened + +Page 127: " removed before If so, what then? + +Page 148: repass standardised to re-pass + +Page 150: over-burdened standardised to overburdened + +Page 160: nonplussed standardised to non-plussed in His question +non-plussed me. + +Page 166: arm-chair standardised to armchair + +Page 202: " added after must have happened to her. + +Page 210: " changed to ' before You blackguard, Cane and ' added after +why, you've killed me! + +Page 218: ? after No, don't do that as in the original + +Page 240: Bon jour spaced as in the original + +Page 244: " added after Here is the reply, + +Page 249: . added after non-plussed me for the moment + +Page 257: ' corrected to " before My interests! + +Page 267: " added after round of France. + +Page 269: . added after I asked frantically + +Page 309: Author of 108. His Little Girl standardised to Moberly + +Page 314: Blank author names as in original + +General: variable hyphenation of street-lamp and street lamp as in the +original + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sign of Silence, by William Le Queux + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SIGN OF SILENCE *** + +***** This file should be named 30477.txt or 30477.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/4/7/30477/ + +Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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