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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-04-14 08:21:22 -0700 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-04-14 08:21:22 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/75858-0.txt b/75858-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b775a10 --- /dev/null +++ b/75858-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8612 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75858 *** + + + + + + The + Strange Countess + + BY + EDGAR WALLACE + + + + + BOSTON + SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + + + + [COPYRIGHT] + + Copyright, 1926 + By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY + (INCORPORATED) + + + + + [DEDICATION] + + To + D. C. THOMSON + WITH THE AUTHOR’S HAPPIEST MEMORIES + OF A LONG BUSINESS ASSOCIATION + + + + + CONTENTS + + Chapter One + Chapter Two + Chapter Three + Chapter Four + Chapter Five + Chapter Six + Chapter Seven + Chapter Eight + Chapter Nine + Chapter Ten + Chapter Eleven + Chapter Twelve + Chapter Thirteen + Chapter Fourteen + Chapter Fifteen + Chapter Sixteen + Chapter Seventeen + Chapter Eighteen + Chapter Nineteen + Chapter Twenty + Chapter Twenty-one + Chapter Twenty-two + Chapter Twenty-three + Chapter Twenty-four + Chapter Twenty-five + Chapter Twenty-six + Chapter Twenty-seven + Chapter Twenty-eight + Chapter Twenty-nine + Chapter Thirty + Chapter Thirty-one + Chapter Thirty-two + Chapter Thirty-three + Chapter Thirty-four + Chapter Thirty-five + Chapter Thirty-six + + + + + The Strange Countess + + Chapter One + +Lois Margeritta Reddle sat on the edge of her bed, a thick and heavy +cup of pallid tea in one hand, a letter in the other. The tea was too +sweet, the bread was cut generously even as it was buttered +economically, but she was so completely absorbed in the letter that +she forgot the weakness of Lizzy Smith as a caterer. + +The note was headed with a gilt crest and the paper was thick and +slightly perfumed. + + + 307 Chester Square, S.W. + + The Countess of Moron is pleased to learn that Miss Reddle will take + up her duties as resident secretary on Monday, the 17th. Miss Reddle + is assured of a comfortable position, with ample opportunities for + recreation. + + +The door was thrust open and the red and shining face of Lizzy was +thrust in. + +“Bathroom’s empty,” she said briefly. “Better take your own soap--you +can see through the bit that’s left. There’s one dry towel and one +half-dry. What’s the letter?” + +“It is from my countess--I start on Monday.” + +Lizzy pulled a wry face. + +“Sleep in, of course? That means I’ve got to get somebody to share +these digs. Last girl who slept here snored. I will say one thing +about you, Lois, you don’t snore.” + +Lois’ eyes twinkled, the sensitive mouth curved for a second in the +ghost of a smile. + +“Well, you can’t say that I haven’t looked after you,” said Lizzy with +satisfaction. “I’m the best manager you’ve ever roomed with, I’ll bet. +I’ve done the shopping and cooked and everything--you’ll admit that?” + +Lois slipped her arm round the girl and kissed her homely face. + +“You’ve been a darling,” she said, “and in many ways I’m sorry I’m +going. But, Lizzy, I’ve tried hard to move on all my life. From the +National School in Leeds to that little cash desk at Roopers, and from +Roopers to the Drug Stores, and then to the great lawyers----” + +“Great!” exclaimed the scornful Lizzy. “Old Shaddles great! Why, the +mean old devil wouldn’t give me a half-crown raise at Christmas, and +I’ve been punching the alphabet five years for him! Kid, you’ll marry +into society. That countess is a she-dragon, but she’s rich, and +you’re sure to meet swells--go and have your annual while I fry the +eggs. Is it going to rain?” + +Lois was rubbing her white, rounded arm, gingerly passing her palm +over the pink, star-shaped scar just above her elbow. It was Lizzy’s +faith that whenever the scar irritated, rain was in the offing. + +“You’ll have to have that electrocuted, or whatever the word is,” said +the snub-nosed girl when the other shook her head. “Sleeves are about +as fashionable nowadays as crinolines.” + +From the bathroom Lois heard her companion bustling about the little +kitchen, and, mingled with the splutter and crackle of frying eggs, +came shrilly the sound of the newest fox-trot as Lizzy whistled it +unerringly. + +They had shared the third floor in Charlotte Street since the day she +had come to London. Lois was an orphan; she could not remember her +father, who had died when she was little more than a baby, and only +dimly recalled the pleasant, matronly woman who had fussed over her in +the rough and humble days of her early schooling. She had passed to +the care of a vague aunt who was interested in nothing except the many +diseases from which she imagined she suffered. And then the aunt had +died, despite her arrays of medicine bottles, or possibly because of +them, and Lois had gone into her first lodging. + +“Anyway, the countess will like your classy talk,” said Lizzy, as the +radiant girl came into the kitchen. She had evidently been thinking +over the new appointment. + +“I don’t believe I talk classily!” said Lois good-humouredly. + +Lizzy turned out the eggs from the frying-pan with a dexterous flick. + +“I’ll bet that’s what got _him_,” she said significantly, and the girl +flushed. + +“I wish you wouldn’t talk about this wretched young man as though he +were a god,” she said shortly. + +Nothing squashed Lizzy Smith. She wiped her moist forehead with the +back of her hand, pitched the frying-pan into the sink and sat down in +one concerted motion. + +“He’s not common, like some of these pickers-up,” she said +reminiscently, “he’s class, if you like! He thanked me like a lady, +and never said a word that couldn’t have been printed on the front +page of the _Baptist Herald_. When I turned up without you, he _was_ +disappointed. And mind you, it was no compliment to me when he looked +down his nose and said: ‘Didn’t you bring her?’” + +“These eggs are burnt,” said Lois. + +“And a gentleman,” continued the steadfast Lizzy. “Got his own car. +And the hours he spends walking up and down Bedford Row just, so to +speak, to get a glimpse of you, would melt a heart of stone.” + +“Mine is brass,” said Lois with a smile. “And really, Elizabetta, +you’re ridiculous.” + +“You’re the first person that’s called me Elizabetta since I was +christened,” remarked the stenographer calmly, “but even that doesn’t +change the subject so far as I am concerned. Mr. Dorn----” + +“This tea tastes like logwood,” interrupted the girl maliciously, and +Lizzy was sufficiently human to be pained. + +“Did you hear old Mackenzie last night?” she asked, and when Lois +shook her head: “He was playing that dreamy bit from the _Tales of +Hoggenheim_--_Hoffmann_ is it? All these Jewish names are the same to +me. I can’t understand a Scotsman playing on a fiddle; I thought they +only played bagpipes.” + +“He plays beautifully,” said Lois. “Sometimes, but only rarely, the +music comes into my dreams.” + +Lizzy snorted. + +“The middle of the night’s no time to play anything,” she said +emphatically. “He may be our landlord, but we’re entitled to sleep. +And he’s crazy, anyway.” + +“It is a nice kind of craziness,” soothed Lois, “and he’s a dear old +man.” + +Lizzy sniffed. + +“There’s a time for everything,” she said vaguely, and, getting up, +took a third cup and saucer from the dresser, banged it on the table, +filled it with tea and splashed milk recklessly into the dark brown +liquid. + +“It’s your turn to take it down to him,” she said, “and you might drop +a hint to him that the only kind of foreign music I like is ‘Night +Time in Italy.’” + +It was their practice every morning to take a cup of tea down to the +old man who occupied the floor below, and who, in addition to being +their landlord, had been a very good friend to the two girls. The rent +they paid, remembering the central position which the house occupied +and the popularity of this quarter of London with foreigners who were +willing to pay almost any figure for accommodation in the Italian +quarter, was microscopic. + +Lois carried the cup down the stairs and knocked at one of the two +doors on the next landing. There was the sound of shuffling feet on +the bare floor, the door opened, and Rab Mackenzie beamed benevolently +over his horn-rimmed spectacles at the fair apparition. + +“Thank you, thank you very much, Miss Reddle,” he said eagerly, as he +took the cup from her hand. “Will you no’ walk round? I’ve got my old +fiddle back. Did I disturb you last night?” + +“No, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you,” said Lois, as he put the cup on the +well-scrubbed top of the bare table. + +The room, scrupulously clean, and furnished only with essentials, was +an appropriate setting for the little old man in his baggy trousers, +his scarlet slippers and black velvet coat. The clean-shaven face was +lined and furrowed, but the pale blue eyes that showed beneath the +shaggy eyebrows were alive. + +He took up the violin which lay on the sideboard with a gentle, tender +touch. + +“Music is a grand profession,” he said, “if you can give your time to +it. But the stage is damnable! Never go on the stage, young lady. Keep +you on the right side of the footlights. Those stage people are queer, +insincere folk.” He nodded emphatically and went on: “I used to sit +down in the deep orchestra well and watch her little toes twisting. +She was a bonny girl. Not much older than you, and haughty, like stage +folks are. And how I got up my courage to ask her to wed me I never +understood.” He sighed heavily. “Ah, well! I’d rather live in a fool’s +paradise than no paradise at all, and for two years----” + +He shook his head. + +“She was a bonny girl, but she had the criminal mind. Some lassies are +like that. They’ve just no conscience and no remorse. And if you’ve no +conscience and no remorse and no sense of values, why, there’s nothing +you wouldn’t do from murder downwards.” + +It was not the first time Lois had heard these rambling and disjointed +references to a mysterious woman, these admonitions to avoid the +stage, but it was the first time that he had made a reference to the +criminal mind. + +“Women are funny creatures, Mr. Mackenzie,” she said, humouring him. + +He nodded. + +“Aye, they are,” he said simply. “But, generally speaking, they’re +superior to most men. I thank ye for the tea, Miss Reddle.” + +She went upstairs to find Lizzy struggling into her coat. + +“Well, did he warn you off the boards?” asked Miss Smith, as she +strolled to the little mirror and dabbed her nose untidily with +powder. “I’ll bet he did! I told him yesterday that I was going into +a beauty chorus, and he nearly had a fit.” + +“You shouldn’t tease the poor old man,” said Lois. + +“He ought to have more sense,” said Lizzy scornfully. “Beauty chorus! +Hasn’t he got eyes?” + + + + + Chapter Two + +They went off to the office together, walking through the Bloomsbury +squares, and only once did Lois look round apprehensively for her +unwelcome cavalier. Happily he was not in sight. + +“About that scar on your arm,” said Lizzy, when they were crossing +Theobalds Road. “I know a perfectly posh place in South Moulton Street +where they take away scars. I thought of going there to have a face +treatment. The managing clerk suggested it--Lois, that fellow is +getting so fresh he ought to be kept on ice. And him forty-eight with +a grown-up family!” + +Two hours later, Mr. Oliver Shaddles picked up some documents from the +table, read through with quick and skilful eyes, rubbed the grey +stubble on his unshaven chin irritably, and glared out upon Bedford +Row. + +He turned towards the little bell-push on his table, hesitated a +second, then pressed it. + +“Miss Reddle!” he snapped to the clerk who answered his summons with +haste. + +Again he examined the sheet of foolscap, and was still reading when +the door opened and Lois Reddle came in. + +Lois was a little above medium height, and by reason of her slimness +seemed taller than she was. She was dressed in the severe black which +the firm of Shaddles & Soan imposed upon all their feminine employees. +Mr. Shaddles had reached the age, if he had ever been at any other, +when beauty had no significance. That Lois Reddle had a certain +ethereal loveliness which was all her own might be true, but to the +lawyer she was a girl clerk who received thirty-five well-grudged +shillings every week of her life, minus the cost of her insurance. + +“You go down to Telsbury.” + +He had a minatory manner, and invariably prefaced his remarks with the +accusative pronoun. “You’ll get there in an hour and a half. Take +those two affidavits to the woman Desmond, and get her to sign the +transfer form. The car’s there----” + +“I think Mr. Dorling had it----” she began. + +“The car’s there,” he said obstinately. “You’ll have a dry trip, and +you ought to be thankful for the opportunity of a breath of fresh air. +Here, take this,” as she was going out with the foolscap. It was a +little slip of paper. “It is the Home Office order--use your senses, +girl! How do you think you’ll get into the gaol without that? And tell +that woman Desmond---- Anyway, off you go.” + +Lois went out and closed the door behind her. The four faded, +middle-aged clerks, sitting at their high desks, did not so much as +look up, but the snub-nosed girl with the oily face, who had been +pounding a typewriter, perked her head round. + +“You’re going to Telsbury, by the so-called car?” she asked. “I +thought he’d send you. That old devil’s so mean that he wouldn’t pay +his fare to heaven! The juggernaut will kill somebody one of these +days,” she added darkly, “you mark my words!” + +Attached to the firm of Shaddles & Soan was a dilapidated motor-car +that had seen its best time in pre-war days. It was housed in a +near-by garage which, being a property under Mr. Shaddles’ direction +as trustee, exacted no rent for the care of the machine, which he had +bought for a negligible sum at the sale of a bankrupt’s effects. It +was a Ford, and every member of the staff was supposed to be able to +drive it. It carried Mr. Shaddles to the Courts of Justice, it took +his clerks on errands, and it figured prominently in all bills of +cost. It was, in many ways, a very paying scheme. + +“Ain’t you glad you’re going?” asked Lizzy enviously. “Lord! If I +could get out of this dusty hole! Maybe you’ll meet your fate?” + +Lois frowned. + +“My what?” + +“Your fate,” said Elizabetta, unabashed. “I spotted him out of the +window this morning--that fellow is certainly potty about you!” + +A cold light of disfavour was in the eyes of Lois, but Lizzy was not +easily squashed. “There’s nothing in that,” she said. “Why, there used +to be a young man who waited for me for hours--in the rain too. It +turned out that he wasn’t right in his head, either.” + +Lois laughed softly as she wrapped a gaily coloured scarf about her +throat and pulled on her gloves. Suddenly her smile vanished. + +“I hate Telsbury; I hate all prisons. They give me the creeps. I am +glad I’m leaving Mr. Shaddles.” + +“Don’t call him ‘Mister,’” said the other. “It is paying him a +compliment.” + +The car stood at the door, as Mr. Shaddles had suggested, an ancient +and ugly machine. The day was fair and warm, and once clear of the +London traffic the sun shone brightly and she shook off the depression +which had lain upon her like a cloud all that morning. As she sent the +car spinning out of Bedford Row she glanced round instinctively for +some sign of the man to whom Lizzy had made so unflattering a +reference, and whose constant and unswerving devotion was one of the +principal embarrassments of her life. But he was nowhere in sight, and +he passed out of her mind, as, clear of London, she turned from the +main road and slowed her car along one of the twisting lanes that ran +parallel with the post route and gave one who loved the country and +the green hedgerows a more entranced vision than the high road would +have given her. + +Seven miles short of Telsbury she brought the car back to the main +thoroughfare, and spun, at a speed which she uneasily recognised as +excessive, on to the tarred highway. Even as she came clear of the +high hedges she heard the warning croak of a motor-horn, and jammed on +her brakes. The little machine skidded out into the road. Too late, +she released the brakes and thrust frantically at the accelerator. She +saw the bonnet of a long, black car coming straight towards her, felt +rather than heard the exclamation of its driver. + +“_Crash!_” + +In that second she recognised the driver. + +“Say it!” + +The girl, gripping the steering wheel of her ancient Ford, stared +defiantly across a broken windscreen, but Michael Dorn did not accept +the challenge. Instead, he put his gear into reverse, preparatory to +withdrawing his running-board from the affectionate embrace of the +other guard. He did this with a manner of gentle forbearance which was +almost offensive. + +“Say it!” she said. “Say something violent or vulgar! It is far better +to have things out than to let bad words go jumping around inside!” + +Grey eyes need black lashes to be seen at best advantage, he thought; +and she had one of those thinnish noses that he admired in women. He +rather liked her chin, and, since it was raised aggressively, he had a +fair view of a perfect throat. It struck him as being extremely +perfect in spite of the red and yellow and green silk scarf that was +lightly knotted about. She was neatly if poorly dressed. + +“Nothing jumps around inside me except my heart,” he said, “and, at +the moment, that is slipping back from my mouth. I don’t like your +necktie.” + +She looked down at the offending garment and frowned. + +“You have no right to run into me because you disapprove of my scarf,” +she said coldly. “Will you please disengage your strange machine from +mine? I hope you are insured.” + +He jerked his car back, there was a sound of ripping tin, a crack and +a shiver of glass, and he was free. Then: + +“You came out of a side road at forty miles an hour--you’d have turned +over certain, only I was there to catch you,” he said +half-apologetically. “I hope you aren’t hurt?” + +She shook her head. + +“I am not,” she said, “but I think my employer will be when he sees +the wreckage. Anyway, your end is served, Mr. Dorn, you have made my +acquaintance.” + +He started and went a shade red. + +“You don’t imagine that I manœuvred this collision with the idea of +getting an introduction, do you?” he almost gasped, and was +thunderstruck when the girl with the grave eyes nodded. + +“You have been following me for months,” she said quietly. “You even +took the trouble to make up to a girl in Mr. Shaddles’ office in order +to arrange a meeting. I have seen you shadowing me on my way +home--once you took the same ’bus--and on the only occasion I have +been to a dance this year I found you in the vestibule.” + +Michael Dorn fiddled with the steering wheel, momentarily speechless. +She was serious now, all the banter and quiet merriment in her voice +had passed. Those wonderful eyes of hers were regarding him with a +certain gentle reproach that was hard to endure. + +“Well, the truth is----” he began lamely, and found himself at a loss +for words. + +She waited for him to finish his sentence, and then: + +“The truth is----” A faint smile trembled at the corner of her red +mouth. “The truth is, Mr. Dorn, that it isn’t a very terrible offence +for any nice man to wish to meet any girl--that I recognise. And it +would be stupid in me if I pretended that I am very much annoyed. But +as I told your ambassador, Miss Lizzy Smith----” + +He blinked rapidly. + +“I really do not wish to know you, and I have no doubt that she has +conveyed that intelligence to you. Therefore your position is a +little--what shall I say?” + +“Offensive is the word you’re wanting,” he said coolly. “I’ll admit +that it bears that construction.” + +He got down slowly, walked to the side of her car, and stood, his +hands resting on the arm of the seat. + +“I want you to believe, Miss Reddle!” he said earnestly, “that nothing +is farther from my wish than to annoy you. If I hadn’t been a clumsy +fool you would never have known that I was----” + +He stopped, at a loss for a word. It was she who supplied it, and in +spite of his seriousness he laughed. + +“‘Dogging’ is an ugly word. I’m trying to think of something +prettier,” he said. + +She liked the ghost of a smile that shone in his blue eyes, and had +they parted then, without another word, she might have thought more +kindly of him. But: + +“Where are you off to, on this bright autumn day?” he asked, and she +stiffened. + +“Will you start my car, please?” she said with dignity. + +He cranked up the engine and stood aside. She could not resist the +temptation: + +“If you follow me now you’ll have a shock,” she said. “I am going to +Telsbury Prison.” + +The effect on the man was startling; he stared in amazement and fear. +His jaw dropped, and into his eyes came a queer look of wonder. + +“Where are you going?” he asked huskily, as though he doubted the +evidence of his ears. + +“I am going to Telsbury Prison--please.” + +She waved him out of her way. The car with the broken wind-screen went +noisily along the broad high road, leaving the man to stare. And then: + +“Good God!” said Michael Dorn. + + + + + Chapter Three + +The grim entrance of Telsbury Convict Establishment is mercifully +hidden behind a screen of thick-growing pines. Its red walls have +mellowed with age, and but for the high tower in the centre of the +prison a traveller would pass it unnoticed. Hiding all the heartache +that has made the word “Dartmoor” synonymous with sorrow, Telsbury has +missed the fame of its fellow-prison. + +Lois had already made two visits to the prison on her employer’s +business. A client of the firm had prosecuted a woman who had been +engaged in systematic fraud, and she had been sent down for five +years. It had been necessary to secure her signature to certain deeds +transferring back to their lawful owner stocks which had been +fraudulently converted. + +Stopping her car broadside on to the high black gates, she descended +and pulled a bell. Almost immediately a grating was slipped back and +two watchful eyes surveyed her. Though the gatekeeper recognised her, +it was not until she had shown him the Home Office order which she +carried that he turned the key in the lock and admitted her to a bare +stone room, furnished with a desk, a stool, two chairs, and a table. + +The warder read the order again and pressed a bell. He, his two +reliefs, and the governor were the only men who came within those +walls, and his sphere of operations was restricted to the room and the +archway, barred with steel railings, which cut the courtyard off from +the rest of the prison. + +“Getting tired of coming here, miss?” he asked with a smile. + +“Prisons make me very tired and very sick at heart,” said the girl. + +He nodded. + +“There are six hundred women inside here who are more tired and more +sick than you will ever be, I hope, miss,” he said conventionally. +“Not that I ever see any of them. I open the gate to the prison van +and never catch a sight of them again, not even when they go out.” + +There was a snap of a lock, and a young wardress in neat blue uniform +came in and greeted Lois with a cheery nod. The girl was conducted +through a small steel gate, across a wide parade ground, empty at that +moment, through another door and along a passage into the governor’s +small office. + +“Good morning, doctor,” she said. “I’ve come to see Mrs. Desmond,” and +displayed her papers before the grey-haired governor. + +“She’ll be in her cell now,” he said. “Come along, Miss Reddle, I’ll +take you there myself.” + +At the end of the passage was another door, which led into a large +hall, on either side of which was a steel alleyway, reached by broad +stairs in the centre of the hall. Lois looked up, saw the netting +above her head and shivered. It was placed there, she knew, to prevent +these unhappy women from dashing themselves to death from the top +landings. + +“Here we are,” said the governor, and opened the cell door with his +pass-key. + +For five minutes she was engaged with the sulky woman, who had a +whining grievance against everybody except herself; and at last, with +a heartfelt sigh of relief, she came out through the door and joined +the governor. As he locked the cell, she said: + +“Thank heaven I shan’t come here any more.” + +“Giving up being a lawyer?” he asked good-humouredly. “Well, I never +thought it was much of a profession for a girl.” + +“You give my intelligence too great credit,” she smiled. “I am a very +commonplace clerk and have no other knowledge of the law than that +stamps must be put on certain documents and in certain places!” + +They did not go back the way they had come, but went out through the +hall into the parade ground. So perfect was the organisation that in +the brief space she had been in the cell the yard was filled with grey +figures parading in circles. + +“Exercise hour,” said the governor. “I thought you’d like to see +them.” + +The girl’s heart was filled with pity and an unreasoning resentment +against the law which had taken these women and made them into so many +meaningless ciphers. With their print dresses and white mob caps, +there was something very ugly, very sordid about them, something which +clutched at the girl’s heart and filled her with a vague fear. There +were women of all ages, old and young, some mere girls, some grown +ancient in sin, and each bore on her face the indefinable stamp of +abnormality. There were fierce faces, cunning faces, weak, pathetic +faces that turned to her as the ghastly circle shuffled on its way; +faded eyes that stared stupidly, dark eyes that gleamed with malignant +envy, careless eyes that did not trouble to investigate her further +than by a casual glance. Shambling, shuffling women, who seemed after +a while to be unreal. + +The circle had nearly passed in hideous completeness when Lois saw a +tall figure that seemed to stand out from that ground of horror. Her +back was straight, her chin uplifted, her calm eyes looked straight +ahead. She might have been forty, or fifty. The delicately moulded +features were unlined, but the hair was white. There was something +divinely serene in her carriage. + +“What is that woman doing here?” said Lois, before she realised that +she had asked a question which no visitor must put to a prison +official. + +Dr. Stannard did not answer her. He was watching the figure as it came +abreast. For a second the woman’s eyes rested gravely upon the girl. +Only for a second--just that period of time that a well-bred woman +would look at the face of another--and then she had passed. + +The girl heaved a sigh. + +“I’m sorry I asked,” she said, as she walked by the governor’s side +through the grille to his office. + +“Other people have asked that,” said the governor, “and haven’t been +satisfied. It is against the prison rules to identify any convict, as +you know. But, curiously enough----” He was looking round for +something, and presently he found it, a stout calf-bound book that had +been opened and laid face downwards on a filing cabinet. + +Without a word he handed it to her, and she looked at the title. She +was sufficiently acquainted with law books to recognise it as one of +that variety. It was labelled _Fawley’s Criminal Cases_. + +“Mary Pinder,” he said briefly, and she saw that the book was open at +the page which was headed by that name. “It is rather curious, I was +reading up the case just before you came in. I was looking up the +essential details to see whether my memory was at fault. I don’t mind +telling you”--he dropped his voice as though in fear of an +eavesdropper--“that I share your wonder!” + +She looked at the title: “Mary Pinder--Murder,” and gasped. + +“A murderess?” she asked incredulously. + +The doctor nodded. + +“But that is impossible!” + +“Read the case,” said the other, and she took up the book and read: + + + Mary Pinder--Murder. Convicted at Hereford Assizes. Sentenced to + death; commuted to penal servitude for life. This is a typical case of + a murder for gain. Pinder lived in lodgings with a young man, who was + reputedly her husband, and who disappeared before the crime occurred. + It is believed that he left her penniless. Her landlady, Mrs. Curtain, + was a wealthy widow, somewhat eccentric, believed to be on the border + line of insanity. She kept large sums of money in the house and a + quantity of antique jewellery. After her husband had left her Pinder + advertised for a temporary situation, and a lady, calling at the house + in answer to the advertisement, found the front door unfastened, and, + after repeated knocking, receiving no answer, walked in. Seeing one of + the room doors open, she looked in and found, to her horror, Mrs. + Curtain lying on the floor, apparently in a fit. She immediately went + in search of a policeman, who, arriving at the house, found the woman + was dead. The drawers of an old secretaire were open and their + contents thrown on the floor, including a piece of jewellery. + Suspicion being aroused, the room of the lodger, who had been seen + leaving the house just before the discovery, was searched in her + absence. A small bottle containing cyanide of potassium, together with + many pieces of jewellery, was found in a locked box, and she was + arrested. The defence was that the deceased had frequently threatened + to commit suicide, and that there was no evidence to prove the + purchase of the poison, which was in an unlabelled bottle. Pinder + refused to give information about herself or her husband; no marriage + certificate was discovered; and she was tried before Darson J. and + convicted. It is believed that Pinder, being in urgent need of money, + was seized with the sudden temptation and, dropping cyanide in the + woman’s tea, afterwards ransacked her secretaire. The case presents no + unusual features, except the refusal of the prisoner to plead. + + +Twice Lois read the account and shook her head. + +“I can’t believe it! It is incredible--impossible!” she said. “She was +imprisoned for life--but surely she should be out by now? Isn’t there +a remission of sentence for good conduct?” + +The governor shook his head. + +“Unfortunately she made two attempts to escape, and lost all her +marks. It is a great pity, because she’s a fairly rich woman. An uncle +of hers, who only learnt of her conviction after she had been five +years in gaol, left her a very considerable fortune. She never told us +who she was--he visited her here a few weeks before his death--and +we’re just as wise as ever we were, except that we know that he was a +relation of her mother.” + +Lois took up the book again and stared at the printed page. + +“A murderess--that wonderful woman!” + +He nodded. + +“Yes. Remarkable. Yet the most innocent-looking people commit bad +offences. I have been here twenty years and lost most of my +illusions.” + +“If they thought she was a murderess, why didn’t they----” + +She could not bring herself to say “hang her.” The governor looked at +her curiously. + +“Ha--h’m--well, there was a reason, a very excellent reason.” + +Lois was puzzled for a moment, and then suddenly the explanation came +to her. + +“Yes, the baby was born in this very prison--the prettiest little baby +girl I’ve ever seen--a perfect child. I hated the time when she had to +be taken away. Poor little soul!” + +“She didn’t know, perhaps doesn’t know now,” said Lois, her eyes +filling with tears. + +“No, I suppose not. She was adopted by a woman who was a neighbour and +always believed in Mrs. Pinder’s innocence. No, when I said ‘poor +little soul,’ I was thinking of the fool of a nurse who let the child +burn its arm against the top of a hot water bottle. A pretty bad burn. +I remember it because it left a scar on the baby’s forearm--the +stopper of the water bottle had a star.” + +Lois Reddle clutched the edge of the table and her face went suddenly +white. The doctor was putting away the book and his back was towards +her. With an effort she gained control of her voice. + +“Do--do you remember the name by which the baby was christened?” she +asked in a low voice. + +“Yes,” he said instantly, “an unusual name, and I always remember it. +Lois Margeritta!” + + + + + Chapter Four + +Lois Margeritta! Her own name! And the star-shaped burn on her arm! + +Her head was in a whirl; the room seemed to be spinning round +drunkenly and it needed all her strength of mind to keep her from +crying out. + +But it was true. That dignified, stately woman who had marched so +calmly in the circle of pain was her mother! Incredible, impossible +though it seemed, she knew this was the truth. Her mother! + +Obeying a blind impulse, she darted to the door, flung it open, and +was half-way along the stone passage before the startled governor had +overtaken her. + +“Whatever is the matter with you, girl?” he demanded, half astonished +and half angry. “Are you ill?” + +“Let me go, let me go!” she muttered incoherently. “I must go to her!” + +And then she came back to sanity with a gasp, and allowed herself to +be led back to the governor’s room. + +“You sit down there while I give you a slight sedative,” said the +doctor, as he closed the door with a bang which echoed along the +hollow passage. + +He opened the medicine chest, deftly mixed the contents of three +bottles and added water from a carafe on his table. + +“Drink this,” he said. + +The girl raised the glass to her lips with fingers that shook, and the +governor, hearing the glass rattle against her teeth, smiled. + +“I think I’m a little mad,” she said. + +“You’re a little hysterical,” said the practical doctor, “and it is my +fault for letting you see these people. We’ve broken all the rules by +talking about them.” + +“I’m dreadfully sorry,” she muttered, as she put the glass on the +table. “I--I--it was so dreadful!” + +“Of course it was,” he said. “And I was several kinds of an old fool +to talk about it.” + +“Will you tell me one thing, doctor, please? What--what became of the +child?” + +The doctor was obviously loth to discuss the matter any further. + +“I believe she died,” he said briefly. “She was taken away by some +excellent people, but they failed to rear her. That is the story I +have. As a matter of fact it was published in the newspapers--there +was a great deal of interest in the case--that the child had died in +prison, but that was not the case. She was a healthy little creature +when she left here. And now, young lady, I am going to turn you out.” + +He rang for the wardress, who conducted her to the gatekeeper’s lodge, +and in another second Lois was standing outside the black door, behind +which was--who? + +She was mad to have made such a fool of herself. There was so much +more she wanted to know, so many opportunities which might have been +hers to see the beautiful woman who was--her mother? Her heart raced +at the thought. It couldn’t be! Her mother was dead; that stout, +homely body who had been a mother to her. It was a coincidence. There +must be other children in the world called “Lois Margeritta” than she, +and it was possible that some had been branded in babyhood. + +She shook her head; it was impossible, it was beyond all the bounds of +probability that there could be two Lois Margerittas with a +star-shaped burn on the left arm. + +Climbing painfully into the car, her knees giving under her, her +trembling hands manipulated the gears. The car wobbled painfully, and, +as she came slowly out on to the little road that runs by the prison, +she was conscious of a weakness which almost terrified her. She +stopped the car a few inches from the kerb, and at that moment she +heard a quick step, and, turning her head, saw the man with whose +machine she had collided earlier in the afternoon. There was a look of +deep concern on his saturnine face. + +“Anything wrong?” he asked sharply. + +“No--nothing,” she said unsteadily. + +He stood surveying her with a critical and speculative eye. + +“You nearly drove into that lamp-post. Aren’t you feeling well?” + +“Not--not very,” she said. + +In another second he had swung himself into the car by her side, and +she made room for him behind the steering wheel. + +“I’ll take you down to the Lion Hotel and get them to send up for my +car.” + +She was dimly aware that the long machine with the damaged mudguard +was parked by the side of the prison wall. + +“I shall be quite all right----” she protested. + +“Nevertheless, I will drive you back to town,” he said, and she made +no further demur. + +He stopped outside the Lion Hotel long enough to communicate with a +little man who seemed to be expecting him; then turned the damaged +nose of the Ford towards London; and she was intensely grateful to him +that he made no attempt to improve his opportunity, for the rest of +the journey was carried out in almost complete silence. From time to +time he glanced at her, and once he looked at the crumpled papers +which she held tightly gripped in her little hand, the documents which +Mr. Shaddles’ client had signed, and which were now in a more ruffled +condition than most legal documents are supposed to be. + +“179 Bedford Row, I think it is?” he said, as they crossed the traffic +of Holborn, and she had recovered sufficient of her spirits to answer: + +“I think you should know.” + +One side of his mouth went up in a smile. + +“I’m pretty well acquainted with this neighbourhood,” he said coolly. +And then, as the car came to a standstill behind a big Rolls that +stood before the doorway of 179: + +“You’ve been awfully kind to me, Mr. Dorn,” she said. “I am very +grateful to you indeed.” + +“What worried you?” he asked. “At the prison, I mean?” + +She shook her head. + +“Nothing--only it is a rather dreadful shock, seeing so many women.” + +His eyes narrowed. + +“You saw the women, did you? Pretty queer lot, eh?” + +She shivered. + +“Do you know the prison? Have you been inside, I mean?” she asked. + +“Yes, I’ve been inside once or twice,” he answered. + +Glancing up at the window behind which was her office, she caught a +glimpse of a short, tilted nose and a pair of wide open eyes, and, in +spite of herself, laughed helplessly. + +“Good-bye, Mr. Dorn.” + +She held out her hand and he took it. + +“I’m afraid I’ve been an awful nuisance to you. Will you be able to +get your car sent up to town, or must you go down to Telsbury for it?” + +“Don’t bother about my car; it is here,” he said, and nodded to the +end of the road. To her amazement she saw his black machine come +slowly to the side-walk and stop. + +She was about to say something, but changed her mind, and, running up +the steps, disappeared through the dark portals, the man watching her +until she was out of sight. + + + + + Chapter Five + +The clerks had gone, only Lizzy Smith remained. That young lady came +flying to greet her, all of a twitter with excitement. + +“Oh, you artful one! You picked him up, did you? Haven’t you got a +nerve to come back with him? Suppose old Shaddles had seen you! What +have you done to the juggernaut? All the mudguard’s bent. Lois, the +countess is here! She’s in with old Shaddles, and she’s got the Queen +of Sheba skinned to death! I’ll bet that chinchilla coat she’s got +cost a thousand if it cost a tenner. And me wearing dyed fox, and glad +to get it! Not that I’m struck on chinchilla--it doesn’t suit my +complexion, anyway----. And isn’t Mike lovely?” + +“Mike?” said Lois, puzzled. + +“Didn’t he tell you his name was Mike?” asked Lizzy contemptuously. +“Of course it is! Michael Dorn. You don’t mean to tell me that you’ve +been joy-riding with him all these hours and never called him ‘Mike’ +once?” + +Lois hung up her coat and hat, and sat down wearily. Miss Smith +regarded her with a gathering frown. + +“You’re not looking very bright, old dear,” she said. “What’s wrong?” + +“The prison upset me,” said Lois. “How long has the countess been +here?” + +“You haven’t had a row with him, have you?” + +“With him--whom? Oh, the man, you mean, Lizzy?” + +“Of course I mean the man! Who else was there to row with? You can’t +start any backchat with a pre-war Ford.” + +Happily Lois was saved the embarrassment of an answer, for at that +moment a buzzer sounded and Lizzy darted into Shaddles’ office, to +return with an uplifted and bending finger. + +“The countess wants to see you!” she hissed fiercely, “and the thing +attached to her is her little boy--the earl!” + +Lois went into the room and closed the door behind her. Mr. Shaddles +glared up from his table as she handed him the crumpled documents. + +“What’s happened to these?” he asked. + +“We had an accident with the car,” said Lois, a little incoherently. +She was not a fluent liar. + +“‘We’? Who are ‘we’?” + +“I mean, I ran into another car,” said the girl in some confusion. + +Mr. Shaddles smoothed out the rumpled paper, glanced at the signature, +and then: + +“This is the girl, your ladyship.” + +For the first time Lois was conscious of the woman’s presence. +“Majestic” was a word which fitly described the Countess of Moron. She +was tall and stoutly made. The long chinchilla cloak which covered her +dress from head to heel was open to show the rich velvet brocade +dress, but for the moment Lois had no eyes for the woman’s apparel, or +her looped pearls, or the jewels which glittered from ears and +fingers. It was the face that held her. Big, dominating, in some +indefinable way menacing. Black eyebrows that met above a masterful +nose; a pair of eyes of so dark a brown that they seemed black. They +were what are called full eyes; the vulgar would describe them as +bulging. They were hard and bright and stared unwinkingly at the girl. +The mouth was big, the lips thin, and the chin full and powerful. Lois +found herself trying to guess her age. Whether it was due to artifice +or not, her hair was a jet black, untouched by a vestige of grey; and +later she was to learn this was natural. + +“You are Miss Reddle?” said the countess. Her voice was almost as deep +as a man’s, and she had a slow, deliberate enunciation which was a +little disconcerting. + +Lois had the feeling that she was in a witness-box, under +cross-examination. + +“Yes, madam, I am Lois Reddle,” she said. + +For a moment the countess said nothing; then she turned to her +companion. + +“This is Miss Lois Reddle, Selwyn,” she said. + +He was a thin, bent man, with a weak face almost innocent of chin, and +a drooping yellow moustache, the twirling of which seemed to occupy +most of his spare time. + +“May I introduce my son, the Earl of Moron?” said her ladyship, and +Lois bowed. + +“Glad to meet you,” murmured the earl mechanically. “Rather nice +weather we’re having, what?” + +Having made this speech, he seemed to have exhausted his vocabulary, +for he was silent during the remainder of the interview. + +Lady Moron withdrew her scrutiny and turned her eyes slowly to the +lawyer. + +“She seems entirely satisfactory, Shaddles,” she said. + +Shaddles pursed his lips. + +“Yes, she’s a very good girl,” he said, “quite reliable.” + +He glanced disparagingly at the crumpled documents on his +blotting-pad. + +“Quite reliable. I’ve no doubt that Miss Reddle, in her anxiety to get +back to interview your ladyship, has slightly damaged my car; that +will be a matter for adjustment between your ladyship and myself.” + +He had glanced out of the window and had taken in with an assessor’s +eye the amount of the damage. Lady Moron looked at him for a time. + +“She had no idea I was here, Shaddles. And of course I shall not be +responsible for any damage to your car.” + +He squirmed in his seat. + +“And, personally, I should doubt if the car has any value. At any +rate, in my eyes it has none. Come, Selwyn.” + +For a moment Lois had the illusion that the young man was holding on +to his mother’s skirt, and she had an insane desire to laugh, as her +ladyship went forth majestically, followed by what Lizzy had +described, not unfaithfully, as “the thing attached to the Countess.” + +Shaddles bustled through the outer office, opened the door for them, +and went down to see her ladyship into her car before he returned. + +“Now, what the devil do you mean by smashing up my car?” he grated. +“And look at the condition of these documents. Is that the sort of +thing that can go before a Master in Chambers? Pah!” + +Before she could reply: + +“Whatever are the cost of the repairs I shall send the bill to you, +and I shall expect you to act in an honourable manner, for I’m not +sure that you are not liable in law. You will have a good salary and +you owe your position entirely to the fact that I happen to be her +ladyship’s solicitor.” + +“If there is any damage, I will pay for it, Mr. Shaddles,” said the +girl, and was glad to make her escape. + +Lizzy Smith did not find her a very communicative companion, and she +was responsible for most of the conversation on the way back to their +lodgings. Lois was glad when her companion left her that night to join +a girl friend who had two tickets for a theatre. She wanted to be +alone, she wanted to think out this most terrifying problem of hers. +There were other problems too, for suddenly she remembered the look of +utter horror and amazement that had come to Michael Dorn’s face when +she told him she was going to the prison. Did he know, and was he +dogging her footsteps for any other than the obvious reason--the young +man’s desire to get acquainted with the girl who had taken his fancy? +That seemed impossible. + +She was glad she was taking up a new post. She would have leisure, in +the service of Lady Moron, and opportunities, perhaps, for meeting +people who would be helpful to her in the conduct of her +investigations. + +A thought occurred to her as she was sitting before her untasted +supper, and, getting up, she put on her hat and went eastwards to +Fleet Street. She had been to the _Daily Megaphone_ before to make +searches on behalf of Mr. Shaddles, but now she found that the +offices, which are usually open to the public, were closed. She sent +up a note from the jealously guarded lobby of the editorial offices, +and to her joy her request was granted, and a messenger conducted her +to the file room. + +Taking down one of the many big black volumes which filled the shelves +on one side of the room and opening it at the date she had remembered, +the messenger left her; and for two hours she studied the details of +what she would ordinarily have dismissed as a sordid and wicked crime. +She was half-way through the account of the trial when she saw a name +that made her gasp. It was the name of a witness who had been called +by the defence--Mrs. Amelia Reddle! + +Then it was true! This was the kindly neighbour, about whom the prison +governor had spoken. It was her mother, that tall, lovely woman who +paced the prison flags with such unconcern. “A kind neighbour took the +child”--Mrs. Reddle was the kind neighbour, and had brought her up in +ignorance of her origin. + +The printed page swam before her eyes as she sat, her hands tightly +clasped, her mind confounded by the confirmation of this tremendous +discovery. + +Her mother was innocent. It was something more than a natural revolt +against the thought that in her veins ran the blood of a murderess; it +was a conviction, an inspiration, the faith which is knowledge. + +She went back to her lodgings, calm and determined. She would prove +her mother’s innocence, devoting her life to that object. + + + + + Chapter Six + +Charlotte Street was deserted when she turned the corner. Passing a +small closed coupé that stood by the side-walk, she was half-way up +the street, and was turning to cross, when she saw the car coming +towards her at full speed, and stopped in the roadway to let it pass. +Its headlights were burning very dimly, she noticed--in the idle way +of one whose mind was fully occupied elsewhere. The car came on, +gaining momentum, and then, when it was a dozen yards away, it swerved +suddenly towards her. + +Her first impulse was to step back, but an instinct beyond +understanding made her leap ahead. If the driver had corrected his +swerve she could not have escaped death. That spring saved her; the +edge of the mudguard grazed her dress and some small and jagged +projection ripped a two-inch strip from her skirt as neatly as though +it had been cut by scissors. In another second the car had passed, +speeding towards Fitzroy Square, its rear light dark, its number +invisible. + +For a second the girl stood, bereft of breath, trembling in every +limb; and then somebody darted out of the doorway of her house and +came towards her, and before she saw his face she knew him. + +“Close call that,” drawled Michael Dorn. + +“What happened?” she asked. “They must have lost control, I think.” + +“Yes, they must have lost control,” he said quietly. “You didn’t see +the number, I suppose?” + +She shook her head. In her then state of nerves the question irritated +her. + +“Of course I did not see the number. Do you want me, Mr. Dorn?” + +“I came to see how you were after your unpleasant experience.” + +She faced him squarely. + +“What do you mean? What unpleasant experience?” she asked. + +“I was referring to the little accident for which I was partly +responsible,” he answered coolly. “I regard any road collision as +unpleasant. But possibly you’re a more hardened motorist than I am.” + +She shook her head. + +“You don’t mean that at all. You mean--you mean--what happened at the +prison.” + +He bent down towards her. + +“What did happen at the prison?” he asked in a low voice. + +“If you don’t know, I can’t tell you,” she said, and, turning abruptly +from him, went into the house and closed the door almost in his face. + +Before she had reached her room she regretted her act of rudeness. It +was too late now; she would not go back and apologise, even if she +could bring herself to such an act. + +An alarmed Lizzy was waiting for her. + +“Do you know it is nearly twelve o’clock? I thought you were going to +bed early?” she said. + +“I’ve been to Fleet Street, looking up a case for--for Mr. Shaddles, +and look at my dress--a car ripped it.” + +Lizzy’s nose wrinkled. + +“If it’s true that you’ve been working overtime for that old +skinflint--and it probably isn’t--you’ve got something the matter with +your head,” she said, “and you ought to see a doctor. I’m disappointed +with you.” + +“Why?” asked the girl, as she tossed her hat on to the bed and stooped +to a further examination of her torn skirt. + +“Well, I thought you’d been out to see a Certain Person. Then, on the +other hand, I couldn’t understand, if you were with him, how he could +have sent you this.” + +On the table, standing amidst its loosened wrappings, was a beautiful +round box, the satin cover of which was painted with a floral design. + +“It was a bit of cheek on my part, taking it out of the paper,” +admitted Lizzy, “but I haven’t touched a single choc.” + +“Chocolates?” said Lois incredulously, and lifted the cover, +displaying the most gorgeous selection of confectionery that had ever +come her way. + +On the top was a small card with a line of writing: “From an Admirer.” + +She frowned. + +“From an Admirer,” nodded Lizzy. “No name? Now, I wonder who it can +be?” + +Her smirk of amazement was too extravagant to leave any doubt in Lois’ +mind. + +“Did he bring it?” she asked. + +“He? You mean Mike? Why, of course he brought it! At least, I suppose +so. It was here when I came in. How many other admirers have you got, +Lois?” + +The girl replaced the lid with a vicious jab. + +“I hate that man,” she said vehemently, “and if he doesn’t leave me in +peace I shall complain to the police. It isn’t enough to find him +sitting on the doorstep----” + +“Was he here?” gasped Lizzy. + +“Of course he was here! You knew he was here,” said Lois unjustly. +“Lizzy, you’re helping and abetting him, and I wish you wouldn’t.” + +“Me?” said the indignant Lizzy. “Abetting? I like that! You take him +out driving all the afternoon and talk about me ‘abetting’! Why, I +haven’t seen the bird to speak to for a month!” + +“Where does he live?” demanded Lois. + +“How the blazes do I know?” stormed Lizzy. And then, more soberly: +“Yes I do. He lives in Hiles Mansions.” + +“Then this goes back to Hiles Mansions to-morrow morning,” said Lois +with determination. “And with it a polite note asking him to refrain +from his attentions, which are getting a little objectionable.” + +Lizzy shrugged her thin shoulders. + +“I don’t know what you expect,” she said, in despair. “A good-looker, +with a nice car, and a perfect gentleman.” + +“He may be all these things and still be objectionable to me,” said +Lois shortly, and to her surprise the ungainly Lizzy put her arm +around her with an affectionate hug and laughed. + +“I won’t quarrel with you the last few nights you are here. And +another thing, Lois; I’m not going to take another mate. Your room +will be waiting for you when you get tired of the aristocracy.” + +One big room in the suite had been divided by a wooden partition. +There was a doorless opening that communicated between the two +cubicles, over which a curtain was hung. And after Lois had made a +parcel of the confectionery and had addressed it to her “admirer,” she +carried the package into her bedroom and put it on her dressing-table. +She must not forget to return that gift, even though she could ill +afford the postage. + +They chatted across the partition (which did not reach to the ceiling) +for some time, and presently Lois slipped into her bed feeling +unutterably tired. + +“Good-night,” she called. + +“Hark at old Mac!” + +From below stole the sad wail of old Mackenzie’s fiddle. Softly it +rose and fell, and to one of the audience at least the sound was +infinitely sweet and soothing. + +“He used to be an orchestra leader--what’s the word? Conductor,” said +Lizzy. “I wish he’d keep his moonlight sonatas until I was out of the +house.” + +“I like it,” said Lois. + +In truth the sad melody attuned to her own troubled heart. + +“It gives me the hump,” grunted Lizzy, as she jerked off her stockings +and examined her toes critically. “After you’ve gone I’m going to ask +him to give up his midnight folly.” + +“He has very little amusement,” protested Lois. + +“Why doesn’t he go out and get it? The old niggard never leaves the +house. He’s got plenty of money. He owns this property.” + +Lois was listening. The old man was playing the Intermezzo from +_Cavalleria Rusticana_, and, hackneyed as the melody was, it sounded +to the girl as though it expressed all the sorrows, all the fears, all +the inarticulate protests of her own soul. + +“Music’s all right in its place,” said Lizzy, “if it’s the right kind. +What’s the matter with ‘Maggie! Yes, Ma?’ I bought a copy of it cheap +a week ago and gave it to him and he’s not played it once!” + +Presently there was silence on the other side of the partition. The +music had ceased. Lois, turning over, fell into a troubled sleep. She +dreamt she was in Telsbury Prison; it was she, among the colourless +women, who was walking that dreary circle. Somebody stood watching her +where she had stood by the doctor’s side; a great, fleshy-nosed woman +whose hard black eyes smiled sneeringly as she passed. In the centre +of the circle was the little old man, Mackenzie, his fiddle cuddled +under his chin, and he was playing a vulgar tune she had heard Lizzy +whistle. + +Suddenly she woke with a start. + +A light had flashed on her face--somebody was in the room. She could +hear their soft movements, and then came to her ears the rustle of +paper. It was Lizzy, of course. Lizzy frequently came in the middle of +the night, when her cough was troublesome, for the voice lozenges +which Lois kept in the drawer of her dressing-table. Without a word +she stretched out her hand and switched on the little hand-lamp which +was one of her luxuries. + +As she turned the switch, she remembered drowsily that the battery had +nearly run out. There was a flicker of white light, that died down to +yellow, and then to darkness. But in that second of time she had seen +the figure of a man standing by the dressing-table, and recognised him +before she saw the startled face of Michael Dorn! + + + + + Chapter Seven + +For a second she remained, paralyzed, and then, as the sound of his +feet crossing the floor came to her, she screamed. + +“What is it?” + +She heard the creak and rumble of Lizzy’s bed, the scratch of a match, +and saw the white gleam of the gas as it was lit. In another second +Lizzy was in her room. + +Lois was out of bed now and with trembling fingers was lighting her +own lamp. Otherwise the room was empty. + +“Somebody was here--a man,” she said shakily. + +“You’ve been dreaming.” + +“I was not dreaming. Listen!” + +There was the thud of a closing door. Running to the window, Lois +threw up the sash and leant out. She had time to see a man’s figure +walking swiftly down Charlotte Street. + +“There he is! Don’t you recognise him? It is Dorn!” + +Lizzy craned farther out of the window and after a time came in with a +scared face. + +“I shouldn’t like to say it wasn’t,” she said cautiously. “Do you mean +to say Dorn’s been here?” + +Lois nodded. This shock, coming on top of the other, had almost +unnerved her. + +“But was he here--in this room?” Still Lizzy was not convinced, but +one glance at the girl’s face told her that Lois had not been +mistaken. + +She hurried out into the kitchen, drew a glass of water. Lois drank +the refreshingly cold liquid eagerly. + +“Well, he’s got a nerve!” said Lizzy, sitting down on a chair and +staring blankly at her companion. “What was he doing?” + +“I don’t know. He was standing in front of the dressing-table. I only +saw him for a second, and then this wretched light went out.” + +“He’s got a nerve,” said Lizzy again. “There’s a limit to everything. +Going into a young lady’s bedroom in the middle of the night to get an +introduction seems to me to be ungentlemanly.” + +Lois laughed weakly. + +“He didn’t speak to you?” + +She shook her head. + +“Jack scuttled off like a rabbit, I suppose.” + +Lizzy walked to the door and opened it, gazing reflectively at the +stairs, as though she wished to visualise the undignified character of +the visitor’s exit. + +“He sends you chocolates overnight----” + +Lois’ eyes strayed to the dressing-table, and she sprang to her feet +with a cry. + +“They’re gone!” she said, and the stenographer’s jaw dropped. + +“Gone? Were they there?” She pointed. + +“I put them on the dressing-table to remind me in the morning--at +least, I think I did.” + +A hurried search of the kitchen discovered no trace of the missing +package. + +“Perhaps he knew you wouldn’t like them and came to get them back?” +was the inane suggestion that Lizzy offered. + +“I don’t know--I don’t understand.” + +At that moment a voice hailed them and Lizzy opened the door. + +“Is anything wrong?” + +It was old Mackenzie. + +“That man never sleeps,” groaned Lizzy under her breath. “He ought to +be a night watchman. No, everything’s all right, Mr. Mackenzie.” + +“I heard somebody come down the stairs and go out a little time ago,” +said the old man, “I thought maybe one of you was ill.” + +“This is where our characters go west,” said Lizzy, and, in a louder +voice: “No, Mr. Mackenzie, it was only me! I went down to make sure +that Miss Reddle had closed the front door. Good-night.” + +She came back, looking very thoughtful. + +“‘Three o’clock in the morning’ is a pretty nifty fox-trot, but it is +a bad time for young men to come sneaking round other people’s rooms. +What are you going to do, Lois? Anyway, he’s saved you the postage on +the chocolates. It seems to me to be the moment for tea.” + +Any occasion was the moment for tea so far as Lizzy was concerned. She +bustled off into the kitchen and came back in ten minutes with a hot +decoction which was very gratifying to Lois, and, in spite of Lizzy’s +making, unusually palatable. + +“There are two things to do; one is to inform the police, and the +other is to see Mr. Dorn, and I think I will take the latter course. +Will you give me his address again?” + +“You’re not going now?” said Lizzy, in a tone of horror. + +“No, I’ll go before working hours.” + +“He’ll be in bed. Maybe you’ll be able to get the chocolates back +while he is sleeping,” suggested Lizzy. “As I remarked before, he’s +got a nerve.” + +Hiles Mansions was a magnificent block of flats near Albert Hall, but +Mr. Dorn’s apartment was the least magnificent of any, for it was +situated on the upper floor and consisted of two rooms, and a bath and +a tiny hall. The elevator man was in his shirt-sleeves, polishing +brasses at the early hour at which Lois made her call. But he showed +no surprise at her enquiry. + +“Top floor, miss. If you’ll step into the lift and excuse my +shirt-sleeves, I’ll take you up.” + +The elevator stopped at the sixth floor and the liftman pointed to a +plain rosewood door, one of three on the landing. She hesitated, her +finger on the bell-push, and then, mastering her courage, she pressed, +expecting to be kept waiting for a long time, for if Mr. Dorn was +really the night visitor, he would still be in bed. To her surprise, +however, her finger was hardly off the bell-push before the door +opened and Michael Dorn confronted her. He seemed to have been up for +some time, for he was dressed and shaved, and there was no evidence in +his eyes that he had spent a sleepless night. + +“This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Reddle,” he said. “Will you come +in?” + +The study into which she was ushered was larger than she had expected +and the sloping roof gave it an odd but pleasant character. She saw at +a glance that the furniture was old, and probably valuable. The +writing-table, from which he had evidently just risen, for the morning +newspaper lay open at the top, was undoubtedly Buhl, and the deep +arm-chair before the fire was the only modern article in the room. +Etchings covered the soberly painted walls, and in one alcove was a +well-filled bookcase. + +“Mr. Dorn, I have called on a very serious errand,” she said. + +“I am sorry to hear that,” was his reply as he pushed a chair forward. + +“I won’t sit down, thank you. Last night you sent me a box of +chocolates. I can understand that your intentions were well meant, +though I thought I had made it very clear that I do not wish to know +you, or to improve an acquaintance which began only yesterday. I am +very grateful to you for all you did,” she went on a little +incoherently, “but----” she paused. + +“But----?” he suggested. + +“Your conduct is abominable!” she flamed. “The gift of chocolates was +an impertinence, but to follow that up by breaking into my lodgings +was criminal! I’ve come to tell you that, unless you cease your +persecution, I shall complain to the police.” + +He did not answer. Standing by the table, he fiddled with a long +poignard which was evidently used as a letter-opener. + +“You say I broke into your house--what makes you think that?” + +“Because I recognised you,” she said emphatically. “You came and took +away the box--though I could have saved you the trouble. I intended +returning it in the morning.” + +To her amazement, he did not deny his presence, but, on the contrary, +gave confirmation of his action. + +“If I had known you were going to return it this morning I should +certainly not have called in the night,” he said with a calmness which +took her breath away. “I have been guilty of conduct which may seem to +you to be unpardonable, but for which there is a very simple +explanation. Until a quarter to two this morning I had no idea that +you had received the chocolates.” + +He walked across the room to a cabinet, pulled open one drawer and +took out the painted box. + +“These are the chocolates, are they not?” + +She was so taken back by his audacity that she could not speak. He put +back the box carefully in the cabinet and closed the door. + +“I underrated your intelligence, Miss Reddle,” he said. “I have done +that all too frequently in my life--taken too light a view of woman’s +genius.” + +“I’m afraid I don’t understand you,” she said helplessly. “Only I want +to tell you----” + +“You want to tell me that if this act of mine is repeated, you will +notify the police.” He took the words from her mouth. “And I think you +would be wise. When do you take up your new position?” + +“On Monday,” she was startled into telling him, but, recollecting that +the object of her visit was not to furnish him with information about +her movements, she walked to the door. “You don’t deny that you came +into my room?” + +He shook his head. + +“No, why should I? You saw me. It was the flash of my lamp which woke +you. I am very sorry. But for that stupid blunder you would not have +known.” + +She stared at him. + +“You admit you were there?” she said, with growing wonder, as the +nature of his offence began to take shape in her mind. “How could you, +Mr. Dorn!” + +“It is much easier for me to admit my fault than to lie about it,” he +said coolly. “Even you must give me some credit for my frankness.” + +He followed her out on to the landing and rang for the elevator. + +“You must keep your door locked, Miss Reddle,” he said. “No matter +where you are--even in the palatial establishment of the Countess of +Moron--you must keep your door locked.” + +He looked down the lift shaft and saw that the cage at the bottom was +not moving. The elevator man was outside the building and had not +heard the signal. + +“I don’t think, if I were you, that I should write to your mother,” he +said. “You may raise false hopes. At present she is well balanced. The +knowledge that you are alive--and know--may cut the thread that has +held her up all these years.” + +“What do you know?” she gasped, gazing at him in terrified amazement. + +Then came the whine of the ascending lift. + +“I don’t think I should write if I were you,” he said, and with a +smile handed the dazed girl into the elevator and waited until the +clash of the lift-gate told him that she had reached the ground floor. +Then he walked slowly back into his flat, closed the door behind him, +and resumed his place at the table, but this time he did not read. + +For half an hour he sat, his chin on his hand, and then, rising, he +opened the door that led to the second room. A spare little man, with +a dark and melancholy face, sat patiently on the edge of a chair, as +he had sat ever since the ring at the door had announced the girl’s +arrival. A beckoning jerk of Dorn’s chin brought the man to the study. + +“Go along and pick up Chesney Praye. Find out what he was doing last +night, and where he went. I think he was playing baccarat at the Limbo +Club, and, if so, find out what he lost. That is all.” + +Without a word the little man made for the door. His hand was on the +latch when Dorn called him back. + +“Call in at Scotland Yard and discover the owner of a blue Buick, No. +XC2997. I pretty well know, but I should like a little moral support.” + +When the door had closed behind his servitor Michael Dorn took several +sheets of paper from the stationery rack and for half an hour was +writing rapidly. When he had finished, he addressed an envelope, +stamped the letter, and, going out to the landing, rang for the +liftman and handed him the letter to post. Then he returned to his +flat, and, taking off his collar and his tie, lay down on the bed for +the sleep he so badly needed; for Michael Dorn had not closed his eyes +for more than thirty-six hours. + + + + + Chapter Eight + +All her life, Lois Reddle could never recall what happened that +morning. She went about her work mechanically, like one in a dream; +and that she did not commit the most appalling blunders was due to the +natural orderliness of her mind. She went out with Lizzy to lunch at a +neighbouring restaurant, and this was usually the meal of the day. But +she could eat nothing, and her room-mate was genuinely alarmed. + +“Was it fierce, dear?” asked Lizzy anxiously. + +Lois roused herself from her thoughts with an effort. + +“Was what fierce?” she asked. + +“The fight you had with his nibs?” + +At first Lois did not comprehend what the girl was talking about. + +“Oh, you mean Mr. Dorn? No, it wasn’t fierce at all. It was a +very--mild encounter.” + +“Did you tell him about his nerve?” asked Lizzy. + +“He seemed to know all about that!” said Lois with a smile. + +“I’ll bet he was upset and asked for mercy. Did he go on his knees?” + +She was anxious for details, but Lois shook her head. + +“Nothing sensational happened. He was a little bit penitent, but only +a little bit. I am scared.” + +“Scared?” said Lizzy indignantly. “What have you got to be scared +about? I’ll go and see him.” + +“No, you’ll do nothing of the kind. He’s not likely to worry us +again,” said Lois Reddle hastily. + +“But what happened? Didn’t you ask him what he meant by it?” said her +disappointed friend. + +“Yes, I asked him something of the sort.” Lois was anxious to get off +the subject, but Lizzy was insistent. + +“Of course, if you were properly engaged and you were ill, and you’d +had a tiff, it would have been all right his coming,” she began. + +“We aren’t engaged, properly or improperly, and I am in disgustingly +good health, and we haven’t had a tiff, so it _wasn’t_ all right. +He’ll not trouble us again, Lizzy.” + +“I’ve been trying all morning to get a word with you,” said the +disgruntled typist, “but you’ve been going about all blah and woozy, +and naturally I thought you’d been raising hell--if you’ll excuse the +unladylike expression--and that there had been an awful scene, but I +did think you’d tell me when we came out to grub.” + +But Lois was adamantine, and the meal passed in what was to Lizzy a +wholly unsatisfactory discussion of her friend’s plans. + +The one happy result of the morning’s interview was that, neither that +day nor the next, did she so much as catch a glimpse of Michael Dorn +and his long black car. But, as the days passed, this relief was not +as pleasant as she had anticipated, and on the Saturday afternoon she +found herself wishing that she had an excuse for meeting him. + +What did he know about her mother? Had he known all the time, and was +that the reason he was taking so great an interest in her? That he +could have been associated, even remotely, with the case was +impossible. His age, she guessed, was in the neighbourhood of thirty; +possibly he was younger; and he must have been a child when Mary +Pinder stood her trial. + +Lois remembered with a start that her own name must be Pinder, though +the question of names did not matter very much. + +On the Monday morning she packed her two boxes, and, with Lizzy’s +assistance, carried them down into the street to the waiting cab. +Lizzy was inclined to be tearful. Old Mr. Mackenzie, in his black +velvet coat, hovered anxiously in the background, though he did not +emerge from the house which had been his voluntary prison for +twenty-five years. + +“What’s he shoving his nose in for?” demanded Lizzy viciously. “I’ll +bet he’ll play ‘The Girl I Left Behind Me’ when you drive away!” + +But it was to no such accompaniment that Lois left her old lodgings, +and she came to the chaste atmosphere of Chester Square without any of +the mishaps which Lizzy had so gloomily prophesied. The door was +opened by a liveried footman, and she was apparently expected, for he +led her up the broad, carpeted stairs to a wide and lofty room looking +out on to the square. + +Lady Moron was sitting at her small writing-table when the girl was +announced, and rose magnificently to meet her. She was arrayed in a +bright emerald velvet gown, which no other woman could have worn. On +her ample bosom sparkled and flashed a great diamond plaque which was +suspended from her neck by a chain of pearls. Her face was powdered +dead white, against which her jet-black eyebrows seemed startlingly +prominent. Lois noticed, now that she had time to inspect her new +employer, that, though the blackness of her hair was natural, both +eyebrows and eyelashes had been treated, and the scarlet lips were +patently doctored. + +“The maid will show you your room, Miss Reddle,” said the Countess in +her deliberate way. “I hope you will be happy with us. We are +extremely unpretentious people, and you will not be called upon to +perform any duties that would be repugnant to a lady.” + +Lois inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment of this promise, and +a few minutes later was viewing her new bedroom with pleasant +surprise. It was a big room at the top of the house, overlooking the +square. There was here everything for comfort, and, for some reason +which she could not define, she compared the furnishings of those she +had seen of Mr. Michael Dorn’s and decided that they were in the same +category of luxury. + +She changed and came down to the drawing-room, which was also, she +learnt, Lady Moron’s “work-room.” She opened the door and stopped. Two +men were there; the first of these she recognised as the weak-kneed +holder of the title. The second man was shorter and more sturdily +built. His fleshy red face was eloquent of his love of good living, +and when he smiled, as he did frequently, he showed two lines of large +white teeth, that in some manner reminded the girl of a tiger’s, +though there was certainly nothing tigerish about this gentleman, with +his plump body and his curly red hair that ran back from a rather high +forehead. + +“Let me introduce Mr. Chesney Praye,” said her ladyship, and Lois +found her hand engulfed in a large moist palm. + +“Glad to meet you, Miss Reddle.” His voice was pleasantly husky. His +keen eyes looked at her with undisguised admiration. + +“You know Lord Moron?” + +His lordship nodded and muttered something indistinguishable. + +“Miss Reddle is my new secretary,” said her ladyship. She pronounced +the four syllables of the word as though they were separated. “You may +see a great deal of her, Chesney--Mr. Praye is my financial adviser.” + +He certainly did not look like one who could offer any other advice +than on the correct cut of a morning coat or the set of a cravat. He +himself was perfectly dressed. Lois had often read the phrase +“well-groomed” and now for the first time realised all that it +signified, for Mr. Chesney Praye looked as though he had come from the +hands of an ardent, hissing hostler, who had brushed and smoothed him +until he was speckless and shining. + +“A pretty nice pitch for you, this, Miss Reddle,” said Praye. “If you +don’t get on with her ladyship, I’m a Dutchman! Ever been on the +stage?” + +“No, I haven’t,” she said, with a faint smile, as she recalled old +Mackenzie’s warning. + +“A pity. You ought to have done well on the stage,” he prattled on. +“You’ve got the style and the figure and the voice and all that sort +of thing. I’ve played for a few years in comedy--it’s a dog’s life for +a man and not much better for a woman.” + +He laughed uproariously, as though at some secret joke, and Lois was +surprised that the majestic countess did not chide him for the free +and easy attitude which seemed hardly compatible with that of a +trusted financial adviser. + +“I’d like to go on the stage.” + +It was the silent Lord Moron, and his tone had a note of sulkiness +which was surprising. It was as though he were a small boy asking for +something which had already been refused. + +The countess turned her dark, unfriendly eyes upon her son. “You will +never go on the stage, Selwyn,” she said firmly. “Please get that +nonsense out of your head.” + +Lord Moron played with his watch-guard, and moved his feet +uncomfortably. He was, she judged, between thirty and forty years of +age, and she guessed he was not married, and had more than a suspicion +that he was mentally deficient. She was to learn later that he was a +weakling, entirely under the domination of his mother, a quiet and +harmless man with simple, almost childish, tastes. + +“Not for you, my boy,” said Mr. Chesney Praye, as he slapped the other +on the shoulder, and Lord Moron winced at the vigour of this form of +encouragement. “There is plenty of occupation for you, eh, countess?” + +She did not answer him. She was standing by the long French windows +looking down into the square, and now she turned and, fixing a pair of +horn-rimmed lorgnettes, lifted them to her eyes. + +“Who is that man?” she asked. + +Chesney Praye looked past her, and Lois, who was watching at the time, +saw his mouth twitch and the geniality fade from his face. + +“Damn him!” he said under his breath, and the countess turned slowly +and surveyed him with a stare. + +“Who is he?” she asked. + +“He’s the cleverest ‘busy’ in London--that’s who he is. Detective, I +mean. I’d give a thousand for the privilege of going to his funeral. +He’s got a grudge against me----” + +He stopped, as though he realised he was saying too much. Lois looked +over his shoulder at the man in the street. He was walking slowly on +the opposite pavement. + +It was Michael Dorn! + + + + + Chapter Nine + +Lady Moron was talking. + +“A detective? Really, I don’t see why you should be worried about +detectives, Chesney. You are not, I hope, a member of the criminal +classes?” + +“Of course I’m not,” he said brusquely, almost rudely, “but I loathe +this fellow. His name’s Dorn--Michael Dorn. He is the only private +detective in England who is worth twopence. They call him into +Scotland Yard for consultations; they think so much of him. He was the +fellow that organised the raid on the Limbo Club, and he tried to get +a conviction against me for being one of the proprietors, which of +course I wasn’t.” + +Michael Dorn had passed out of sight now, and the girl was thankful +that their interest had been so concentrated upon his hateful presence +that they had not noticed her; otherwise she must have betrayed her +knowledge of the man. + +A detective! At this moment Mr. Chesney Praye was amplifying his +description. + +“That fellow’s got the nerve of the devil,” he said, unconsciously +echoing Elizabetta Smith. “He is utterly unscrupulous, and would +‘shop’ his own maiden aunt to get a conviction. He used to be a Deputy +Commissioner of Police in India, but resigned to take up the case of +an African millionaire who lost some documents and paid him a fortune +for recovering them--at least, that’s the yarn I’ve heard.” + +What did “shop” mean, she wondered, and guessed that it was synonymous +with “betray.” And what sort of a man was this Mr. Chesney Praye that +he could use these cant terms in the face of his noble employer? She +had heard of men and women who occupied so well-established a position +in the households of the great that they could grow familiar with the +people they were paid to respect, and she supposed this was one such. + +It was left to Lord Moron to protest. + +“Don’t like ‘shop,’ old thing,” he quavered. “Sort of a low-down term +to use before a young lady--what?” + +Again those menacing eyes of his mother cowed him. + +“It does not shock me, Selwyn, and I have no reason to suppose that my +secretary will be shocked either.” + +He wilted under the glance, muttered something incoherent and stole +guiltily out of the room. Lois would gladly have followed, but there +was no excuse. Instead, it was Mr. Chesney Praye who was dismissed. + +“You must run along now, Chesney,” said the countess. “I want to have +a little talk with Miss Reddle.” + +Chesney, with his ever-ready grin, took a somewhat elaborate farewell +of his hostess, bending to kiss her plump white hand that was so +covered with jewels that Lois wondered whimsically whether he would +cut his lip. + +“You, young lady, I hope to meet again,” he said briskly, as he shook +hands with unnecessary warmth, his bright eyes never leaving hers. “I +might take her around a bit, don’t you think, countess? Is she from +the country?” + +“Miss Reddle has lived for some years in town,” said Lady Moron, and +the reproof in her voice would have chilled most persons, but Chesney +Praye was not the kind to be snubbed. + +“Anyway, she hasn’t seen the sights I shall probably show her. Perhaps +her ladyship will let you come and dine one night at the club. Do you +dance?” + +“If I’m allowed to choose my own partners, I dance rather well,” said +Lois. + +“Then you shall choose me,” said the thick-skinned young man, “for I’m +a dandy hopper!” + +It was some time after they were left alone before Lady Moron spoke. +She stood, surveying the square below, her hands behind her, and Lois +thought her ladyship must have forgotten that she was present, until +the countess spoke, without turning her head. + +“There will be nothing for you to do to-day. I’ve answered all my +letters. We lunch at one-thirty, and you, of course, will invariably +be at our table except when we have visitors. Dinner is at eight +o’clock. You will be allowed to go out every other afternoon from five +to ten, and such weekends as I am in the country will be your own. +Thank you very much, Miss Reddle,” and with this dismissal Lois went +directly up to her room, wondering how she would fill in her spare +time between meals. + +When Chesney Praye left the house in Chester Square he looked left and +right, and presently saw what he sought. An idle man, standing at the +corner of the street, his back towards the red-faced young man. +Hesitating only a moment, he turned resolutely towards the seemingly +unconscious Michael Dorn. + +“Look here, Dorn!” + +Dorn turned round slowly. + +“Good morning, Mr. Praye,” he said, with a lift of his eyebrows, as +though the man who confronted him was the last person in the world he +expected to meet in that place at that time. + +“What’s your idea in tailing me?” + +Michael Dorn’s eyebrows met in seeming perplexity. + +“‘Tailing’? Oh, you mean following you, I suppose? I haven’t quite got +used to the argot of the London underworld. In India we call it----” + +“Never mind what you call it in India,” said the other roughly. +“What’s the great idea?” + +Dorn looked at him with a thoughtful expression. + +“Are you under the impression that I’m tailing you?” + +“I’m not only under that impression--I know,” said the other, his face +growing darker. “I spotted you this morning when I came out of my +rooms in St. James’ Street, and thought you were there by accident. +And one of your bloodhounds has been up to the Limbo Club, pumping the +waiters. What’s the general scheme?” + +“Curiosity,” murmured the other, “just idle curiosity. I’m thinking of +writing a book on the bizarre criminal, and naturally you’d have a few +pages all to yourself.” + +Chesney Praye’s eyes were veritable slits as he tapped the other +gently on the waistcoat. + +“I’m going to give you a tip, Dorn,” he said. “Keep your finger out of +my pie, or you’re going to get it burnt!” + +“One good tip deserves another,” said Dorn. “And mine is, keep your +finger off my waistcoat or you’ll be severely kicked!” + +He said it in the most pleasant manner, but the furious man knew that +he meant every word, and dropped his hand. Before he could master his +wrath, Dorn went on: + +“You’ve got a good job, Praye--don’t lose it. I understand that you’re +financial adviser to a very noble lady--unprepossessing, but noble. +If, by chance, I hear you’re advising her to put money in some of your +wildcat schemes, or advising her to finance some of the little +gambling houses which you have found so profitable in the past, I +shall be coming right along after you with a real policeman.” + +“You damned amateur!” spluttered the other. + +“You have found the chink in my armour.” Dorn was coolness itself, and +the shadow of laughter gleamed in his fine eyes. “I hate being called +‘amateur’! I have warned you.” + +“You’re not in India now----” began Chesney, and recognised his +mistake too late. + +“I am not in India now, nor are you,” Dorn’s voice was gentle, almost +silken. “Seven years ago I was in India--in Delhi--and there was a +certain smart young Government official, also a financial adviser to +some heads of departments, whose accounts went a little wonky. He was +some twenty thousand pounds short. The money was never discovered. It +was generally thought that the financial authority was more of a fool +than a rogue, and, although he was dismissed from the public service, +he was not prosecuted.” + +Chesney Praye licked his dry lips. + +“I, for my part, advised his prosecution,” Dorn went on. “In fact, I +knew that the money was lying at a bank in Bombay, in the name of a +lady friend. The Simla big-wigs were so scared of a scandal that the +thief”--he paused and watched the other wince--“this thief was allowed +to transfer his ill-gotten gains to Europe. And lo! I meet him again +in the rôle of financial adviser!” + +Chesney found his voice. + +“There’s a law of libel in this country,” he said. + +“There are several other laws, including the very excellent criminal +law,” said Dorn. “And the statute of limitations does not apply to +felonies. One loud squeal in an irresponsible newspaper, and they’d +have to pinch you, whether the Government liked it or not.” + +Chesney Praye looked first one way and then the other, and presently +his eyes caught the detective’s. He was paler than he had been. + +“I didn’t associate you with that business,” he said. “I knew I had an +enemy somewhere in the background. It was you, was it?” + +Dorn nodded. + +“It was I--by the way, where is your dissolute friend, Dr. Tappatt, +located? I thought he must have drunk himself to death, but I hear +that he is in London--you introduced him to the countess a year ago. +Did you tell her about his queer record? Or is he now her medical +adviser? Or is he running one of the famous unregistered homes for +mental cases? That man will hang sooner or later.” + +Praye did not reply. His face was working nervously; for a second he +had a mad impulse to strike at his tormentor, but thought better of +it. It was in a calmer voice that he said: + +“I don’t see why we should quarrel over what is past. You’re wrong +when you think I made money out of that Delhi business, and I haven’t +seen Tappatt for months. But I know I can’t convince you. Let’s bury +the hatchet.” + +Michael Dorn looked down at the extended hand, but made no effort to +take it. + +“If I bury any hatchet with you, Praye,” he said, “it will only put me +to the expense of buying a new one. You go your way and let your way +be as straight as possible. If you run foul of me, I’m going to hurt +you, and I assure you I shall hurt you bad!” + +He saw the flaming hate in the man’s eyes, and his own gaze did not +waver. Suddenly Praye turned on his heels and walked away. + +The detective waited until the man was out of sight, then strolled +along the side-street, passed up the mews at the back of Chester +Gardens, and made a careful examination of the back premises of No. +307. The stables and garages on the other side of the mews interested +him considerably, and it was some time before he was clear of the +mews, and met the silent little man whom he had sent out on an errand +the morning Lois Reddle had visited his flat. + +“Wills, there’s a garage to let in this mews. I have an idea that it +belongs to her ladyship--her own cars are at the Belgrave Garage. Go +along and see the agents, tell them you wish to rent the place and get +the keys--to-night if possible--to-morrow certain.” + +He handed a note he had made of the agent’s address to the other, and +without a word the silent Wills strolled away. He never asked +questions--which, to Michael Dorn, was his chief charm. + +Michael came into Chester Square from the opposite end. He saw Lady +Moron’s big Rolls standing at the doorway, and presently had the +felicity of seeing her ladyship, accompanied by her son, enter the car +and drive away. She was going shopping and would come back to lunch, +he thought, and loafed along the side-walk, slackening his pace as he +came opposite the house. There was no sign of the girl, but Michael +Dorn was a very patient man. It was not Lois whom he expected or +wished to see. The man for whom he was waiting came out ten minutes +after Lady Moron’s car had turned from Chester Square. He was a tall, +broad-shouldered man with a somewhat unpleasant face, whom Michael +knew to be Lady Moron’s butler. Him he followed at a distance, and +this time Michael made a very profitable trail. + + + + + Chapter Ten + +The Countess of Moron, Lois discovered, had one amiable weakness; it +was for jigsaw puzzles, which were made especially for her--pictures +in greys and blues and elusive shades which would have driven an +ordinary puzzle expert to despair. They were cut in tiny pieces, and +her ladyship would spend hours before the big table in the library, +putting them together. This she confessed at luncheon, and it was the +first time that Lois had seen the human side of her employer. In the +main the conversation was confined to the two women, Lord Moron being +in the party, but not of it. When he spoke, as occasionally he did, +his mother either ignored him or answered him in monosyllables. And +apparently he was used to such treatment, which he did not seem to +resent. The only servant present throughout the meal was the butler, +Braime, for whom Lois conceived an instant dislike. He was a man with +a forbidding face, sparing of speech, and though he was polite enough, +there was something about his height and bulk which produced in the +girl a sensation of uneasiness. + +“You don’t like Braime, Miss Reddle?” asked the countess, when the man +was momentarily absent from the room. + +Lois marvelled at the intuition of her employer, and answered +laughingly: + +“I don’t know whether I like him or not.” + +“He is a very satisfactory person,” said the countess in her majestic +manner. “I like tall servants, and the fact that he is unpleasant +looking is an advantage. None of my callers will try to steal him. In +society one finds one’s best servants so frequently enticed away by +people who pretend they are one’s friends.” + +It was then that she told of her passion for jigsaw puzzles. + +“Braime is very helpful and quite clever at that sort of thing, and I +have frequently had to call on him for help.” + +“Have you had him long?” + +“Some six months. He was recommended to me by some people anxious to +reform criminals,” was the startling thing she added. + +Lois nearly jumped from her chair. + +“You mean that he has been in prison?” she asked, bewildered. + +Lady Moron inclined her head in a stately agreement. + +“Yes, I believe he has been in prison for some foolish +offence--stealing silver, I think. I have given him a new start, and +the man is grateful.” When the butler returned, Lois gave him a more +careful, if more furtive, scrutiny. Despite his powerful physique, he +moved with a gentle, almost feline tread and his big clumsy hands +manipulated the delicate china with a dexterity which was surprising. + +Partly to her amusement, but more to her embarrassment, Lois found +that a maid had been allocated to her--a fresh-faced country girl who +had been recruited from her ladyship’s own village in Berkshire. For +the Earls of Moron were wealthy landowners, and Moron House, near +Newbury, was one of the show places of the county. + +The maid had all the loquacity of her kind, and Lois had not been very +long in her room before she learnt that her distrust of the butler was +generally felt throughout the servants’ quarters. + +“He’s always prying and spying, miss,” said the maid. “He’s just like +a great cat, the way he walks; you can’t hear him until he’s behind +you. And us servants are not good enough for him. He has all his meals +in his pantry, and whenever we get a new servant here he watches her +as if she was a mouse. I wonder her ladyship stands such an ugly, +bad-tempered man about the house.” + +“Is he very bad-tempered?” asked Lois. + +“Well,” admitted the girl with reluctance, “I can’t exactly say that. +But he looks bad-tempered,” she said triumphantly, “and you can always +judge a man on his looks. Her ladyship took a lot of trouble about +you, miss.” + +“About me?” said Lois in surprise. + +The girl nodded. + +“She had these chairs put in for you and chose your bed, and--hullo, +what’s this? Is this yours, miss?” + +She had pulled open the empty drawer of a bureau, and now she held in +her hand a large cabinet photograph. Lois took it from her; it was the +picture of a young man; she judged him to be in the early twenties. He +was singularly good-looking, and there was about the face something +that was vaguely familiar. + +“I don’t know how that got there,” said the chattering girl. “I +cleared these drawers out myself yesterday. Her ladyship must have +brought it up and left it.” + +Lois saw, though it was only a bust photograph, that the young man +wore the uniform of a Highland regiment, and she tried to recall the +badge. As a child she had been interested in regimental insignia. + +“He’s good-looking, isn’t he, miss?” + +“Very good-looking,” said the girl. “I wonder who he is?” + +“We’ve got lots of photographs in the house and nobody knows who they +are. Her ladyship collects them,” said the girl. + +“I will take it down to Lady Moron,” said Lois. + +She found the countess sitting with her head in her hands before a +half-completed puzzle picture. + +“Where was that? In your room?” + +Lady Moron took the photograph from her hand, looked at it +disparagingly and dropped it into a table drawer. + +“He was a boy I knew some many years ago,” she said, and did not +trouble to discuss how the photograph had appeared in Lois’ room. + +Lois went back to her own room. It was a sunny afternoon and rather +warm. The long windows were open and one of these led on to a small +stone balcony, one of the many which ornamented the front of the +house. Across the window opening, however, was a light wooden gate +which barred access to the inviting place. + +“We’re not allowed to go out on the balconies in the daytime,” said +the girl. “Her ladyship is very particular about that.” + +“Does that apply to me?” + +“Oh yes, miss,” said the girl. “Her ladyship doesn’t go out on to her +own balcony, except in the evenings. Nobody is allowed out by day.” + +Lois was wondering what induced the eccentric countess to prohibit a +very pleasant lounging place during the day. + +The afternoon post brought a number of letters, which, contrary to +Lady Moron’s express principles, had to be answered that afternoon, +and she was busy until an hour before dinner. And then the stately +lady made a suggestion for which the girl was very grateful. + +“If you have any girl friend you would like to ask to tea you may--any +afternoon I am out. To-morrow will be a free evening for you. I shall +be going out to dinner.” + +That night, before she retired to her comfortable bed, she wrote a +long letter to Lizzy Smith and posted it herself, and Lizzy’s reply +was characteristically prompt. Lois was eating a solitary breakfast +the next morning when a footman came in to say that she was wanted on +the telephone. It was Lizzy. + +“That you, kid? I’ll be coming along to-night. Are you sending the +car, or am I taking the old No. 14? Don’t dress for me; I’m a plain +woman without any side.” + +“Don’t be silly, Lizzy. I shall be all alone and expecting you.” + +“What sort of a crib is it?” asked Lizzy. + +“Very nice, very nice, indeed,” said Lois, but without any enthusiasm. +“Only there isn’t enough work to do.” + +“‘Only’ is not the word you want, it’s ‘and,’” said Lizzy. “What is +coming over you, Lois? Find me a job without work--here’s old +Rattlebones!”--the latter in a lower tone told Lois that the girl was +telephoning from the office and that the managing clerk had arrived. + +Lady Moron and her son had gone out to dinner and a theatre party, and +Lois was alone when the girl came. + +“This is certainly great,” said Lizzy in a slow tone, as she looked +round the resplendent dining-room. “That big chap’s the butler, I +suppose? I can’t say that I like his face, but he can’t help that. How +many courses do you have?” she asked, after the third course. “My +doctor says I mustn’t take more than six.” + +Following dinner the two girls went up to Lois’ room and Lizzy sat +down to stare and admire. + +“I always thought these sort of jobs didn’t exist outside of good +books,” she said. “I mean the books they give you for Sunday School +prizes. You’ve certainly rung the bell this time, Lois!” + +“It seems too good to be true, doesn’t it?” laughed Lois. + +“You haven’t seen _him_, I suppose?” + +“You mean Mr. Dorn? Yes, I saw him this morning. He was walking up and +down Chester Square. And Lizzy, he’s a detective.” + +Lizzy’s eyes lit up. + +“A real detective?” she said, in an awestricken tone. “And I thought +he was the other way about--that he was one of the people detectives +catch. What did he say, Lois?” + +The girl shook her head. + +“I didn’t speak to him. I only saw him through the window. Lizzy, I’m +so worried and puzzled about it all--and he’s such a queer man! The +things he _could_ have said when I collided with his car!” + +“I don’t know why you need be worried,” said the philosophical Lizzy. +“Even detectives have their feelings. There was one married the other +day--I saw a bit in the paper about it. And some of them are quite +respectable men.” She looked up suddenly. + +“What is it?” asked Lois. + +“I thought I heard footsteps outside the door.” + +Lois walked to the door and threw it open. The corridor was empty. + +“What made you think there was somebody there?” + +Lizzy shook her head. + +“I don’t know,” she said vaguely, “only I’ve got sharp ears, and if +they weren’t slippers moving on a carpet, I’ve never heard ’em!” + +Lois closed the door and sat down on the bed. + +“Lizzy, I’m going to tell you something,” she said, and the interest +of Miss Elizabetta Smith quickened. + +“Ah!” she said, drawing a long breath. “I knew you’d tell me sooner or +later. But, my dear, it won’t be any news to me. He is one of the +nicest men I’ve ever met----” + +“What on earth are you talking about?” demanded Lois, aghast. “Are you +thinking of that wretched Mr. Dorn?” + +“Well, what else have you got to tell me?” demanded Lizzy indignantly; +and Lois, in spite of the seriousness of the subject she was about to +broach, fell into an uncontrollable fit of silent laughter. + +“My dear, I can’t tell you now, not--not in this mood,” said Lois. +“You poor little matchmaker! Mr. Dorn is probably married, with a +large family. We won’t talk about him either.” Then, as a thought +struck her: “Would you like to see this wicked city by night, with all +its lights? I’ll show you.” She walked to the French windows and +opened them. “This little balcony is forbidden territory by day, but +it is rather wonderful now, isn’t it?” + +She stepped out on to the balcony and, walking to the balustrade, +rested her hand upon the broad parapet, looking down into the street, +which seemed a terribly long way below. And even as she did so, she +felt the balcony sag slowly beneath her. + +She turned in a fright and leapt towards the window; but at that +minute there was a loud crack, and the stone floor dropped suddenly +beneath her. + + + + + Chapter Eleven + +As she fell, Lois clutched wildly, and her fingers caught a +projecting ridge of stone an inch wide; the jerk nearly pulled her +arms from their sockets, but for the moment she hung. + +She heard the frightened scream of Lizzy. + +“Are you there? Oh, for God’s sake hold on, Lois! I’ll get them!” + +And then, looking up, she saw the girl jerked violently backwards. She +was falling; she could not hold on a second longer. There was a +terrible, unendurable pain in her shoulders and her head was swimming. + +And then, just as her fingers were slipping, a big hand grasped her +wrist, and she felt herself drawn upwards until another hand caught +her under the arm and pulled her into the room. She looked up into the +unpleasant face of Braime, the butler. + +He laid her on the bed, then, going to the window, knelt and peered +down. The crash of falling masonry had attracted one of those small +crowds which gather from nowhere at any hour of the day or night in +London. Braime saw a policeman running across the street, and, rising, +dusted his knees carefully, closed the window door and latched it. He +said not a word to the girl, but went out of the room. + +Lois, on the very verge of collapse, lay white of face, as pale as +death. But her distress was as nothing to Lizzy Smith’s, who was +paralysed by all the tragic happening, until the girl’s moan aroused +her to action. + +Lois came from semi-consciousness to a clearer understanding, with a +sense that she had been drowned, then, as out of a haze, loomed the +white-faced Lizzy with a water-jug in her hand. + +“That was a close call!” breathed the girl. + +Something in the words was reminiscent; Lois had heard them before. +Then in a flash she remembered the motor-car which had nearly killed +her and Michael Dorn’s words. She struggled up to a sitting position +and found that the sensation of drowning was not altogether illusory, +for Lizzy had been very lavish in her use of the water-jug. + +She had hardly got to her feet when there was a tap at the door and +the butler came in, followed by a policeman. + +“The officer wishes to see the balcony,” said Braime, and opened the +door for the policeman’s inspection. + +With the aid of his lamp the officer made a cursory examination and +brought his head back into the room. He looked strangely at Lois. + +“You’ll never get nearer to trouble than that, miss,” he said. +“There’s an old crack in the slab that you trod on, and the balustrade +doesn’t support the flooring at all. I’d like to see some of the other +balconies,” he said, and disappeared with the butler. + +This was the second accident in a few days; her spine crept at the +thought. What malign influence was following her? For the first time +she wished she was returning to her humble little room in Charlotte +Street, and she said good-bye to Lizzy with real reluctance. + +The countess arrived home soon after the girl had gone, and came +immediately up to Lois’ room as she was undressing. + +“I knew that balcony was unsafe,” she said, “and I told that fool of a +butler to keep the gate fixed. Where is the gate?” + +“It was here this afternoon; I did not notice it before I went down to +dinner, Lady Moron,” said Lois. “I thought it had been moved to allow +the windows to be closed.” + +The countess bit her red lip thoughtfully. + +“There is more in this than I care to think about,” she said. “I hope +you’re not going to have a sleepless night, Miss Reddle. I cannot tell +you how distressed I am. How were you saved?” + +Lois told her and Lady Moron nodded. + +“Braime?” she said. “But what was he doing on the third floor at that +time?” + +She looked searchingly at the girl and then, without another word, +went to her own room. + +It was two o’clock in the morning before sleep came to Lois; and by +that time her nerves were on edge, so that she started at every sound. +Something was keeping her awake--something she was trying to remember. +Some thought was working insistently at the back of her mind, +demanding revelation. As she tossed from side to side, consciousness +of this inhibited memory made her grow wider and wider awake. And +then, as she came back to bed, after the second tramp to the washstand +for a glass of water, it flashed upon her. + +“Keep your door locked--even in the palatial home of the Countess of +Moron!” + +Michael Dorn’s warning! It was that. She went to the door and felt for +the key. But there was none, nor was there any bolt. Turning on the +light, she lifted one of the smaller arm-chairs, carried it to the +door, and pushed the back beneath the handle. Then she went back to +bed and was asleep in a few seconds. + +She awoke the next morning to find the sun streaming past the edge of +the blind. There was a gentle tap-tapping at the door. She jumped out +of bed and pulled away the chair to admit the maid. + +“Good morning, miss,” said the maid cheerfully, and was inclined to +discuss the accident of the night before, but that Lois was most +anxious to forget. + +“Her ladyship’s very much upset. She hasn’t had any sleep all night, +miss,” said Jean. “She asked me if I’d warned you about the balcony. +Of course I told her I did, but only in the daytime--I didn’t know it +was unsafe. I’ve only been here a fortnight. Her ladyship was in the +country until then.” + +She drew the blinds, and, crossing to the window, Lois looked out. The +jagged edge of the broken balcony was there to remind her of her +narrow escape and she shuddered as she recalled that dreadful moment +when she had hung in space. + +“It was the butler’s fault,” said Jean maliciously. “I shouldn’t be +surprised if he got the sack.” + +“If it hadn’t been for the butler I should have been killed.” + +“If it hadn’t been for the butler, miss, you wouldn’t have been in +danger,” said the girl, and there seemed some truth in her remark. +“Her ladyship told me to move you to-day to his lordship’s room on the +floor below.” + +“But surely she’s not turning out Lord Moron?” asked Lois, aghast. + +Apparently the household staff entertained towards his lordship +something of the contempt which his mother displayed, in public and +private. + +“Oh, him!” said the girl with a shrug. “He doesn’t mind where he +sleeps. He’d be just as happy in the garret. All he wants to do is to +go on the stage and play with his silly old electricity! I wonder her +ladyship allows him to go on in that childish way.” + +So the Earl of Moron’s queer desire was public property, thought Lois. +Apart from the shock of the news that he was being turned out of his +apartment to make room for a secretary, Lois was not sorry that new +accommodation was to be offered to her, and her pleasure was +intensified after her interview with the countess. + +Her ladyship, who had a predilection for strong colours, wore a gown +of petunia that morning. Lois thought it made her look old. She made +no reference to the accident, and for the first hour after breakfast +they were engaged in letter-writing. Lady Moron had many +correspondents, and there was the usual sprinkling of begging letters +which had to be dealt with in the usual way. When Lois had finished +her work and brought the last letter for her employer’s signature, the +countess looked up. + +“You are not suffering any ill effects from last night’s terrible +experience?” she asked. + +“No,” smiled Lois. + +“I have told the maid to move you into Selwyn’s room. As a matter of +fact, it is never used by him; he prefers his little study at the top +of the house and sleeps there nine nights out of ten. You are not +worried about what happened?” + +Lois shook her head. + +“Or nervous?” + +The girl hesitated. + +“I was a little nervous last night.” + +“I thought you would be, and I have been considering what would be my +best course to induce you to stay. I like you. And there is another +reason; I want a woman in the house to whom I can talk +confidentially.” She turned in her swivelled chair and looked up into +Lois’ face. “I don’t want to be alone,” she said. “I am rather +frightened of being alone.” + +“Frightened, Lady Moron?” + +Her ladyship nodded. There was certainly nothing in her voice to +indicate her fear. She picked and chose her words with characteristic +care. “I can’t explain why, but I am frightened--of certain people. If +you care to remain with me, I will raise your salary, and I am quite +willing that your friend should sleep in the house.” + +“My friend?” asked the surprised Lois. “Do you mean Miss Smith?” + +Again the countess nodded, her dark eyes never leaving the girl’s +face. + +Lois hesitated. + +“That might be very--very awkward for you,” she said. + +The countess waved a flashing hand. + +“I have considered the matter in all its aspects, and if it is +agreeable to you and your friend, I will have another bed put into +your room. Perhaps you would like to see Miss Smith and discover her +opinions on the subject? I will have the car ready for you in a +quarter of an hour.” + +Looking over the edge of the wire blinds, Lizzy Smith saw the +glistening limousine pull up at the door, and Lois alight, and, +defiant of all the rules of the establishment, she ran out of the +office and came half-way down the stairs to meet the visitor. + +In a few words Lois told her of Lady Moron’s proposal. + +“Gee whiz!” said Lizzy, flabbergasted. “You don’t mean that?” + +She gripped Lois by the arm and pulled her upstairs. “Come right along +to the ’phone!” she hissed, “and tell her royal highness that I’ll be +on the mat at six!” + + + + + Chapter Twelve + +Lois did not go into the office; she left her friend on the +threshold and went on to the appointment she sought. Leaving the car +in Parliament Street, she walked down Whitehall to the Home Office +building, and, filling in a blank, took her place in the waiting-room. + +There was very little possibility, she told herself that the august +Under-Secretary, with whom she craved an interview, would grant her +that privilege, in spite of the pressing nature of the note which she +had sent with the official form. She began to despair and was looking +round at the waiting-room clock for the tenth time, when a messenger +came for her. + +“Miss Reddle?” he asked. “Will you follow me?” + +Her heart beat a little faster as he knocked on an imposing door, and, +opening it, announced her name. An elderly man, who was sitting at the +far end of a big room, his back to an empty fireplace, an immense desk +before him, half rose from his chair. + +“Sit down, Miss Reddle,” he said, with official brusqueness. “I read +your note, and I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I had an important +conference here.” And then, without further preliminary: “You say that +Mrs. Pinder is your mother?” + +“Yes, sir, I am certain of that.” + +There was a big folder before him, and this he opened. + +“The case is familiar to me,” said the Under-Secretary. “As a matter +of fact, I was a junior engaged in the courts when she was tried, +though not in the case. I don’t know what I can do for you. Her +sentence has nearly expired, and if I were you I should wait until she +comes out before you take any further steps. There are certain other +people interested in the case, as you probably know, and that is the +advice I have given to them.” + +“But my mother was innocent,” said Lois, and he replied with an almost +imperceptible shrug of his shoulders. + +“Innocence has this much in common with guilt,” he said, “that after +twenty years it is very difficult to prove or disprove. I followed the +case very closely and it seemed to me that there were two essential +pieces of evidence, one of which might have proved her guilt beyond +doubt, and one her innocence. And these were not produced at the +trial.” + +“What were they?” asked Lois quickly. + +“The first was the key to the box in which the jewellery and the +cyanide were discovered. If that had been found in your mother’s +possession any doubt in my mind would have been removed. That was the +judge’s view also. The other is the letter the murdered woman--or +rather,” he said hastily, “the woman who was found dead--would have +written had it been a case of suicide. You know, of course, there was +a pen and ink on the table and a pad of paper, but no letter was +found. It was a new pad, purchased by the dead lady that morning, and +one sheet had been torn away. The view of the defence was that, +preparatory to committing suicide, she had written a letter, as people +do in such circumstances. However, it was not found, although a very +careful search was made.” + +And then, abruptly, he began to question her about herself, her life. +When she had told him the means by which she had identified herself +with Lois Margeritta, Mrs. Pinder’s daughter, he agreed. + +“I should think you were right there,” he said. + +“Even Mr. Dorn thinks I am right,” she said with a half-smile. + +“Dorn?” he said sharply. “You mean the Indian man, the police officer? +Do you know him?” + +“Not very well,” she said. + +Could he be amongst the “other people interested in the case”? She +dismissed the possibility as absurd. + +He looked at her keenly. + +“In what circumstances did you meet Dorn?” he asked, and Lois was very +frank. + +“Humph!” said the Under-Secretary. “Dorn isn’t that kind of man. I +mean, he wouldn’t go chasing round after a girl if there wasn’t +something else to it. He is a man of the highest integrity and +honour,” he said emphatically; and for some extraordinary reason she +was pleased to hear this tribute to the man who had so often annoyed +her. + +There was nothing more to be done, and when he rose to signify the end +of the interview and shook her hand, he put into words her own +thought. + +“When your mother comes out of prison she will be able to give you a +great deal more information than any of us possess. There is the +question of your father, for example, who disappeared for a week or +two before the crime and was never seen again. What happened to him? I +remember there was a half-hearted attempt on the part of the +prosecution to hold your mother responsible for his disappearance.” + +“How horrible!” said Lois indignantly. + +“Yes, I suppose it was horrible.” + +From the Under-Secretary’s tone it seemed to Lois that he did not +regard the matter quite in that light. + +“In criminal cases, my dear young lady, the prosecution have to +presume the most horrible things, and they’re usually right!” + +There was very little profit for the girl from this interview, but at +least she had the satisfaction of knowing that she had made a start. +Somehow she had never thought very much about her father and his +disappearance. That seemed so unimportant by the side of her mother’s +suffering. + +The letter and the key; these were two new points which she had never +considered or known about before. She went back to Chester Square with +a sense of accomplishment, and arrived in time to witness perhaps the +strangest incident that mortal eye had seen. + +As she opened the door of the drawing-room, she heard a shrill voice +raised in anger, recognised it as Lord Moron’s, and would have drawn +back, only her ladyship, who had seen her, called her into the room. + +Moron was beside himself with rage. His sallow cheeks were pale, and, +as he spluttered his annoyance, he stamped his foot in childish anger. + +“I refuse, I absolutely refuse!” he almost screamed. “I appeal to Miss +What’s-er-name. I appeal to you, miss. Is it right that a man in my +position should do what any wretched boozing doctor tells him to do? +Don’t think that I’m afraid of this horrible creature, because I’m +not! I know the law, by gad!” + +“Braime simply carried out his instructions,” said the countess in her +deep, booming voice. + +She was standing near her writing-table, slowly sharpening a pencil +with a little knife, and did not look up from her task. + +“I don’t mind giving up my room for a young lady,” said the Earl +rapidly, “any gentleman would do the same. Besides, my study’s awfully +jolly. But if I want to go out alone, I’ll go out alone, and I won’t +have any beastly criminal butlers going with me--not if all the +beastly doctors in the world order it. I’ve stood enough, my dear +mother.” + +He shook a trembling finger at the woman, who, seemingly oblivious to +the scene, continued her pencil-sharpening. + +“I’ve stood enough. You may marry this wretched Chesney Praye, the +infernal blackguard! Ah, yes. I know all about that! I know a lot of +things you don’t imagine I know! You may use my money as you jolly +well please, you may----” + +Lois saw Lady Moron’s hand go up and touch her son’s face with a +caressing gesture. + +“You’re a naughty boy,” she said, her thin lips curled in a smile. + +And then, with a scream of pain, the man stepped backwards and put up +his hand to his bleeding face. + +Lois could not believe the evidence of her eyes. Yet there it was--a +long, straight cut, and the little knife with which the woman was +sharpening her pencil showed a tiny red stain. + + + + + Chapter Thirteen + +“You’re a very naughty boy,” said the countess, intent again upon +her pencil-sharpening, “go back and play with your batteries!” and, +with a gasp of fear, the man turned and ran blindly from the room, his +face dabbled red. + +There was a dead silence, and then the countess looked up. + +“I suppose you think I’m very horrid? But Selwyn is difficult at +times--shockingly difficult, and shockingly sulky. I must impose my +will on him for his own good. And really, he isn’t hurt any more than +he would have been if his razor had slipped.” + +The cold-bloodedness of the thing left Lois breathless and shaken. She +could hardly believe that she was not dreaming horribly. + +“It was rather--drastic, wasn’t it?” she said, speaking with +difficulty. + +Again the dark eyes met hers. + +“Drastic? Yes. Dr. Tappatt wishes me to be even more drastic. Did you +speak to your friend?” + +“Yes,” said Lois, almost grateful to be lifted out of the scene. + +“And she will come? How dear of her! I told you I was afraid this +morning, Miss Reddle. I don’t suppose you guessed why, even after +Moron’s amazing exhibition of childish temper?” + +Lois did not guess and was wisely silent. Her ladyship made no further +reference to the scene. When Lord Moron came to lunch with his face +conspicuously plastered, his mother did no more at the end of the meal +than say: + +“Please don’t come to dinner like that, Selwyn. One would imagine you +had been in an earthquake.” + +To which he answered, with a meek: + +“Yes, madam.” + +The change of rooms had been effected, and Lois was now in what might +very well have been a small state apartment in one of the royal +palaces. The new bed had been erected, and as the hour approached for +Lizzy’s arrival, the uneasy qualms which Lois had been feeling all day +began to dissipate. Though she had given strict injunctions as to the +appearance her son should present at dinner, the countess herself +dined out. She sent for Lois before she left the house. + +“If you could amuse Selwyn, please do so. He is quite a good companion +if you can reduce your mentality to the level of his. Possibly your +friend will find him easier than you,” she added, and Lois would have +been amused if she were not a little shocked. + +Lizzy came promptly at six, bringing with her a battered black bag +containing what she described as her “court dress and coronation +robes” and the girl prepared her for a shock. + +“You’re dining to-night with the Earl of Moron,” she said, and Lizzy +collapsed into a chair. + +“I can’t and I won’t,” she said energetically. “I knew there was going +to be a catch in this!” + +Lois soothed her fears, and, though she did not wish to follow the +example of the servants and speak of his lordship in terms of +disparagement, she sufficiently reassured her friend that Lizzy +neither fainted nor flew when she was introduced to the vacuous, +young-old man. + +He was standing with his back to the empty fireplace in the +drawing-room, a cigarette drooping from his lips, when Lois ushered +her friend into his presence. He gave Lizzy a feeble handshake. + +“Awfully glad to meet you. Nice weather we’re having,” he said, and to +Lois: “Her ladyship’s gone, I suppose? That beastly bounder Praye +called for her.” + +Lois remembered the scene, of which she had been an unwilling witness, +and Mr. Chesney Praye’s attitude towards the countess, which seemed +inexplicable, was within her understanding. Chesney Praye was +something more than a financial adviser. Apparently he had advised the +lady in affairs of the heart only too well, though Lois found it +rather difficult to imagine the masterful countess in a tender mood. + +“Perfectly beastly bounder,” said his lordship with such energy that +she realised that the spirit of revolt was not wholly crushed. “That +wretched boozing doctor is bad, but Chesney Praye is worse! I call him +a bird of prey--that’s not bad, what? Chesney, the bird of prey!” + +He chuckled at his mild jest and visibly brightened under the +influence of his own humour. This was the second reference that had +been made to the mysterious doctor. Lois wondered if she would be +called upon to meet him. + +“Well, I’m glad she’s gone with her bird of prey. Let’s go along and +have some grub.” + +Lizzy’s jaw dropped at the sound of this familiar vulgarism; and that +moment probably marked the beginning of an interest in the aristocracy +which was fated to grow in intensity. + +It was one of the most cheerful dinners that Lois remembered, and +certainly for his lordship it was an hilarious feast, for he trotted +out his joke about “bird of prey” some half a dozen times, and on each +occasion with an increasing measure of amusement. + +“I didn’t see the joke at first,” said Lizzy, wiping her eyes. + +“His name’s Praye,” explained his lordship eagerly. “I call him the +bird of prey--rather good, what? Let’s play draughts. I’m rather a dab +at draughts.” + +It was an opportunity to learn to know him better and Lois very +skilfully drew him out. He had been to a public school--he thought it +was Harrow; in fact, he was pretty sure it was Harrow--for two years, +and then his mother had taken him away. He hated school life; it was +rough. Since then he had practically not left his mother. He thought +he was a member of one of the clubs, but he wasn’t quite sure which +one; at any rate, he had never been there. + +“You aren’t married?” asked Lois boldly. + +The question afforded him a tremendous amount of enjoyment. + +“Married--me? Good gracious, no! Who wants to marry a silly old johnny +like me? Oh dear, no! There was a girl who wanted to marry me, I +understand, when I was rather young, but her ladyship wouldn’t have +her at any price.” + +He had never occupied any responsible position. His mother managed his +estate with the aid of bailiffs and lawyers; from time to time +documents came to him for his signature; and he had been to the House +of Lords once to take his seat. + +“Never again--too silly,” he said. “They dress you up in red velvet +and put crowns and things on your head!” + +She discovered, to her surprise, that he had a hobby, and +incidentally, his mother’s sneering remarks about his “batteries” were +cleared up. He had a passion for electrical apparatus. His study, into +which the girl had not been invited, was a litter of model dynamos, +electric trains, and batteries. + +“I’ve done one of the neatest little jobs for her ladyship in the +library--ask her to show it to you.” His face went serious, “Perhaps +you’d better not,” he said hastily. + +Electrical work was not wholly an amusement to him. He claimed with +pride to have fixed all the bells in the house, and later the girl +learnt that this was true. + +Whatever terrors the peerage had for Lizzy were quickly dissipated; +towards the end of the evening she was hotly disputing the bona fides +of a piece which had mysteriously appeared on his side of the +chequer-board. + +“Never had such a perfectly jolly evening in all my young life,” said +his lordship. He had been glancing nervously at the clock for some +time. “Now I think I’ll toddle, before the madam comes.” + +He made one of his rapid exits, and the two girls came out into the +hall. Braime was standing by the front door, staring through the glass +panels into the street. + +“Good-night, miss,” he said respectfully, and then continued his +vigil. + +“I don’t like that man,” said Lizzy, when they got to their room. + +“Braime? I didn’t, but I owe him so much. If he had not been there +last night----” + +“How did he get there--that’s the question?” said Lizzy. “He must have +been in the room when the balcony fell, for almost at once I felt +somebody pulling me aside.” + +“What do you think of Lord Moron?” asked Lois, anxious to turn the +conversation to pleasanter channels. + +“He’s wonderful,” said Lizzy dreamily. “From what I heard about him I +thought he was dippy; but that boy’s got brains!” + +Lois was in bed, and Lizzy, who was too intensely interested in her +own views to be a quick-change artist, was in that condition of +deshabille which made her least presentable, when there came a frantic +tapping at the door. + +“Who is that?” asked Lois. + +“It’s me, young lady. Can I come in?” + +It was Lord Moron’s voice. + + + + + Chapter Fourteen + +“I’m afraid you can’t come in now. Is there anything you want?” + +“Yes, I forgot something,” said the agitated voice. + +“Can I get it for you?” asked Lois, now at the door. + +“No, I’m afraid you can’t, it’s--er----” + +His voice died down into a rumble of sound. Then! + +“Never mind. I don’t suppose--I say, don’t be alarmed or anything of +that sort--I mean, don’t mention to the madam anything that seems +remarkable, will you?” + +The girl shook her head in bewilderment. + +“I don’t know what you mean. Is there something I can get for you?” + +But he had evidently gone. Lizzy, who had a practical mind, suggested +that the articles he required were false teeth. + +“He’s got that kind of delicate mind that wouldn’t mention them to a +lady,” she said. + +But her companion did not accept that explanation. + +Lizzy, who was not affected by the stateliness of the surroundings, +was asleep almost as soon as she had finished talking. But Lois Reddle +had never been more wide awake in her life. She heard the clock strike +the quarter and the half and the hour. She turned from side to side +and counted sheep and furnished houses and followed all the +prescriptions for sleeplessness which had ever been offered. But at +half-past one she was alert and wakeful. She heard the whine of a car +as it stopped in front of the house. That was Lady Moron returning, +she guessed. + +The bed she occupied was a small four-poster. Perhaps it was this +unusual factor which kept her awake. She stared up in the dark at the +silken canopy above her head, wondering whether she would sleep more +comfortably upon the big settee at the foot of the bed. + +The deep breathing which came from Lizzy’s bed irritated her +unreasonably. She rose, touched the pillow, and turned over again, and +then---- + +“_Did she know the photograph?_” + +She sat up with a jerk. It was the voice of Chesney Praye and had come +from the canopy above her! + +It was as though somebody was lying on the top and speaking, for the +words were clear and distinct. It was the voice of the countess who +answered him. + +“No,” came the deep tones. “I put it in the drawer just before she +arrived.” + +A pause, and then presently he spoke again. + +“You took a risk.” + +She heard the deep laughter of Lady Moron. + +“I’ve taken a greater one to-night, I think, Chesney.” + +“My dear Leonora,” Chesney’s voice was pained, “surely you can trust +me?” + +“I have to,” the deliberate tone of her ladyship came down from the +canopy, “and I think you will be wise not to play the fool. Selwyn is +worrying me.” + +“Selwyn!” contemptuously. + +“Selwyn. He knows more than I gave him credit for. How did he know +that we were to be married? He came out with it in his rage to-day. +And how did he know that I’d been lending you money----” + +“Come into the dining-room.” + +There came the sound of a knock and then the voice of Braime spoke +very faintly. + +“I’ve set the table, my lady.” + +After that Lois heard no more. + +“Who was that? Was it somebody talking?” It was Lizzy who spoke. “Was +it you, Lois? I heard somebody say they’d lent money.” + +Lois was out of bed now, and had switched on the little lamp that +stood on the table by the bedside. She looked up fearfully at the +canopy. It had the heavy, respectable appearance which all such +articles of furnishing have. Lois had a wild idea that a door had been +left open, but the only door in the room was that which led to the +corridor and it was locked, as she knew. + +“What was it, Lois?” Lizzy was struggling into her dressing-gown. + +“I don’t know. I heard somebody speaking. It seemed to be in the +room.” + +“It came from the direction of your bed,” said Lizzy. “Lord! This is a +queer house. I don’t like it, Lois. I’d sooner have old Mackenzie and +his fiddle any day or any night.” + +Lois Reddle jumped on to the bed, lifted the table lamp and began an +examination of the valance above. Presently she uttered an +exclamation. In one corner, suspended by two wires, was a black, +bell-shaped piece of ebonite, which at first she thought was a +telephone receiver. Behind was a flat and circular box, and this was +wired to the canopy. + +“That is where the voice came from; it’s a loud-speaking telephone!” + +She found the wire; it was cunningly hidden along the valance, +descending one of the bed-posts, where it ran in a red flex to a +wall-plug. The mystery was a mystery no longer, and now she understood +the agitation of Lord Moron. She appreciated, too, his skill as an +electrical engineer. He had been spying on his mother, if such a term +applied to one who heard rather than saw. Somewhere in the house, +probably in the drawing-room, was a concealed microphone, and too late +that night he had remembered that he had not disconnected the +instrument. Lady Moron was puzzled as to how her son knew so much. +Lois could have told her. + +“What a bird!” said Lizzy admiringly. “Fixed it all up himself! The +boy’s got brains! What did you hear, Lois?” + +But the girl was not inclined to be communicative. She pulled out the +plug from the wall, sent her companion to bed, and followed her +example. + +Whose photograph was it that had been placed for her inspection? And +what risk had Lady Moron taken? She remembered the picture of the +handsome young officer who was “a boy I once knew” to her ladyship. +And what risk had the woman run in leaving that under her secretary’s +eyes. She got out of bed again and re-fixed the plug, feeling that she +was being guilty of a despicable act. But something was happening +which was so vital to her, that she could not afford to allow niceties +of conduct to weigh against her need. No sound came from the +microphone. But perhaps after supper they would return here. And, in +any event, the weariness and monotony of waiting might induce the +sleep which refused to come to her eyes. + +Three o’clock struck, half-past three, four and half-past, and the +chill of dawn began to show on the white blinds. Lois was not as far +from sleep as she had been, and she was beginning to doze when a faint +sound brought up her head from the pillow. + +Click, click! + +It was as though somebody was turning on the lights in the +drawing-room. She waited tensely for the next sound. Presently there +was an indistinguishable whisper, and then a voice spoke. Clearly the +words came to her. + +“Lois Reddle is very near to death!” + +She knew the voice, in her imagination could almost see the speaker. + +It was Michael Dorn. + + + + + Chapter Fifteen + +In a second she had recovered, and had leapt out of bed. Better the +known than the unknown. All fear had vanished; she would face Dorn and +have the truth. Snatching up her dressing-gown, she went to the door, +turned the key noiselessly and ran down the dark stairs. + +The drawing-room faced her as she came on to the landing, and she did +not hesitate, but flung open the door. The place was in darkness, and +reaching out, she felt for the light switches and turned them. The +room was empty; there was no sound save the musical ticking of a +French clock on the mantelpiece, no sign of Michael Dorn or of his +unknown companion. She gazed bewildered. Then she heard a noise behind +her and spun round. + +“What is it?” + +It was the countess, who slept on the same floor as the girl. + +“Turn on the landing lights,” said the woman calmly, and when she did +so, Lois saw the older woman standing on the landing above, wrapped in +a white ermine coat, as calm and imperturbable as ever. + +“I thought I heard voices and came down.” + +“In the drawing-room? Of course, it is under your bedroom!” + +Lady Moron descended the stairs without haste and walked into the +salon. + +“You must have been mistaken, there’s nobody here,” she said. “I’m +afraid your nerves are on edge. The opening of your door woke me. What +did the noise sound like? The windows are fastened. None of the +furniture has been moved.” + +“I heard somebody speaking,” said Lois. + +“Go to bed, my child.” + +Her large hand patted the girl gently on the shoulder, and Lois went +meekly up the stairs and into her room. + +She came down to breakfast the next morning feeling a wreck, and +Lizzy, warned by her friend, made no reference at the table to the +voices of the night. She saw the girl off and came back to the +dining-room. A footman was clearing the table under Braime’s watchful +eye. When the man had gone: + +“Her ladyship says you heard somebody speaking in the night, Miss +Reddle?” + +“I thought I did. Perhaps I was dreaming, or only imagined that I +heard her ladyship in my sleep.” + +“Lady Moron did not go into the drawing-room last night,” was the +surprising reply. + +Lois stared at the man, who went on: + +“Her ladyship went into the library, but you would not hear her from +your apartment.” + +The library! That was where the microphone was fixed, and all the time +she had been talking to Lady Moron on the landing Michael Dorn and his +assistant had been on the floor below. The library was situated on the +ground floor at the back of the house. She was thankful that she had +not found him whilst that watchful woman was hovering in the +background. + +“I thought I heard you come out of your room, miss,” Braime continued; +“in fact, I was on the point of coming downstairs when her ladyship +came up. By the way, her ladyship will not be down until one o’clock, +miss, she has two friends coming to lunch. She asked me if you would +deal with any letters which are not marked personal.” + +Lois was in the midst of this occupation when Lord Moron came into the +drawing-room, a nervous and apprehensive man. + +“’Morning, Miss Reddle,” he said, eyeing her keenly. “Well?” + +“Not very well, thank you!” smiled Lois. + +“Queer house this,” he mumbled. “All sorts of odd noises. These old +places are like that, you know. Nothing disturbed you, I suppose? +Nobody--er--talking in the street?” + +“No, nothing disturbed me,” she said untruthfully, and he heaved a +sigh of relief. + +“Awfully glad. You don’t mind my going into your room to get the +things I left behind, do you? I say, don’t mention this to her +ladyship, will you, because she thinks I’m a careless devil and she’ll +rag me most fearfully!” + +Lois promised, and he hurried from the room. When she went up to +prepare for luncheon, she examined the canopy and found, as she had +expected, that the microphone and its attachments had been removed. + +In other circumstances she might have been amused, but she was +conscious that a terrible danger was hovering over her, and in some +way that the menace was associated with the countess and her friend. + +“Lois Reddle is near to death!” She shivered at the recollection. + +Twice in a week she had escaped destruction by a hair’s breadth. Those +were not accidents; she was sure now. But who could desire her harm? +And what had the photograph of the young man in uniform to do with +her? + +On one point she was determined, and she had confided her intention to +Lizzy that morning whilst they were dressing, before they came down to +breakfast. She must leave this house and take the risk of unemployment +for a while. + +Lady Moron came into the drawing-room just before lunch, looked over +the letters and signed such as required her signature, and then Lois +broke the news. To her surprise the big woman was neither indignant +nor entreating. + +“When I saw you early this morning I was afraid this would happen,” +she said. “And really I cannot blame you, Miss Reddle. You have had a +most terrifying experience, though I believe that last night’s trouble +was purely imaginary.” + +Lois said nothing. + +“When do you wish to go? As soon as possible, I gather from your +hesitation. Very well, I am not blaming you. I feel partly to blame, +and I will pay you a month’s salary and arrange for you to leave +to-morrow.” + +The two visitors were Chesney Praye and a man whom Lois had not seen +before, though she had heard his lordship’s views on him. Later she +felt she had no particular desire to meet him again. He was a bald man +of fifty, with a face even redder than Mr. Praye’s, a big, bulbous +nose, a loose mouth. She might, had she met him in the street and not +in this chaste atmosphere, have analysed him as a typical drunkard. +Nor would that description have been uncharitable. His frock coat was +old and shone at the seams, and she observed that he had made only a +half-hearted attempt to make his nails presentable. + +“I want you to meet Dr. Tappatt.” + +So this was the famous doctor. She was not impressed. + +“Glad to meet you, young lady, very glad to meet you,” said the doctor +with spurious heartiness. And with his words came the faint aroma of +something that was not entirely whisky and not entirely cloves. “This +is the young person your ladyship was speaking about? Hears voices, +eh? Dear, dear, that’s a bad symptom,” he chuckled, “a very bad +symptom. Eh, Chesney? We’ve had ’em for that! We’ve had ’em for that!” + +Lois saw the butler fill this strange creature’s glass with wine, and +when she looked again the glass was empty. Apparently Braime, if he +did not already know the peculiarities of the guest, had been +carefully coached, for, without asking, he had refilled the glass. + +Lord Moron appeared at the lunch table, a sulky and silent young man, +his face less extensively plastered. + +“Had an accident, eh? Been in a railway smash?” demanded the doctor. +“Your lordship should be more careful.” + +“I haven’t been in a railway accident,” said Selwyn sulkily. + +He evidently knew the doctor, and the girl had a feeling that he was +afraid of him, for once or twice she saw him glancing furtively and a +little fearfully in the direction of the untidy man. + +“There’s another one who hears voices, eh? Your lordship hasn’t been +followed by a dog--a nice black dog with a waggly tail, eh?” + +“No, I haven’t,” almost shouted Lord Moron, going red and white. “I +never said I had, did I? I’m perfectly--I know what I’m doing and all +that sort of thing. You leave me alone, sir.” + +It was in every way an uncomfortable meal for Lois Reddle. The +glowering resentment of Moron, the calm indifference of his mother, +the crude jocularity of Chesney Praye, and the presence of the doctor, +who, when he was not drinking, was boasting of the wonderful cures he +had effected in India, brought a sense of nightmare to the girl. Only +once more did Dr. Tappatt turn his attention to Lois. + +“What’s this I hear about your trying to throw yourself over the +balcony? Come, come, young lady, that will never do!” He wagged his +animal face at her, and the bloodshot eyes gleamed unpleasantly. + +“Don’t be stupid.” It was Lady Moron who spoke. “The balcony gave way +under Miss Reddle; there was no suggestion that she attempted to throw +herself into the street.” + +“A joke, a mere jest,” said the doctor unabashed, and pushed his glass +towards the watchful Braime. “That’s a good wine of yours, your +ladyship, a fine, full-bodied wine with a generous bouquet. +Romanee-Conti, I think?” + +“Clos de Vougeot,” corrected the countess. + +“There is very little difference between the wines of Vougeot and +Vosne,” said the connoisseur. “As a rule, I prefer the Conti, but your +ladyship has converted me.” + +The lunch did not end soon enough for Lois. When the countess had +risen, she strolled to where her son was standing. + +“When you come down to dinner to-night, be so good as to have the last +of that ridiculous plaster taken from your face. I wish, at any rate, +that you should look like a gentleman and not like a prize-fighter.” +She mouthed the words deliberately. “Otherwise, perhaps I shall have +to consult Dr. Tappatt.” + +Lord Moron shrunk at the ominous words, and his muttered rejoinder did +not reach Lois’ ears. + +The suggestion that she should work in the library was one which Lois +was glad to accept; for beyond a glimpse, she had never seen the room +wherein the Countess of Moron spent so many hours with her jigsaw +puzzles. And there was another reason; she must find the artfully +concealed microphone which Lord Moron had installed. + +It was a pleasant room, low-roofed and long, and ran from the wall of +the reception-room at the front of the house to a small conservatory +which hid the ugliness of the tiny courtyard at the back. Every wall +was covered with bookshelves, and there were, in addition, more than a +dozen big filing cabinets in which the countess had accumulated, and +carefully docketed, the little souvenirs which had come to her in the +course of her life; theatre programmes, newspaper cuttings, +correspondence which most people would not have thought worth +preserving. But Lady Moron was a methodical woman and had a horror of +waste. This she told the girl when she introduced her to the room. + +Left alone, Lois made a careful inspection of the library, without, +however, discovering the hidden receiver or its wiring. She noticed +that one section of the bookcase was covered by a strong door, covered +with fine wire mesh, through which the titles could be seen; and +studying these in the ample leisure she had, she was more than a +little surprised at the precautions taken to prevent casual reading of +this forbidden library. The books were of the most innocuous type, and +she surmised that there had been a time when this section held +literature less innocent. + +She had finished her work and was browsing about the books, taking +down one after the other and glancing at their contents, when Braime +came in. One glance at the man told her that something unusual had +happened. His face was twitching, and he was evidently labouring under +the stress of great excitement which he had not succeeded wholly in +suppressing. + +“Will you go to the dining-room, miss? There’s a gentleman wishes to +see you.” + +“A gentleman? Who is it?” + +“I don’t know his name,” said the man, “but if he’s not there, will +you wait for him?” + +“But who is it, Braime? Didn’t he give his name?” + +“No, miss.” The hands clasped before him were trembling, his eyes held +a strange light. + +“In the dining-room?” she said as she went out. + +“Yes, miss.” + +To her surprise, when she looked round, she found he had not +accompanied her. The dining-room was empty, except for Jean, her maid. +The girl was engaged in dusting, and seemed surprised at the arrival +of Lois. + +“Braime told me a gentleman was waiting to see me?” + +Jean shook her head. + +“I don’t know anything about a gentleman, miss, but I do know one +thing,” she said viciously. “_He’s_ no gentleman. I caught him coming +out of the countess’ room just now and I’m going to tell her ladyship. +A sneaking, prying----” + +“Please find out who it is wishes to see me,” said the puzzled girl. +“Perhaps he is in the hall.” + +Jean went out, but returned in a few minutes, shaking her head. + +“Nobody is there, miss. Thomas, the footman, says that there have been +no callers since Dr. Tappatt left. Mr. Praye is with her ladyship in +the drawing-room.” + +What did this mean? Lois frowned. Braime’s story was obviously an +excuse to get her out of the room. She hurried back to the library. +The door was closed and she threw it open. + +“Braime----” she began, and then stopped and said no more. + +The butler lay on his back in the middle of the floor, a silent, +motionless figure, a look of agony on his white face, his lips +distorted in a grimace of agony. + + + + + Chapter Sixteen + +Her first impulse was to fly, her second, more merciful, was to run +to his side, and, kneeling down, loosen his collar. Was he dead? There +was no sign of life or sound of breath. The hands, upraised, as though +to clutch an invisible enemy, were stiff and rigid. + +She flew out of the door and called the maid. + +“Telephone for a doctor, please. Braime is ill,” she said +breathlessly, and rushed up the stairs. + +Lady Moron was deep in conversation with her visitor, but at the sight +of the girl she came hurriedly across the room. + +“What is it?” she asked in a low voice. + +“It’s Braime,” said Lois breathlessly. “I think he’s dead!” + +The countess followed her down the stairs at a pace which Lois did not +think was possible for so heavy a woman. For a moment she stood in the +doorway, surveying the silent man. + +“This is not for you to see,” she said gently, and, pushing the girl +back into the passage, closed the door. + +Presently she came out. + +“I’m afraid he’s dead. Tell me what happened. Or first ring through to +the Limbo Club for Dr. Tappatt.” + +Lois told her that she had already given an order for a doctor to be +called, and her instructions were fulfilled more efficiently than she +had supposed. For Jean had rung the Virginia Hospital, which is within +a hundred yards of Chester Square, and even while they were talking in +the passage there came the clang of an ambulance bell, and the footman +hurried to open the door. + +The youthful house surgeon who had accompanied the ambulance made a +brief examination of the prostrate figure and was obviously puzzled. + +“Was this man subject to fits?” he asked. + +“I am not aware that he was. He has been quite well since he has been +in my employ,” said Lady Moron. + +Lois, who had been attracted to the room, was looking down fearfully +at the still figure. + +“There is no wound of any kind that I can see,” said the doctor, +peering through his spectacles. “I will have the attendants in and +we’ll rush him to the hospital.” + +He went back to the hall and signalled for his assistants, and a +stretcher, withdrawn from the ambulance, was brought into the library. + +And then, as they were about to lift the man on to the canvas, there +came the sound of running footsteps in the hall and a man burst +violently into the room. He was hot and hatless and stood breathing +heavily in the doorway, looking from one to another. Presently his +gaze fell upon Lois. + +“Thank God!” he said shakily. + +Then, with two strides, he was by the side of the prostrate figure. + +“Are you a doctor?” began Lady Moron. + +“My name is Michael Dorn--a name probably unknown to your ladyship,” +said Dorn brusquely. + +His keen eyes searched the room. Rising, he lifted a china bowl filled +with roses, swept the flowers on to the floor, and dashed the water +into the man’s face. Ripping off the collar of the man he knelt over +Braime’s head and drew up the stiff arms, pressing them back again to +the body. Lois watched him in bewilderment. He was applying the +restorative methods which are used for people who are partially +drowned. + +“Are you a doctor?” asked the young surgeon, a little irritably. + +“No,” said Michael, without ceasing his work. + +“May I ask what you think you’re doing with this man?” + +“Saving his life,” was the brief reply. + +Lady Moron turned at that moment. She had heard the voice of her son +in the hall, and, sweeping out of the room, she intercepted him. + +“What do you want, Selwyn?” she asked coldly. + +“Something’s happened in the library. They say old Braime’s got a fit +or something--thought I might be useful.” + +“Go back to your study, please, Selwyn,” said her ladyship. “I will +not have you excited over these matters.” + +“But dash it all----” began his lordship, but the look in his mother’s +eyes silenced him, and he grumbled his way back to his den. + +The countess waited until he was out of sight, and then came back to +the little party that was watching Michael Dorn and his seemingly +futile efforts. A few minutes passed, and then: + +“I really think this man should be taken to the hospital, +Mr.--er--Dorn.” + +Lady Moron’s visitor had by now joined the group. Chesney Praye had +witnessed the arrival of the detective and had thought it wise not to +offer his advice. But now, morally strengthened by the presence of the +countess, he added his voice to the argument. + +“You’re probably killing that man, Dorn. Let him go to the hospital, +where he’ll be properly attended to.” + +Michael made no reply. The perspiration was pouring down his face; he +stopped only to strip off his coat before he resumed his work. + +“I hope you’re a better doctor than you are a detective,” said +Chesney, nettled by Dorn’s attitude. + +“In the present case, I am as good a doctor as you are an embezzler,” +said Dorn, without turning his head. “And, in any circumstances, I am +a better detective than you are a crook. He’s reviving.” + +To Lois’ amazement, Braime’s eyelids were flickering. She saw the +slow, unaided movement of his chest. + +“I think he’ll do now,” said Dorn, getting up and wiping his forehead. + +“Are you a detective?” It was the doctor who asked the question. + +“Sort of a one,” said Michael with a smile. “I think you’d better get +him into hospital as soon as you can, doctor. Please forgive me for +butting in, but I have had a case like this before.” + +“What is it?” demanded the puzzled medico, as the butler was lifted on +to the stretcher and carried from the room. “I thought it was a stroke +of some kind.” + +“It was a stroke of a pretty bad kind,” said Michael grimly. + +He did not attempt to follow the ambulance party, but, putting on his +coat, he strolled round the room on what appeared to be a tour of +inspection. He examined the ceiling, the floor, and ran his eye over +the library table. + +“He fell six feet from the table, didn’t he?” he mused. He pointed to +the patch of water that had discoloured the carpet. “Do you mind +telling me where his feet were? He had been moved when I came in.” + +“Lady Moron would prefer to discuss that matter with the police when +they arrive,” snapped Chesney Praye. “You’ve no right whatever to be +here, you know that, Dorn.” + +“Will somebody tell me where his feet were?” + +It was Lois who pointed. + +“He was lying across the room.” + +“Of course--yes.” The puzzled Dorn stroked his chin. “You weren’t here +when it happened, I suppose, Miss Reddle?” + +“I forbid you to answer any questions,” said the countess in her most +ponderous manner. “And I completely agree with Mr. Praye that this is +not a matter for outsiders. Do you suggest the man was assaulted?” + +“I suggest nothing,” said Dorn, and again his eyes sought Lois +Reddle’s. “You have quite a lot of accidents in this house, don’t you, +Miss Reddle?” he asked pleasantly. “If I were you, I think I’d go back +to Charlotte Street; you’ll be safer. When I saw the ambulance at the +door I must confess that I nearly died of heart failure. I thought you +were the interesting subject.” + +Her ladyship walked to the door and opened it a little wider. + +“Will you please go, Mr. Dorn? Your presence is unwelcome, and your +suggestion that any person in this house is in the slightest danger is +most offensive to me”--she looked at Praye--“and to my friend.” + +“Then your ladyship should change your friend,” said Dorn +good-naturedly, “and, lest you should think that the fine feelings of +Mr. Chesney Praye are lacerated by my suggestion, I will relieve your +mind. There are only two things that annoy Chesney, and they are to +lose money he has and to be thwarted in any attempt to get money which +doesn’t belong to him. Can I speak with you alone, Miss Reddle?” + +“I forbid----” began the countess. + +“May I?” + +Lois hesitated, nodded, and preceded him from the room. + +It was in the hall, deserted even by the footman, that he spoke his +mind. + +“I confess I didn’t expect the succession of accidents which have +followed one another at such close intervals since you have been in +this house,” he said. “I only consented to your coming here at all +because I thought that----” + +“_You_ consented?” Her eyes opened wide. She flushed with sudden +anger. “Does it occur to you, Mr. Dorn, that I do not require your +consent?” + +“I’m sorry.” He was humility itself. “I am on the wrong track, but my +nerves are a little jangled. What I wanted to say was that I ought to +have known, after you received those poisoned chocolates----” + +She went pale. + +“Poisoned?” she whispered. + +He nodded. + +“Of course they were poisoned. Hydrocyanic acid. Why did you think I +came into your room that night to get them away? I came with my heart +in my mouth as I did a few minutes ago, expecting to find you dead.” + +“Why are you so--so interested in me?” she asked, but he evaded the +question. + +“Will you leave this house to-day and go back to Charlotte Street?” + +She shook her head. + +“I can’t until to-morrow. I’ve promised Lady Moron that I would stay +with her until then, and I’m sure, Mr. Dorn, that you’re mistaken. Who +would send me poisoned chocolates?” + +“Who would try to run you down with a car?” he countered. “Look at +this.” He put his hand in his waistcoat pocket and took out a little +roll of cloth. “Do you recognise this stuff?” + +Her mouth opened in astonishment. + +“Why, that is a piece of my skirt that was cut out when the car----” + +“Exactly, and I found it hanging on the car. The people who garaged it +were in such a hurry that they didn’t attempt to examine or to clean +the machine.” + +“But who--who is this enemy of mine?” she asked in a low voice. + +He shook his head. + +“Some day I will tell you his name. I think I have already told you +too much, and made myself just a little bit too conspicuous. My only +hope is that the knowledge that I am around will scare them. You can’t +leave to-night?” + +“No, it is impossible,” she said. + +He nodded. + +“All right.” He glanced past her to Lady Moron, who was standing at +the door of the library, deeply engaged in conversation with Chesney +Praye. Presently he caught the eye of the red-faced man. “I want you, +Praye.” + +He walked out of the house, waiting on the sidewalk for Chesney to +join him. + +“Now see here, Dorn----” began the other loudly. + +“Lower your voice. I am not deaf. And, anyway, there’s no call for you +to talk at all. Understand that. I’ve been to the India Office this +morning, and sounded the Secretary. There will be no difficulty in +getting a warrant for you in connection with that Delhi business if I +take a little trouble. Let fact Number One sink into your mind. The +second is this; if any harm comes to this girl Reddle--and I can trace +your strong right hand in the matter--I’ll follow you through nine +kinds of hell and catch you. Absorb that.” And with a nod, he turned +and walked away, leaving the man speechless with rage and fear. + + + + + Chapter Seventeen + +Lois thought it was kind of Lady Moron to give her the afternoon and +evening to herself. + +“My dear, I’ll be glad to get rid of you,” said her ladyship frankly. +“That wretched man Dorn has quite upset me, and I’m not going to visit +my resentment on you. Go away for a few hours and begin to forget that +there is such a place as 307 Chester Square. And if you feel you’d +like to go to a theatre later, please do so. I will leave instructions +for the night footman to wait up for you. I have just heard from the +hospital that Braime is quite conscious and perhaps he will give us an +account of the mysterious happening. I’ve had the library searched, +and I’ve not found anything to account for his extraordinary seizure. +I doubt even whether the clever Mr. Dorn will be any more successful,” +she added, without evidence of malice. + +Lois was glad to get away, and her first thought was to acquaint her +friend with what had happened. She made her way to Bedford Row, and as +she reached that familiar thoroughfare, she saw the ancient Ford at +the door and Mr. Shaddles pulling on his gloves preparatory to +departure. + +He lived in Hampstead, and was invariably the first and last user of +the old machine. His glare was distinctly unfriendly as she mounted +the steps. + +“Well?” he asked. “You’ve come back, have you? Tired of your job, eh? +I never thought you’d be much good as a private secretary.” + +“I’m not tired of it, but I’m leaving,” she smiled. + +“Young people must have change,” deplored Mr. Shaddles. “It is the +cursed unrest of the age. How long were you with me?” + +“Some years, Mr. Shaddles.” + +“Two years, nine months, and seven days,” he said rapidly. “That seems +like eternity, I suppose, young woman? To me it is”--he snapped his +fingers--“yesterday! I brought you down from Leith, didn’t I? One of +my clients mentioned you, and I gave you your chance, eh?” + +“Yes,” she said, wondering why he had grown so unexpectedly +reminiscent. + +“Ah!” He looked up at the sky as though for inspiration, or +applause--she wasn’t quite sure which. “You’ll want to come back to +your old job, I suppose?” And without waiting for her reply, “Well, +you can start to-morrow. I’ll give you three pounds a week, and you +can start to-morrow morning at half-past eight.” He laid special +emphasis on the last words. + +“But, Mr. Shaddles,” said the dazed girl, “that is awfully kind of +you--most kind. I’d love to come, but I can’t come to-morrow morning.” + +“Half-past eight to-morrow morning,” he blinked at her. “Don’t keep +me, I’m in a hurry.” + +He went down the steps, mounted his car, and she stood watching him +until he was one with the traffic in Theobalds Road. + +So great was the shock of the lawyer’s generosity that this was the +first news she told the sceptical Lizzy. + +“There’s been something strange about him for the last two days,” +decided that young lady. “Softening of the brain, I think. He didn’t +mention about putting up my salary? Maybe he’s not so far gone as +that. I shouldn’t take too much notice; he’ll probably change his mind +to-morrow. Three pounds a week? He must be mad! I’ll bet he’ll come +down to the office in the morning in his pyjamas, playing a cornet, +and calling himself Julius Cæsar.” + +The clerks had gone; Lizzy was alone in her office; she had stayed +behind to type an interminable memorandum of association, which was +never finished after Lois had told the story of what had happened at +the house that day. + +“I think Mike’s right,” said Lizzy, nodding vigorously. “That house is +too full of tricks. I hate the idea of leaving Selwyn----” + +“You mean Lord Moron?” + +“He’s Selwyn to me,” said Lizzy calmly. “I’m going to the pictures +with him to-morrow night. He’s a nice boy, that. What he wants is a +mother’s care and he’s never had it.” + +“And you’re going to be the mother?” Lois laughed, and then, +seriously: “I can’t leave at once. You must please yourself what you +do. I promised Lady Moron I would stay.” + +Lizzy pulled a long face. + +“I can’t desert you, but I’ll tell you straight, that I’d rather sleep +on the top shelf of a mortuary than at Chester Square to-night. I’ll +go with you, but I’m doing you a favour. Put it down in your book. As +to old Shaddles he’ll be in charge of a keeper to-morrow. If anybody +else but you had told me about that three pounds a week business, I’d +have known they were lying. And now, what do you say to coming back to +Charlotte Street and pretending we are poor again?” + +To Lois there could have been no more attractive way of spending the +evening. The old room with its shabby furniture, its faded chintzes, +was home; and even the squalling of playing children in the street had +a special charm which Lois had never observed before. + +There was too a welcome awaiting them. Old Mackenzie saw them through +the window of his room and came down to greet them in the passage. He +was pathetically disappointed when he learnt they were not staying the +night, but cheered up after Lizzy told him their plans. + +“Let us ask him up to dinner,” said Lois, as she sat on the kitchen +table, watching the girl manipulating the frying-pan. + +Lizzy nodded. She was a thought distrait, and later Lois learnt the +reason. + +“If I’d had any sense, I’d have asked Selwyn to drop in, and he’d have +come,” she said. “He’s democratic--one of the best mixers I’ve ever +met. He told me last night, when you went out to get a handkerchief, +that he felt thoroughly at home with me, and that I was the first girl +he’d ever felt at home with all his life. That’s something for an earl +to say, knowing that I’m a thirty-five bob a week key-shifter.” + +Her voice trembled slightly and Lois regarded her with a new interest. +She had been acquainted with Lizzy for many years and had never known +her so emotional. + +“He’s never had a mother’s care, that boy,” she said again, her voice +shaking. + +Lois charitably overlooked the fact that the boy in question was +somewhere in the region of thirty-five. + +“That woman hasn’t got any more sympathy with Selwyn than I’ve got +with her. She’s got a heart like a bit of flint, she’s----” + +“Mr. Mackenzie will be a poor substitute for your Selwyn, but shall we +have him up?” asked Lois again. + +“Yell for him,” was the terse reply. + +In many ways Mr. Mackenzie was a more entertaining guest than Lizzy +had hoped. In the first place he was very interested in her account of +the Morons’ house and daily life, for it was Lizzy who spoke as an +authority on the subject, appealing only occasionally to Lois for +confirmation. + +“Silk curtains? Really!” said Mr. Mackenzie, impressed. + +“And satin ones,” said Lizzy recklessly. “At least, they look like +satin. And silver mountings everywhere. And real marble walls in the +bathroom. Am I right, Lois? And a silver fire-grate in the +drawing-room.” + +Old Mackenzie sighed. + +“It must be very gran’ to live amidst such surroundings,” he said, +“though I never envy any man or woman. And the countess is a charming +lady?” + +“I wouldn’t call her that,” said Lizzy. “She’s all right up to a +point. She’s a bad mother but a good scout, if you understand me.” + +“She has young children?” Mr. Mackenzie was interested. + +“He is not exactly young,” Lizzy was careful to explain, “he’s a young +man in what you might term the first prime of life. No, he’s not at +school,” she snapped to the unfortunate question. “He’s a wonderful +man. Selwyn wants to be an actor, and why his mother doesn’t let him +go on the stage is a wonder to me.” + +Again Mr. Mackenzie sighed. + +“It is a bad life, the stage. I think I have told you young ladies +before, all my sorrow and troubles come from my association with the +stage.” And he went on disjointedly: “She was a bonny girl, with a +beautiful figure and a face like a--a----” + +“Angel?” suggested Lizzy, pausing with uplifted fork. + +“‘Madonna’ was the word I wanted. To me it is still a matter of wonder +that she ever looked at me, let alone accepted my humble suit. But at +that time, of course, I was in a very good position. Some of my comic +operas were being played. I had a considerable sum of money which, +fortunately, I invested in house property, and she was a +little--er--extravagant--yes, that’s the word, she was a little +extravagant. It was perhaps my fault.” + +There was a long silence while he ruminated, his chin bent on his +chest, his eyes fixed upon the table-cloth. + +“Yes, it was my fault. I told my dear friend Shaddles, when he +suggested a divorce----” + +“Shaddles?” squeaked Lizzy. “You don’t know that old--that gentleman, +do you?” + +Mackenzie looked at her in surprise. + +“Why, Mr. Shaddles is my lawyer. That is how I came to have the good +fortune to secure you as my tenants. You remember Mr. Shaddles +recommended my little house?” + +“Shaddles! Good Lord!” said Lizzy, pushing back her plate. “I don’t +think I could ever have slept in my bed if I’d known!” + +“He is a good man, a true man, and a friend,” said Mr. Mackenzie +soberly. + +“And he’s a mean old skinflint,” said Lizzy, despite Lois’ warning +glance. + +“He’s a wee bit near,” admitted Mr. Mackenzie. “But then, some lawyers +get that way. His father was like that.” + +“Did he ever have a father?” asked Lizzy, with assumed surprise. + +“His father and his father’s father were the same way. But the +Shaddles are great lawyers, and they’ve managed great estates. They’ve +been lawyers to the Moron family for hundreds of years.” + +“Do you know the Morons then?” asked Lois. + +He hesitated. + +“I cannot say that I know them. I know of them. The old earl, the +father of the present boy, I have seen once. He lived abroad for many +years, and was--weel, I’ll no’ call him bad, but he was a gay man by +all accounts. And a scandalous liver. Willie, his son, was a fine boy, +but he died. Selwyn, the younger son by the second wife, must be the +lad to whom you’re referring.” + +Even Lizzy was impressed by the old man’s knowledge of the Morons’ +genealogical tree. + +“It is a good thing for the family that they have this fine boy, +Selwyn; though, if her ladyship had a daughter, she would succeed to +the title, the Morons being one of those families where a woman +succeeds failing a male heir.” + +After dinner was cleared away he brought up his violin and played for +half an hour; and Lizzy, whose respect for the musician seemed to have +taken an upward curve, tolerated the performance with admirable +fortitude. + +The evening passed all too quickly, and at ten o’clock Lois looked at +her watch and the two girls exchanged glances. Lizzy rose with a +shiver. + +“Back to the house of fate,” she said dramatically. “And thank heaven +this is the last night we shall sleep there!” + +She could not guess that neither Lois Reddle nor she would ever pass +into that house of fate again! + + + + + Chapter Eighteen + +At five o’clock that afternoon there was a great thudding of doors +and snapping of keys in Telsbury Prison. The evening meal-hour was +over. The last visit had been paid by the chief wardress. Laundries, +cook-houses, and workshops had been locked up by the officers +responsible, and the five halls, that ran, star-shaped, from the +common centre, were deserted except for the wardress on duty at the +desk, who was reading the letters which had come addressed to the +prisoners and which would be delivered to them in the morning. She +worked with the sure eye and hand of an expert, using her blue pencil +to cover up such items of general news as convicts are not allowed to +receive. + +So engaged, she heard the burr of a “call,” and, looking round, saw +that the red disc had fallen over one of the hundred apertures in the +indicator. She put down her pencil, walked along the hall, and, +stopping before a cell, inserted her key and pulled the door open. + +The woman who rose from her bed did not wear the prison livery. +Instead, she was dressed in a dark blue costume; her hat and coat lay +on the bed and on top a pair of new gloves. In one corner of the cell +was a small Gladstone bag and an umbrella. + +“I am sorry to trouble you, madam,” said the prisoner nervously, “but +I wondered if they had forgotten, if----” Her voice shook and she +found it difficult to speak. + +“They haven’t forgotten, Mrs. Pinder,” said the wardress calmly. “The +officer should not have put the lock on you.” She pushed the door open +wide. “If you feel lonely come out and sit with me.” + +“Thank you,” said the woman gratefully, and the official saw that she +was very near to tears. “Only the governor told me that he had +telegraphed to my friends. There has been no reply?” + +“There wouldn’t be,” said the tactful wardress. “They will be here +very soon. Probably they think that you would prefer to wait.” She +laughed. “Usually prisoners are discharged in the morning, but the +Home Office allowed the governor to use his discretion in letting you +out over-night. I don’t think I should worry, Mrs. Pinder.” + +She waited at the door. + +“Come out when you want,” she said good-humouredly. “There’s the whole +hall to walk in and the lock is on, so you won’t be seen by any of the +women.” + +Mary Pinder came slowly into the wide hall and looked along the +familiar vista of small black doors, tier upon tier, at the big window +at the end of the hall through which the light of the evening sun was +shining. For the first time in twenty years she was free of restraint, +could walk without observation, and soon would pass through that +steel-barred grille into God’s sweet air and into a world of free +people. + +She checked the sobbing sigh that came, and, her hands tightly clasped +together, stood motionless, thinking. She dared not believe the story +she had been told; dared not let her mind rest upon what happiness lay +beyond the bars. + +The wardress had gone back to the desk and her occupation, and the +woman watched her wistfully. She was in contact with the world; had a +husband perhaps, and children, outside these red walls. Mary Pinder +had been cut off from life and human companionship for nearly twenty +years. Outside the world rolled on; men had risen and fallen, there +had been wars and periods of national rejoicing; but here, in this +shadowy place, life had been grey, without relief, and even pain had +become a monotony. + +She walked timidly towards the officer and sat down in a chair near +her. The wardress stopped her work to smile encouragingly, and then +laid down her pencil again. + +“I hope you’re going to forget this place, Mrs. Pinder?” + +The other shook her head. + +“I shouldn’t think it were possible--to forget,” she said. “It is +life, most of the life I have known. I was eighteen when I came here +first; twenty-three when I was transferred to Aylesbury, and thirty +when I came back. I have little else to remember,” she said simply. + +The woman looked at her curiously. + +“You’re the only prisoner I’ve ever known that I had any faith in, +Mrs. Pinder,” she said. + +Mary Pinder leant forward eagerly. + +“You believe that I was innocent?” And, when the woman nodded: “Thank +you. I--I wish I had known that somebody believed that.” + +“I wish I had told you,” said the wardress briefly. Then, as the sound +of a turning key came to her: “Here comes somebody who thinks you were +innocent, at any rate,” she said, and rose to meet the governor. + +“All dressed and ready, eh?” said he cheerfully. “You’re a lucky +woman! I wish to heaven I were free of this wretched place. But I am a +prisoner here until I die!” + +It was a stock joke of his and the woman smiled, as he took her arm +and paced with her along the hall. + +“Your friends will not be here until ten o’clock. I’ve just had a +wire. They thought you’d rather leave after dark. Do you know where +you’re going?” + +“I haven’t any idea,” she said. “The address I gave you will always +find me.” And then, in a changed tone: “Doctor, I wasn’t dreaming that +you told me about--about----” + +“That young lady who saw you? No, it is a most amazing coincidence. If +I’d had any brains I should have known, the moment I saw how upset she +was, that she was the girl with the branded arm.” + +“My daughter!” she breathed. “Oh God, how wonderful! How wonderful!” + +“They didn’t want to let you know. They were afraid of the effect it +might have upon you. She’s a pretty girl.” + +“She’s lovely,” breathed Mary Pinder. “She’s lovely! And does she +know?” + +He nodded. + +“She knew that day she was in my room, when I told her about Lois +Margeritta. If there’s any doubt about it the letter I had from the +Under-Secretary should set your mind at rest. She went to see him with +the idea of getting further particulars about the--about the crime you +were charged with committing. Mrs. Pinder, will you tell me +something?” He dropped her arm and faced her. “I am an old man and +haven’t a very long time to live, and I’ve lost most of the little +faith in human nature I ever possessed. Were you innocent?” He paused. +“Were you innocent or guilty?” + +“I was innocent.” She raised her eyes fearlessly to his. “What I have +told you has been the truth. I went out to look for work, and when I +came back I was arrested.” + +“What about your husband? Where was he?” + +She shook her head. + +“He was dead,” she said simply. “I didn’t know then, but I have learnt +since. Doctor, do you believe that?” + +He nodded silently. + +“You’ve been wonderful to me, sir,” she said in a low sweet voice. “I +wish I could repay you for your kindness.” + +“Well, you can,” he said in his gruff way. “When you get out into the +world, you’re bound to meet some poor women who will suggest that you +have your hair dyed red--don’t do it.” + +He found an especial pleasure in the soft laughter that his jest +evoked. + +“And now you can come along and dine with my wife and me,” he said. +“The only satisfaction I’ve ever got out of having a house within the +prison walls.” + +At five minutes past ten that night a small saloon motor-car drew up +before the gates of Telsbury Prison and the driver got down and pulled +the bell. He was challenged, as usual, from the wicket. + +“I’ve called to take away Mrs. Pinder,” he said. + +“You had better come in and see the governor.” + +“I’d rather stay.” The driver lit a cigarette and paced to and fro to +kill the time. But he had not long to wait; five minutes after, the +little wicket-gate swung open and a woman stepped out. + +“Is that Mrs. Pinder?” asked the man in a voice little above a +whisper. + +“Yes, it is I.” + +“Let me take your bag.” + +He opened the door of the car, pushed the bag inside and put out his +hand to help her enter. Then, swinging into the driver’s seat, he +closed both doors and sent the car spinning along the London road. In +the shadow of the prison-gate the doctor watched the departure, and +turned back with a sigh towards his office. Telsbury Prison had lost +something of its interest with the passing of one whom the newspapers +had described as “The Hereford Murderess.” + + + + + Chapter Nineteen + +Lois Reddle was in no mood to return to Chester Square; but she was +less willing to break faith with the woman whom she was beginning to +dislike, and debated the question, she and Lizzy, on the Charlotte +Street doorstep. + +“Let’s stay,” urged Lizzy. “At any rate, don’t let’s go back yet. We +shan’t see anything of Selwyn. Besides, remember what Mike said.” + +“What Mike said means nothing to me--if by ‘Mike’ you mean Michael +Dorn,” said Lois quietly. “We must go back, Lizzy--I’ve promised.” + +Lizzy groaned. + +“Oh, these honourable people--you make my head ache! Well, don’t let’s +go back yet,” she urged. “The old lady said you could stay out to do +a theatre. What’s the hurry?” + +Again Lois hesitated. + +“No, we’ll go back now,” she said firmly. + +She looked across the road. An idler was standing with his back to the +railings and she knew at once that it was not Dorn. No sooner had they +moved towards Oxford Street than the lounger was galvanised to life +and followed at a slow pace on their trail. Once Lois looked back; the +man was following them. + +“Let us turn round to the right,” she said. “I’m almost sure we are +being followed.” + +“We will keep to the main street,” said the intelligent Lizzy. “I +prefer being followed that way.” + +They reached Oxford Street, and crossed the road, the shadow coming +after them at a respectful distance. + +“Try Regent Street,” said Lizzy, “and when we get a little way down +we’ll cross the road and come back on the other side. Then we’ll be +sure.” + +The movements of the man, when this manœuvre was completed, left no +doubt. He, too, crossed the road and came back with them, and, when +they boarded a westward bound ’bus, Lois saw him call a cab, which +kept behind them all the way. + +“If I thought it was Mike, I’d go back and give him a bit of my mind,” +said Lizzy. + +“It’s not he,” Lois assured her. “Mr. Dorn is not so tall and he’s +smarter looking.” + +They got out of the ’bus near Victoria, and, as they hurried across +the road, Lois saw that the cab had stopped and the man was getting +out. Surely enough, by the time they had plunged into silent +Belgravia, he was on their heels. He never attempted to overtake them, +showed not the slightest inclination to be any nearer to them than he +was. If they dawdled, he slackened his pace; when they hurried, his +stride lengthened. Then suddenly, ahead of them, Lois saw Michael +Dorn. He stood squarely in the middle of the pavement and it was +impossible to avoid him. + +“I want a word with you, Miss Reddle,” he said. “You’re not going back +to Lady Moron’s?” + +“That is just what I am doing,” said Lois quietly. + +“That is just what you’re not doing,” he said firmly. “Miss Reddle, +I’ve rendered you many services. I would like you to do something for +me in exchange.” He seemed momentarily at a loss for words. “And I +have a personal interest. I don’t suppose you like me very much, and, +anyway, that doesn’t count in the argument. But I like you.” + +“Thank you,” she said. + +“You can afford to be sarcastic--I do not complain of that; but I am +telling you the plain, naked truth. I like you as any decent man would +like a girl of your character and----” + +“Sweetness,” suggested Lizzy, an interested audience. + +“That is a very good word,” said Dorn with a faint smile. “But because +of this personal interest and--liking--I realise I’m being very lame +and unconvincing, but I’m rather a fool in my dealings with women--I +want you to go back to Charlotte Street.” + +Lois shook her head. + +“I quite understand that you are disinterested,” she said. + +“I’m not,” he interrupted. “I’m too interested in you to be +disinterested.” + +“Well, in spite of that, or because of that, I am staying with Lady +Moron to-night. To-morrow we are leaving, Miss Smith and I, and are +returning to Charlotte Street.” + +“You are returning to Charlotte Street to-night,” he said, almost +harshly, and she stiffened. + +“What do you mean?” she demanded coldly. + +“I mean just what I say. I will not have you stay in this devil house +another night. Won’t you be persuaded, Miss Reddle?” he pleaded. “You +don’t imagine for one moment that this is a caprice on my part? Or +that I have any unreasoning prejudice against Lady Moron and her son? +I beg of you not to go to that house to-night.” + +“Can you give me any reason?” + +He shook his head. + +“You must trust me, and believe that I have a very excellent reason, +even though I can’t for the moment disclose it. That is, unless you +see some reason yourself?” + +“I don’t,” she said. “There have been a number of accidents; do you +suggest Lady Moron is responsible?” + +“I suggest nothing.” + +“Then I’ll say good-night,” she said, and was passing on; but he +barred her way, and at that moment he must have signalled to the dark +figure in the background, for the tall man came forward. + +“This is Sergeant Lighton, of the Criminal Investigation Department,” +he said, and then indicated the girl: “This is Lois Reddle. I charge +her with being concerned in the attempted murder of John Braime!” + +The girl listened, thunderstruck, rooted to the spot. + +“You charge me?” she said in horror. “But, Mr. Dorn----” + +Michael Dorn made a signal, and the tall man caught Lois gently by the +arm. Within half an hour of the prison gate opening for her mother, a +cell door in a mundane police station closed upon her daughter. + + + + + Chapter Twenty + +“And that’s that!” said Michael Dorn lugubriously, as he left the +police station in company with the tall officer. + +“Lighton, I’m going to catch a real thief now, if my theories are +sound. And my main theory has something to do with an envelope which I +begged from a clerk at the Home Office to-day, and which was posted to +my address this afternoon.” + +“Letter-box stealing?” asked the other, and Michael did not reply +until he had secured the cab that was crawling on the other side of +the street and they were seated. + +“Let us say letter-delaying. I got on to this business owing to the +fact that all the letters that came to me from my stationer and from a +friend of mine in a Government office were unaccountably delayed +twenty-four hours in the post. After giving the matter some thought I +reached the conclusion that this coincidence was due to the fact that +they were both enclosed in blue envelopes.” + +“How is Braime?” asked the sergeant. + +“Better,” was the reply. “I had a talk with him to-night--he’s had the +shock of his life.” He chuckled softly, though his heart at that +precise moment was aching for the dazed and indignant girl who was +occupying the matron’s room, a large and airy cell, at the Chelsea +police station. + +The cab stopped before Hiles Mansions, and the lift-man took them up +to Michael’s cosy flat. There were two or three letters waiting for +him in his letter-box. He took them out and examined them. Then he +went on to the landing and rang for the elevator. + +“You brought these letters up?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“What time did they arrive?” + +“Half-past nine, sir,” said the man. + +“There was a blue envelope posted to me this afternoon at +three-thirty. It’s not here. How do you account for that?” + +The liftman looked past him. + +“I’m sure I can’t tell you, sir,” he said, studiously avoiding +Michael’s eyes. “I bring the letters up as they come and put ’em in +your box.” + +“You’re on duty from nine at night until nine in the morning, aren’t +you?” asked Dorn. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“You handle the morning and the night posts. Why is it that all +letters enclosed in blue envelopes fail to reach me until twenty-four +hours after they are due?” + +“I can’t tell you that, sir.” + +“Tell this gentleman. He’s a detective from Scotland Yard. And tell +him without hokum, or you’ll sleep uncomfortably to-night, my friend.” + +For a while the man blustered and protested and then suddenly +collapsed. + +“I’ve got a wife and four children,” he whined, “and there’s an Army +pension I shall lose----” + +“You’ll lose nothing if you tell me the truth. Who employed you to +stop my letters?” + +“A man, sir. I don’t know his name. If I die this minute, I don’t know +his name! He gives me two pounds a week to hold up all the blue +envelopes and the official ones. They’re not stolen, sir, they’re +always put into the letter-box----” + +“I know all about that,” interrupted Michael curtly. “You’re wasting +your breath, man. Who is your employer?” + +“I swear I don’t know him, sir. I met him at a public-house one night. +He kidded me on to this job. I wish I’d never seen him.” + +“Does he call for the letters?” + +“Yes, sir, he called this morning after the post came in, but I didn’t +give him the blue envelope because I hadn’t got it then. The postman +overlooked it and came back a quarter of an hour later.” + +“The blue envelope? Which blue envelope?” asked Michael quickly. + +“It is downstairs, sir,” whimpered the unfaithful servant of Hiles +Mansions. + +“We’ll go down with you and get it.” + +In the lobby below was a small cubby-hutch which served the porters as +an office, and from beneath a stained blotting-pad he drew out two +blue envelopes. + +The first Michael recognised as that which he had written himself; the +second he tore open and read, and the detective-sergeant saw his face +change. Thrusting the letter into his pocket, he turned to the +frightened servant. + +“What else came for me to-day? Come, across with it, quick!” + +Without a word the man put his hand into the pocket of a jacket that +was hanging against the wall and took out a telegram, which had +obviously been opened and reclosed. Michael read it in a fury of +anger. + +“Deal with this man,” he said and flew out of the hall, springing on +the first empty taxi he saw. + +A run of ten minutes brought him to his garage. Almost before the cab +could turn round, the long black car was running out of London in +defiance of all speed regulations. + +Midnight was booming from Telsbury Parish Church when the car shot up +to the entrance of the prison and Michael leapt out and pulled the +bell. + +“The governor’s in bed, sir.” + +“I must see him at once. This is a matter of life and death. Take my +card to him.” He thrust it through the bars of the grating and waited +impatiently until he was admitted and conducted to the doctor’s house. + +The governor, in pyjamas and dressing-gown, was waiting for him in his +small study. + +“Mrs. Pinder left at ten o’clock. Didn’t you send down for her?” + +“No, sir, I knew nothing whatever about the release. The letter from +the Home Office giving me the information had been held up. Ten +o’clock? Who called for her?” + +“I don’t know, I thought it was you. I saw the car and didn’t trouble +to make enquiries.” + +“Do you know which way they went?” + +“They turned towards the London road. The car was a small saloon--a +Buick, I think, with an enclosed drive. Hasn’t she turned up?” + +Michael shook his head. + +“No, she’s not in London.” + +There was no time to be lost. He got into his machine and flew back +along the London road. At the junction of the Telsbury by-road was a +filling station, and he knew that an attendant slept upon the +premises. It was some time before he could get an answer to his +knocking, and then he was rewarded with valuable information. + +“I saw the machine pass. It went south, towards Letchford.” + +“It didn’t take the London road?” + +“No, sir, it turned there.” He pointed. “I could see the rear light +going up over the hill. It was just before I closed down for the +night.” + +Michael got back into his car, and, opening out, flew over the hill +and covered the fifteen miles that separated Telsbury from Letchford +in exactly fifteen minutes. Here again he was in luck. One of the town +police had seen the machine; it had taken the westerly road. But +thereafter his fortune failed him, for he came to a place where four +roads met, and there was no trail that could help him determine which +route the unknown driver had chosen. They were not bound for London at +any rate. He tried one road without success; worked across country to +intercept the second, but could meet nobody who had the slightest +information to offer. + +At four o’clock in the morning a weary man brought his machine to a +standstill before the Chelsea police station and went slowly up the +steps into the charge-room. + +“Hullo, Mr. Dorn!” said the sergeant. “The superintendent’s been +looking for you all night about that charge.” + +“Well, what about it?” asked Michael drearily. + +“There’s going to be the devil to pay. It appears that the countess +says the girl wasn’t in the room when Braime was hurt. We’ve had a +full statement from her in writing, and the superintendent says he’s +got something to say to you that you won’t forget in a hurry!” + +Dorn’s lip went back in an angry snarl. + +“If he should say anything that’s worth remembering I’ll go out of +business,” he said. “Anyway, you can release her. I’d like to offer my +apologies.” + +“Let her out!” laughed the sergeant. “You’re a bit late. She was +released at one o’clock this morning.” + +Dorn’s eyes narrowed. + +“Released at one o’clock this morning?” he said softly. “Did she go +away by herself?” + +“No, sir, she did not. A gentleman called for her in a blue Buick.” + +Michael Dorn staggered back; his face was drawn and haggard. Of a +sudden he seemed to have grown old. + +“The man who released that girl may be an accessory to murder!” he +said. “Tell your superintendent that when you see him!” + +And, turning on his heel, he left the charge-room. + +The Public Prosecutor’s office opened at ten o’clock, and Michael Dorn +was waiting for him, a dusty, unshaven, grimy figure, when that +official arrived. + +“Hullo, Dorn! What is wrong?” he asked, and, in as few words as +possible, the detective explained the position. + +The Prosecutor shook his head. + +“We can do nothing. You haven’t the evidence we want, and no charge +would lie. We’ve given you the freest hand, in view of all the +remarkable circumstances of the case, but I cannot consent to a +warrant for arrest until you bring me proof positive and undeniable.” + +Michael Dorn bit his lip thoughtfully. + +“In the old days, when they couldn’t get a man to tell the truth, what +did they do with him, Sir Charles?” + +“Well,” said the other drily, “they tried something with boiling oil +in it! Those were the days when criminal investigation was a little +easier than it is now.” + +“No easier.” Michael shook his head. “I’m going to get the truth. I’m +going to find out where they have taken these two women. And the rack +and the thumbscrew will be babies’ toys compared with what I will use +against them! I’ll have the truth if I have to pull Chesney Praye limb +from limb!” + + + + + Chapter Twenty-one + +Lois was wakened from an exhausted sleep by the opening of the cell +door; she got up unsteadily, not quite knowing what she was doing, and +followed the matron to the charge-room, dizzy with sleep, inert from +the very shock of the charge levelled against her. She heard the +desk-sergeant say something, and dimly heard the name of the countess. +And then somebody shook hands with her; she thought it was the +sergeant. And a young man, who had appeared and disappeared in her +focus of vision and had not entered into recognition, took her arm and +led her slowly into the dark street. He jerked open the door of a car, +and, before she knew what was happening, had set the car in motion. +She experienced a pleasant sensation of languor--her head drooped. + +It was the bump of her forehead against the driver’s seat that wakened +her. It was nearly daybreak. + +“Where are we?” she asked. + +She was uninterested in the identity of the driver, but, as he turned +his head to answer her, she saw that it was the red-faced man, Chesney +Praye. + +“It’s all right, Miss Reddle,” he said, showing his big teeth in a +grin; “I’m taking you down into the country.” + +She frowned, trying to remember clearly the events of the night +before. She was still dazed with sleep, then she recalled her arrest +and became wide awake. Before she could ask any further questions, he +was explaining over his shoulder. + +“Her ladyship thought you’d better be kept out of the way of that +sleuth for a day or two. He’s got a grudge against you, and he’s a +vindictive beast.” + +“Mr. Dorn?” she asked. “Why did he arrest me? I knew nothing whatever +about Braime’s injury.” + +“Of course you didn’t,” he said soothingly. “But that was his way of +getting even.” + +With whom he was getting even he did not explain, and even to the +girl’s tired brain it seemed a little illogical to suggest that +Michael Dorn had procured her arrest in order to get even either with +Mr. Chesney Praye or the Countess of Moron. + +They were passing across the wide slope of a hill. Beneath them she +saw the glitter of a meandering river and the grey smoke rising from +little cottages in the valley. The road was narrow and bumpy and was +little more than a lane. She wondered why he came this way, for down +the hill-side she saw a broader thoroughfare which seemed to be +running more or less parallel with that they traversed. + +“We are nearly there.” + +They were reaching the mouth of the valley. The lane dipped +unexpectedly into a thick plantation of young trees, turned abruptly +at right angles over a cart track, and five minutes later she sighted +a long discoloured wall, which enclosed a squat, low-roofed building. +She saw that the other side of the house faced a road, and again she +wondered why they had not reached their destination by a more +comfortable route. Evidently she was expected, for the weather-beaten +gate was pulled open and they passed into an untidy farmyard. Half a +dozen chickens scattered at their approach; from a patched and broken +pen came the grunt of a pig. + +“Here we are.” + +He stopped the car, and, jumping out into the litter, he jerked open +the door and helped her to alight. The girl looked round in surprise. +She saw a long, rambling farm-house, and of the windows that were in +view, all except two had not been cleaned for years. To her left was a +cavernous black barn, its doors hanging on broken hinges, and, she +guessed, immovable. It was empty save for a rusted old plough and the +wheelless body of a farm waggon. The place smelt of decay and she +noted in that brief survey that at one end of the building the roof +was nearly innocent of tiles. + +“This is not on Lady Moron’s estate?” she asked. + +“No, it is a little place that a friend of ours--hers I mean--has. +You’ve met Dr. Tappatt?” + +“Dr. Tappatt?” she frowned. Of course, it was the queer, uncleanly +doctor, with the bulbous nose, who had lunched at Chester Square. + +“Is he here?” she asked dismally. The last person in the world she +wanted to spend a day with was the doctor. + +“Yes, he’s here. He’s not a bad fellow; I knew him in India, and I +think you’ll like him.” + +They had evidently come in the back way of the farm, for the only +visible door into the house was closed and bolted. He knocked for a +little while before a woman’s harsh voice asked who was there, and in +a little time there was a sound of rusted bolts being drawn and a +tall, gaunt female showed in the doorway. She wore a soiled print +dress; her face was sallow and grimy. + +“Come in, mister,” she said, and they passed into a dark corridor. + +The house smelt damp and sour, and the ancient carpet on the floor was +too thin to deaden the hollow echoes of their footsteps. + +“The doctor is here.” She wiped her hands mechanically upon her black +apron, and showed them into a room leading off the passage. + +It was a dingy apartment, as unsavoury as the house itself. Huddled in +one corner of a horsehair sofa, before the ashes of a wood fire, a man +was sleeping, wrapped in an old dressing-gown. The air was thick and +redolent of stale smoke and whisky fumes, and the girl drew back in +disgust. + +Chesney went past her and shook the sleeping man. + +“Here, wake up,” he said roughly. “There’s somebody to see you.” + +Dr. Tappatt’s head jerked up. If he had been unpleasant at midday in +Chester Square, he was repulsive now. + +“Eh, what?” he grunted. He got up on to his feet and stretched +himself. “I’m tired. I told you I should go to sleep. You said you’d +be here before now. _She’s_ sleeping. I’ll bet she’s got a more +comfortable bed to-night than she’s had for twenty years.” + +“Shut up, damn you!” said Chesney under his breath. “Here’s Miss +Reddle.” + +The doctor blinked at the girl. + +“Hullo! Glad to see you, miss. Sorry for you to see me like this, but +I’ve been up all night with--with a patient.” He boomed the last word +as though by its very emphasis it would carry conviction. + +“Now listen, Tappatt. There’s a warrant out for this lady, but we’ve +succeeded in getting her away from the police, and she is to remain +here for a few days until her ladyship can square matters.” + +Lois gasped. + +“A warrant out for me?” she said in amazement. “But you told me that +Dorn had no right to arrest me!” + +He smiled and signalled to her to keep silence. + +“Has the woman got Miss Reddle’s room ready? She is very tired and +wants to sleep.” + +“Surely, surely,” mumbled the doctor. He held a bottle upside down +over a glass, and a very small trickle of liquid came out, to his +annoyance. “I must have a drink,” he grumbled. “This fever is playing +Old Harry with me.” + +“But, Mr. Praye,” said Lois, “I don’t quite understand the position. +Why am I staying here? Where is this place?” + +“Near Nottingham,” replied Praye. “And, for heaven’s sake, don’t stray +out of the farm and lose yourself. You’ll be all right; you needn’t be +here longer than a few days, and I assure you that there is no cause +for worry.” + +He looked at his watch and uttered an impatient exclamation. + +“Is Miss Reddle’s room ready?” he asked sharply. + +The doctor led the way out along the passage and up a narrow flight of +stairs. On the top landing he unlocked a door and threw it open. + +“Here it is.” + +“But I’m not tired, Mr. Praye; in fact, I was never so wide awake, and +I’d rather stay up, if I could have some tea?” + +“You can have anything you like, my child,” said the doctor gallantly. +“Where’s that woman? Hi, you!” he roared down the stairs. “Bring this +lady up some tea, and bring it quick!” + +Lois walked into the bedroom. It was poorly furnished but clean. She +had the impression that every article of furniture had been newly +placed. + +“This was the room we got ready for the other,” began the doctor, “but +when I heard the young lady was coming----” + +Chesney Praye silenced him with a look. + +The other? Twice he had made reference to another visitor who had +already arrived. + +“That door at the end leads to a bathroom,” said the doctor. “It is +the snuggest little country lodging you could hope to find.” + +He closed the door on her and softly turned the key. The two men went +down the stairs together. When they were alone in the doctor’s room: + +“Where’s Pinder?” asked Chesney Praye. + +“She’s all right,” said the other carelessly. + +“She’s nowhere near this girl?” + +“No, she’s in the other wing. She’s easy. Twenty years of prison +discipline behind her. She won’t kick!” + +“What did you tell her?” + +“The yarn you told me, that somebody wanted to get at her, and she had +to lie here quietly for a day or two. That housekeeper of mine will +look after her, believe me. She had charge of one of my homes in +India.” + +Chesney looked at his watch again. + +“It is four miles to Whitcomb Aerodrome; you can drive me over.” + +“Why don’t you take the car?” + +“Because, you fool, I don’t want the car to be seen. Hurry up!” + +In five minutes the doctor had harnessed a raw-boned pony to a +dilapidated trap. The blue car had been driven into a shed and the +door locked, and they were bowling down the road to Whitcomb as fast +as the ancient animal could pull them. A quarter of a mile short of +the aerodrome Chesney got down. + +“Those two women are not to meet----” + +“They’re not likely,” interrupted the other. + +“And you’d better keep to the house.” + +“What about money?” asked the doctor. + +Chesney took a pad of notes from his pocket and passed two to the man. + +“And try to cut out the booze for the next week. You’ve got a chance +of making big money, Tappatt, but you’ve also got a chance of being +pinched. If Dorn so much as smells the end of the trail, he’s sure to +have you before you realise you’re suspected.” + +Tappatt grinned. + +“On what charge?” he asked. “They both came of their own free will, +didn’t they? I don’t pretend they’re certified.” + +“They may want to go away of their own free will,” said the other +significantly. + +He walked rapidly along the road through the big gates of the +aerodrome and crossed the field towards a two-seater scout that had +been drawn out of its hangar and was attended by three men. + +“Good morning. I’m Mr. Stone,” he said. “Is this my machine?” + +“Yes, sir. You’ve got a good morning for your trip.” + +Praye looked at the frail machine dubiously. + +“Will that make Paris in one trip?” + +The aerodrome manager nodded. + +“Two hours and fifty minutes,” he said. “Maybe shorter. You’ll have a +following wind.” + +He helped the passenger into a heavy leather coat. The pilot had +already taken his place, and, when Praye had been strapped and gloved +and received his final instructions, the propellers turned with a +roar, and the machine, running lightly along the grass, swept up into +the blue sky and was soon a speck of white above the eastern horizon. + + + + + Chapter Twenty-two + +When Michael Dorn left the police station he hurried his car to +Charlotte Street. At such an early hour of the morning there was no +sign of life in this thoroughfare. He expected to be kept waiting +before there came an answer to his knocking. But had he known +something of old Mackenzie’s habits, he would not have been surprised +at the promptitude with which his signal was answered. + +The old man was in his dressing-gown and had not been half an hour in +bed when Dorn arrived. He looked with mild suspicion at the visitor--a +suspicion which was intensified when he learnt the object of his +visit. + +“Yes, sir, Miss Elizabetta Smith is in the house. Are you from the +police?” + +“Yes,” said Michael, without stretching the truth. “Can I speak to +Miss Smith?” + +“She came in late and very distressed. I understand that the good +countess has promised to do all in her power to secure the release of +my young friend, Miss Reddle. It is indeed an awful thing to have +happened. Will you come in, sir?” + +Michael followed him up the stairs to his little room and sat down +whilst the musician went up to arouse Lizzy. She also had heard the +knocking and was waiting in the doorway of her room when Mackenzie +came up. + +“Dorn, is it?” she said viciously. “I’ll come down and Dorn him! He’ll +be ‘sunset’ by the time I’ve finished with him!” + +She came into Michael’s presence a flaming virago. + +“You’ve got a nerve!” she said. “After swearing away the life of poor +Lois----” + +Michael shook his head. + +“She’s not here?” he interrupted with a touch of asperity. + +“Here? Of course she’s not here! She’s in the police station, and how +you could----” + +“She’s not in the police station, she’s been released, and I want to +find the man who released her.” + +Something in his tone silenced the girl. + +“Isn’t she with Lady Moron?” she asked. + +“I am going to Chester Square, but I don’t expect to find Miss Reddle +there. I locked her up to save her life--I suppose you realise that? +There have been two attempts made to kill her, and I had information +that the third would be more successful. I knew her mother was on the +point of being released from prison--she was in fact released last +night. It is vitally necessary that I should have Lois Reddle under my +eye.” + +Lizzy had collapsed into a chair. + +“Her mother released from prison?” she said hollowly. “What are you +talking about? Her mother’s dead. And killing? Who’s going to kill +Lois? Why! It was an accident--the balcony.” + +“It was no accident,” said Michael quietly. “The balcony has been +unsafe for a year past and was condemned by the borough surveyor on +the advice of a local builder who was brought in to repair the slab. +Until Miss Reddle occupied that room in Chester Square the French +windows leading to the balcony had been kept locked up.” + +Lizzy gasped. + +“But the servants----” + +“The servants were all new. None of them had been longer in the house +than a fortnight. Sergeant Braime came up from Newbury, and even he +knew nothing.” + +“Sergeant Braime?” she repeated, wide-eyed. + +“Braime is an officer of the Criminal Investigation Department, who +has been in the countess’ household for six months,” was the +staggering reply. “Nobody was allowed to go on to the balcony. A gate +was fixed to prevent the servants from forestalling the plan--it was +removed the night Lois went to her room.” + +“By whom?” asked Lizzy quietly. + +Michael Dorn shrugged his shoulders. + +“Who knows? I shall discover later.” + +“Where is Lois now?” + +“That is exactly what I want to know. I’m going to Chester Square +right away. Will you come with me?” + +She was out of the room in a flash. + +“But, Mr. Dorn, this is a terrible thing you say; that any person +should conspire against the life of that innocent lassie!” said old +Mackenzie, horrified. “You will surely find Miss Reddle at the good +countess’ home.” + +“I hope so, but I very much doubt it, Mr. Mackenzie,” said Michael. + +The old man’s lips were tremulous. + +“Is there anything I can do? It is not my habit to leave the house, +but I would even take that step----” + +Michael shook his head. + +“I am afraid you can do nothing, except in the unlikely event of Miss +Reddle returning here. You will see that she does not go out again, +and that she does not receive visitors in any circumstances. I very +much doubt,” he smiled faintly, “whether you will be called upon to +render this help. I can only wish to heaven that you will be!” + +Lizzy was down in a very short time, dressed for the street, and, as +they drove towards Chester Square, she told him the part she had +played in securing Lois Reddle’s release. + +“I went and found the countess; she was at a friend’s house, and told +her about Lois. She was very much upset. I’d never seen her before to +speak to, but she was quite decent to me.” + +“Did she have anybody with her? Do you know Chesney Praye?” + +Lizzy shook her head. + +“No, I’ve heard of him from Lois, but I’ve never seen him.” + +Michael described the man and again she shook her head. + +“No, he was not there.” + +“What did the countess do?” + +“She telephoned to somebody and said she was sending a letter to the +police officer in charge. She told me to go home to Charlotte Street +and wait in patience until Lois came back.” + +Michael nodded. + +“You could rest in patience because she knew that Lois wasn’t going +back to Chester Square!” he said grimly. “And if she hadn’t come back +to Chester Square and you were there waiting for her, you would have +wanted to know where she had been taken.” + +The car drew up before 307, and Michael got out and pressed the bell. +There was no reply. He rang again, and followed this up by knocking. +Still there was no answer. Stepping out from under the porch he looked +up at the windows, just as a sash was raised and a tousled head thrust +forth. It was Lord Moron, and apparently he was sleeping on the floor +which was usually given over to the household staff. + +“Hullo! What’s the trouble, old thing?” + +“Will you come down?” called Michael, and the head was withdrawn. + +They waited for a longer time than it would have taken for him to +reach the ground floor, before the door opened, and then the +explanation for the delay was unnecessary, for with him the countess +stood in the hall, wrapped in her cloak, a majestic and imposing +figure. + + + + + Chapter Twenty-three + +“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. + +“I’ve come for Lois Reddle,” said Dorn shortly. + +“She is not here. I have put her beyond your vindictive reach.” + +“Where is she?” + +“I refuse to make any statement, after your disgraceful conduct last +night in arresting this poor innocent child----” + +“You can leave that out, Lady Moron,” said Michael savagely. “Nobody +knows better than you why she was arrested. Where is she?” + +“I’ve sent her away to friends of mine.” + +“The address?” + +The Countess of Moron smiled slowly. + +“A very persistent young man,” she said, almost pleasantly. “Will you +come into the library? I cannot speak in this draughty hall. Is that +Miss Smith you have with you? She may come in too.” + +“She’ll be safer outside,” said Michael coolly and passed into the +hall. + +All this time Selwyn had said nothing, but now he turned to his +mother. + +“Where is Miss Reddle? Perhaps your ladyship will tell me?” + +“I shall tell you nothing,” was the cold reply. “You may go back to +your room.” + +“I’ll be blowed if I’ll go back to my room,” protested Lord Moron. +“There’s something remarkably fishy here, and I want to know just what +the deuce it is all about.” + +It was a most heroic speech for him, and Michael, who knew all the +courage that was required to oppose this woman, felt a little glow of +admiration for the bullied man. Even the countess was taken aback. + +“Why, Selwyn,” she said in a milder voice, “that is not the tone to +adopt towards your mother!” + +“I don’t care what it is or what it isn’t,” said Selwyn doggedly. +“There’s something fishy--I’ve always said there was something fishy +about--things. Now, where the deuce is Miss Reddle?” + +“She is with some friends of ours in the country,” said her ladyship. + +The reply seemed to exhaust his power of resistance. + +“Very well,” he said meekly. + +He looked through the open door at Lizzy, smiled and waved his hand at +her, looked back at his mother, and then, visibly bracing himself for +the effort, walked boldly down the steps in his pyjamas and attenuated +dressing-gown to talk to the girl. + +“Are you satisfied, Mr. Dorn?” + +“No, I am far from satisfied, your ladyship,” said Michael, as he +followed the woman into the library. + +He noticed the dull patch on the carpet where the water had been +thrown upon Braime, and saw her eyes also fixed upon the spot. + +“And now, Mr. Dorn,” she said, almost amiably, “there is no reason why +we should quarrel. What is this mystery that you are making about Miss +Reddle? The poor girl was beside herself last night. It was an act of +mercy to send her off into the country.” + +“Who drove her?” + +“My chauffeur.” His keen eyes were fixed upon her, but she did not +falter. + +“Not Mr. Chesney Praye by any chance?” he asked softly. + +“Mr. Praye is in Paris. He has been there some days,” was the +staggering reply. “You’ve found a mare’s nest. Really there is no +mystery at all about anything that has happened to this young lady in +my house. What reason in the world was there for me to engage her, +except my desire to find a comfortable job for a very very nice girl?” +And then: “Is Braime better?” + +“Sergeant Braime is much better,” said Michael, and saw that he had +got beneath her guard. + +She cringed back as at a blow, and her voice had lost a little of its +assurance when she faltered: + +“Sergeant Braime? I am talking about my butler----” + +“And I’m talking about Sergeant Braime of the Criminal Investigation +Department, who has been in your service for six months.” + +Her mouth was an O of amazement. + +“But--but he was recommended to me by----” + +“By a spurious Prisoners’ Aid Society,” said Michael. “The idea was +that, if you believed that the man had a criminal record, he had a +better chance of coming into your ladyship’s service.” + +She had recovered herself in an instant. + +“But why?” she drawled. “Why put a detective in my household? It is an +abominable outrage and I shall report the matter to the Commissioner +of Police immediately.” + +He was looking round the room and his eyes rested upon that section of +the bookshelves which was protected by the wire-covered door. + +“You have a book there that I should like to see. I intended coming +last night, only something prevented me.” + +“A book?” + +“A book called _The Life of Washington_--sounds a fairly innocuous +title, doesn’t it?” + +She walked to the bookcase, and, taking a key from the drawer of her +desk, opened the wire net cover. + +“There it is,” she said. “Read it and be improved.” + +She turned to walk to the door and stood there watching him. And then +he did the last thing she expected. From his pocket he took a thick +red glove and drew it on his right hand. Reaching up, he seized the +back of the book and jerked it loose. There was a click, a spark of +blinding white light, but nothing else happened, and he laid the book +with some difficulty on the table. + +“A very good imitation,” he said quietly, “but it is less of a book +than a steel box, and any person who attempts to pull it out +automatically makes contact with a very powerful electric current. +Where is the switch?” + +She did not reply. Her face, under the powder, was drawn and haggard. +Walking to the door, Michael searched for a while, then, stooping +down, he turned over a big switch that was well concealed by a hanging +portière. + +“Have you the key of this box?” + +“It is not locked,” she said, and, coming to his side, pressed a +spring. The lid sprang open. + +The “book” was, as he surmised, hollow. It was also empty. + +“Is there a law against having a safe-box made like a book?” she +asked, and her voice was almost sweet. “Does one get into _very_ +serious trouble for protecting one’s property from thieving butlers +and--inquisitive amateur detectives?” + +“There’s a law against murder,” said the other shortly. “If I had +touched that book without rubber gloves, I should have been as near +dead as makes no difference. It did not kill Braime, because he is +constitutionally a giant.” + +“I did not ask you to take down the book,” she said. + +“Neither did you warn me,” Michael smiled crookedly. “Empty, eh? Of +course, it would be. You suspected Braime, and left a little notebook +around carelessly in your bedroom, in which you made reference to the +_Life of Washington_. Braime saw it and fell into the trap. He came to +the library, and would have been a dead man if I hadn’t applied first +aid.” + +There was a silence. + +“Is that all?” asked Lady Moron. + +“Not quite all. I want to know where is Miss Reddle?” + +“And I’m afraid I cannot tell you. The truth is, when she was released +last night, or in the early hours of this morning, she refused to come +either here or to her house in--wherever her house may be. She said +she wanted to go into the country----” + +“And did Mrs. Pinder express a desire to go into the country?” he +asked, his cold eyes fixed on hers. + +“Mrs. Pinder? I do not know Mrs. Pinder.” + +“Did Mrs. Pinder express a desire to go into the country?” he asked +again. He raised a warning finger. “Madam, there is very considerable +trouble coming to you, and to those who work with you.” + +She shrugged her broad shoulders. + +“If it takes any other form than an early morning call by a +melodramatic detective I shall bear it with equanimity,” she said, and +stalked through the doorway into the hall, Michael following. + +As she stood aside for him to pass through the door, she saw the +grotesque figure of Selwyn leaning over the side of the car--intently +occupied--and her lips curled. + +“My son has found his intellectual level,” she said, and called him by +name. + +To Michael’s surprise the young man merely turned his head and resumed +his conversation with the girl. + +“Selwyn!” + +Even then he took his time. + +“Good-bye, young lady. Don’t forget”--in a stage whisper--“pork +sausages, not beef. Beef gives me indigestion.” And, waving her an +airy farewell, he went back to the woman whose face was a thundercloud +of wrath. + +“It sounded almost as if you were making a date with that young man,” +said Michael as they drove off. + +“He’s coming to supper,” said Lizzy. “Was Lois there?” + +“No, I didn’t expect she would be.” + +Even the prospect of a _tête-à-tête_ meal with a scion of the +nobility was not sufficient to compensate for this news. + +“But where is she, Mr. Dorn?” + +“She’s somewhere. I don’t think she’ll come to any harm for a day or +two.” + +She looked at him quietly. + +“You don’t think that.” + +“Yes, I do,” he protested. + +She did not take her eyes from him. + +“You look nearly dead,” she said. “You’re pretty fond of her, aren’t +you?” + +He was startled by the question. + +“Fond of Lois?” The question seemed in the nature of a revelation. +“Fond of her--why--I suppose I am.” + +At that moment Michael Dorn realised that he had something more than a +professional interest in the girl he sought, and he was shocked at the +discovery. + +He dropped Lizzy Smith in Charlotte Street, and, declining her +invitation to come in, drove home, and, leaving his car in the +courtyard of Hiles Mansions, he dragged himself wearily up to his +room. He was sleeping on the top of his bed when the silent Wills came +in with a telegram in his hand, and, struggling up, he tore open the +cover and read the message. It had been handed in at Paris at eight +o’clock and ran: + + + Will you please inform me name of District Commissioner, Karrili, + during period you were in Punjab. + + +It was signed “Chesney Praye, Grand Hotel.” + +“An ‘I’m here’ enquiry,” said Michael, handing the telegram to Wills, +“the idea being to establish the fact that he is in Paris at this +moment. Get on the ’phone, Wills, to all the private hire aerodromes +within a radius of a hundred miles of London, find out if anybody +hired a private machine in the early hours of the morning to take him +to Paris. Report to me later.” + +Wills nodded and stole forth silently. + +“To try that stuff on me!” said Michael wrathfully, as the door closed +upon his man. + + + + + Chapter Twenty-four + +It was three o’clock in the afternoon when Lois Reddle woke from a +heavy sleep, feeling ravenously hungry. She got off the bed, and, +putting on her shoes, walked to the window. The prospect was a dreary +one. She saw the farmyard into which she had driven that morning, and +recognised the slatternly woman who was feeding the chickens as the +janitress who had opened the door. Beyond the discoloured wall was the +slope of a treeless down, and, by getting close to the pane and +looking sideways, she could see no more than a further fold of the +hills, surmounted by a black copse. + +She felt refreshed when she had bathed her face and hands, but the +pangs of hunger had grown more poignant, and she went to the door and +turned the handle. It did not budge; the door was locked. The window +sash, she found, only opened a few inches, but it was sufficient to +call to the woman in the yard, and presently she attracted her +attention, for she waved her hand impatiently and went on feeding the +chickens. Then, after a few minutes, she went out of the girl’s line +of vision. It was some time before her heavy tread sounded on the +stairs, and obviously the locked door was no accident, for, when the +woman came in carrying a tray, the key was hanging from a chain +fastened to her waist. + +“Please do not lock the door again,” said Lois, as she surveyed the +very plain fare with some appreciation. + +“You get on with your eating and never mind about the door,” was the +unexpected reply. + +Lois was left in no doubt as to the woman’s hostility and wisely did +not continue the argument. Then, to her amazement, as the woman went +out of the room she turned the key again. Lois ran to the door and +hammered on the panels. + +“Unlock this door,” she said, but there was no reply save the sound of +the dour attendant’s footsteps on the stairs, and the girl went slowly +back to her meal to confront a new problem. + +The appetite of youth was not to be denied, and when she had finished +her meal some of her confidence and poise had returned. It was +impossible that they could be keeping her prisoner; she scoffed at the +idea. Possibly the locking of the door was the act of an over-zealous +custodian who was to keep her safe from--she shook her head. Not from +Michael Dorn. Whatever views the countess might have of him, however +unforgivable had been his behaviour, he was not vindictive, nor would +he pursue her in any spirit of revenge. That was the greatest +impossibility of all. + +She tried the door again; it was undoubtedly locked. And then, in a +spirit of self-preservation, she attempted to open the window, and +found that two slats of wood had been so screwed as to make it +impossible for the sash to rise or fall more than a few inches. The +other window had been similarly dealt with. She was examining this +when she saw the doctor in the yard. He wore his rusty frock coat, but +he was collarless, and on his head was an old golf cap. + +Walking with unsteady steps to the gate through which she had come, +and which was open, with some difficulty he closed it. She needed no +special knowledge of human weakness to see that he had been drinking +more than was good for him, for his gait was unsteady, and when, +turning back to the house, he saw her, and yelled a greeting, it was +interrupted by a hiccough. + +“Had a good sleep, young friend?” he shouted. “Has that old hag +brought your lunch?” + +“Doctor”--she spoke through the slit of the sash--“can’t I come down? +She has locked me in.” + +“Locked you in?” The statement seemed to afford him some amusement, +for he rocked with laughter. “Well, well, fancy locking you in! She +must be afraid of you, my dear. Don’t you worry, you’re all right. +I’ll look after you. You’ve heard no voices, have you? Seen nobody +following you around, eh? You’ll be all right in a day or two.” + +His words filled her with apprehension. Once before, at the luncheon +where she had met him, he had spoken about mysterious voices and +people following her. Did he think she was mad? She went cold at the +thought. Going to the door, she waited for him to come up the stairs, +but there was no sound from below, only a soft patter of feet, and +presently something snuffled under the door and there was a low growl. +The woman’s harsh voice called from the passage. + +“Bati, Bati, _hitherao_! Come down, you black _soor_!” + +She heard the animal running down the stairs, there was the sound of a +smack and a sharp yelp. Later, she saw the dogs--there were two of +them--in the yard. Great black beasts, bigger than Alsatians, but +lacking their fineness. They were prowling about, nosing into stable +refuse. One of them saw her, growled and showed his fangs, the +bristles stiff, and she hastily drew out of sight. She knocked again +on the door, stamped on the floor, but attracted no attention, and +though she heard the doctor’s voice and called to him he ignored her. +Her situation was a dangerous one, and she began to understand dimly +the reason for Dorn’s drastic action. + +Where she was she could not guess. So much of the country as she could +see had no meaning for her; and, except that her window faced +northward, she was unable to locate her position. + +The woman brought her up some more tea in the afternoon--vile stuff +beside which Lizzy Smith’s concoctions were veritable nectar. + +“I insist that you leave this door open,” said the girl. + +“They’d tear you to pieces if I did,” said the woman. “There is no +holding them with strangers. Hark at Bati now!” + +There was a snuffling and growling outside the door. + +“Go away, you! _Juldi_!” she cried shrilly in her queer mixture of +English and Hindustani. + +The girl faced her. + +“I am not afraid of dogs,” said Lois steadily, and walked to the door. + +Before she was half-way the woman had overtaken her, and, catching her +by the arm, had swung her round. + +“You’ll stay where you are, and do as you’re told, or it will be worse +for you,” she said threateningly. + +“Where is the doctor? I wish to see him.” + +“You can’t see any doctor. He’s gone down to the village to get a +drink.” + +She kicked away the dogs that strove to get through the half-open +door, closed and locked it, and for half an hour Lois sat before her +untasted meal, trying to think. The light was fading in the sky when +there came the second dramatic interruption of that day. + +Lois was standing by the window, looking into the dreary yard and +thinking of Michael Dorn. He had certainly become a bright nucleus of +hope. Michael Dorn would not fail her; wherever she was, he would +follow. Why she should think this, she could not understand. Why he +should give his time and his thoughts to her protection, was a mystery +yet to be solved. But he was working for her--working for her now. It +was a comforting thought; she almost forgot her fears. + +Then from the yard below came the screaming voice of the gaunt woman. + +“I told you to wash those dishes, didn’t I? Never mind what you’re +doing; when I give you an order you carry it out, you old gaol-bird.” + +“Why am I kept here?” Another voice spoke sweet and soft. Lois +trembled at the sound. “He told me that----” + +“Never mind what he told you,” shrilled the other. “Wash those dishes, +and then you can scrub the floor; and if it is not done in half an +hour I’ll put you in the cellar with the rats or give you to the dogs, +and they’ll tear you to pieces! Hi, Bati! Mali!” + +There was a harsh growl from the dogs and a clanking of chains. + +“I refuse”--again the gentle voice--“I refuse!” + +_Crack!_ + +“Refuse that! Give me any trouble and I’ll whip you till you bleed. +Ah, you would, would you?” + +There was the sound of a struggle and the horrified girl, craning her +neck, saw a frail woman stumble and fall to the ground, saw the cruel +whip rise and fall---- + +“Stop!” cried Lois hoarsely, and at that instant, as the old hag +stooped over the stricken woman and jerked her out of view, the knees +of Lois Reddle gave beneath her and she fell to the floor in a swoon. + + + + + Chapter Twenty-five + +Lois came to consciousness almost at once, as she thought, though +she had been lying on the floor for half an hour before she moved, +and, sick and shaking, dragged herself with difficulty to the bed. + +She felt ill and shaken and sat with her hands before her eyes trying +to shut out that hideous scene. The raised whip---- + +She lay down on the bed, her face in the crook of her arm, trying to +reconstruct from the confusion of her mind a sane and logical +explanation, and always her thoughts flew back to Michael Dorn, with +his saturnine face and his soul-searching eyes. Why he should weave in +and out of her troubled thoughts, she could not fathom, except that +she came back to that sure foundation of faith. Who was this other +prisoner? What had the countess to do with this experience of hers? +Was it true, as Michael Dorn had hinted, that the falling balcony and +the motor-car incident were not accidents, but deliberate attempts to +kill her? + +When the woman brought her supper, Lois was outwardly calm, +recognising the futility of questioning her. When she came up to clear +away, she brought a small oil lamp and lit it. She pulled down the two +ragged blinds before she left, and at the door paused for her +good-night message. + +“If you want anything, stamp on the floor,” she said. “If you take my +tip you won’t send for the doctor, because he’s raving drunk; and +don’t take any notice of that woman downstairs, she’s crazy!” + +It was not a very cheering farewell. One thing was certain, she was +free from interruption for the rest of the night; and she decided to +put into operation the plan she had formed. + +She had found in her little handbag a small nail file. The slats that +prevented the windows opening had been screwed into the sash grooves, +and Lois guessed that by breaking off the point of the file she would +be able to improvise a screwdriver. The snapping of the file was an +easy matter, but when she came to fit the jagged end in the screws, +she found both the instrument and her strength insufficient for the +purpose. She tried another screw with no better result, and finally +gave up her task in despair. The windows could be broken, but they +were scarcely a foot wide. And the dogs were below; she heard them +growling as she worked. + +There was nothing for her to do, nothing to read. She did not even +know the time, for her watch had stopped, and she could only judge the +hour by the light of the sky. + +Pacing up and down the room, her hands behind her, she resolutely +refused to be panic-stricken. The blind impulse of panic, which came +to her again and again, had made her want to scream aloud. What was +Lizzy doing now? And Michael Dorn? Always her thoughts came back to +Michael Dorn. + +“I wonder if I’m in love with him?” she said aloud, and smiled at the +thought. + +If she was, then he was the last person she had ever expected to love, +and Lizzy would never believe that she had not been fond of him all +the time. He would find her. She was sure of that. But suppose he did +not? She drew a long sigh. Turning down the light and resting her +elbows on the window-sill, she stared out into the darkness. The moon +was rising somewhere on the other side of the house. She saw the +ghostly light of it turn the dark downs to silver. Then she heard +hurried steps in the hall below, and, going back to the table, turned +up the light. The lock snapped back and the door was thrust open. It +was the doctor, and he was not drunk. He was, in truth, haggardly, +tremblingly sober. + +“Come out of this!” he jerked, and dragged her from the room down the +stairs into the hall. “Go up and put that light out,” he said to some +one in the darkness, and the gaunt woman, appearing from nowhere, +brushed past her and ran up the stairs. + +“What do you want, doctor? Is anything----” + +“Shut up!” he hissed. “Have you put that light out?” + +“Yes,” said a sulky voice from the stairs. “What is there to be scared +about? You’ve been drunk and dreaming.” + +“I’ll smash your head if you talk to me like that!” said the man +without heat. “I tell you I saw the car coming over the hill. It +stopped in front of the house. Do you think I’m blind? You go up to my +room and you can see the lights. He got out and came along the wall, +then I lost sight of him.” + +Lois’ heart so thumped and swelled that she almost choked. + +“Where is he now?” asked the woman. + +“Shut up.” + +Again a dreadful, long silence, broken at last by the faint sound of +the howling dogs. + +“He’s at the back!” + +The doctor still held Lois’ arm in his firm grip, and now he gently +shook her. + +“If you scream or shout, or do anything, I’ll cut your throat. I mean +what I say--do you hear?” + +“Why didn’t you leave her upstairs?” growled the woman. + +“Because I wanted her here, where I could see her. Find my silk +handkerchief; I left it in the study. And bring the irons, I’m not +going to take any risks.” + +The woman went into the room and came back. Suddenly Lois felt the +handkerchief against her mouth. + +“Don’t struggle; I’m not going to hurt you, unless you shout. Get the +irons.” + +“Here!” said the woman’s voice. + +Lois felt her wrists gripped and dragged behind her. In another second +she was handcuffed. + +“Sit down there.” He pushed her into a chair, felt at the gag, and +grunted his satisfaction. + +“Listen! He’s knocking.” + +_Tap-tap-tap!_ + +Silently the two stepped into the darkness of the front yard and the +woman called. + +“Who’s there?” + +And then came a voice that made the girl half-rise from her chair. + +“I want to see the master of this house,” said Michael Dorn. + + + + + Chapter Twenty-six + +It was the worst kind of fortune that Michael Dorn received news of +two early morning departures from aerodromes situated a hundred miles +apart; and worse that he should have chosen the Cambridgeshire venue +first. Here the telephone enquiries he made gave him little +information, and it was not until he arrived at Morland that he found +the early morning passenger was an undergraduate from Cambridge who +had been summoned home through the serious illness of a sister and had +left for Cornwall. + +“I wasn’t in the office when you enquired,” said the aerodrome chief, +“or I would have told you that.” + +“It can’t be helped,” said Michael. + +He went back to his car and studied the map. He was separated from +Whitcomb by a hundred and seven miles of road, mainly indifferent; +and, to add to his troubles, he had two bad punctures in the first +twenty miles and went into Market Silby on a flat tyre. By the time +the new tyre was purchased and fixed he had lost a good hour of +daylight and had still the worst of the road to negotiate. And it was +by no means certain, even when he reached his objective, that he would +be any nearer to finding the girl. + +During the period of waiting while the tyre was being fitted he +studied the little time-table he had made that morning. The girl had +been taken from the police station in the neighbourhood of two +o’clock, he had discovered. She had left in the car for an unknown +destination, and at eight o’clock--six hours later--Chesney Praye had +wired him from Paris. Supposing he had flown from a private aerodrome +near London, it would have taken him two hours to reach the French +Capital, which meant that he must have departed somewhere about five +o’clock. + +Between two and five o’clock was the unknown quantity of distance. By +accepting this period he had decided that Lois had been taken to a +spot between an hour and a half and two hours distant from the +metropolis. He also guessed the aeroplane theory was right, that the +place of detention and the aerodrome were within twenty miles by car, +and six or seven miles if the abductor drove or walked. + +The Cambridge aerodrome was an ideal fulfilment of his calculations. +So was Whitcomb, on the borders of Somerset. He came to the aerodrome +in time to catch the manager just before he left for the night, showed +his authority, which had a more official value than Lady Moron had +imagined, and accompanied the manager to his office. + +“The gentleman’s name was Stone. We had a telephone message late last +night from London, asking us to have a machine waiting to take him to +France, and he arrived on time.” + +He described the traveller so faithfully that Michael could almost see +Chesney Praye standing before him. + +“That is the gentleman,” he said. “How did he get here?--Did he come +here by car?” + +The manager shook his head. + +“No, he came up in a trap to the end of the field and walked the rest +of the distance.” + +“A horse-drawn trap? Who drove him?” + +“That I cannot tell you. It was too far away to see. I know very few +people here.” + +Michael considered for a moment. + +“Perhaps you will show me where the trap set down.” And, as a thought +struck him: “Have you an Ordnance map of this district?” + +This request the manager was able to satisfy. He could also show him +on the plan the point at which the passenger had left the cart. +Michael traced the road with the tip of his finger, and then began a +wide sweep in search of houses. + +“That’s Lord Kelver’s place. I do happen to know that, because I’ve +been there. That’s the house of his bailiff.” When Michael touched +another red square: “That’s the road to Ilfey Village. There is an inn +there, the Red Lion, where he may have been putting up,” he suggested, +but Michael rejected the likelihood of Chesney having stayed in the +neighbourhood. + +“What is this place?” + +His finger paused, but the manager shook his head. + +“I don’t remember it. Perhaps one of my mechanics will be able to tell +us.” + +He went out and came back with a workman who bent over the map. + +“That is Gallows Farm,” he said. “It is an old place--been there for +hundreds of years. I don’t know who has it now, but he isn’t a +farmer--at least, I never saw any cattle coming out of his yard.” + +There was a telephone on the table; Michael took it up and gave the +number of the nearest police station. He introduced himself and then +put his question and waited whilst the particulars were found. + +“Gallows Farm was let twelve months ago to a Mr. ----” He gave a name +which was unfamiliar to Dorn. “There’s nobody there except the +gentleman and his housekeeper.” + +This was not very informative, but Michael was not discouraged. Again +he went over the map, and in the end concluded that Gallows Farm was +the only house in the neighbourhood which was in any way under +suspicion. He snatched a hasty meal in the aerodrome mess, and it was +growing dark when he skirted the field and took the road along which +the cart had come in the early morning. Presently, as he came over the +crest of the hill, the farm showed dimly in the circle of his powerful +headlamps. There were no lights or sign of life about the house. The +long, white, ugly wall was surmounted by broken glass, and the gate, +which opened on to the road, was securely fastened. There was no +evidence of a bell-pull. + +He went back to the car, and, finding an electric torch, continued his +investigations. The farm building lay on the slope of the hill and he +had to descend to get to the back of the premises. Here the gate was +larger and more insecure, and his attempt to open it was followed by a +furious barking and straining of chains. He listened, interested; the +barking had a familiar sound. It was not the deep roar of the mastiff, +or the half-frightened, half-angry discordance of the terrier; there +was a howl in that note that he had heard before on dark nights as he +had passed through sleeping Indian villages. + +“If they’re not native dogs, I’ve never heard any,” he said softly, +and continued his circuit. + +From the declivity at the back of the house he could not see the top +windows of the building, low as it was, and he turned to the front of +the house and rapped on the heavy black wooden gate. + +Somebody must have been aroused by the barking of the dogs, for almost +immediately the sharp voice of a woman called: + +“Who’s there?” + +“I want to see the master of this house,” said Dorn. + +“Well, you can’t see him, not at this time; he’s in bed.” + +“Then let me see you. Open this gate,” said Michael. + +There was an interval of silence, and then the woman said: + +“Go away, or I’ll telephone for the police.” + +That pause before she spoke betrayed the situation to the keen-witted +man at the gate. There was somebody else behind that barrier, somebody +who was prompting the woman in a whisper. + +“Will you please tell your master, who is in bed, but not, I think, +asleep, that unless you open the gate I’ll come over the top?” + +This time the woman needed no prompting. + +“If you dare, I’ll set my dogs on you!” she screamed. + +He heard her footsteps running on the cobbled yard, and presently the +throaty growl of the dogs as they came flying before her. + +“Now will you go away?” shrieked the woman. “If they get out they’ll +tear the heart out of you, _ek dum_!” + +Michael Dorn uttered an involuntary exclamation. “_Ek dum_?” Who was +this who used the Indian phrase? + +“I think you’d better let me in, my sister,” he said, and he spoke in +Hindustani. + +There was no reply for a moment, and now he was sure somebody was +whispering--whispering fiercely, urgently. + +“I don’t know what you mean by your outlandish gibberish,” said the +woman’s voice huskily. “You get away, mister, before you’re in +trouble.” + +Michael, thrusting his lamp in the direction of the gate-top, looked +up at a row of rusty iron spikes. Should he take the risk? These +people might be law-abiding, and it was not remarkable that the woman +should have a few Indian phrases. She might have been a soldier’s wife +who had lived in India and had acquired the habit of that pigeon talk. + +“Won’t you be sensible and let me in? I only want to ask you a few +questions.” And then, as an inspiration came to him: “I am from Mr. +Chesney Praye.” + +This time the silence was so long that he thought they had gone. Then +the woman spoke. + +“We don’t know Mr. Chesney Praye, and we’re going in.” + +“We? Who’s your friend?” asked Michael, but there was no answer. + +Presently the door was slammed ostentatiously. Behind the gates he +could hear the growling and snuffling of the dogs, and when he put his +toe cautiously under the space between earth and gate he heard the +vicious snap of a jaw, and smiled in the darkness. Soon after, the man +and woman at the upstairs window heard the whine of a motor and saw +the two white beams of its head-lamps moving towards London. + +And Lois Reddle lay sobbing on her bed, and in her heart the despair +of hopelessness. + + + + + Chapter Twenty-seven + +Two hours after Michael Dorn had gone, Dr. Tappatt sat in his +parlour, his elbows on his knees, his big face cupped in his hands. +Beside him was a half-filled tumbler of whisky, and he was gazing into +the fire, which was lit for him summer and winter since he had left +India. There had been a time when his name had ranked high in the +profession of medicine, but an unsavoury incident had driven him from +Edinburgh, where, although he was young, he had established an +excellent practice, and he found himself in India, with no other +assets than his undoubted skill, the meagre remnants of his savings, +and a taste for good wine. For a time he had been attached to the +court of an Indian prince, and then, in an evil moment, he had +conceived the idea of a mental home for wealthy Indians. + +But for the growing craving for drink he might have retired after a +few years, with sufficient to keep him for the rest of his life. But +there was a kink somewhere in Dr. Tappatt’s nature and it showed +itself only too clearly in his conduct of the home. He had to leave +the North-West Provinces in a hurry and settle in Bengal, where there +were queer stories about the home he founded there. There were +applications at court by the relatives of patients who had been put +away by interested people, and in the end his home was closed and he +moved into the Punjab. + +His brilliant brain had been sharpened by conflict with authority, and +he had become something of a strategist, for strategy is the art of +knowing your enemy’s mind. + +Staring into the fire, he was studying the mentality of Captain +Michael Dorn and he reached certain conclusions. The woman attendant +had long since gone to bed, and was asleep when he shuffled down the +passage and knocked at her door. + +“Come out; I want to speak to you.” + +He heard her grumbling, and went back to the study. Once in the period +of waiting he looked at the telephone and reached out his hand +half-way to take it. But he knew that the person he had in mind was +not to be lightly disturbed again, and he had already made his report. +No, his method was the best, he decided; and if he was mistaken in his +estimate of Michael Dorn no harm would be done. + +When the woman came blinking into the light, buttoning up her dress, +he nodded to a chair and for half an hour they talked, the woman +interpolating sour objections which he dismissed without ceremony. + +“I haven’t had any sleep for two nights,” she complained, “and I don’t +see why----” + +“Are you expected to see anything?” he snarled. “You’re a listener--no +more!” + +She had served him for the greater part of twenty years and was afraid +of no other person in the world. And from grumbling she came to +whining, until he waved her out of the room. + +At seven o’clock in the morning Dr. Tappatt, dressed in a thick +woollen overcoat, for he felt the chill air of the morning, drew up +the blinds and opened the windows of his parlour, having previously +made a tour of inspection. Heaping two more logs on the fire, he +gathered some scraps of meat and carried them out to the dogs, who +greeted him with hoarse barks of welcome. He took his time, finding a +malicious joy in his tardiness. Then, when he had toured the yard, he +went round to the front of the house again, turned the key, unbolted +the gate, and pulled it open. A man was standing squarely opposite the +entrance, and the doctor started. + +“Good morning, Dr. Tappatt,” said Michael Dorn. “I had an idea I +should see you if I came early enough.” + +“Good gracious!” said Tappatt, in feigned surprise. “This is an +unexpected pleasure, Captain Dorn!” + +“I am glad you think so. Did Miss Reddle sleep well?” + +The doctor’s brows furrowed. + +“Miss Reddle? I can’t remember--oh, yes, of course, it was that +delightful young lady I met at the Countess of Moron’s house. What a +queer question to ask me!” + +There was a silence. + +“You haven’t invited me in. You’ve lost your old Anglo-Indian sense of +hospitality,” bantered Michael. + +Tappatt stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, his inflamed +face thrust forward. + +“I don’t remember that we were especially good friends, Dorn,” he +said. “I seem to remember certain unpleasant encounters----?” + +“Nevertheless--you are going to invite me inside, or else----” + +“Or else?” repeated the doctor. + +“Or else I shall invite myself. I have a particular wish to look round +your little place.” + +Tappatt’s big mouth twisted in a smile. + +“With or without a search warrant?” he asked politely. + +“Without, for the moment. You and I are two old law-breakers, Tappatt; +we have never been great sticklers for formality.” + +By this time he had walked through the gate, and, curiously enough, he +did not seem to expect the dogs. Tappatt noticed this and grew even +more alert. He had matched his brain against this sometime chief of +police, and so far the honours were with him, he felt. + +“I can’t resist you, Dorn,” he said, and waved his hand to the open +door of the house. “Step right in.” + +Michael did not require a second invitation. He strolled carelessly +into the house, and turned to the study as though he had been there +before. Following him, the doctor closed the door. + +“Now, what do you want?” + +“I wish to search these premises--I am seeking a lady named Pinder and +her daughter, Lois Margeritta Reddle, whom I believe are forcibly +detained here.” + +Tappatt shook his head. + +“I’m afraid you’re on a wild goose chase. Neither of these ladies are +inmates of my house. In fact, I have no patients just now----” + +“Nor yet a licence to take patients,” added Michael. “I took the +trouble to look up the records--they are available even in the middle +of the night--fearing that short-memoried authority had overlooked +your many grievous faults; I was happy that the official mind has +showed commendable discretion.” + +“I haven’t applied for a licence,” said Tappatt shortly. Any question +regarding his profession touched him on the raw. “I don’t see why I +should allow you to make a search,” he went on. “You have no more +authority to act as a detective than I have to run a mental home. You +can start here--look under the table or under the sofa,” he grew +heavily sarcastic, “I may have some unfortunate person concealed +there!” + +Dorn walked from the room, along the passage, and stopped at the door +at the foot of the stairs, turning the handle. + +“My housekeeper’s room.” + +“Where is she?” asked Michael. + +“She’s in the kitchen.” + +Michael passed into the room, pulled up the blinds and again looked +round. Though he did not show by any sign his state of mind he was +neither uneasy nor unalarmed at the readiness with which permission +had been given to him to make the search. Rather were matters working +out according to his expectations. + +“There are two rooms upstairs; would you like to see them?” + +Dorn nodded and followed on the man’s heels to the landing. + +“This is a ward I should use if I had luck enough to get a patient.” +He threw open the door of what had been Lois’ room. It was empty; the +bed was stripped of all its clothes and the blankets were neatly +folded at the foot. Michael walked into the room, inspected the little +bathroom, tried the windows, and came out without a word. Most women +use a distinctive perfume. He had noted that Lois was faintly fragrant +of lavender--the room had that scent too. + +The room opposite was even less completely furnished, and it was also +tenantless. He knew that there was no space between the ceiling and +the roof to conceal any but a willing fugitive, and satisfied himself +with the briefest of scrutinies. + +The other wing of the house was scarcely habitable; in some places the +sky showed through the gaps in the roof, and all the upper floors were +rotten with storm-water and would hardly bear the weight of a child. + +“Where does that lead?” asked Michael when he came out from the +inspection of the lower floor of the old wing. He pointed to a flight +of steps that terminated in a door. + +“It is a cellar of some kind; you can go in,” said the other +carelessly. + +Michael pushed the door open and stepped into a little apartment. A +certain amount of light and air was admitted through a small grating +that had been let into the wall, but there was little of either. Other +light or ventilation there was none, except for the spy-hole in the +door. He flashed his lamp around, saw an old bed in one corner and a +washstand. He walked to the bed, turned over the folded blankets, and +then came into the daylight. + +“Quite an airy apartment,” he said drily. “Is this for a patient too?” + +“There is many a poor fellow sleeping out at night who would be glad +of that room,” said Dr. Tappatt virtuously, and Michael showed his +teeth for a moment in an unpleasant smile. + +“Ever been in prison, Tappatt? I don’t think you have, have you?” he +asked, as he ascended the steps again. + +Nobody knew better than Michael Dorn that the doctor had escaped +conviction, but it was his way of giving a warning. + +“I have not had that distinction.” + +“Yet,” finished Dorn. “The cells of Dartmoor are much more wholesome +than this black hole of yours--as you will find. Plenty of fresh air, +immense quantities of light--and the food is good.” + +Tappatt licked his lips but made no answer. + +“What is in here?” He stopped before a locked shed. + +“A motor-car belonging to a friend of mine. Do you want to see it?” + +“A blue Buick, by any chance?” + +“Yes, I think it is a Buick.” + +“Left here the night before last, I think?” + +Tappatt smiled and shook his head. + +“It has been here a week. There are times when you are just a little +too clever.” + +“Let me see it,” said Michael. + +The doctor went back to the house for keys, whilst Michael made a +rapid inspection of the remaining buildings. The two dogs broke into a +fury at his approach, straining at their chains until it seemed that +they must choke or the leashes break. Then the doctor returned and +found Dorn contemplating the back gate with absorbed interest; the +ground was hard and showed no footmark--even the car had left no +tracks. + +“Here is a key.” + +“I don’t think I want to see the car,” said Dorn slowly. “I know it +rather well and the owner more than a little.” He looked round. “I +don’t see your housekeeper anywhere.” + +“I expect she’s gone into the village to do her marketing,” said the +other. + +Slowly Michael took a gold case from his pocket, selected a cigarette +and lit it, throwing the match towards the dogs, an act which angered +them to madness. + +“You want to be careful of those dogs,” warned the doctor. “They’re +not the kind to monkey with. I don’t know what they would do to you, +even if I were with you.” + +“They want to be careful of me,” said Dorn. “I had the death of more +pariahs on my soul than any other police official in India during the +term I was serving.” + +“They would get you before you got them,” said the doctor angrily. + +Michael Dorn smiled, and stretched out his hand stiffly before him. + +“Do you see that?” he asked. “Watch!” + +Where it came from, how it got there, Tappatt could not for the life +of him tell; but though the hand apparently had not moved it was +holding a short-barrelled Browning of heavy calibre. + +“Where on earth did that come from?” he gasped. “You had it there all +the time----” + +“No, it came out of my pocket,” laughed Michael. Again he was engaged +in one of his subtle acts of intimidation. + +“I’ll swear that it didn’t.” + +“Watch!” + +Again the hand was held stiffly. An imperceptible movement, whether up +or down or backward Tappatt could not say, and the hand was empty. + +“It is a trick,” said Dorn carelessly. “And if you speak dog language +you might explain to these hounds of yours that I am a man to leave +severely alone. By-the-way, dog patrols have always been a specialty +of yours? Wasn’t the trouble in Bengal over a patient who had been +worried to death? Refresh my memory.” + +The doctor swallowed something, and then Dorn asked: + +“Why are these dogs chained up?” + +“I keep them chained.” + +“They weren’t chained last night. You knew I was in the neighbourhood, +and that doesn’t seem to be the time to put them on the leash. Yet at +four o’clock this morning they were fast. Why did you tie them up, +doctor?” + +Their eyes met. + +“Shall I tell you why?” + +Tappatt was silent; the detective had returned at four o’clock in the +morning; he had just missed the little procession that had crossed the +fields! + +“Shall I tell you why?” Dorn asked again. + +“You’re in an informative mood,” sneered Tappatt. + +“Very. You tied them up because you took those two women out of the +house last night, out through this yard, and you could only do that +when you had put the dogs on the chain. Correct me if I’m wrong. They +went out this way and they will come back this way.” + +Dr. Tappatt’s jaw dropped; this was a turn to his disadvantage with a +vengeance. He had expected Dorn to be satisfied with his search and to +leave some time during the day. His plan was not working as he had +expected. + +“You can invite me to breakfast; I shall stay until they return.” + +“I swear to you that I know nothing whatever about any women,” +protested Tappatt violently. “You’re making a mistake, Dorn! Anyway, +you’ve no right here--you know that!” + +Michael shook his head. + +“I never make mistakes,” he said arrogantly, “and I have every right +to be here. It is the first duty of a citizen to frustrate any +wrong-doing, and the first duty of a host to ask his guest if he is +hungry. Now you can invite me to breakfast. And over that pleasant +meal I will tell you something which will interest and amuse you.” + +The baffled man looked first one way and then the other. He was +trapped; his ruse had not only failed, but had rebounded against +himself. Dorn, out of the corner of his eye, saw the quick rise and +fall of his chest, and knew something of the panic in him. + +“You can’t stay here. I don’t want you!” exploded Tappatt angrily. +“That story about women being in my house is all moonshine and you +know it. I’ll give you one minute to clear out! You can’t bluff me!” + +Michael Dorn laughed softly. + +“What will happen if I don’t clear out? Will you send for the police? +There is the opportunity to get back on the cruel police commissioner +who shut down your little home in the Provinces and might have got you +five long weary years in Delhi prison if the official mind had only +moved a little quicker. Send for the police, my good man; it will be a +grand advertisement for you.” + +Dr. Tappatt had no intention of sending for the police; the force was +not a popular constituent of public life with him. From the height of +his intellect he looked down upon all other professions and callings +than his own. + +“All right,” he growled, “come in. And as for the women, you’ll find +you were mistaken.” + +“Don’t let us discuss them,” said Michael with an airy gesture of his +hand. + + + + + Chapter Twenty-eight + +He could almost afford to feel jubilant at the contemplation of his +partial success, only he was a man who never counted eggs as chickens; +nor did he underrate the resourcefulness of the man he was dealing +with. + +The doctor was thinking rapidly, and a stiff glass of whisky helped +further to clear a mind which was only normal when it was stimulated. +Dorn was there to stay; such subterfuges as came into his mind to rid +himself of the unwelcome visitor, he rejected. + +“Tell me where the coffee is and I will make it myself,” said Dorn. +“Please forgive me if I’m a little suspicious, but doctors have an +uncanny knowledge of the properties of certain drugs, and I should +hate to feel myself going to sleep for no other reason than that you +had found an opportunity for doctoring my drink.” + +He went into the kitchen, kindled the fire and put on the kettle. In +one of the cupboards he found a tin of biscuits and a can of preserved +milk--there were the elements of safe refreshment here. He knew his +doctor very well--he had set a train of thought in motion. Would he +take the obvious step, or go outside the detective’s plan? + +The doctor crouched before the fire in his study, his mind working in +all directions. It was a curious fact that, until Dorn’s jesting +remark, he had not thought of drugs. He heard Michael whistling softly +to himself, and, rising noiselessly, crossed to his desk and searched +among the bottles that were arrayed on various shelves and in divers +pigeonholes, and presently found what he sought. + +He slipped a grey pellet from the phial, dropping it into the palm of +his hand, and, replacing the bottle, pulled down the desk cover. There +might be no opportunity. Against that, every man as self-assured as +Dorn was left himself open at one point. + +Wedging the pellet between the second and third fingers of his left +hand, he came back to the fire, and was there when Michael Dorn came +in later with coffee, cups, and saucers on a tray, the biscuits under +his arm. + +“I’ve been thinking that perhaps, after reflection, you will tell me +what time you expect our friends to return?” he asked. “Or, failing +that, would you tell me what is the signal you are to give to signify +that the coast is clear?” + +“You’re mad to make such suggestions,” said Tappatt gruffly. “I +thought you weren’t going to talk about the women. They are not here.” + +“Somebody has got to talk about them,” murmured Michael +apologetically. “Have some coffee? It is infinitely better than that +yellow stuff you’ve got on the mantelpiece, and costs about one +twentieth the price.” + +He poured out a cup and pushed it towards his companion, but the +doctor did not so much as turn his head. + +Michael sipped luxuriously at the hot comforting fluid, his eyes fixed +upon Tappatt’s moody face. Suddenly the doctor lifted his head as +though he had heard something. + +“There is somebody coming now,” he said, and the detective walked to +the door and listened. + +When he turned the doctor was in his old posture. + +“You’re getting jumpy--it is the whisky, my friend,” he said. + +He refilled his cup, stirred it vigorously, and dropped in a liberal +supply of condensed milk. + +“What is this interesting thing you were going to tell me?” asked +Tappatt, still staring into the fire. + +“It concerns you. There is a movement to get you brought before the +General Medical Council for that Indian trouble, which means, I +suppose, that you will be struck off the medical register.” + +This was news to the doctor, and he sprang to his feet. + +“That is a lie!” he said loudly. + +Suddenly Michael bent his head. + +“What was that?” he asked. + +Tappatt looked round. + +“I didn’t hear anything.” + +But the detective motioned him to silence. He rose, picked up his +coffee, and walked to the door, listening. + +“Stay here,” he said and disappeared from view. + +He was back again in a minute, but remained standing by the door, +sipping at his cup, and the doctor affected to be amused. + +“You’ve got nerves, man,” he said. “If you’d trusted me enough to +leave your cup behind I’d have given you something to cure you!” + +“So I suppose,” said Michael, setting down the vessel nearly empty. “I +hate showing discourtesy to a host, but I have made a practice all my +life of pouring out my own drinks when I’m in dubious company, and +hanging on to them until I’m finished.” + +The doctor glanced at the cup and his face cleared. It had been so +absurdly easy, though the danger was by no means over. + +“What I like about you, Dorn, is that you’re a gentleman. I’m not +paying you a compliment. I’m merely stating a fact. I’ve had to do +with a few police officers who have been the scum of the gutter, and +the contrast is refreshing. You were kidding about striking me off the +register, weren’t you?” + +Michael shook his head. + +“I never kid. I am the man who intends making a personal application +at the next meeting of the Council,” he said. “You can be sure that I +shall be able to lay before them sufficient proof to make your +position in England a pretty uncomfortable one.” + +Tappatt forced a smile. + +“In that case,” he said, rising, “I’d better do what I can to get on +the right side of you. If you will come with me, I will show you +something you’ve overlooked.” + +He smiled in the other’s face, and Michael followed him down the +passage into the yard. + +“You were rather unkind about the airiness of this admirable place of +detention,” said Tappatt. He stood on the top of the steps which led +to the underground room. “Did it occur to you that it might be just a +little more airy than you had imagined? Come!” + +He ran down the steps, pushed open the heavy door, and went into the +cellar chamber. + +“You did not see the trap-door in the corner of the room, did you?” + +Michael pushed past him and strode across the brick floor. He had +taken three steps when the door shut. The key squeaked as it turned +and there came to him the sound of Tappatt’s mocking laughter.… + +“That is a trick of mine--now show me your trick with the gun!” +laughed the doctor. + +A splinter of wood leapt from the door; there was the sound of a +muffled explosion and Tappatt scrambled up the steps, laughing +hysterically. + +He ran back to the room. Michael’s cup stood on the table, and he +spooned a quantity of the lukewarm liquid and tasted it, smacking his +lips. + +“Brain against brain. I think I’ve scored the final point!” he said +with satisfaction. It had been so crudely simple. What would happen +after, he did not stop to consider. + +For Dr. Tappatt the game was almost finished. His employer had been +more than generous--a large sum was due for his latest services, and +the whole world was open to him. For two years he had served his +friend faithfully and well. It had been an unromantic service, a +service that kept him well within the boundaries of the law. The +doctor had a very clear viewpoint. He knew that the end of this +adventure meant the worst kind of trouble, and one more offence +against the law would make little difference if he faced a jury. He +was determined to avoid juries. The detention of Michael Dorn gave him +a breathing space--a respite. The machinery of the law moved slowly, +and nowadays a man who took forethought might go from one end of +Europe to the other between sunrise and sunrise. + +Half an hour passed, an hour. He looked at his watch for the twentieth +time, and, pulling open a drawer of his desk, he took out a pair of +handcuffs, humming a tune as he worked the hinges. + +Returning to the cellar room, he knocked loudly on the door and called +the prisoner by name. There was no reply, and he unlocked the door and +peeped cautiously inward. The slit afforded him a view of the bed. +Michael Dorn was lying face downward, his head on his arm and +motionless. + +Without hesitation, the doctor went into the room, and, turning the +inert figure on its back, began a quick search. There was no pistol in +the hip pocket; he found that in a specially constructed pouch inside +the coat. Dorn’s eyelids flickered as the doctor made the search, and +there came from the lips an unintelligible mutter of sound. + +“You are not so talkative now, my friend,” said Tappatt pleasantly. + +He took some papers from the detective’s pocket and these he +transferred to his own. Watch and chain he left; but anything that +might be used as a weapon, even the little penknife, he took away. +When he had finished he fastened the handcuffs and gazed upon his +finished work with a smile of satisfaction. Returning to the house, he +found the tin of biscuits, and, filling a ewer full of water from the +yard pump, he brought them back to the prison. These he placed near +the bed. + +“Michael Dorn, you were easy,” he said, addressing the unconscious +figure. “Much easier because you have no official standing, and have +few friends who will worry about you, or notify the police of your +disappearance. And if they are notified, where are they to search? +Tell me that, Michael Dorn!” + +He locked the door and, passing through the gate at the front of the +house, he made a reconnaissance. There was just a chance that the man +had left his motor car near by, and a standing machine might attract +the attention of the constabulary. There was even a possibility that +he had not come alone. But, though the doctor walked a mile in either +direction, there was no sign of a car, and he returned to the house, +tired but triumphant. Never again would the thought of Captain Michael +Dorn come like a shadow over his pleasant dreams of the future. + + + + + Chapter Twenty-nine + + + Dear Miss Smith,--I have been trying to get into communication with + a Mr. John Wills, who is an assistant of mine, and possibly I have + succeeded. But in case, by any mischance, my messages have failed to + reach him, I should esteem it as a great favour if you would find him + and hand him the enclosed, which is a duplicate of the instructions + already posted. I think I have located Miss Reddle, and hope to have + good news for you to-morrow. But I am dealing with a man for whose + genius I have a profound respect. Miss Reddle is at Gallows Farm, near + Whitcomb in Somerset, and, if you do not hear from me by telegram in + the course of the day, it is extremely likely that I shall also be + there--against my will. I have calculated every contingency; foreseen, + I think, most of the possibilities, but there is always a big chance + that I may not be as clever as I think I am! Will you therefore remain + all day at Charlotte Street? I suggest that you should ask your + employer, Mr. Shaddles, to let you off for the day, and, if necessary, + show him this letter. He may remember me by name; I met him many years + ago. + + Yours very truly, + Michael Dorn. + + +The words, “If necessary, show him this letter,” were heavily +underlined. + +The letter had come by special delivery, a red express label on the +face, and the postmark was a town in Somersetshire. Lizzy Smith read +it three times, once to master the calligraphy, once to understand it, +and once out of sheer enjoyment, for she felt more important with each +reading; though it struck her as humorous that Michael Dorn should, in +his most extravagant mood, imagine that her flinty-faced employer +would grant her leave of absence on the strength of a meeting which he +must long since have forgotten and would most certainly disclaim. + +The news was too vital to be kept to herself, and she took the letter +down to old Mr. Mackenzie, and found him engaged in fitting a new +string to his violin. + +“Wore it out last night, I should think,” said Lizzy, not unkindly. “I +heard you tuning and tuning.” + +“Tuning!” said old Mackenzie in surprise. “I was no’ tuning, young +lady. Perhaps, to the ear of one who is not acquainted with the +peculiar qualities of classical music, it may have sounded that way. I +was playing the aria from _Samson and Delilah_. ’Tis a bonny piece.” + +He pulled on his spectacles from his forehead, and took the letter +from her hand. + +“You would like me to read this?” he asked, and when she nodded, he +followed the quaint crabbed writing line by line. “It seems very good +news,” he said. “Will Miss Reddle be back to-night?” + +Lizzy sighed impatiently. It was the sort of question he would ask. + +“How do I know whether she’ll be back to-night?” She was annoyed that +he was not as impressed as she had expected. “She may not be back at +all! Don’t you understand anything you can’t play on your fiddle, Mr. +Mackenzie? She may be in the power of this Gallows man! The whole +thing now depends on me. Mike understands human nature, and when he +got into trouble naturally his mind flew to Elizabetta Smith. That man +has got experience.” + +“Naturally,” murmured Mr. Mackenzie. + +“Now the thing is,” considered Lizzy, her face wearing a frown of +profoundest thought, “shall I try to find this fellow Wills first, or +shall I go to the office?” + +“You might telephone to Mr. Dorn’s flat,” suggested the old man +helpfully, and Lizzy was irritated that that simple solution had not +occurred to her. + +On her way to the office she stopped at the first telephone booth and +called Michael’s number, and after a long wait was told there was no +answer. The news pleased her rather than otherwise, for the +responsibility, vague as it was, gave her a pleasing sense that she +was intimately associated with great happenings, though she looked +forward with trepidation to her meeting with old Shaddles. That he +would grant her the day was a forlorn hope. Much more likely he would +point his skinny finger to the door and order her from his room. +Nevertheless, though she sacrificed her livelihood, she was determined +to be on hand in case her services were required--though what she +could do, and in what capacity she could act, she did not trouble to +consider. + +Before she reached the office she had created three alternative +excuses, none of which unfortunately had any relation to the other. +Happily she was only called upon to produce two. + +Mr. Shaddles had arrived before her; he was invariably the first-comer +and generally the last leaver. Without taking off her hat, she knocked +at the glass panel, and when his gruff “Come in!” reached her she all +but abandoned the interview. He scowled at her as she came in, noted +her coat and her hat. + +“Well, what is the matter? Why aren’t you at your work? You’re five +minutes late as it is!” he demanded. + +Lizzy rested her hand lightly on his desk, and in her most genteel +voice began: + +“Mr. Shaddles, I’m sorry to ask you, but, owing to a family +bereavement, I should like the day off.” + +“Who’s dead?” he growled. + +“An aunt,” she said, and added: “On my mother’s side.” + +“Aunts are nothing,” said the old man, and waved her to the door. +“Uncles are nothing either. Can’t spare you. What do you want to go to +funerals for?” + +“Well, the real truth is,” said the disconcerted Lizzy, and produced +the letter, “I’ve had this!” + +He took the message with apparent reluctance and read it through with +typical care. He sat for a long time, and she thought he was searching +for misspelt words--a horrible practice of his. + +“There is nothing about your aunt in this,” snarled Mr. Shaddles. + +“Mr. Dorn has been more than an aunt to me,” said Lizzy with dignity. +“It is my pet name for him. And if he’s not dead, he may very well +be.” + +He looked out of the window, scratched his rough chin angrily, then +glared round at her. + +“You can have the day,” he said, and she nearly dropped with +amazement. + +Murmuring her incoherent thanks, she was making for the door. + +“Wait.” + +He put his hand in his pocket, laid a note-case on the table, and took +out three bank-notes. + +“You may not want these,” he said; “I cannot conceive that you will, +but you may. I shall require you to give me a very full account of any +expenses you incur. If you need a car, hire one from the Bluelight +Company--they are clients of ours, and they allow me a rebate.” + +Like a woman in a dream, Lizzy staggered out the office. Each note was +for £20. She had no idea there was so much money in the world. + +She did not answer the clerk whom she passed on the stairs, and had +not wholly recovered by the time she reached Hiles Mansions. Mr. Dorn +was not in, the liftman told her unnecessarily; and Mr. Wills had not +called since the previous day. Lizzy went out into the Brompton Road, +called a taxicab magnificently, and, reaching Charlotte Street, +discovered she had only sufficient loose cash to pay the fare. + +Such a tremendous happening could not be reserved to herself, and she +took Mr. Mackenzie into her confidence. + +“Shaddles is a grand man,” said Mackenzie soberly, “a big-hearted +fellow.” + +Lizzy shook her head. + +“I don’t know whether I shall get into trouble with the police for +taking this money from the poor old man,” she said. “He has been +strange for a long time: I’ve seen this coming on for days. When he +raised Lois Reddle’s salary to three pounds a week I knew something +else would happen.” She looked at the three notes in awe. “They get +like that when they’re about ninety,” she said. And then a great +inspiration came to her--so daring, so tremendous, that it left her +gasping. + +Borrowing some loose change from the old man, she dashed down to the +telephone box from which she had called Hiles Mansions and gave Lady +Moron’s number. The footman who answered her told her that her +ladyship was in bed. + +“Oh, pray don’t trouble,” said Lizzy in an exaggerated tone. “Will you +ask his lordship to hop along?” + +“To what, madam?” + +“To speak to me,” corrected Lizzy. + +“What name shall I give him?” + +“Tell him the Lady Elizabetta,” said Lizzy, and lolled languidly +against the cork-lined ’phone box as she would have lolled had she +been a person of title. + +She had to wait for some time before his lordship, who was sound +asleep at that hour, could be aroused and sufficiently interested in +the caller to come down to the drawing-room, where there was a +telephone extension. + +“Hullo?” he asked feebly. “Good morning and all that! Sorry I didn’t +catch your name.” + +“It’s Miss Smith,” said Lizzy in a hushed voice, and she heard Selwyn +gasp. + +“Really? Not really? I say, there’s been an awful bother here! +Everything’s at sixes and sevens, and all that sort of thing. That +beastly bounder, Chesney Praye--you remember the fellow--bird of prey, +what?” (Even Lizzy could not laugh at that hour in the morning.) +“Well, he’s in the library with her ladyship!” + +“Listen--Selwyn!” She had to summon all her courage to voice this +familiarity. “Can you see me? You know where I live--you were coming +to dinner to-night; but I want you to come before. There’s something I +want to see you about, something--well, I can’t describe it.” + +“Certainly,” he interrupted. “I’ll come right along. I’m supposed to +go to the South Kensington Museum to see some models, but---- All +right, colonel, thank you very much for calling!” + +The tone was louder and more formal. Lizzy, not unused to such +innocent acts of deception, guessed that a servant or his mother had +come into the drawing-room. + +She went back to her lodging with a feeling of exaltation. Not only +had she secured the aid of a member of the aristocracy, but she had +also, with great daring, and exercising a woman’s privilege, addressed +him by a name which, to say the least, was intimate. She confided to +Mr. Mackenzie, with an air of nonchalance, that she was expecting Lord +Moron to call upon her, and he was impressed to a gratifying extent. + +“I told him to drop in--I know him rather well.” Lizzy flicked a speck +of dust from her skirt with a fine air. + +“Is that so?” he asked, looking at her in wonder. “Well now, I never +thought that one of the Morons would ever do me the honour of entering +my house! They’re a fine family, a handsome family. I remember the old +earl: he frequently came to the theatre, though not, I fear, in the +most presentable condition.” + +Miss Lizzy Smith was not interested in the old earl. She was, however, +immensely absorbed in the new one; and when Lord Moron’s taxicab +pulled up at the side-walk she was at the door to admit him. + +“I say, what an awfully jolly kitchen!” he said, looking round at a +room of which even Lizzy was not particularly proud. + +“I wouldn’t have asked your lordship here----” she began. + +“I say, don’t give us any of that ‘lordship’ stuff,” he pleaded. “I’m +Selwyn to my friends. That’s a wonderful frying-pan: did you make it?” + +Lizzy disclaimed responsibility. But he had his views, apparently, +upon culinary apparatus, had invented an electric chafing-dish, and +had plans for a coke oven. Until then she had not known that coke was +ever cooked. + +“I’ve often thought I’d like to run away from this awful ‘my-lording’ +and do some work. I’ve got a bit of money of my own that even her +ladyship can’t touch--and you can bet your life that it’s pretty well +tied up, old thing, if she and the bird of prey can’t get their hooks +into it!” + +He was delightfully, restfully vulgar, and Lizzy who only knew this +much about electricity, that lamps light up when you turn a switch, +without exactly understanding why, could have listened for hours to +schemes which might even have interested an engineer. But she had the +letter to discuss. + +He read it through, and, by stopping at every other line and asking +for explanations, understood the gist of it. She had noticed before +how, on really important matters, Selwyn had quite intelligent views; +and that he was no fool she discovered later in the day, when he +confided to her that he had countered his mother’s veiled threats of +getting him certified as mentally incompetent to deal with his estate, +by making a visit to three Harley Street alienists in consultation, +and procuring from them a most flattering tribute to his mentality. + +“I don’t know what it’s all about,” he said, as he handed the letter +back. And then, answering her pained look: “Yes, I understand the +letter, but I mean all these accidents and things--old Braime dropping +dead, or something, in the library. Madam is my mother, and I suppose +I ought not to loathe her. But she’s fearfully devilish, Miss Smith, +fearfully devilish!” + +He fingered the red seam on his cheek tenderly. + +“You can never be sure what she’s up to, and since that bounder Praye +and that awful boozy doctor have been around the house she’s been +queerer than ever. Do you know what she told me once? She said that if +she thought she’d be any happier by me being dead I’d be dead +to-morrow--those were her very words! Dead to-morrow, dear old Lizzy! +Isn’t it positively fearful?” + +“What a lady!” said Lizzy. “You’ve heard nothing at the house about +this business--I mean Gallows Farm?” + +He shook his head. + +“They never talk in front of me. But _something’s_ happening: I’m sure +of that! That chap Chesney has been in with her ladyship since eight +o’clock this morning--they told you she was in bed--well, she wasn’t: +she was in the library. And the telephone seems to have been ringing +all night. I say, what do you think of that detective johnny putting +the young lady in gaol? A bit thick, what? I meant to have a few words +with him the other morning.” + +“He did it for a very good reason,” said Lizzy mysteriously. “I can’t +tell you everything, Selwyn; one day you will know the truth, but at +the present moment I’m not at liberty to talk.” + +“Nobody seems to be at liberty to tell me anything,” said the dismal +man. “But what’s the idea of that letter? Somebody’s got her in that +place with a fearful name!” He slapped his side. “Tappatt--the chap +who worries the wine! You know this fellow--the perfectly horrible +doctor! I’ll bet he’s the perfectly awful villain of the piece! He +hasn’t been near the house for days, and he had been sleuthing round +Chester Square a lot lately. And”--he slapped his knee again--“and +there was a trunk call came through from the country last night! I was +in the hall when the bell rang, and I’m sure he was the johnny who +called. He asked for her ladyship. Gallows Farm: that’s the place he +lives!” + +Suddenly he jumped up, his eyes bright with excitement. + +“She’s there--I’ll bet a million pounds to a strawberry ice! Gallows +Farm, Somerset.” He tapped his forehead. “I signed a paper about that, +I’ll swear! It is one of the job lots her ladyship bought two or three +years ago, or one of her bailiffs bought. She is always buying old +properties and selling ’em at a profit. And I know old +stick-in-the-mud has got a home somewhere--Tappatt, I mean--because +her ladyship said she’d send me there if I wasn’t jolly careful. That +rosy-nosed hound has got Miss Reddle!” + +They looked at one another in silence. + +“You’re a detective, Selwyn!” she breathed ecstatically, and he pulled +at his moustache. + +“I’m pretty smart at some things--what about a rescue?” said his +lordship suddenly. + +“A what?” Lizzy’s heart beat faster. + +“A rescue,” he nodded. “What about hopping down into Somerset, seeing +old stick-in-the-mud, and saying: ‘Look here, old top, this sort of +thing can’t be tolerated in civilised society. Hand over Miss Reddle +or you’ll get into serious trouble’?” + +Lizzy’s enthusiasm died down. + +“I don’t think that would make much difference to him,” she said. “And +it would be unnecessary, Selwyn; if Michael Dorn is there she will be +released this afternoon.” + +Selwyn was disappointed. + +“Besides,” Lizzy went on, “what would her ladyship say if you were +away all day?” + +“Blow her ladyship!” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve had enough of her +ladyship--I have really. I’ve made up my mind that I’m through with +Chester Square, and I’ve got my eye on a dinky little flat in +Knightsbridge,” he said rapidly. “I feel it is time I asserted myself. +My idea is to live incognito. I’m going to call myself Mr. Smith----” + +“Indeed?” said Lizzy coldly. + +“It’s a pretty good name. Anyway, Brown is as good.” He amended his +plans in some haste. “Now what about a little bit of lunch somewhere?” + +An hour later Lizzy went dizzily into the great dining-room of the +Ritz-Carlton, and Lady Moron, entertaining a guest at a corner table, +looked at her through her lorgnettes and shrugged her large shoulders. + +“Selwyn is sowing his wild oats rather late in life,” she said, and +Chesney Praye, who had returned from Paris that morning, was mildly +amused. + + + + + Chapter Thirty + +Though she could remember one or two uncomfortable days in her life, +Lois Reddle could not recall one that bore any comparison with the +twenty hours that followed her departure from Gallows Farm. She had +been awakened by the woman at some unknown hour in the middle of the +night, ordered to dress and come downstairs. The first order was easy +to obey, for she had not taken off her clothes. When she came down +into the passage she found the doctor waiting for her. He was wearing +his heaviest overcoat, and carried a thick stick, and was testing a +flash-lamp as she joined him. + +“Where are you taking me?” she asked, as he led her across the yard to +the accompaniment of the savage chorus of the dogs. + +“You’ll find out in good time,” was the unpromising reply. “I don’t +want you to ask questions or to speak until I tell you. After you +leave this house you are to be silent--understand that?” + +They mounted the gentle slope of the downs and presently descended +into a valley on the other side. Although the moon was obscured, there +was sufficient light to enable her to pick her way across the rough +ground and to dispense with the arm he offered her. Once they made a +wide detour to avoid a marshy patch, and once he had to help her +through a fence of hawthorn. Ahead of them was a dark line of trees, +which was on the estate. He told her there were twelve hundred acres +of land attached to the farm, only a small portion of which had been +sub-let, and none of which was under cultivation. + +“It is poor land, anyway--most of this downland is. That is Gallows +Wood,” he said, indicating the trees ahead. “The farm takes its name +from the wood. There used to be a gallows on the crest of the hill +years ago. Not scared, are you?” + +He chuckled when she answered “No.” + +After a while they struck a rough track which led into the heart of +the copse, and now for the first time he produced the flash-lamp; a +necessary precaution, for the path was overgrown and difficult to +follow. Although her voice was steady and her attitude one of sublime +confidence, Lois was inwardly quaking. There was something very +ominous in this move. Yet it was not the fear of what would happen in +the wood that frightened her. She guessed that the doctor was moving +her from the farm because he expected the return of Michael Dorn. She +dreaded only this; that Michael would search the house and be +satisfied that she was not there. Would the doctor move the +grey-haired woman too, she wondered? After ten minutes’ walk he +stopped, and she thought he had lost the way, until the light of his +lamp revealed a small stone cottage, standing back from the path and +almost hidden by trees and undergrowth. This, then, was the new +prison, she thought. + +“Hold this light,” he ordered, and she obeyed, whilst he tried key +after key in the lock. + +After a while the door swung open and he went in, turning his head to +see that she was coming after. The floor was thick with dust; the only +furniture in the room into which he invited her was an old backless +chair. On one of the walls was a yellow almanac for the year 1913, and +probably the house had not been occupied since then. + +“You’ll stay here and keep quiet. There will be light in a few hours. +If you want anything, ask Mrs. Rooks--she will be here presently.” + +He went out, but did not lock the door; she found afterwards that it +was lacking in this appendage. Followed half an hour’s wait, and then +she heard footsteps in the hall, heard another door open, and a mutter +of conversation. Something dropped with a thud on the passage, and for +a second Lois’ heart came into her mouth. But it seemed that Mrs. +Rooks, who, she guessed, was the sallow-faced woman, had come heavily +laden, for the sound of her complaining reached the girl. Evidently +she had brought the provisions necessary for the party--the weight of +them was not very promising, and Tappatt was seemingly prepared for a +long stay. + +“Nearly broke my back,” she grumbled. “Why couldn’t she carry it, +doctor?” + +Lois crept nearer to the door and listened, hoping to hear something +that would confirm her theory that she was being hidden because the +doctor expected a return visit from Michael Dorn. + +“Get a chair from the other room,” she heard him growl. “What are you +making all this fuss about? It is no worse for you than for me. This +isn’t the first time you’ve sat up all night, is it?” + +“I don’t see why you should take all this trouble,” grumbled the +woman. “He’ll not come back again, and, if he did, what’s to stop him +coming into the wood?” + +“He will come back--you need have no doubt about that. I know the man. +And you can make your mind easy about his finding them. He isn’t +likely to search every copse in the neighbourhood.” + +A few minutes later the front door slammed as he went out, and she +heard the woman grumbling to herself. She was sitting within a few +feet of the door, and could hear every sound and move in the bare +room. To open the window might be possible, but to do so without her +hearing was a hopeless impossibility. + +Soon after daybreak Mrs. Rooks took her into the kitchen, and, passing +the room which held the second prisoner, Lois saw that there was a key +in that door. If the conditions were the same in the other prison room +it was as impossible for the unknown woman to escape. Who was she, she +wondered? Some poor creature, perhaps, who had been entrusted by her +friends to the tender mercy of Dr. Tappatt. Her heart ached for the +woman, and in her pity she forgot her own danger and discomfort. + +Throughout the long and weary day that followed she saw no sign of any +human being. The wood was situate on a private estate, and the +overgrown condition of the path had told her that it was not +frequented even by those who had authority to cross the land. From the +windows she could see only the trunks of beeches and the green tracery +of leaves. The oppressive loneliness told even upon the +uncommunicative Mrs. Rooks, who must have been unused to a solitary +life, for that afternoon she came into the room where Lois was +sitting. Lois had opportunity for studying her. She must have been in +the region of fifty, a harsh, sour-faced woman, with a grievance +against the world and its people. + +“It’s so pesky quiet that I should go off my head if I was here long,” +she complained. + +Lois wondered if she could make the woman talk about other things than +the loneliness of the wood. + +“Have you been in England a long time?” she asked. + +Mrs. Rooks had to master her natural repugnance to gossip before she +spoke. + +“Only two years. We were in India before then. I don’t know what that +has got to do with you, anyway.” + +“I heard you call your dogs by Indian names. ‘Mali’ means money, +doesn’t it?” + +“Don’t you ask questions, young lady,” said the woman. “You behave +yourself, and you won’t be badly treated. Act the fool, and +you’ll----” She nodded significantly. “Of course ‘Mali’ means money. +Do you _mallum_ the _bat_?” + +Lois shook her head smilingly. She guessed that she was being asked if +she spoke or understood Hindustani. + +“Why am I kept here--can you tell me that?” + +“Because you’re not right in your head.” The reply would have driven +Lois to a fury, but she had already guessed the excuse that would be +made for her detention. “You’ve been hearing things and seeing things. +An’ people who hear things, voices an’ all that, are batty.” + +Lois laughed quietly. + +“You know that I am not mad, Mrs. Rooks.” + +“Nobody thinks they are mad,” said Mrs. Rooks alarmingly. “That’s one +of the symptoms. The minute a person thinks she’s sane, she’s mad! The +doctor knows: he’s the cleverest man in the world.” + +She glanced back at the open door. Lois heard a steady echo of +footsteps, as though somebody was pacing the floor. + +“Who is in the other room?” she asked, without expecting any very +satisfactory reply. + +“A woman--she’s nutty.” + +“I thought I saw her the other evening,” said the girl with affected +carelessness. “Weren’t you--talking to her in the yard?” + +The woman’s shrewd eyes looked her up and down. + +“You saw me quieting her with the whip. She gets fresh sometimes--most +of ’em do. You will too.” Lois shuddered at this ominous prophecy. +“Bless you, they don’t mind a licking! Lunatics ain’t human beings +anyway, they’re just animals, the doctor says, and you’ve got to treat +’em like animals. That’s the only kind of treatment they understand.” + +Lois tried to veil her horror and disgust and felt that she had not +wholly succeeded. + +“I hope you will not treat me like an animal,” she said, and Mrs. +Rooks sniffed. + +“If you behave yourself, you’ll be treated well. All nutty people have +a good time if they don’t get fresh and obstrepulous. That’s the +doctor’s way.” + +It was clear to Lois that, whatever faults this woman might have, +however brutal she might be, she had accepted without any question any +diagnosis that the doctor might make. To Mrs. Rooks she was crazy, +just as was the other woman. And if she became “obstrepulous” she +would be served in the same way. + +“Why did you call her a gaolbird?” + +Again that shrewd, suspicious scrutiny. + +“I call her lots of things,” said Mrs. Rooks indifferently. “If you +hadn’t been spying you wouldn’t have heard. Names don’t hurt anybody. +They’re better than the whip anyway--did you know that man that came +last night?” + +“Mr. Dorn?” + +“Yes, who is he?” + +“He’s a police officer,” said Lois. + +The effect of the words upon the woman was unexpected. Her sallow skin +became a pasty white. + +“A detective!” + +Lois nodded, and Mrs. Rooks’ face cleared. + +“That’s part of your crazy ideas,” she said calmly. “He is a man the +doctor owes money to. I know, because the doctor told me. The doctor’s +been in difficulties, and he’s not the kind of man who’d have any +trouble with the police. They told a lot of lies about him in India, +but he’s a good man, the best man in the world.” + +And then a thought struck Lois, and she asked: + +“What is supposed to be my delusion?” + +Mrs. Rooks shot a cunning glance at the girl. + +“I’m surprised at you asking that, young lady! You think you’re +somebody who you’re not!” + +Lois frowned. + +“You mean I am under the impression that I am somebody important?” + +Mrs. Rooks nodded. + +“Yes--you think you’re the Countess of Moron!” she said. + + + + + Chapter Thirty-one + +Lois could hardly believe her ears. + +“Me?” she said in amazement. “I think I am the Countess of Moron? How +absurd! I think nothing of the kind!” + +“Yes, you do,” nodded Mrs. Rooks. “The doctor said you think you’re +the countess. You tried to murder Lady Moron because you wanted the +title!” + +The suggestion was so ludicrous that Lois laughed. + +“How ridiculous! Such an idea has never entered my head. Lady Moron! +Why, I am a secretary--where did you hear this?” + +“The doctor told me,” said the woman stubbornly. “He never tells +lies--except to people he owes money to, but that’s natural, ain’t +it?” + +She went out of the room soon after and was gone for half an hour, +apparently attending to the needs of the other prisoner, for when she +came back she had something to say about discontented people. + +“She’s had all she wants to eat and all she wants to drink and still +she’s not satisfied. That shows she’s mad. I never knew a crazy woman +that was satisfied.” + +Lois thought it was a weakness, not entirely confined to the crazy. + +“When are we leaving here?” + +“I don’t know--to-night I guess,” said the other, vaguely. “Anyway, +the doctor will be here to take my place and I’ll get some sleep. I’m +nearly dead.” + +Mrs. Rooks was not disposed for further conversation and as the day +progressed she grew more taciturn and irritable. When night fell, she +seemed to be spending her time either at the door of the cottage or +outside. Lois heard her walking under her window, talking to herself. +She was dozing in her chair when she heard the doctor’s voice and was +instantly wide awake. + +“You take the other, I’ll bring this one along. You can leave all the +truck here. We may want to come back. I don’t think it is likely, but +we may.” + +The room was in darkness when he came stamping in and flashed his lamp +upon her. + +“You’ve had an uncomfortable day, but you’ve got your friend to +blame,” he said. “You’ll be able to sleep to-night in your own bed, +which is more than he will do!” + +She did not answer him; the reference to Michael’s bed was too cryptic +to follow. + +“Clever fellow, Dorn, eh? Brilliant detective? He’s got all his wits +about him, don’t you think?” + +Still she did not answer. + +“Oh yes, he’s clever,” said Tappatt. He was in a cheerful, almost a +rollicking mood, and she guessed with a sinking heart that if Michael +Dorn had come back, he had been outwitted. “Look at this.” He flashed +his lamp on an object which lay in his palm. It was a heavy-calibred +automatic pistol and she uttered an “Oh!” of surprise. + +“Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you, my girl. We don’t kill +people, we cure ’em! That is what they are here for.” + +As he patted her shoulder, she shrank back from him. + +“No, I wanted to show you that, because it is Dorn’s. I took it away +from him as easily as you might take money from a child. I just took +it out of his pocket and he said nothing! And he’s clever.” + +“Is he dead?” she asked, and the question tickled him. + +“No, he’s not dead,” he said jovially. “Nothing so dramatic. I don’t +kill people, I tell you. I cure ’em! He’s cured! The mania for +investigation has been entirely eradicated!” + +Mrs. Rooks and her prisoner had, by this time, left the house. Lois +heard them swishing through the undergrowth and saw a momentary +flicker of light through the window, as the old woman sought for the +path. + +“We’ll give them a start,” said the doctor, “and then we’ll follow +them. Rooks is slow; getting old, I guess.” + +“Who is the other woman?” + +“A patient of mine,” said the doctor casually. “She’s got some strange +delusions.” + +“Why did you tell Mrs. Rooks that I was mad?” + +“Because you are,” was the calm reply. “I have diagnosed you as +suffering from delusions, with suicidal tendencies. And my diagnosis +has never been questioned, my dear. And now, if you’re ready----?” + +“Why do you say that I think I’m the Countess of Moron?” + +“Because you do! I’ve put that in my case book and case books are +evidence!” + +And he roared with laughter as if he had made a good joke. + +They returned to the other cottage, and even in her weariness Lois +looked forward to the walk across the fields, for her legs were +cramped and she ached in every limb. As they mounted the last gentle +slope, the long wall of Gallows Farm came into view. The gate was open +and they passed through. Half-way across the yard he caught her arm +and they stopped. She heard the rattle of the chained dogs and +wondered if he was about to warn her again of the dangers that +attended an escape. Instead: + +“There’s a nice little place down there,” he pointed into the +darkness--“a room that has been described as airy, though it is a +little below the level of the ground. I must show it to you some +day--it has an interesting story.” + +“Are you going to put me there?” she asked, her courage almost failing +her. + +“You? My dear, you’re the last person in the world I should put +there.” Again the hateful encouragement of his caressing hand. “Go +ahead, your own handsome apartment is ready for you.” + +He took up the lamp that was waiting in the passage and showed her to +the landing. Glancing at the room opposite, she saw that a new staple +had been fixed in the doorway and guessed that the other woman was now +her neighbour. Tappatt followed the direction of her eyes. + +“You’ll have company,” he said. “The old home is filling up rapidly! +All you require in any mental establishment is a start. Satisfied +clients are the best advertisements!” + +“Where is Mr. Dorn?” she asked as he was leaving the room. + +“He has gone back to London with a flea in his ear. That fellow won’t +bother me again in a hurry.” + +“Do you ever speak the truth?” + +For some reason the question infuriated him and his manner changed in +an instant. + +“I’ll tell you the truth one of these days, my young lady, and it +won’t be pleasant to hear!” he stormed. + +With that he slammed the door and turned the key on her. + + + + + Chapter Thirty-two + +Earlier that day somebody else had asked for the truth. As a rule, +Mr. Chesney Praye had little use for that quality, but, as he +explained to the Countess over their protracted meal, he wanted to +know “exactly where he was.” He knew a lot, more than she guessed, for +he was a keen man with an instinct for hidden facts. He was also a +professional opportunist, as she was to learn. + +“You’re going to marry me, Leonora, as soon as this business is +cleared up. But before we go any further, I want all your cards on the +table. And first I want to know what I have been doing. Blind +obedience is all right in a soldier, but I’m not a soldier. I’ve +muddied my hands pretty badly over this business and I can see myself +getting five years’ imprisonment if Dorn ever gets on to my trail. But +there is a lot that you haven’t told me and I’d rather like to know +where I stand.” + +The Countess took the cigarette from her mouth, blew a cloud of smoke, +following it with her eyes until it dissipated, and then, slowly +extinguishing the cigarette in the ash-tray, she made her revelation +and Mr. Chesney Praye listened without interruption for half an hour. +And all that he heard he sorted for his own advantage. + +She paused only once, and that was when she saw her son, piloting the +girl into the palm court. + +“She’s prettier than I thought,” she said, “a chorus-girl’s +prettiness, but----” + +“Never mind about her,” said Chesney impatiently. “What happened +after----” + +The Countess told him, concealing nothing, and when she had finished, +he sat back in his chair, hot and limp. + +“My God!” he breathed. “You--you are wonderful! And that’s the ‘why’ +of Gallows Farm, eh? I confess I was puzzled.” + +“That is the why of Gallows Farm,” said Lady Moron, lighting another +cigarette. + +Chesney Praye left the hotel alone; the Countess was going down to her +place in the country, and, when she invited him to accompany her, he +had invented an appointment on the spur of the moment, for Chesney was +a quick thinker, and on the occasion of which Michael Dorn never grew +weary of reminding him, he owed his immunity from arrest to this +quality. + +He glanced up at the street-clock. There was time to carry out one +essential part of his scheme and, if his plan was not entirely worked +out when he picked up a taxi, it was complete in all details when he +reached St. Paul’s Churchyard. + +From the top of a plebeian ’bus Lord Moron and his companion saw the +cab flash past. + +“My stepfather!” groaned his lordship. “You wouldn’t think a horrible, +common bounder like that would attract a woman like her ladyship, +Elizabeth?” + +But Lizzy pressed her lips tightly together and expressed no opinion, +other than the noncommittal one that “likes attract like,” which may +or not have been as complimentary as she intended. + +There was no telegram for her in Charlotte Street when they arrived. + +“And there won’t be,” said Lord Moron with satisfaction. “I’ll bet you +any amount of money that the purply doctor has got away with it. Mind +you, Elizabeth, I know him! He’s had his skinny legs under my +mahogany, and whatever you may say about me, I’m a judge of +character.” + +“I think you’re clever,” admitted Lizzy, “and I’ve always said so. +What is your mother going to say about us going to lunch at that posh +restaurant?” + +Lord Moron expressed his complete indifference. + +“From to-day I am on my own; I can’t start too soon,” he said. “Her +ladyship doesn’t mind being seen in public with that perfectly +impossible Chesney Praye--the bird of prey, as I sometimes call +him----” he waited for applause, but received no more than an +approving smile,--“and if she doesn’t mind, I don’t see how she can +object to me going to lunch with one of the--at any rate, a very nice +girl,” he added lamely, and Elizabeth raised her eyes in the shy, +wistful way she had seen in the best films. + +At eight o’clock the post office was closed. Moron went down to the +nearest branch office and enquired for a telegram, but none had been +received; nor were they able to get into communication with Mr. Wills. + +On his way back to the house, Selwyn telephoned the Bluelight Garage, +in accordance with instructions, and they were flying along the broad +expanse of the Great West Road, when a faster car overtook and passed +them and Selwyn involuntarily shrank back to cover. + +“Who was it?” asked Lizzy, who had not seen the occupant. + +Lord Moron raised his fingers to his lips, though the possibility of +being overheard was negligible. It was not until the overtaking car +was a steady speck in a revolving cloud of dust that he turned +dramatically to her and whispered: + +“Chesney--Chesney Praye. He’s going down too! I knew he was in it. A +bounder like that would be in anything dirty!” + +“Did he see us?” + +Selwyn shook his head. + +“No. He was driving; but he was grinning like an ape. That shows!” + +At Maidenhead they passed the car standing outside an hotel. + +“He’s gone in to grub,” said Selwyn, all a-twitter with excitement. +“The thing for us to do is to be careful when he passes us again.” + +But no care was required, and his elaborate plan to be immersed in an +evening newspaper that completely hid himself and his companion when +the car came abreast, was unnecessary, for it was dark when the siren +of Chesney’s machine called for a clear road, and the car swept past. + +Within ten miles of the farm there were a number of enquiries to be +made. The exact situation of the farm was difficult to locate, and it +was only when they reached Whitcomb village that they were able to +take the road with any certainty. And there were other difficulties to +be overcome. + +“There is no sense in our dashing up madly to this old Gallows and +saying ‘Where is she?’” said his lordship, with perfect truth. “If +we’re on the track of something fishy, and I’m sure everything +connected with Chesney is fishy, we shan’t get a civil answer. On the +other hand, if there is nothing fishy about the business, we’ll be +getting ourselves a bad reputation if we barge in and there’s +nothing--er----” + +“Fishy,” suggested Lizzy helpfully. + +Two miles from Whitcomb they held a council of war, and decided to +send the machine back to the main road and to continue the journey on +foot. This was his lordship’s idea. + +“The situation requires a certain amount of tact, and if there’s +anybody more tactful than me, I’d like to meet them.” + +They trudged up the dusty road, keeping a watch for Chesney’s car. It +was dark by now and they were without any kind of light except the +matches that Lord Moron occasionally struck, and both were dead-beat +by the time they came in view of the farm. + +“Not a very cheerful looking place, is it?” said Selwyn, some of his +enterprise evaporating. “Beastly dismal hole. Shouldn’t be surprised +if there was a real gallows somewhere around. I think it was a mistake +to have left the car.” + +“It is too late to talk about mistakes,” said Lizzy brusquely, and led +the way. “We’ve found the place, that is something. Not that it looks +as if it is worth finding.” + +They came at last to the big black gate and the forbidding wall. + +“Shall we ring or knock?” asked his lordship. “There’s a car +inside--do you hear it?” + +Lizzy compromised by kicking on the wood. Her foot was raised to kick +a second time, when there came from the house a woman’s scream, so +vibrant with fear that Selwyn’s blood seemed to turn to ice and his +knees touched together. + +At that moment the gates burst open with a crash, almost knocking them +down, and the bonnet of a car showed. + +“There’s a woman in the car,” screamed Lizzy, but the roar of the +engines drowned her voice. + + + + + Chapter Thirty-three + +Mr. Chesney Praye was a welcome visitor. He had parked his machine +in the forecourt, and now, sitting before the small wood fire, was +warming his chilled hands, for the night had turned unusually cold and +he had come at full speed across the windy downs. + +“Br-r-r!” he said, as he held his hands before the blaze. “And this is +what they call an English summer! I’ll be glad to get back to India.” + +“Do you think of going?” + +“I may. Everything depends----” + +“You were lucky to find me in,” said the doctor, putting glasses on +the table. + +“Why?” asked the other, in surprise. “I thought you wouldn’t leave +this abode of peace, at any rate not now.” + +Briefly the doctor related the cause of his excursion and Chesney +looked serious. + +“Is there any likelihood of Dorn coming back?” he asked. + +Tappatt’s merriment reassured him. + +“He’s back! In fact, he is practically under this roof!” + +Chesney sprang to his feet. + +“What the devil do you mean?” he asked roughly. + +“Sit down. There’s nothing to be alarmed about. He is behind a +two-inch door, with handcuffs on his wrists and a pain in his head +that will take a lot of moving. I’d have telephoned, only I don’t +trust the exchange.” + +And then he told the visitor of his encounter with Dorn. + +“It was a question of foresight, and I saw farthest,” he said. “It is +as good as a bottle of sparkling wine to match your brain against the +mind of a man like that, to look ahead and see what he will do in +given circumstances, and to counter and recounter his plans. Somebody +had to come out on top--he or I. He failed to take an elementary +precaution--the veriest amateur would have known that, if his +attention was distracted for a moment, I’d doctor his drink; and it +was absurdly simple. I don’t even take the credit for it. He played so +completely into my hands.” + +Chesney pursed his lips. + +“Has he recovered from the drug?” he asked, a little apprehensively. + +Tappatt nodded. + +“Oh yes, I’ve had quite an interesting conversation with him through +the door. There’s a little spyhole that makes it easy to exchange +pleasant badinage. Captain Michael Dorn is a pretty sick man at this +moment.” + +Chesney Praye was pacing up and down the room, a worried frown on his +face. This was a development that he had not looked for. + +“Perhaps it is better,” he said. “I shall be taking away the girl +to-night.” + +“The countess didn’t----” began the doctor. + +“You needn’t worry about the countess. She’d have telephoned, but she +shared your fear of the exchange. The girl and Mrs. Pinder are to be +moved. The risk of keeping them here is too great. Dorn has people +working for him and you’ll wake one morning to find a cordon of police +round the house.” + +“Where will you go?” + +“I shall take her abroad.” + +“And the other woman?” + +Chesney looked at him oddly. + +“I may want the other woman--later,” he said. + +“I had better bring Reddle down,” said the doctor, rising and going to +the door, but Praye beckoned him back. + +“There is no hurry,” he said. + +He evidently had something which he had hesitated to say. + +“What are your plans, Tappatt?” + +“Mine? I shall have to flit, I suppose. They’re striking me off the +register, at least Dorn told me so.” + +“What will you do with him?” + +An ugly smile showed for a second on the doctor’s face. + +“I don’t know. He is going to be a difficulty. I’ve seen that from the +first. I could leave him, and that is what I shall probably do. Nobody +would come near the farm perhaps for months, perhaps for a year.” + +Chesney Praye’s face was ashen. + +“Leave him to starve?” he whispered. + +“Why not?” asked the other coolly. “Who would know? I thought of going +to Australia. And I’d take my nurse with me. She would think that I +had let Dorn out, and anyway she’s not the kind of person to ask +questions. This place is Lady Moron’s property. Who would visit it if +I left? It might be empty for years.” + +Chesney Praye’s mouth was dry, the hand that went to his lips shook. + +“I don’t know--it seems pretty awful,” he said irresolutely. “To leave +a man--to starve!” + +“What will happen if he gets after me?” asked the doctor, stirring the +fire that had almost gone out. “I should either starve or get my meals +too regularly! I understand the food is fairly good at Dartmoor, but I +am willing to take anybody’s word for it. I do not want to have a +personal experience. And anyway, there’s always a way out for a +medical man. I owe Dorn something. He hounded me from India, and he’s +not exactly a friend of yours, is he, Chesney?” + +“No,” said the other shortly, “only----” + +“Only what? You’re chicken-hearted! What do you think is going to +happen to you and me if that gets out?” He pointed to the ceiling. “It +would mean the best part of a lifetime for you--more than a lifetime +for me. No, sir, I am well aware of the risks I am taking and more +than determined what further risks I’ll accept. You’d better have the +girl down. I suppose you want to be alone?” + +He nodded and the doctor went out of the room, and was gone for a long +while. When the door opened, Lois Reddle stood framed against the dark +background of the passage. At the sight of Praye she stopped. + +“You!” she said in wonder. + +“Good evening, Miss Reddle. Won’t you sit down?” + +Chesney was politeness itself and his manners were unimpeachable. + +“I’m afraid you’ve had a very unhappy experience,” he said. “I only +learnt about it this afternoon and I came down immediately to do +whatever I could. The doctor tells me that you have been certified.” + +“That is not true,” she said hotly. “I know very little about the law, +but I have been in Mr. Shaddles’ office too long to suppose that any +person can be certified as mad by one doctor! Are you going to take me +away?” + +He nodded. + +“And that other unfortunate woman?” + +“She may go too,” he said slowly, “on conditions.” + +She looked at him steadily. + +“I don’t quite understand you, Mr. Praye.” + +He motioned her to a chair, but she did not move. + +“Now listen to me, Miss Reddle. I am taking big risks for your sake. I +needn’t particularise them, but if I fail this evening, my future, and +probably”--he hesitated to say “liberty”--“at any rate, my future is +seriously jeopardised. I’ve made this journey without the knowledge of +a person who shall be nameless and I am betraying the trust she has in +me. She will not forgive me.” + +“You mean the Countess of Moron?” she asked quietly. + +“There is no use in beating about the bush. I refer to the Countess of +Moron.” + +“Am I here by her orders?” + +He nodded. + +“But why? What have I ever done to her that she should wish to injure +me?” + +“You will know one of these days,” he said impatiently, “but that is +beside the point. I can save you and your mother----” + +She fell back a pace. + +“My mother?” she breathed. “That woman,” she pointed her trembling +finger to the door--“not my mother?” He nodded. “Here? Oh, my God! +Why?” + +“She’s here for the same reason that you are here,” was his cool +reply. “Now, Miss Reddle, you’ve got to be an intelligent being. I +want you to be sensible and recognise the sacrifices I am making for +you, and to agree to my conditions for taking your mother away from +this place.” + +“What are the conditions?” she asked slowly. + +“The first is that you marry me!” said Chesney Praye. + + + + + Chapter Thirty-four + +She looked at him bewildered, as though she could not grasp the +meaning of his words. + +“That I marry you?” she repeated. + +“That you marry me to-morrow. I took the precaution this afternoon of +going to Doctors’ Commons and securing a special licence, which allows +me to be married to-morrow morning. I had some trouble in getting it, +but it is here----” he tapped his breast pocket. “Before leaving +London I telegraphed to the vicar of Leitworth, a village some thirty +miles from here, and asked him to perform the ceremony at ten o’clock +to-morrow morning.” + +His face was white; he was obviously labouring under the stress of +some tense emotion. Presently he went on in a lower voice: + +“I will make you a rich woman. I will place you and your mother beyond +want. I will give you a position in the world that you could not dream +you would ever occupy. I’ll do something more.” He came closer to her, +and before she realised what he was doing he had gripped her +shoulders. “I will clear your mother’s name--I can’t give her back the +years she has spent in prison----” + +She drew back out of his grasp. + +“No!” she said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. It may be true--all these +things you say--but I can’t marry you, Mr. Praye, and I--I don’t +believe you. My mother is in prison.” + +“Your mother is in this house.” + +He strode to the door and, pulling it open, called the doctor by name. + +“Bring down Mrs. Pinder,” he said. + +The girl stood at the farther end of the room, her hands clasped +together, waiting, hoping, yet not daring to hope. She heard a light +step on the stair, again the door opened and the woman came in. + +One glance at that serene face was sufficient. In another second they +were in one another’s arms, and the girl was sobbing on her mother’s +breast. + +For a minute there was silence in the room, and only the murmured +endearments of the older woman interrupted. Then Mrs. Pinder held the +girl at arm’s length and looked into her tear-stained face. + +“My little Lois!” she said softly. “It hardly seems possible.” + +Lois tried to speak. + +“And have you come to take me away?” + +Watching the girl, Chesney saw her nod, and his hopes bounded as he +introduced himself. + +“I am Chesney Praye,” he said awkwardly, “a--a friend of Miss Reddle.” + +“Reddle? Then Mrs. Reddle gave you her name?” She looked at Chesney. +“When do we go?” she asked. + +“As soon as certain conditions are fulfilled. Will you leave us, Mrs. +Pinder?” + +The woman’s eyes fell upon the girl. Gathering her in her arms, she +kissed her tenderly. Chesney, in his feverish anxiety, almost tore +them apart in his urgency. He closed the door upon Mrs. Pinder and +came back to the girl. + +“Well?” he said. “I told you the truth?” + +She nodded. + +“And you’ll do this?” + +“Marry you?” She shook her head. + +“But you told your mother you would!” he said furiously. “You know +what it means, don’t you, if you refuse?” + +“I can’t, I can’t! How can I marry you, Mr. Praye? You’re engaged to +the Countess of Moron----” + +He interrupted her with an oath. + +“Never mind about the countess! You know what I’m doing for you, don’t +you? I’m saving your life, I’m giving you your mother----” + +She looked past him at the closed door. + +“I can’t!” she said helplessly. “How can you ask me to decide? I--I +don’t know you, you must give me time.” + +“I’ll give you as much time as it will take you to sign this paper.” + +He pulled out a sheet of foolscap from his pocket and laid it on the +table. + +“What is that?” she said. + +“It’s an agreement. You needn’t trouble to read it. Just put your +signature here, and I’ll bring in the doctor to witness it.” + +“But what is the document?” she asked, and tried to turn it back to +the first page, but he prevented her. + +Her suspicion was growing, and the reaction from that tremendous +meeting had left her chilled and numb. Into her heart had crept an +uneasy suspicion that the conditions he offered were not in his power +to fulfil. All her instincts told her this man’s word was valueless. + +“I can do nothing until I have seen Mr. Dorn.” + +Why she mentioned the detective’s name at all, she could not +understand. She wanted time. She mentioned the first name that +occurred to her, and might as well have referred to Mr. Shaddles. + +“Dorn! So that’s how the land lies, eh? Michael Dorn is the favoured +gentleman? Well, Dorn or no Dorn, you’ll marry me to-morrow morning at +ten o’clock. I’ve gone too far to pull back now. And Dorn’s dead, +anyway.” + +“Dead?” she cried in horror. + +“He came here this morning, looking for you, and----” + +The door was opening slowly. + +“I don’t want you, Tappatt. Shut the door, damn you!” + +But still it was moving, slowly, slowly. And then around the edge came +the black muzzle of a pistol, an arm, and then, last, the smiling face +of Michael Dorn! + +“Put up your hands, Praye!” he said. “I want you!” + +As the door opened and the hand came in, Chesney Praye’s fingers +closed around an ebony ruler, and then, at the hateful sight of +Michael Dorn’s face, he struck at the oil lamp that stood on the +table. There was a crash, a jangle of broken glass, and Lois screamed. + +Praye darted past her; she heard the thud of the door, and a grunt +from somebody. In another second the two men were at grips and she +shrank back farther and farther into a corner of the room, as tables +and chairs became involved in the struggle. She heard Chesney +screaming for the doctor at the top of his voice. + +“Doctor--help! Get this swine!” And there came to the frightened ears +of the girl the sound of the door being wrenched open, the scurry of +footsteps, and Chesney’s voice was silent. + +“Stay where you are!” + +The room reeked with the smell of kerosene. + +“Don’t strike a light,” said Michael’s voice, but even as he spoke a +white flame leapt up from the hearth. The flowing oil had reached some +red-hot embers, and in a second the whole floor was blazing. + +The girl was paralysed with fear, but before she could move he had +picked her up and carried her into the passage. + +“Go into the back, quick! The dogs won’t hurt you,” he said, and flew +up the stairs, bursting into Mrs. Pinder’s prison. + +The room in which Mrs. Pinder had been confined was empty. There was +no sign of the doctor or of the woman. He came down into the hall +again and ran to the front door. As he opened the door, he saw +Chesney’s big car going full speed towards the closed gates. There was +a crack and a crash, the gates flew open, and the tail lights +disappeared as the car turned on to the road. + +The front room was now blazing. He tried the housekeeper’s room: that +also was empty. There was no need for further search. Dr. Tappatt had +got away, and with him the unhappy mother of Lois. + +He rejoined the girl and she told him what had happened before he came +into the room. + +“That is it,” he said bitterly. “The doctor was listening at the door +and, thinking he was going to be left in the lurch, decided to make +his getaway. When Praye turned your mother from the room he must have +put her into the car, and probably unfastened the gate when he heard +the fight.” + +“Where will he have taken her? What will happen?” she asked fearfully. + +Her nerve had gone, and she clung to him like a frightened child, and +as he held the quivering figure in his arms, the world and all its +sordid horrors dropped away from him and for a second he lived in a +heaven of happiness. + +“Child, child!” His hand trembled as it touched her cheek. “Your +mother is not in danger--they dare not.” + +“I am an hysterical fool!” she sobbed as she rubbed her face against +his coat. “But, Michael, I am so frightened. What will happen to my +mother?” + +“Nothing; they will not dare injure her.” + +The fire had taken hold; great tongues of flame were leaping up from +the roof. + +“It will burn like tinder. I’m sorry.” + +“Sorry?” she said, in surprise. + +“I mean I’m sorry to see property destroyed. I don’t suppose it is +insured,” was his strange reply. “I’ll pull the Buick out of the shed +before the fire gets to it.” + +As they were walking across the yard to the extemporised garage, he +caught her arm and drew her from the path, and, looking down, she saw +the stiff figure of a dog. + +“I had to shoot them,” he said. “I used a silencer, because I thought +the doctor would hear.” + +“But they told me you were dead?” + +“I’ll tell you about it some day,” he answered briefly, and gave his +whole attention to breaking the lock of the shed. + +Presently he hauled out the car and examined the petrol tank. + +“There is enough to get us to the nearest village,” he said; “the +spare tin is full.” + +He got the car round to the front of the house, and was standing +watching the havoc of the flames when the first police cyclist came +thunderously from the direction of Whitcombe. + +“Nobody is hurt except me,” said Michael in answer to the man’s +enquiry, “and in my case it is only a question of feelings. You didn’t +pass a car on your way?” + +“Yes, I passed a big car, with three or four people in it.” + +“Which way did they go?” + +“They took the Newbury Road.” + +“Then we also will take the Newbury Road,” said Michael. + +On the journey back to London he told Lois what had happened to him. + +“I pretty well knew that he’d get you out of the house in the night, +but I also knew that he couldn’t take you far. It was impossible to +watch all sides of the house, and besides, it would have been as +impossible to get back on foot in time to intercept him. As I +expected, the house was empty when I made my search. I had formed a +plan which was fairly elementary. When he showed me the underground +cellar room, I slipped a spare gun and a small kit of tools amongst +the bedding, for I guessed that would be the place he would put +me--that is, if he managed to catch me. Honestly, I don’t believe he +thought of drugging me until I suggested it myself, and then he did +his work in the most clumsy way. He told me that he heard somebody +moving outside in order to distract my attention, and of course my +attention was distracted. When he had dropped the dope into my coffee, +I had a little distraction of my own. I found an excuse to go out into +the yard, poured away the coffee, and when I came back I stood in the +doorway, giving him the impression that I was drinking. I was standing +and he was sitting, so he couldn’t tell whether there was coffee in +the cup or not. But he was so smugly satisfied that he did what I knew +he would do--‘lured’ me down into the underground room--and I was glad +to be lured. I knew that the moment I was safely under lock and key, +he would bring you back again. I had cached my gun and tools, and when +he came in and found me unconscious, he did not trouble to search the +room again. If he had, he would have been shocked to have had a most +unpleasant beating from the helpless creature on the bed!” + +“But how did you get out?” + +“That was easy. Almost any key could have opened that old-fashioned +lock, and I came prepared with several. I waited all day because I was +certain that he would not bring you back until night. The handcuffs +were the most difficult part; I hadn’t a key to fit them. It took me +two hours’ hard work and a nearly dislocated thumb to slip them off.” + +They stopped at an all-night filling station, replenished the tank, +and continued their way to London. + +“I know one person who will be happy to-night,” said Michael, as the +car sped up the Bayswater Road. “I wonder whether she got the day +off?” + +“Whom do you mean?” asked the girl, aroused from an unpleasant +reverie. + +“Miss Elizabeth Smith.” + +“Mr. Dorn, do you really think that there’s no danger to my mother?” +she asked, for the moment oblivious to everything except the woman’s +danger. + +“None, I should imagine,” he said. + +The car stopped before the house in Charlotte Street, and Mr. +Mackenzie answered the knock. + +“Have you Miss Smith with you?” he asked, after he had welcomed the +girl. + +“Lizzy?” said Lois in surprise. “She wasn’t with me. I haven’t seen +her. Why do you ask?” + +“She went to Gallows Farm with his lordship.” + +“With his lordship?” said Michael, in surprise. “Do you mean Lord +Moron?” + +“They left at eight o’clock,” said the old man, “in a hired car.” + +Michael and the girl were in the old man’s room when he gave them this +information, and the two exchanged glances. Here was an unforeseen +complication. + +“I saw no sign of a car, hired or otherwise,” he said. “And +Moron--phew!” He whistled. + +“Perhaps they lost their way,” suggested Lois, and he seemed prepared +to accept the suggestion. + +“If you don’t mind, Miss Reddle, I’ll wait here until they have +returned,” he said, and then: “You don’t wish to call up Lady Moron, I +suppose?” + +Lois shuddered. + +“No, no, not that terrible woman.” + +“So you know--or rather, you guess?” + +Lois shook her head. + +“I know nothing. The whole thing is a mystery to me. It is so +confusing that I think I should go mad, only I’m so grateful to be +here,” she smiled, and held out her hand. “And I knew that it would be +you who would come for me, just as I know it will be you who will +restore my mother to me.” + +He took her hand and held it, his eyes searching hers. + +“I’m going to tell you something,” he said in a low voice. They were +alone in the little room, and she felt her heart beating in time with +the cheap American clock on the table. “I suppose I really oughtn’t to +say anything,” he said, “because I have no right. But I feel if I +don’t tell you I may never have another opportunity.” + +She had dropped her eyes before his, but now she looked at him again. + +“I love you,” he said simply. “I can’t marry you, I won’t ask you to +marry me, and that is what makes this folly of mine all the more mad! +But I want you to believe that it has been a happiness to work for +you.” + +“For me?” she said. “Why, of course, you’ve worked very hard for me.” + +“And I have been paid very well,” was the disconcerting rejoinder. +“But I would do it again and pay all the money I have in the world for +the privilege.” + +Suddenly he released her hand, and when she smiled up at him he, too, +was smiling. + +“Two declarations of love in one night is more than any reasonable +girl can expect,” he said flippantly. + +“One declaration of love,” she said in a low voice, “and one offer of +marriage--quite different, isn’t it?” + +“I’m not an authority on these matters,” he said with a sigh, and +looked up at the loud-ticking clock. + +Michael saw the hour and frowned. + +“I’m rather worried about these people; where on earth can they have +got? You don’t feel worried about sleeping here to-night alone--if you +have to sleep alone?” + +She shook her head. + +“I’m troubled about Lizzy,” she said. “Poor Lord Moron! I wonder what +his mother would say if she knew.” + +“She probably knows,” said Michael. + +It was at that moment they heard Lizzy’s voice in the hall and the +sound of feet on the stairs. + +Lois ran out to the landing and looked down into the lighted hall. + +“Michael!” she called wildly, and he was at her side. “Look--oh, +look!” she said in a hushed voice. + +And Michael Dorn looked--and wondered! + + + + + Chapter Thirty-five + +As the gates burst open violently and the car lurched on to the +road, Lizzy pulled her companion back to the shadow of the wall. At +that moment a man came flying through the gateway and leapt upon the +running-board. Again the car slowed perceptibly. + +“He’s there,” whispered Lizzy fiercely. “Quick--luggage rack!” + +In an instant she was flying after the machine, caught the iron rail +of the rack and sprang on. The car was gathering speed as Selwyn Moron +stumbled forward, his hand gripping the rail, his legs moving faster +than nature had intended. Kneeling down, Lizzy caught him by a garment +which ladies do not mention, let alone grab, and hauled him up to her +side, breathless, almost dead. + +“Hold tight!” she squeaked in his ear, and there was need for the +caution, for the car was bumping from side to side over the uneven +road, at a speed beyond her computation. + +“A thousand miles an hour!” she jerked into his ear, and he nodded his +complete agreement. + +Now they were on the post road. The bumping had ceased, and the +machine was going even faster. Lizzy held tight to the luggage support +and adopted an attitude of passive fatalism. Once a motorcyclist +snapped past, going in the other direction, and she had a glimpse of a +uniform cap. It was a policeman, but by the time she realised the fact +he was out of sight. + +The seat was most uncomfortable. She began to realise the sensations +of a herring on a gridiron and wondered if the luggage rack would +leave the same marks. + +Selwyn was trying to whisper to her; he had recovered most of his +breath and all his sense of obligation. + +“What about that car of ours? We hired it by the hour,” he whispered +hoarsely, and she put her lips to his ear. + +“Shaddles will pay,” she said gaily, and found a delight in the +prospect. + +A little while later the car stopped, and the two unauthorised riders +got ready to jump. Peeping round the back of the machine, Lizzy saw +the cause of the delay. They had pulled up at a sort of sentry box and +one of the party was unlocking the door. She knew that the hut was an +automobile station equipped with a telephone, before she heard a +muffled voice speaking. Presently the telephoner came out. + +“All right,” he said, as he climbed in and the car started again. + +They had not gone twenty miles when, to her surprise, the machine +slackened its speed again, slowed almost to a halt, and then turned +suddenly through a pair of old gates that had been opened for them. +She felt a communicated excitement from her companion as he bent over +towards her. + +“Old family estate,” he whispered. “Country seat and all that sort of +thing! Knew it as soon as I saw the gates.” + +“Whose?” she asked cautiously. + +“Mine,” was the surprising reply. + +And then, feeling that he had overstated the case, he added: + +“Her ladyship’s really. Beastly house--never liked it. Moron Court, +Newbury. Rum place----” + +They passed up a long avenue of elms, going slower and slower. Selwyn +tapped her on the shoulder and dropped off the rack, and, recognising +his wisdom, she followed, darting into the shadow of an elm only just +in time, for at that moment the car stopped and the voice of Lady +Moron sent a shiver down the back of her son. + +“Go to the west entrance: you’ll find nobody there. What were you +doing in Somerset, Chesney?” + +“I will tell you later,” he said shortly. + +The car passed on and the two watchers saw the tall woman walking +slowly in its wake. How had she known they were coming? And then Lizzy +remembered the car stopping at the telephone box on the side of the +road. + +“Queer old crib, eh?” Moron was whispering. “See that bump in the +roof? That’s the alarm bell--works from the music-room… in case of +fire and all that sort of thing.” + +They waited till Lady Moron had disappeared from sight, then they +followed cautiously. The west entrance was reached through a +glass-covered porch, and the door was closed when they came up to it. +Moron smiled benignly at the girl, and took a small object from his +pocket. + +“Pass-key,” he whispered, so loudly that he would have been heard if +there had been a listener. + +Inserting the key, he turned it and signalled the girl to follow. +Before them stretched a vista of red-carpeted corridor; a light burnt +in a ceiling lamp at the farther end. Moron crept along with +extravagant caution, and he was half-way up the passage when he +stopped and raised a warning finger, pointing energetically to a door +before he beckoned her past it. A little farther along was a broad +marble staircase. Up this he went, with Lizzy, feeling like a +conspirator, at his heels. + +They must have presented a terrifying sight. White from head to foot, +their faces were masks of dust. Lizzy’s crumpled hat hung drunkenly +over one ear. At the top of the stairs was another corridor, with the +same meagre illumination. He drew her head to his. + +“That is the gallery of the music-room!” He indicated a small door. +“For heaven’s sake don’t make a row,” he implored her, and opened the +door an inch at a time. + +The door itself was shadowed by the broad musicians’ balcony from the +light in the room below. They heard voices talking as they came in, +and, keeping flat to the wall, they edged forward until it was +dangerous to go any farther. Then Selwyn gave a start that nearly +betrayed their presence. Turning, he communicated what he had seen. + +“She’s not there--Miss Reddle, I mean. It’s an elderly lady with white +hair.” + +“So you have seen your daughter, Mrs. Pinder?” + +“Yes, madam, I have seen Lois.” + +Lois! Lizzy clapped her hand over her mouth. Lois Reddle’s mother, and +her name was Pinder! + +“A very beautiful girl,” said Lady Moron suavely. + +“A dear, sweet girl! I am very proud, whatever happens to me.” + +“What do you think will happen to you?” + +“I don’t know, but I am prepared for anything now.” + +Lizzy glanced at her comrade. He was staring open-mouthed into the +hall below. + +“She is too pretty a daughter to lose. Now, Mrs. Pinder, I am going to +make you an offer. I want you to take your daughter to South America. +I will pay you a yearly sum, more than sufficient for your needs. If +you undertake to do that, you will never be troubled again.” + +Mary Pinder smiled and shook her head. + +“Madam, your offer comes too late. Had it been made whilst I was still +a prisoner, had it been supported by any efforts to obtain my release +from that cruel punishment, I would have gone on my knees and thanked +you and blessed you. But now I know too much.” + +“What do you know?” asked Lady Moron. + +And then Mrs. Pinder began to speak, and as she went on, Lizzy gripped +the hand of the man at her side, and laid her face against his arm. He +turned round once during the narrative, his weak face transfigured and +smiled down at her, as though he read in her gesture all that her +heart conveyed. Mrs. Pinder spoke without interruption, and, when she +had finished: + +“You know a great deal too much for my comfort, madam,” said her +ladyship’s voice, “and much too much for the safety of my friends.” + +“So I realise,” said Mary Pinder gravely. + +“I repeat my offer. I would advise you to think well before you reject +your chance of safety.” + +“Look here, Leonora----” began Chesney Praye. + +“Be silent. I have found one friend to-night--one I can trust. It is +not you, Chesney. The doctor has told me all that has happened. You +thought you would go behind my back and forestall me. To-night you +will do as you’re told. Now, madam--do you accept my offer?” + +“No,” was Mrs. Pinder’s reply. + +Lady Moron turned to the red-faced doctor. He nodded. + +“Now, Mrs. Pinder,” he said, advancing to her, his tone jovial, his +manner friendly, “why can’t you be sensible? Do as her ladyship asks +you.” + +“I will not----” + +He was near to her now. Suddenly his hand shot out and strangled the +scream in her throat. She struggled desperately, madly, but there was +no denying those relentless hands. Chesney Praye took half a step +forward, but Lady Moron’s arm barred him. + +And then came the interruption. A wild-looking, dust-stained man, +unrecognisable to any, leapt from the balcony and gripped the doctor +by the shoulders from behind. As Tappatt staggered back, releasing his +hold upon his victim, Selwyn sprang to the long red bell-cord that +hung on the side of the wall, and pulled. From overhead came a +deafening clang. Again he pulled. + +“You fool, you madman, what are you doing?” + +His mother rushed towards him, but he pushed her back. Presently he +ceased. + +“That’s the alarm bell. We’ll have all the house and half the village +in here in a minute. And I don’t want to say before them what I’m +saying to you now.” He pointed an accusing finger at his mother. “You +think I’m a fool, and perhaps you’re right. But I’m not a wicked fool, +and I’m going to send you and your damnable friend before a judge!” + +“Get him away quick!” screamed the countess, as a patter of feet came +along the corridor. “I can say it was an accident.” + +“Don’t touch him!” + +A girl, almost as great a scarecrow as the panting Selwyn, was leaning +over the balcony. + +“You can tell them what you like, but you can’t tell them anything +they’ll believe after they’ve heard me!” + +The door was pushed open at that moment, and a man half-dressed came +running in, and stopped dead, gaping at the scene that met his eyes. +Almost immediately the doorway was filled with dishevelled men and +women. + +“Is there any trouble, my lady?” + +“None,” she said sharply, and pointed to the door. “Wait outside.” + +She looked up at the girl in the gallery. + +“I think you would be well advised to ask my son to change his plans,” +she said, in the same calm, even voice which Selwyn knew so well. “The +matter can be adjusted to-morrow. Selwyn, go back to your friend and +take this lady with you.” + +Mrs. Pinder was sitting on a chair, her frail frame shaking +convulsively, while Selwyn strove to comfort her. At Lady Moron’s +words she stood up, and, with the man’s arm about her, passed into the +crowded corridor, and in a few seconds Lizzy Smith had joined them. + + + + + Chapter Thirty-six + +Leonora, Countess of Moron, paced her long dressing-room, her hands +behind her, a calm, speculative woman, for emotion did not belong to +her. Chesney Praye and the doctor she had left in the music-room, and +through the windows that overlooked the stone porch at the front of +the house she had, a few minutes before, seen the car pass which +carried Mary Pinder to happiness and freedom. + +Lady Moron felt no resentment against any save the weakling son she +had hated from his birth. There was still a hope that the wheel would +turn by some miracle in her favour. All she had played for, all she +had won, was gone. It was the hour of reparation and judgment, not yet +for her the hour of penitence. + +Opening a little safe that was set in the wall, concealed by a silver +barometer, she took out a tiny box and shook on to the table a folded +sheet of newspaper and a key. This she put into her bag. From the back +of the safe she pulled to view a small automatic pistol, and, jerking +back the cover to assure herself that it was loaded, fixed the safety +catch. This too went into the bag. Then she rang the bell, and her +scared maid answered after a long interval. + +“Tell Henry that I wish the Rolls to be at the door in ten minutes,” +she said, and at the end of that time, with her cloak wrapped about +her shoulders, she stepped into the car, pausing only to give +directions. “Charlotte Street,” she said, and gave the number. + +She turned over in her mind the events of the past few weeks, striving +to discover the key flaw of her plan. Some force had been working +against her. Dorn was the instrument, but behind that was a power the +identity of which she could not imagine. + +The car ran through the deserted streets of Reading along the long +road to Maidenhead. Still her problem was not solved. Who was behind +Dorn? She had for him a certain amount of admiration. She had known, +the moment he came into the case, that the little men who had seemed +so big, Chesney Praye and the doctor, were valueless. + +The car came noiselessly to the door of Lois Reddle’s home. She looked +up at the lighted windows and was slightly amused. Selwyn would be +there, basking in the approval of the bourgeoisie. Even her feeling of +bitterness towards him had been blunted on the journey. This was to be +the last throw. + +Old Mackenzie, on his way up to Lizzy’s kitchenette to brew more +coffee, heard the knock and called to Lizzy: + +“There’s somebody at the door, miss: will you open it for me?” + +A transfigured Lizzy, dustless and tidy, ran down the stairs two at a +time and pulled open the door. At first she did not recognise the +woman, and then: + +“You can’t come in here, ma’am,” she said. + +“I wish to see Miss Reddle,” said the countess. “Please don’t be +ridiculous!” + +She had still an overawing effect upon Lizzy, and the girl stood on +one side, and followed the leisurely figure up the stairs. + +The door of Mackenzie’s room was open, and as she walked into the +chamber, a sudden silence fell upon the gathering. She looked from +face to face and smiled. But the smile faded when her eyes rested upon +the man who sat by the plain deal table near the window. + +“Mr. Shaddles!” she faltered. + +He nodded. + +“So it was you? I might have guessed that.” + +“Yes, madam, it was I. My family have been the Moron lawyers for +hundreds of years, and it was not likely that I should cease to study +their interests.” + +“It was you!” she said again. “I should have guessed that. You opposed +my marriage to Lord Moron.” + +He nodded. + +“I should have opposed it more if I had known what I know now,” he +said. “Will you be seated?” + +She nodded and sat down, her bag on her knees, opened. Michael Dorn +stood by the lawyer’s side, and his eyes never left her face. + +“Well, I suppose everybody knows now?” said the countess pleasantly. + +“Nobody knows--yet. I particularly asked Miss Smith, when she called +me on the ’phone, not to tell the story until I came. It is not a long +story, madam, if you will permit me?” + +She nodded. + +“The late Earl of Moron married twice,” said Shaddles. “By his first +wife he had a son, William. By his second wife--which is your +ladyship--a son, Selwyn, who is with us to-night. William was a +high-spirited, honourable young man, who served Her Majesty Queen +Victoria in a regiment of Highlanders. He was a thought romantic, and +nothing was more natural than that, when he met Mary Pinder----” + +“Mary Pinder!” gasped Lois, but he did not notice the interruption. + +“----when he met Mary Pinder, who was then a very beautiful girl of +seventeen or eighteen, he should fall in love with her. He did not +reveal his identity. He had a craze for walking tours, and at that +time was travelling through Hereford--not under his own name, which +was Viscount Craman, but under the name of Pinder, which was his +mother’s maiden name. He met the girl several times without telling +her who he was, and married her by special licence, in the name of +Pinder, intending to reveal his status after the marriage. They had +been living together for a month, when he was suddenly called home by +the illness of his father, and arrived in Scotland to find the late +Earl dying of malignant scarlet fever. By a cruel fate, William was +infected with the disease and died two days after his father, leaving +his widow, ignorant alike of his identity and where he was staying. + +“As he was dying, he told his stepmother, the present Lady Moron, the +story of his marriage, and begged her to send for his wife. This she +refrained from doing, especially when she learnt that the girl did not +know where or who he was. Lord Moron, as of course he was then, was +buried. Some time after the countess went to Hereford to seek out the +widow. Mrs. Pinder was living in the house of an eccentric woman, a +drug-taker and slightly mad. The woman had threatened to commit +suicide many times, and it happened that on the morning her ladyship +arrived in Hereford and made a call at the house to satisfy her +curiosity about her stepson’s wife, the landlady took the fatal step, +and when the caller walked into her room, she found her dead, with a +letter on the table announcing why she had committed suicide. + +“Lady Moron is a woman of infinite resource. Here, she thought, was an +opportunity of removing for ever a possible claimant to the Moron +estate. On the table were a number of jewels and some money, which the +woman had put there in her madness. Gathering these, her ladyship went +into the girl’s room. She guessed it was hers when she saw the +photograph of William on the mantelpiece, a photograph which was +afterwards left in Lois’ room to discover if she knew her father. Lady +Moron placed the jewels and the poison in an open box, locked it, +taking away the key, and also a letter which would not only have +established Mrs. Pinder’s innocence, but if the part Lady Moron played +became public property, would also establish hers! That is the +explanation for what would seem at the most to be an indiscretion. + +“As you know, Mary Pinder was tried, sentenced to death, and her +sentence commuted. In the prison her baby was born and taken in charge +by a neighbour friend--though for some reason it was announced in the +newspapers that the child of the ‘Hereford murderess’ had died. That, +at any rate, satisfied Lady Moron, and she made no attempt to verify +the story until she learnt by accident one day that Lois Reddle was +the missing girl. How she discovered this I do not pretend to know--I +am under the impression that one of her servants was connected with +the Reddle family. + +“For years,” Mr. Shaddles went on, “I have been satisfied in my mind +that William was married, and have been trying to find his wife. I saw +him soon after he was dead, and there was a gold wedding ring on his +little finger, which was not there when he was buried. I also believed +that the child was alive, and sought her out. I found that she was +working at an office in Leith, and brought her down to my own office +so that she should be under my eye, and eventually engaged the +cleverest detective I could find to protect her. I then discovered +that Lady Moron had some inkling of her identity, and I confess I +hesitated when her ladyship suggested that the girl should go to her +house as secretary. It was only after consultation with Mr. Dorn that +I agreed. I had notified my suspicions to the Home Office, and a +special service officer, Sergeant Braime, had been planted in her +household to make enquiries, and to discover if she had been foolish +enough to preserve the suicide’s letter.” + +He paused. + +“I think that is all.” + +“An excellent story,” said Lady Moron, “and in confirmation----” + +She took something from her bag and threw it on the floor. + +Dorn stooped and picked up the key and the letter, gave one quick +glance at its contents, and handed it to the lawyer. + +“And now I have something else to say.” There was a dreadful silence. +The pistol was in her hand, and the safety-catch had been lowered. +“Most people in my position would commit suicide. But it will be very +poor satisfaction to me to go out of the world and leave my enemies to +triumph. I have a son--of sorts.” She smiled across the room to +Selwyn, and he met her gaze steadily. “I should not care to leave him +behind. Nor this wretched shop-girl”--her eyes sought Lois Reddle’s, +and instantly her mother was by her side, her frail body interposed +between the woman and her vengeance. “That is all,” said her ladyship. + +And then Selwyn saw a look of horror come into his mother’s face. She +was staring at the doorway. Little Mackenzie, a tray in his hand, had +not seen the new visitor and he put down the tray with a chuckle. + +“It’s a curious thing----” he said. + +And then he saw the woman with the pistol. + +“Martha!” + +“My God!” she moaned. “I thought you were dead!” + +The room was very quiet. + +“I’d have recognised you if I hadn’t heard your fine, deep voice,” +said the old man, blinking at her. “It’s Martha, my wife--you’ve met +her, Mr. Shaddles?” + +“I thought you were dead!” she said again, and the pistol dropped from +her nerveless hand. + + * * * * * * * + +“The point is,” said the disconsolate Selwyn. “I am in a perfectly +painful position, old dear, I’m not Lord anybody; I suppose I’m a +Moron of sorts. I’m what you might term a naughty Moron. I’m really +not worried about the mater--she’s in the south of France, and she’s +jolly lucky she’s not in a hotter place! She’s been a perfectly +fearful mother to me, and I don’t suppose I shall ever see her again, +and I don’t jolly well want to! She’ll probably live to ninety--she’s +that kind of mother.” + +“Don’t be silly, Selwyn. Of course it makes all the difference!” said +Lizzy. “If you’d asked me when you were a real lord and I was a +typist--I’m a typist still, for the matter of that--I simply couldn’t +have allowed you to ruin your career. As it is----” + +They were walking along a quiet by-path of the park when suddenly +Lizzy caught him by the arm and swung him round. + +“Not that way,” she said. “Here’s a path through the rhododendrons. +They’ll never think of coming round here, and there’s a perfectly +beautiful seat--and at this time of the morning there’s nobody about. +We can sit and talk----” + +Michael saw the hasty retreat and smiled to himself. + +“That’s the queerest aspect of the whole case.” + +“Do you think so?” asked Lois, Countess of Moron. “I know lots of +things that are queerer. I had a bill this morning from Mr. Shaddles. +He has charged me one pound six shillings for the damage you did to +his Ford!” + +“He never has?” said the admiring Michael. “What a man! He must have +spent ten thousand pounds on this case if he spent a penny. Most of +which,” he added, “went to me.” + +“Do you feel repaid?” she asked. + +He nodded. + +“I shall when your ladyship has said ‘thank you.’” + +“Haven’t I said that yet?” she demanded in feigned surprise. “And +please don’t say ‘ladyship’--you give me the creeps. Well, I’ll thank +you, now--no, not now.” + +They paused at the end of a little path. + +“Let us go down here,” she said. “I think I remember there’s a +shrubbery at the other end, and a garden seat, and it’s hardly likely +that at this time of day…” + + THE END + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + +The Hodder and Stoughton Limited (1926) edition was consulted for +many of the changes listed below. + +Minor spelling inconsistencies (_e.g._ liftman/lift-man, +prison-gate/prison gate, Whitcomb/Whitcombe, etc.) have been +preserved. + +Alterations to the text: + +Abandon the use of drop-caps. + +Add ToC. + +[Chapter Seven] + +Change (“Even you must _given_ me some credit for my frankness.”) to +_give_. + +[Chapter Thirteen] + +(“Lizzy came promptly at six, bringing with her a…) delete the +quotation mark. + +[Chapter Eighteen] + +“periods of national rejoicing but here, in this shadowy place” add +semicolon after _rejoicing_. + +[Chapter Twenty] + +(“I’ve got a wife and four children,” he whined “and there’s an…) +add comma after _whined_. + +[Chapter Twenty-one] + +“in order to get even either with Mr. _Chester_ Praye or the Countess” +to _Chesney_. + +[Chapter Twenty-five] + +(“I want to see the master of this house,” said Michael Dorn!) change +the exclamation mark to a period. + +[Chapter Twenty-six] + +“he could not see the top windows of the _buildings_” to _building_. + +[Chapter Twenty-seven] + +“Dr. Tappatt had no intention of sending _of_ the police” to _for_. + +[Chapter Twenty-eight] + +“_Tappett_ forced a smile.” to _Tappatt_. + +[Chapter Twenty-nine] + +“He scowled at her as _he_ came in, noted her coat and her hat” to +_she_. + +[Chapter Thirty] + +“The farm takes _it_ name from the wood.” to _its_. + +“steady echo of footsteps, as though somebody was _passing_ the floor” +to _pacing_. + +[Chapter Thirty-three] + +“be sensible and recognise the _sacrifies_ I am making for you” to +_sacrifices_. + +[Chapter Thirty-six] + +(“_It_ a curious thing----” he said.) to _It’s_. + +[End of text] + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75858 *** diff --git a/75858-h/75858-h.htm b/75858-h/75858-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..79d1f10 --- /dev/null +++ b/75858-h/75858-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13328 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The strange countess | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +/* Headers and Divisions */ + h1, h2, h3, h4 {margin:2em 0em 1em 0em; page-break-before:always; text-align:center;} + +/* General */ + + body {margin:0% 5% 0% 5%;} + + .nobreak {page-break-before:avoid;} + + p {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:justify; text-indent:1em;} + .center {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + .noindent {text-indent:0em;} + .spacer {margin:0.5em 0em 0.5em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + + hr {margin:1em auto 1em auto; text-align:center; width:20%;} + + .toc_l {font-variant:small-caps; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + + .rt1 {margin:0em 1em 0em 0em; text-align:right; text-indent:0em;} + + .font80 {font-size:80%;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + +/* special formatting */ + + blockquote {margin:1em 2em 1em 2em;} + + .mt1 {margin-top:1em;} + .mt4 {margin-top:4em;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75858 ***</div> + +<h1> +The<br> +Strange Countess +</h1> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="font80">BY</span><br> +EDGAR WALLACE +</p> + +<p class="center mt4"> +<span class="font80">BOSTON</span><br> +SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY<br> +<span class="font80">PUBLISHERS</span> +</p> + + +<h2> +[COPYRIGHT] +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="sc">Copyright</span>, 1926<br> +By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY<br> +(INCORPORATED) +</p> + + +<h2> +[DEDICATION] +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +To<br> +D. C. THOMSON<br> +WITH THE AUTHOR’S HAPPIEST MEMORIES<br> +OF A LONG BUSINESS ASSOCIATION +</p> + + +<h2> +CONTENTS +</h2> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch01">Chapter One</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch02">Chapter Two</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch03">Chapter Three</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch04">Chapter Four</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch05">Chapter Five</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch06">Chapter Six</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch07">Chapter Seven</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch08">Chapter Eight</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch09">Chapter Nine</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch10">Chapter Ten</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch11">Chapter Eleven</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch12">Chapter Twelve</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch13">Chapter Thirteen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch14">Chapter Fourteen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch15">Chapter Fifteen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch16">Chapter Sixteen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch17">Chapter Seventeen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch18">Chapter Eighteen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch19">Chapter Nineteen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch20">Chapter Twenty</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch21">Chapter Twenty-one</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch22">Chapter Twenty-two</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch23">Chapter Twenty-three</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch24">Chapter Twenty-four</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch25">Chapter Twenty-five</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch26">Chapter Twenty-six</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch27">Chapter Twenty-seven</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch28">Chapter Twenty-eight</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch29">Chapter Twenty-nine</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch30">Chapter Thirty</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch31">Chapter Thirty-one</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch32">Chapter Thirty-two</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch33">Chapter Thirty-three</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch34">Chapter Thirty-four</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch35">Chapter Thirty-five</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch36">Chapter Thirty-six</a> +</p> + + +<h2> +The Strange Countess +</h2> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="ch01"> +Chapter One +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Lois Margeritta Reddle</span> sat on the edge of her bed, a thick and heavy +cup of pallid tea in one hand, a letter in the other. The tea was too +sweet, the bread was cut generously even as it was buttered +economically, but she was so completely absorbed in the letter that +she forgot the weakness of Lizzy Smith as a caterer. +</p> + +<p> +The note was headed with a gilt crest and the paper was thick and +slightly perfumed. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="rt1"> +307 Chester Square, S.W. +</p> + +<p> +The Countess of Moron is pleased to learn that Miss Reddle will take +up her duties as resident secretary on Monday, the 17th. Miss Reddle +is assured of a comfortable position, with ample opportunities for +recreation. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The door was thrust open and the red and shining face of Lizzy was +thrust in. +</p> + +<p> +“Bathroom’s empty,” she said briefly. “Better take your own soap—you +can see through the bit that’s left. There’s one dry towel and one +half-dry. What’s the letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is from my countess—I start on Monday.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy pulled a wry face. +</p> + +<p> +“Sleep in, of course? That means I’ve got to get somebody to share +these digs. Last girl who slept here snored. I will say one thing +about you, Lois, you don’t snore.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois’ eyes twinkled, the sensitive mouth curved for a second in the +ghost of a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you can’t say that I haven’t looked after you,” said Lizzy with +satisfaction. “I’m the best manager you’ve ever roomed with, I’ll bet. +I’ve done the shopping and cooked and everything—you’ll admit that?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois slipped her arm round the girl and kissed her homely face. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been a darling,” she said, “and in many ways I’m sorry I’m +going. But, Lizzy, I’ve tried hard to move on all my life. From the +National School in Leeds to that little cash desk at Roopers, and from +Roopers to the Drug Stores, and then to the great lawyers——” +</p> + +<p> +“Great!” exclaimed the scornful Lizzy. “Old Shaddles great! Why, the +mean old devil wouldn’t give me a half-crown raise at Christmas, and +I’ve been punching the alphabet five years for him! Kid, you’ll marry +into society. That countess is a she-dragon, but she’s rich, and +you’re sure to meet swells—go and have your annual while I fry the +eggs. Is it going to rain?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois was rubbing her white, rounded arm, gingerly passing her palm +over the pink, star-shaped scar just above her elbow. It was Lizzy’s +faith that whenever the scar irritated, rain was in the offing. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have to have that electrocuted, or whatever the word is,” said +the snub-nosed girl when the other shook her head. “Sleeves are about +as fashionable nowadays as crinolines.” +</p> + +<p> +From the bathroom Lois heard her companion bustling about the little +kitchen, and, mingled with the splutter and crackle of frying eggs, +came shrilly the sound of the newest fox-trot as Lizzy whistled it +unerringly. +</p> + +<p> +They had shared the third floor in Charlotte Street since the day she +had come to London. Lois was an orphan; she could not remember her +father, who had died when she was little more than a baby, and only +dimly recalled the pleasant, matronly woman who had fussed over her in +the rough and humble days of her early schooling. She had passed to +the care of a vague aunt who was interested in nothing except the many +diseases from which she imagined she suffered. And then the aunt had +died, despite her arrays of medicine bottles, or possibly because of +them, and Lois had gone into her first lodging. +</p> + +<p> +“Anyway, the countess will like your classy talk,” said Lizzy, as the +radiant girl came into the kitchen. She had evidently been thinking +over the new appointment. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe I talk classily!” said Lois good-humouredly. +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy turned out the eggs from the frying-pan with a dexterous flick. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll bet that’s what got <i>him</i>,” she said significantly, and the girl +flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you wouldn’t talk about this wretched young man as though he +were a god,” she said shortly. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing squashed Lizzy Smith. She wiped her moist forehead with the +back of her hand, pitched the frying-pan into the sink and sat down in +one concerted motion. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s not common, like some of these pickers-up,” she said +reminiscently, “he’s class, if you like! He thanked me like a lady, +and never said a word that couldn’t have been printed on the front +page of the <i>Baptist Herald</i>. When I turned up without you, he <i>was</i> +disappointed. And mind you, it was no compliment to me when he looked +down his nose and said: ‘Didn’t you bring her?’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“These eggs are burnt,” said Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“And a gentleman,” continued the steadfast Lizzy. “Got his own car. +And the hours he spends walking up and down Bedford Row just, so to +speak, to get a glimpse of you, would melt a heart of stone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mine is brass,” said Lois with a smile. “And really, Elizabetta, +you’re ridiculous.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re the first person that’s called me Elizabetta since I was +christened,” remarked the stenographer calmly, “but even that doesn’t +change the subject so far as I am concerned. Mr. Dorn——” +</p> + +<p> +“This tea tastes like logwood,” interrupted the girl maliciously, and +Lizzy was sufficiently human to be pained. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you hear old Mackenzie last night?” she asked, and when Lois +shook her head: “He was playing that dreamy bit from the <i>Tales of +Hoggenheim</i>—<i>Hoffmann</i> is it? All these Jewish names are the same to +me. I can’t understand a Scotsman playing on a fiddle; I thought they +only played bagpipes.” +</p> + +<p> +“He plays beautifully,” said Lois. “Sometimes, but only rarely, the +music comes into my dreams.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy snorted. +</p> + +<p> +“The middle of the night’s no time to play anything,” she said +emphatically. “He may be our landlord, but we’re entitled to sleep. +And he’s crazy, anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a nice kind of craziness,” soothed Lois, “and he’s a dear old +man.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy sniffed. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a time for everything,” she said vaguely, and, getting up, +took a third cup and saucer from the dresser, banged it on the table, +filled it with tea and splashed milk recklessly into the dark brown +liquid. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s your turn to take it down to him,” she said, “and you might drop +a hint to him that the only kind of foreign music I like is ‘Night +Time in Italy.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +It was their practice every morning to take a cup of tea down to the +old man who occupied the floor below, and who, in addition to being +their landlord, had been a very good friend to the two girls. The rent +they paid, remembering the central position which the house occupied +and the popularity of this quarter of London with foreigners who were +willing to pay almost any figure for accommodation in the Italian +quarter, was microscopic. +</p> + +<p> +Lois carried the cup down the stairs and knocked at one of the two +doors on the next landing. There was the sound of shuffling feet on +the bare floor, the door opened, and Rab Mackenzie beamed benevolently +over his horn-rimmed spectacles at the fair apparition. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, thank you very much, Miss Reddle,” he said eagerly, as he +took the cup from her hand. “Will you no’ walk round? I’ve got my old +fiddle back. Did I disturb you last night?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you,” said Lois, as he put the cup on the +well-scrubbed top of the bare table. +</p> + +<p> +The room, scrupulously clean, and furnished only with essentials, was +an appropriate setting for the little old man in his baggy trousers, +his scarlet slippers and black velvet coat. The clean-shaven face was +lined and furrowed, but the pale blue eyes that showed beneath the +shaggy eyebrows were alive. +</p> + +<p> +He took up the violin which lay on the sideboard with a gentle, tender +touch. +</p> + +<p> +“Music is a grand profession,” he said, “if you can give your time to +it. But the stage is damnable! Never go on the stage, young lady. Keep +you on the right side of the footlights. Those stage people are queer, +insincere folk.” He nodded emphatically and went on: “I used to sit +down in the deep orchestra well and watch her little toes twisting. +She was a bonny girl. Not much older than you, and haughty, like stage +folks are. And how I got up my courage to ask her to wed me I never +understood.” He sighed heavily. “Ah, well! I’d rather live in a fool’s +paradise than no paradise at all, and for two years——” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“She was a bonny girl, but she had the criminal mind. Some lassies are +like that. They’ve just no conscience and no remorse. And if you’ve no +conscience and no remorse and no sense of values, why, there’s nothing +you wouldn’t do from murder downwards.” +</p> + +<p> +It was not the first time Lois had heard these rambling and disjointed +references to a mysterious woman, these admonitions to avoid the +stage, but it was the first time that he had made a reference to the +criminal mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Women are funny creatures, Mr. Mackenzie,” she said, humouring him. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, they are,” he said simply. “But, generally speaking, they’re +superior to most men. I thank ye for the tea, Miss Reddle.” +</p> + +<p> +She went upstairs to find Lizzy struggling into her coat. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, did he warn you off the boards?” asked Miss Smith, as she +strolled to the little mirror and dabbed her nose untidily with +powder. “I’ll bet he did! I told him yesterday that I was going into +a beauty chorus, and he nearly had a fit.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shouldn’t tease the poor old man,” said Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“He ought to have more sense,” said Lizzy scornfully. “Beauty chorus! +Hasn’t he got eyes?” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch02"> +Chapter Two +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">They</span> went off to the office together, walking through the Bloomsbury +squares, and only once did Lois look round apprehensively for her +unwelcome cavalier. Happily he was not in sight. +</p> + +<p> +“About that scar on your arm,” said Lizzy, when they were crossing +Theobalds Road. “I know a perfectly posh place in South Moulton Street +where they take away scars. I thought of going there to have a face +treatment. The managing clerk suggested it—Lois, that fellow is +getting so fresh he ought to be kept on ice. And him forty-eight with +a grown-up family!” +</p> + +<p> +Two hours later, Mr. Oliver Shaddles picked up some documents from the +table, read through with quick and skilful eyes, rubbed the grey +stubble on his unshaven chin irritably, and glared out upon Bedford +Row. +</p> + +<p> +He turned towards the little bell-push on his table, hesitated a +second, then pressed it. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Reddle!” he snapped to the clerk who answered his summons with +haste. +</p> + +<p> +Again he examined the sheet of foolscap, and was still reading when +the door opened and Lois Reddle came in. +</p> + +<p> +Lois was a little above medium height, and by reason of her slimness +seemed taller than she was. She was dressed in the severe black which +the firm of Shaddles & Soan imposed upon all their feminine employees. +Mr. Shaddles had reached the age, if he had ever been at any other, +when beauty had no significance. That Lois Reddle had a certain +ethereal loveliness which was all her own might be true, but to the +lawyer she was a girl clerk who received thirty-five well-grudged +shillings every week of her life, minus the cost of her insurance. +</p> + +<p> +“You go down to Telsbury.” +</p> + +<p> +He had a minatory manner, and invariably prefaced his remarks with the +accusative pronoun. “You’ll get there in an hour and a half. Take +those two affidavits to the woman Desmond, and get her to sign the +transfer form. The car’s there——” +</p> + +<p> +“I think Mr. Dorling had it——” she began. +</p> + +<p> +“The car’s there,” he said obstinately. “You’ll have a dry trip, and +you ought to be thankful for the opportunity of a breath of fresh air. +Here, take this,” as she was going out with the foolscap. It was a +little slip of paper. “It is the Home Office order—use your senses, +girl! How do you think you’ll get into the gaol without that? And tell +that woman Desmond—— Anyway, off you go.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois went out and closed the door behind her. The four faded, +middle-aged clerks, sitting at their high desks, did not so much as +look up, but the snub-nosed girl with the oily face, who had been +pounding a typewriter, perked her head round. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re going to Telsbury, by the so-called car?” she asked. “I +thought he’d send you. That old devil’s so mean that he wouldn’t pay +his fare to heaven! The juggernaut will kill somebody one of these +days,” she added darkly, “you mark my words!” +</p> + +<p> +Attached to the firm of Shaddles & Soan was a dilapidated motor-car +that had seen its best time in pre-war days. It was housed in a +near-by garage which, being a property under Mr. Shaddles’ direction +as trustee, exacted no rent for the care of the machine, which he had +bought for a negligible sum at the sale of a bankrupt’s effects. It +was a Ford, and every member of the staff was supposed to be able to +drive it. It carried Mr. Shaddles to the Courts of Justice, it took +his clerks on errands, and it figured prominently in all bills of +cost. It was, in many ways, a very paying scheme. +</p> + +<p> +“Ain’t you glad you’re going?” asked Lizzy enviously. “Lord! If I +could get out of this dusty hole! Maybe you’ll meet your fate?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“My what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your fate,” said Elizabetta, unabashed. “I spotted him out of the +window this morning—that fellow is certainly potty about you!” +</p> + +<p> +A cold light of disfavour was in the eyes of Lois, but Lizzy was not +easily squashed. “There’s nothing in that,” she said. “Why, there used +to be a young man who waited for me for hours—in the rain too. It +turned out that he wasn’t right in his head, either.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois laughed softly as she wrapped a gaily coloured scarf about her +throat and pulled on her gloves. Suddenly her smile vanished. +</p> + +<p> +“I hate Telsbury; I hate all prisons. They give me the creeps. I am +glad I’m leaving Mr. Shaddles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t call him ‘Mister,’ ” said the other. “It is paying him a +compliment.” +</p> + +<p> +The car stood at the door, as Mr. Shaddles had suggested, an ancient +and ugly machine. The day was fair and warm, and once clear of the +London traffic the sun shone brightly and she shook off the depression +which had lain upon her like a cloud all that morning. As she sent the +car spinning out of Bedford Row she glanced round instinctively for +some sign of the man to whom Lizzy had made so unflattering a +reference, and whose constant and unswerving devotion was one of the +principal embarrassments of her life. But he was nowhere in sight, and +he passed out of her mind, as, clear of London, she turned from the +main road and slowed her car along one of the twisting lanes that ran +parallel with the post route and gave one who loved the country and +the green hedgerows a more entranced vision than the high road would +have given her. +</p> + +<p> +Seven miles short of Telsbury she brought the car back to the main +thoroughfare, and spun, at a speed which she uneasily recognised as +excessive, on to the tarred highway. Even as she came clear of the +high hedges she heard the warning croak of a motor-horn, and jammed on +her brakes. The little machine skidded out into the road. Too late, +she released the brakes and thrust frantically at the accelerator. She +saw the bonnet of a long, black car coming straight towards her, felt +rather than heard the exclamation of its driver. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Crash!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +In that second she recognised the driver. +</p> + +<p> +“Say it!” +</p> + +<p> +The girl, gripping the steering wheel of her ancient Ford, stared +defiantly across a broken windscreen, but Michael Dorn did not accept +the challenge. Instead, he put his gear into reverse, preparatory to +withdrawing his running-board from the affectionate embrace of the +other guard. He did this with a manner of gentle forbearance which was +almost offensive. +</p> + +<p> +“Say it!” she said. “Say something violent or vulgar! It is far better +to have things out than to let bad words go jumping around inside!” +</p> + +<p> +Grey eyes need black lashes to be seen at best advantage, he thought; +and she had one of those thinnish noses that he admired in women. He +rather liked her chin, and, since it was raised aggressively, he had a +fair view of a perfect throat. It struck him as being extremely +perfect in spite of the red and yellow and green silk scarf that was +lightly knotted about. She was neatly if poorly dressed. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing jumps around inside me except my heart,” he said, “and, at +the moment, that is slipping back from my mouth. I don’t like your +necktie.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked down at the offending garment and frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“You have no right to run into me because you disapprove of my scarf,” +she said coldly. “Will you please disengage your strange machine from +mine? I hope you are insured.” +</p> + +<p> +He jerked his car back, there was a sound of ripping tin, a crack and +a shiver of glass, and he was free. Then: +</p> + +<p> +“You came out of a side road at forty miles an hour—you’d have turned +over certain, only I was there to catch you,” he said +half-apologetically. “I hope you aren’t hurt?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not,” she said, “but I think my employer will be when he sees +the wreckage. Anyway, your end is served, Mr. Dorn, you have made my +acquaintance.” +</p> + +<p> +He started and went a shade red. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t imagine that I manœuvred this collision with the idea of +getting an introduction, do you?” he almost gasped, and was +thunderstruck when the girl with the grave eyes nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“You have been following me for months,” she said quietly. “You even +took the trouble to make up to a girl in Mr. Shaddles’ office in order +to arrange a meeting. I have seen you shadowing me on my way +home—once you took the same ’bus—and on the only occasion I have +been to a dance this year I found you in the vestibule.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael Dorn fiddled with the steering wheel, momentarily speechless. +She was serious now, all the banter and quiet merriment in her voice +had passed. Those wonderful eyes of hers were regarding him with a +certain gentle reproach that was hard to endure. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the truth is——” he began lamely, and found himself at a loss +for words. +</p> + +<p> +She waited for him to finish his sentence, and then: +</p> + +<p> +“The truth is——” A faint smile trembled at the corner of her red +mouth. “The truth is, Mr. Dorn, that it isn’t a very terrible offence +for any nice man to wish to meet any girl—that I recognise. And it +would be stupid in me if I pretended that I am very much annoyed. But +as I told your ambassador, Miss Lizzy Smith——” +</p> + +<p> +He blinked rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +“I really do not wish to know you, and I have no doubt that she has +conveyed that intelligence to you. Therefore your position is a +little—what shall I say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Offensive is the word you’re wanting,” he said coolly. “I’ll admit +that it bears that construction.” +</p> + +<p> +He got down slowly, walked to the side of her car, and stood, his +hands resting on the arm of the seat. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to believe, Miss Reddle!” he said earnestly, “that nothing +is farther from my wish than to annoy you. If I hadn’t been a clumsy +fool you would never have known that I was——” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped, at a loss for a word. It was she who supplied it, and in +spite of his seriousness he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Dogging’ is an ugly word. I’m trying to think of something +prettier,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She liked the ghost of a smile that shone in his blue eyes, and had +they parted then, without another word, she might have thought more +kindly of him. But: +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you off to, on this bright autumn day?” he asked, and she +stiffened. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you start my car, please?” she said with dignity. +</p> + +<p> +He cranked up the engine and stood aside. She could not resist the +temptation: +</p> + +<p> +“If you follow me now you’ll have a shock,” she said. “I am going to +Telsbury Prison.” +</p> + +<p> +The effect on the man was startling; he stared in amazement and fear. +His jaw dropped, and into his eyes came a queer look of wonder. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going?” he asked huskily, as though he doubted the +evidence of his ears. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to Telsbury Prison—please.” +</p> + +<p> +She waved him out of her way. The car with the broken wind-screen went +noisily along the broad high road, leaving the man to stare. And then: +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” said Michael Dorn. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch03"> +Chapter Three +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> grim entrance of Telsbury Convict Establishment is mercifully +hidden behind a screen of thick-growing pines. Its red walls have +mellowed with age, and but for the high tower in the centre of the +prison a traveller would pass it unnoticed. Hiding all the heartache +that has made the word “Dartmoor” synonymous with sorrow, Telsbury has +missed the fame of its fellow-prison. +</p> + +<p> +Lois had already made two visits to the prison on her employer’s +business. A client of the firm had prosecuted a woman who had been +engaged in systematic fraud, and she had been sent down for five +years. It had been necessary to secure her signature to certain deeds +transferring back to their lawful owner stocks which had been +fraudulently converted. +</p> + +<p> +Stopping her car broadside on to the high black gates, she descended +and pulled a bell. Almost immediately a grating was slipped back and +two watchful eyes surveyed her. Though the gatekeeper recognised her, +it was not until she had shown him the Home Office order which she +carried that he turned the key in the lock and admitted her to a bare +stone room, furnished with a desk, a stool, two chairs, and a table. +</p> + +<p> +The warder read the order again and pressed a bell. He, his two +reliefs, and the governor were the only men who came within those +walls, and his sphere of operations was restricted to the room and the +archway, barred with steel railings, which cut the courtyard off from +the rest of the prison. +</p> + +<p> +“Getting tired of coming here, miss?” he asked with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Prisons make me very tired and very sick at heart,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“There are six hundred women inside here who are more tired and more +sick than you will ever be, I hope, miss,” he said conventionally. +“Not that I ever see any of them. I open the gate to the prison van +and never catch a sight of them again, not even when they go out.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a snap of a lock, and a young wardress in neat blue uniform +came in and greeted Lois with a cheery nod. The girl was conducted +through a small steel gate, across a wide parade ground, empty at that +moment, through another door and along a passage into the governor’s +small office. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, doctor,” she said. “I’ve come to see Mrs. Desmond,” and +displayed her papers before the grey-haired governor. +</p> + +<p> +“She’ll be in her cell now,” he said. “Come along, Miss Reddle, I’ll +take you there myself.” +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the passage was another door, which led into a large +hall, on either side of which was a steel alleyway, reached by broad +stairs in the centre of the hall. Lois looked up, saw the netting +above her head and shivered. It was placed there, she knew, to prevent +these unhappy women from dashing themselves to death from the top +landings. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are,” said the governor, and opened the cell door with his +pass-key. +</p> + +<p> +For five minutes she was engaged with the sulky woman, who had a +whining grievance against everybody except herself; and at last, with +a heartfelt sigh of relief, she came out through the door and joined +the governor. As he locked the cell, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Thank heaven I shan’t come here any more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Giving up being a lawyer?” he asked good-humouredly. “Well, I never +thought it was much of a profession for a girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“You give my intelligence too great credit,” she smiled. “I am a very +commonplace clerk and have no other knowledge of the law than that +stamps must be put on certain documents and in certain places!” +</p> + +<p> +They did not go back the way they had come, but went out through the +hall into the parade ground. So perfect was the organisation that in +the brief space she had been in the cell the yard was filled with grey +figures parading in circles. +</p> + +<p> +“Exercise hour,” said the governor. “I thought you’d like to see +them.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl’s heart was filled with pity and an unreasoning resentment +against the law which had taken these women and made them into so many +meaningless ciphers. With their print dresses and white mob caps, +there was something very ugly, very sordid about them, something which +clutched at the girl’s heart and filled her with a vague fear. There +were women of all ages, old and young, some mere girls, some grown +ancient in sin, and each bore on her face the indefinable stamp of +abnormality. There were fierce faces, cunning faces, weak, pathetic +faces that turned to her as the ghastly circle shuffled on its way; +faded eyes that stared stupidly, dark eyes that gleamed with malignant +envy, careless eyes that did not trouble to investigate her further +than by a casual glance. Shambling, shuffling women, who seemed after +a while to be unreal. +</p> + +<p> +The circle had nearly passed in hideous completeness when Lois saw a +tall figure that seemed to stand out from that ground of horror. Her +back was straight, her chin uplifted, her calm eyes looked straight +ahead. She might have been forty, or fifty. The delicately moulded +features were unlined, but the hair was white. There was something +divinely serene in her carriage. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that woman doing here?” said Lois, before she realised that +she had asked a question which no visitor must put to a prison +official. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Stannard did not answer her. He was watching the figure as it came +abreast. For a second the woman’s eyes rested gravely upon the girl. +Only for a second—just that period of time that a well-bred woman +would look at the face of another—and then she had passed. +</p> + +<p> +The girl heaved a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry I asked,” she said, as she walked by the governor’s side +through the grille to his office. +</p> + +<p> +“Other people have asked that,” said the governor, “and haven’t been +satisfied. It is against the prison rules to identify any convict, as +you know. But, curiously enough——” He was looking round for +something, and presently he found it, a stout calf-bound book that had +been opened and laid face downwards on a filing cabinet. +</p> + +<p> +Without a word he handed it to her, and she looked at the title. She +was sufficiently acquainted with law books to recognise it as one of +that variety. It was labelled <i>Fawley’s Criminal Cases</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Mary Pinder,” he said briefly, and she saw that the book was open at +the page which was headed by that name. “It is rather curious, I was +reading up the case just before you came in. I was looking up the +essential details to see whether my memory was at fault. I don’t mind +telling you”—he dropped his voice as though in fear of an +eavesdropper—“that I share your wonder!” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at the title: “Mary Pinder—Murder,” and gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“A murderess?” she asked incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“But that is impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“Read the case,” said the other, and she took up the book and read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Mary Pinder</span>—Murder. Convicted at Hereford Assizes. Sentenced to +death; commuted to penal servitude for life. This is a typical case of +a murder for gain. Pinder lived in lodgings with a young man, who was +reputedly her husband, and who disappeared before the crime occurred. +It is believed that he left her penniless. Her landlady, Mrs. Curtain, +was a wealthy widow, somewhat eccentric, believed to be on the border +line of insanity. She kept large sums of money in the house and a +quantity of antique jewellery. After her husband had left her Pinder +advertised for a temporary situation, and a lady, calling at the house +in answer to the advertisement, found the front door unfastened, and, +after repeated knocking, receiving no answer, walked in. Seeing one of +the room doors open, she looked in and found, to her horror, Mrs. +Curtain lying on the floor, apparently in a fit. She immediately went +in search of a policeman, who, arriving at the house, found the woman +was dead. The drawers of an old secretaire were open and their +contents thrown on the floor, including a piece of jewellery. +Suspicion being aroused, the room of the lodger, who had been seen +leaving the house just before the discovery, was searched in her +absence. A small bottle containing cyanide of potassium, together with +many pieces of jewellery, was found in a locked box, and she was +arrested. The defence was that the deceased had frequently threatened +to commit suicide, and that there was no evidence to prove the +purchase of the poison, which was in an unlabelled bottle. Pinder +refused to give information about herself or her husband; no marriage +certificate was discovered; and she was tried before Darson J. and +convicted. It is believed that Pinder, being in urgent need of money, +was seized with the sudden temptation and, dropping cyanide in the +woman’s tea, afterwards ransacked her secretaire. The case presents no +unusual features, except the refusal of the prisoner to plead. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Twice Lois read the account and shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t believe it! It is incredible—impossible!” she said. “She was +imprisoned for life—but surely she should be out by now? Isn’t there +a remission of sentence for good conduct?” +</p> + +<p> +The governor shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately she made two attempts to escape, and lost all her +marks. It is a great pity, because she’s a fairly rich woman. An uncle +of hers, who only learnt of her conviction after she had been five +years in gaol, left her a very considerable fortune. She never told us +who she was—he visited her here a few weeks before his death—and +we’re just as wise as ever we were, except that we know that he was a +relation of her mother.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois took up the book again and stared at the printed page. +</p> + +<p> +“A murderess—that wonderful woman!” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Remarkable. Yet the most innocent-looking people commit bad +offences. I have been here twenty years and lost most of my +illusions.” +</p> + +<p> +“If they thought she was a murderess, why didn’t they——” +</p> + +<p> +She could not bring herself to say “hang her.” The governor looked at +her curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha—h’m—well, there was a reason, a very excellent reason.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois was puzzled for a moment, and then suddenly the explanation came +to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the baby was born in this very prison—the prettiest little baby +girl I’ve ever seen—a perfect child. I hated the time when she had to +be taken away. Poor little soul!” +</p> + +<p> +“She didn’t know, perhaps doesn’t know now,” said Lois, her eyes +filling with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I suppose not. She was adopted by a woman who was a neighbour and +always believed in Mrs. Pinder’s innocence. No, when I said ‘poor +little soul,’ I was thinking of the fool of a nurse who let the child +burn its arm against the top of a hot water bottle. A pretty bad burn. +I remember it because it left a scar on the baby’s forearm—the +stopper of the water bottle had a star.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois Reddle clutched the edge of the table and her face went suddenly +white. The doctor was putting away the book and his back was towards +her. With an effort she gained control of her voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Do—do you remember the name by which the baby was christened?” she +asked in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said instantly, “an unusual name, and I always remember it. +Lois Margeritta!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch04"> +Chapter Four +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Lois Margeritta</span>! Her own name! And the star-shaped burn on her arm! +</p> + +<p> +Her head was in a whirl; the room seemed to be spinning round +drunkenly and it needed all her strength of mind to keep her from +crying out. +</p> + +<p> +But it was true. That dignified, stately woman who had marched so +calmly in the circle of pain was her mother! Incredible, impossible +though it seemed, she knew this was the truth. Her mother! +</p> + +<p> +Obeying a blind impulse, she darted to the door, flung it open, and +was half-way along the stone passage before the startled governor had +overtaken her. +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever is the matter with you, girl?” he demanded, half astonished +and half angry. “Are you ill?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me go, let me go!” she muttered incoherently. “I must go to her!” +</p> + +<p> +And then she came back to sanity with a gasp, and allowed herself to +be led back to the governor’s room. +</p> + +<p> +“You sit down there while I give you a slight sedative,” said the +doctor, as he closed the door with a bang which echoed along the +hollow passage. +</p> + +<p> +He opened the medicine chest, deftly mixed the contents of three +bottles and added water from a carafe on his table. +</p> + +<p> +“Drink this,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The girl raised the glass to her lips with fingers that shook, and the +governor, hearing the glass rattle against her teeth, smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I’m a little mad,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a little hysterical,” said the practical doctor, “and it is my +fault for letting you see these people. We’ve broken all the rules by +talking about them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m dreadfully sorry,” she muttered, as she put the glass on the +table. “I—I—it was so dreadful!” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course it was,” he said. “And I was several kinds of an old fool +to talk about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you tell me one thing, doctor, please? What—what became of the +child?” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor was obviously loth to discuss the matter any further. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe she died,” he said briefly. “She was taken away by some +excellent people, but they failed to rear her. That is the story I +have. As a matter of fact it was published in the newspapers—there +was a great deal of interest in the case—that the child had died in +prison, but that was not the case. She was a healthy little creature +when she left here. And now, young lady, I am going to turn you out.” +</p> + +<p> +He rang for the wardress, who conducted her to the gatekeeper’s lodge, +and in another second Lois was standing outside the black door, behind +which was—who? +</p> + +<p> +She was mad to have made such a fool of herself. There was so much +more she wanted to know, so many opportunities which might have been +hers to see the beautiful woman who was—her mother? Her heart raced +at the thought. It couldn’t be! Her mother was dead; that stout, +homely body who had been a mother to her. It was a coincidence. There +must be other children in the world called “Lois Margeritta” than she, +and it was possible that some had been branded in babyhood. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head; it was impossible, it was beyond all the bounds of +probability that there could be two Lois Margerittas with a +star-shaped burn on the left arm. +</p> + +<p> +Climbing painfully into the car, her knees giving under her, her +trembling hands manipulated the gears. The car wobbled painfully, and, +as she came slowly out on to the little road that runs by the prison, +she was conscious of a weakness which almost terrified her. She +stopped the car a few inches from the kerb, and at that moment she +heard a quick step, and, turning her head, saw the man with whose +machine she had collided earlier in the afternoon. There was a look of +deep concern on his saturnine face. +</p> + +<p> +“Anything wrong?” he asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“No—nothing,” she said unsteadily. +</p> + +<p> +He stood surveying her with a critical and speculative eye. +</p> + +<p> +“You nearly drove into that lamp-post. Aren’t you feeling well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not—not very,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +In another second he had swung himself into the car by her side, and +she made room for him behind the steering wheel. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take you down to the Lion Hotel and get them to send up for my +car.” +</p> + +<p> +She was dimly aware that the long machine with the damaged mudguard +was parked by the side of the prison wall. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be quite all right——” she protested. +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless, I will drive you back to town,” he said, and she made +no further demur. +</p> + +<p> +He stopped outside the Lion Hotel long enough to communicate with a +little man who seemed to be expecting him; then turned the damaged +nose of the Ford towards London; and she was intensely grateful to him +that he made no attempt to improve his opportunity, for the rest of +the journey was carried out in almost complete silence. From time to +time he glanced at her, and once he looked at the crumpled papers +which she held tightly gripped in her little hand, the documents which +Mr. Shaddles’ client had signed, and which were now in a more ruffled +condition than most legal documents are supposed to be. +</p> + +<p> +“179 Bedford Row, I think it is?” he said, as they crossed the traffic +of Holborn, and she had recovered sufficient of her spirits to answer: +</p> + +<p> +“I think you should know.” +</p> + +<p> +One side of his mouth went up in a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m pretty well acquainted with this neighbourhood,” he said coolly. +And then, as the car came to a standstill behind a big Rolls that +stood before the doorway of 179: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been awfully kind to me, Mr. Dorn,” she said. “I am very +grateful to you indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“What worried you?” he asked. “At the prison, I mean?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing—only it is a rather dreadful shock, seeing so many women.” +</p> + +<p> +His eyes narrowed. +</p> + +<p> +“You saw the women, did you? Pretty queer lot, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +She shivered. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know the prison? Have you been inside, I mean?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’ve been inside once or twice,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +Glancing up at the window behind which was her office, she caught a +glimpse of a short, tilted nose and a pair of wide open eyes, and, in +spite of herself, laughed helplessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Mr. Dorn.” +</p> + +<p> +She held out her hand and he took it. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I’ve been an awful nuisance to you. Will you be able to +get your car sent up to town, or must you go down to Telsbury for it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t bother about my car; it is here,” he said, and nodded to the +end of the road. To her amazement she saw his black machine come +slowly to the side-walk and stop. +</p> + +<p> +She was about to say something, but changed her mind, and, running up +the steps, disappeared through the dark portals, the man watching her +until she was out of sight. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch05"> +Chapter Five +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> clerks had gone, only Lizzy Smith remained. That young lady came +flying to greet her, all of a twitter with excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you artful one! You picked him up, did you? Haven’t you got a +nerve to come back with him? Suppose old Shaddles had seen you! What +have you done to the juggernaut? All the mudguard’s bent. Lois, the +countess is here! She’s in with old Shaddles, and she’s got the Queen +of Sheba skinned to death! I’ll bet that chinchilla coat she’s got +cost a thousand if it cost a tenner. And me wearing dyed fox, and glad +to get it! Not that I’m struck on chinchilla—it doesn’t suit my +complexion, anyway——. And isn’t Mike lovely?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mike?” said Lois, puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t he tell you his name was Mike?” asked Lizzy contemptuously. +“Of course it is! Michael Dorn. You don’t mean to tell me that you’ve +been joy-riding with him all these hours and never called him ‘Mike’ +once?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois hung up her coat and hat, and sat down wearily. Miss Smith +regarded her with a gathering frown. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not looking very bright, old dear,” she said. “What’s wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +“The prison upset me,” said Lois. “How long has the countess been +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t had a row with him, have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“With him—whom? Oh, the man, you mean, Lizzy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I mean the man! Who else was there to row with? You can’t +start any backchat with a pre-war Ford.” +</p> + +<p> +Happily Lois was saved the embarrassment of an answer, for at that +moment a buzzer sounded and Lizzy darted into Shaddles’ office, to +return with an uplifted and bending finger. +</p> + +<p> +“The countess wants to see you!” she hissed fiercely, “and the thing +attached to her is her little boy—the earl!” +</p> + +<p> +Lois went into the room and closed the door behind her. Mr. Shaddles +glared up from his table as she handed him the crumpled documents. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s happened to these?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“We had an accident with the car,” said Lois, a little incoherently. +She was not a fluent liar. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘We’? Who are ‘we’?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, I ran into another car,” said the girl in some confusion. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Shaddles smoothed out the rumpled paper, glanced at the signature, +and then: +</p> + +<p> +“This is the girl, your ladyship.” +</p> + +<p> +For the first time Lois was conscious of the woman’s presence. +“Majestic” was a word which fitly described the Countess of Moron. She +was tall and stoutly made. The long chinchilla cloak which covered her +dress from head to heel was open to show the rich velvet brocade +dress, but for the moment Lois had no eyes for the woman’s apparel, or +her looped pearls, or the jewels which glittered from ears and +fingers. It was the face that held her. Big, dominating, in some +indefinable way menacing. Black eyebrows that met above a masterful +nose; a pair of eyes of so dark a brown that they seemed black. They +were what are called full eyes; the vulgar would describe them as +bulging. They were hard and bright and stared unwinkingly at the girl. +The mouth was big, the lips thin, and the chin full and powerful. Lois +found herself trying to guess her age. Whether it was due to artifice +or not, her hair was a jet black, untouched by a vestige of grey; and +later she was to learn this was natural. +</p> + +<p> +“You are Miss Reddle?” said the countess. Her voice was almost as deep +as a man’s, and she had a slow, deliberate enunciation which was a +little disconcerting. +</p> + +<p> +Lois had the feeling that she was in a witness-box, under +cross-examination. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madam, I am Lois Reddle,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment the countess said nothing; then she turned to her +companion. +</p> + +<p> +“This is Miss Lois Reddle, Selwyn,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +He was a thin, bent man, with a weak face almost innocent of chin, and +a drooping yellow moustache, the twirling of which seemed to occupy +most of his spare time. +</p> + +<p> +“May I introduce my son, the Earl of Moron?” said her ladyship, and +Lois bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Glad to meet you,” murmured the earl mechanically. “Rather nice +weather we’re having, what?” +</p> + +<p> +Having made this speech, he seemed to have exhausted his vocabulary, +for he was silent during the remainder of the interview. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Moron withdrew her scrutiny and turned her eyes slowly to the +lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +“She seems entirely satisfactory, Shaddles,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Shaddles pursed his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she’s a very good girl,” he said, “quite reliable.” +</p> + +<p> +He glanced disparagingly at the crumpled documents on his +blotting-pad. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite reliable. I’ve no doubt that Miss Reddle, in her anxiety to get +back to interview your ladyship, has slightly damaged my car; that +will be a matter for adjustment between your ladyship and myself.” +</p> + +<p> +He had glanced out of the window and had taken in with an assessor’s +eye the amount of the damage. Lady Moron looked at him for a time. +</p> + +<p> +“She had no idea I was here, Shaddles. And of course I shall not be +responsible for any damage to your car.” +</p> + +<p> +He squirmed in his seat. +</p> + +<p> +“And, personally, I should doubt if the car has any value. At any +rate, in my eyes it has none. Come, Selwyn.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Lois had the illusion that the young man was holding on +to his mother’s skirt, and she had an insane desire to laugh, as her +ladyship went forth majestically, followed by what Lizzy had +described, not unfaithfully, as “the thing attached to the Countess.” +</p> + +<p> +Shaddles bustled through the outer office, opened the door for them, +and went down to see her ladyship into her car before he returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what the devil do you mean by smashing up my car?” he grated. +“And look at the condition of these documents. Is that the sort of +thing that can go before a Master in Chambers? Pah!” +</p> + +<p> +Before she could reply: +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever are the cost of the repairs I shall send the bill to you, +and I shall expect you to act in an honourable manner, for I’m not +sure that you are not liable in law. You will have a good salary and +you owe your position entirely to the fact that I happen to be her +ladyship’s solicitor.” +</p> + +<p> +“If there is any damage, I will pay for it, Mr. Shaddles,” said the +girl, and was glad to make her escape. +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy Smith did not find her a very communicative companion, and she +was responsible for most of the conversation on the way back to their +lodgings. Lois was glad when her companion left her that night to join +a girl friend who had two tickets for a theatre. She wanted to be +alone, she wanted to think out this most terrifying problem of hers. +There were other problems too, for suddenly she remembered the look of +utter horror and amazement that had come to Michael Dorn’s face when +she told him she was going to the prison. Did he know, and was he +dogging her footsteps for any other than the obvious reason—the young +man’s desire to get acquainted with the girl who had taken his fancy? +That seemed impossible. +</p> + +<p> +She was glad she was taking up a new post. She would have leisure, in +the service of Lady Moron, and opportunities, perhaps, for meeting +people who would be helpful to her in the conduct of her +investigations. +</p> + +<p> +A thought occurred to her as she was sitting before her untasted +supper, and, getting up, she put on her hat and went eastwards to +Fleet Street. She had been to the <i>Daily Megaphone</i> before to make +searches on behalf of Mr. Shaddles, but now she found that the +offices, which are usually open to the public, were closed. She sent +up a note from the jealously guarded lobby of the editorial offices, +and to her joy her request was granted, and a messenger conducted her +to the file room. +</p> + +<p> +Taking down one of the many big black volumes which filled the shelves +on one side of the room and opening it at the date she had remembered, +the messenger left her; and for two hours she studied the details of +what she would ordinarily have dismissed as a sordid and wicked crime. +She was half-way through the account of the trial when she saw a name +that made her gasp. It was the name of a witness who had been called +by the defence—Mrs. Amelia Reddle! +</p> + +<p> +Then it was true! This was the kindly neighbour, about whom the prison +governor had spoken. It was her mother, that tall, lovely woman who +paced the prison flags with such unconcern. “A kind neighbour took the +child”—Mrs. Reddle was the kind neighbour, and had brought her up in +ignorance of her origin. +</p> + +<p> +The printed page swam before her eyes as she sat, her hands tightly +clasped, her mind confounded by the confirmation of this tremendous +discovery. +</p> + +<p> +Her mother was innocent. It was something more than a natural revolt +against the thought that in her veins ran the blood of a murderess; it +was a conviction, an inspiration, the faith which is knowledge. +</p> + +<p> +She went back to her lodgings, calm and determined. She would prove +her mother’s innocence, devoting her life to that object. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch06"> +Chapter Six +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Charlotte Street</span> was deserted when she turned the corner. Passing a +small closed coupé that stood by the side-walk, she was half-way up +the street, and was turning to cross, when she saw the car coming +towards her at full speed, and stopped in the roadway to let it pass. +Its headlights were burning very dimly, she noticed—in the idle way +of one whose mind was fully occupied elsewhere. The car came on, +gaining momentum, and then, when it was a dozen yards away, it swerved +suddenly towards her. +</p> + +<p> +Her first impulse was to step back, but an instinct beyond +understanding made her leap ahead. If the driver had corrected his +swerve she could not have escaped death. That spring saved her; the +edge of the mudguard grazed her dress and some small and jagged +projection ripped a two-inch strip from her skirt as neatly as though +it had been cut by scissors. In another second the car had passed, +speeding towards Fitzroy Square, its rear light dark, its number +invisible. +</p> + +<p> +For a second the girl stood, bereft of breath, trembling in every +limb; and then somebody darted out of the doorway of her house and +came towards her, and before she saw his face she knew him. +</p> + +<p> +“Close call that,” drawled Michael Dorn. +</p> + +<p> +“What happened?” she asked. “They must have lost control, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they must have lost control,” he said quietly. “You didn’t see +the number, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. In her then state of nerves the question irritated +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I did not see the number. Do you want me, Mr. Dorn?” +</p> + +<p> +“I came to see how you were after your unpleasant experience.” +</p> + +<p> +She faced him squarely. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean? What unpleasant experience?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I was referring to the little accident for which I was partly +responsible,” he answered coolly. “I regard any road collision as +unpleasant. But possibly you’re a more hardened motorist than I am.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean that at all. You mean—you mean—what happened at the +prison.” +</p> + +<p> +He bent down towards her. +</p> + +<p> +“What did happen at the prison?” he asked in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t know, I can’t tell you,” she said, and, turning abruptly +from him, went into the house and closed the door almost in his face. +</p> + +<p> +Before she had reached her room she regretted her act of rudeness. It +was too late now; she would not go back and apologise, even if she +could bring herself to such an act. +</p> + +<p> +An alarmed Lizzy was waiting for her. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know it is nearly twelve o’clock? I thought you were going to +bed early?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been to Fleet Street, looking up a case for—for Mr. Shaddles, +and look at my dress—a car ripped it.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy’s nose wrinkled. +</p> + +<p> +“If it’s true that you’ve been working overtime for that old +skinflint—and it probably isn’t—you’ve got something the matter with +your head,” she said, “and you ought to see a doctor. I’m disappointed +with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” asked the girl, as she tossed her hat on to the bed and stooped +to a further examination of her torn skirt. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I thought you’d been out to see a Certain Person. Then, on the +other hand, I couldn’t understand, if you were with him, how he could +have sent you this.” +</p> + +<p> +On the table, standing amidst its loosened wrappings, was a beautiful +round box, the satin cover of which was painted with a floral design. +</p> + +<p> +“It was a bit of cheek on my part, taking it out of the paper,” +admitted Lizzy, “but I haven’t touched a single choc.” +</p> + +<p> +“Chocolates?” said Lois incredulously, and lifted the cover, +displaying the most gorgeous selection of confectionery that had ever +come her way. +</p> + +<p> +On the top was a small card with a line of writing: “From an Admirer.” +</p> + +<p> +She frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“From an Admirer,” nodded Lizzy. “No name? Now, I wonder who it can +be?” +</p> + +<p> +Her smirk of amazement was too extravagant to leave any doubt in Lois’ +mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Did he bring it?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He? You mean Mike? Why, of course he brought it! At least, I suppose +so. It was here when I came in. How many other admirers have you got, +Lois?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl replaced the lid with a vicious jab. +</p> + +<p> +“I hate that man,” she said vehemently, “and if he doesn’t leave me in +peace I shall complain to the police. It isn’t enough to find him +sitting on the doorstep——” +</p> + +<p> +“Was he here?” gasped Lizzy. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course he was here! You knew he was here,” said Lois unjustly. +“Lizzy, you’re helping and abetting him, and I wish you wouldn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me?” said the indignant Lizzy. “Abetting? I like that! You take him +out driving all the afternoon and talk about me ‘abetting’! Why, I +haven’t seen the bird to speak to for a month!” +</p> + +<p> +“Where does he live?” demanded Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“How the blazes do I know?” stormed Lizzy. And then, more soberly: +“Yes I do. He lives in Hiles Mansions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then this goes back to Hiles Mansions to-morrow morning,” said Lois +with determination. “And with it a polite note asking him to refrain +from his attentions, which are getting a little objectionable.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy shrugged her thin shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you expect,” she said, in despair. “A good-looker, +with a nice car, and a perfect gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“He may be all these things and still be objectionable to me,” said +Lois shortly, and to her surprise the ungainly Lizzy put her arm +around her with an affectionate hug and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t quarrel with you the last few nights you are here. And +another thing, Lois; I’m not going to take another mate. Your room +will be waiting for you when you get tired of the aristocracy.” +</p> + +<p> +One big room in the suite had been divided by a wooden partition. +There was a doorless opening that communicated between the two +cubicles, over which a curtain was hung. And after Lois had made a +parcel of the confectionery and had addressed it to her “admirer,” she +carried the package into her bedroom and put it on her dressing-table. +She must not forget to return that gift, even though she could ill +afford the postage. +</p> + +<p> +They chatted across the partition (which did not reach to the ceiling) +for some time, and presently Lois slipped into her bed feeling +unutterably tired. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night,” she called. +</p> + +<p> +“Hark at old Mac!” +</p> + +<p> +From below stole the sad wail of old Mackenzie’s fiddle. Softly it +rose and fell, and to one of the audience at least the sound was +infinitely sweet and soothing. +</p> + +<p> +“He used to be an orchestra leader—what’s the word? Conductor,” said +Lizzy. “I wish he’d keep his moonlight sonatas until I was out of the +house.” +</p> + +<p> +“I like it,” said Lois. +</p> + +<p> +In truth the sad melody attuned to her own troubled heart. +</p> + +<p> +“It gives me the hump,” grunted Lizzy, as she jerked off her stockings +and examined her toes critically. “After you’ve gone I’m going to ask +him to give up his midnight folly.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has very little amusement,” protested Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“Why doesn’t he go out and get it? The old niggard never leaves the +house. He’s got plenty of money. He owns this property.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois was listening. The old man was playing the Intermezzo from +<i>Cavalleria Rusticana</i>, and, hackneyed as the melody was, it sounded +to the girl as though it expressed all the sorrows, all the fears, all +the inarticulate protests of her own soul. +</p> + +<p> +“Music’s all right in its place,” said Lizzy, “if it’s the right kind. +What’s the matter with ‘Maggie! Yes, Ma?’ I bought a copy of it cheap +a week ago and gave it to him and he’s not played it once!” +</p> + +<p> +Presently there was silence on the other side of the partition. The +music had ceased. Lois, turning over, fell into a troubled sleep. She +dreamt she was in Telsbury Prison; it was she, among the colourless +women, who was walking that dreary circle. Somebody stood watching her +where she had stood by the doctor’s side; a great, fleshy-nosed woman +whose hard black eyes smiled sneeringly as she passed. In the centre +of the circle was the little old man, Mackenzie, his fiddle cuddled +under his chin, and he was playing a vulgar tune she had heard Lizzy +whistle. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she woke with a start. +</p> + +<p> +A light had flashed on her face—somebody was in the room. She could +hear their soft movements, and then came to her ears the rustle of +paper. It was Lizzy, of course. Lizzy frequently came in the middle of +the night, when her cough was troublesome, for the voice lozenges +which Lois kept in the drawer of her dressing-table. Without a word +she stretched out her hand and switched on the little hand-lamp which +was one of her luxuries. +</p> + +<p> +As she turned the switch, she remembered drowsily that the battery had +nearly run out. There was a flicker of white light, that died down to +yellow, and then to darkness. But in that second of time she had seen +the figure of a man standing by the dressing-table, and recognised him +before she saw the startled face of Michael Dorn! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch07"> +Chapter Seven +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">For</span> a second she remained, paralyzed, and then, as the sound of his +feet crossing the floor came to her, she screamed. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +She heard the creak and rumble of Lizzy’s bed, the scratch of a match, +and saw the white gleam of the gas as it was lit. In another second +Lizzy was in her room. +</p> + +<p> +Lois was out of bed now and with trembling fingers was lighting her +own lamp. Otherwise the room was empty. +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody was here—a man,” she said shakily. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been dreaming.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was not dreaming. Listen!” +</p> + +<p> +There was the thud of a closing door. Running to the window, Lois +threw up the sash and leant out. She had time to see a man’s figure +walking swiftly down Charlotte Street. +</p> + +<p> +“There he is! Don’t you recognise him? It is Dorn!” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy craned farther out of the window and after a time came in with a +scared face. +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t like to say it wasn’t,” she said cautiously. “Do you mean +to say Dorn’s been here?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois nodded. This shock, coming on top of the other, had almost +unnerved her. +</p> + +<p> +“But was he here—in this room?” Still Lizzy was not convinced, but +one glance at the girl’s face told her that Lois had not been +mistaken. +</p> + +<p> +She hurried out into the kitchen, drew a glass of water. Lois drank +the refreshingly cold liquid eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he’s got a nerve!” said Lizzy, sitting down on a chair and +staring blankly at her companion. “What was he doing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. He was standing in front of the dressing-table. I only +saw him for a second, and then this wretched light went out.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s got a nerve,” said Lizzy again. “There’s a limit to everything. +Going into a young lady’s bedroom in the middle of the night to get an +introduction seems to me to be ungentlemanly.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois laughed weakly. +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t speak to you?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Jack scuttled off like a rabbit, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy walked to the door and opened it, gazing reflectively at the +stairs, as though she wished to visualise the undignified character of +the visitor’s exit. +</p> + +<p> +“He sends you chocolates overnight——” +</p> + +<p> +Lois’ eyes strayed to the dressing-table, and she sprang to her feet +with a cry. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re gone!” she said, and the stenographer’s jaw dropped. +</p> + +<p> +“Gone? Were they there?” She pointed. +</p> + +<p> +“I put them on the dressing-table to remind me in the morning—at +least, I think I did.” +</p> + +<p> +A hurried search of the kitchen discovered no trace of the missing +package. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps he knew you wouldn’t like them and came to get them back?” +was the inane suggestion that Lizzy offered. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know—I don’t understand.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a voice hailed them and Lizzy opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Is anything wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +It was old Mackenzie. +</p> + +<p> +“That man never sleeps,” groaned Lizzy under her breath. “He ought to +be a night watchman. No, everything’s all right, Mr. Mackenzie.” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard somebody come down the stairs and go out a little time ago,” +said the old man, “I thought maybe one of you was ill.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is where our characters go west,” said Lizzy, and, in a louder +voice: “No, Mr. Mackenzie, it was only me! I went down to make sure +that Miss Reddle had closed the front door. Good-night.” +</p> + +<p> +She came back, looking very thoughtful. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Three o’clock in the morning’ is a pretty nifty fox-trot, but it is +a bad time for young men to come sneaking round other people’s rooms. +What are you going to do, Lois? Anyway, he’s saved you the postage on +the chocolates. It seems to me to be the moment for tea.” +</p> + +<p> +Any occasion was the moment for tea so far as Lizzy was concerned. She +bustled off into the kitchen and came back in ten minutes with a hot +decoction which was very gratifying to Lois, and, in spite of Lizzy’s +making, unusually palatable. +</p> + +<p> +“There are two things to do; one is to inform the police, and the +other is to see Mr. Dorn, and I think I will take the latter course. +Will you give me his address again?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not going now?” said Lizzy, in a tone of horror. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’ll go before working hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll be in bed. Maybe you’ll be able to get the chocolates back +while he is sleeping,” suggested Lizzy. “As I remarked before, he’s +got a nerve.” +</p> + +<p> +Hiles Mansions was a magnificent block of flats near Albert Hall, but +Mr. Dorn’s apartment was the least magnificent of any, for it was +situated on the upper floor and consisted of two rooms, and a bath and +a tiny hall. The elevator man was in his shirt-sleeves, polishing +brasses at the early hour at which Lois made her call. But he showed +no surprise at her enquiry. +</p> + +<p> +“Top floor, miss. If you’ll step into the lift and excuse my +shirt-sleeves, I’ll take you up.” +</p> + +<p> +The elevator stopped at the sixth floor and the liftman pointed to a +plain rosewood door, one of three on the landing. She hesitated, her +finger on the bell-push, and then, mastering her courage, she pressed, +expecting to be kept waiting for a long time, for if Mr. Dorn was +really the night visitor, he would still be in bed. To her surprise, +however, her finger was hardly off the bell-push before the door +opened and Michael Dorn confronted her. He seemed to have been up for +some time, for he was dressed and shaved, and there was no evidence in +his eyes that he had spent a sleepless night. +</p> + +<p> +“This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Reddle,” he said. “Will you come +in?” +</p> + +<p> +The study into which she was ushered was larger than she had expected +and the sloping roof gave it an odd but pleasant character. She saw at +a glance that the furniture was old, and probably valuable. The +writing-table, from which he had evidently just risen, for the morning +newspaper lay open at the top, was undoubtedly Buhl, and the deep +arm-chair before the fire was the only modern article in the room. +Etchings covered the soberly painted walls, and in one alcove was a +well-filled bookcase. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Dorn, I have called on a very serious errand,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to hear that,” was his reply as he pushed a chair forward. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t sit down, thank you. Last night you sent me a box of +chocolates. I can understand that your intentions were well meant, +though I thought I had made it very clear that I do not wish to know +you, or to improve an acquaintance which began only yesterday. I am +very grateful to you for all you did,” she went on a little +incoherently, “but——” she paused. +</p> + +<p> +“But——?” he suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“Your conduct is abominable!” she flamed. “The gift of chocolates was +an impertinence, but to follow that up by breaking into my lodgings +was criminal! I’ve come to tell you that, unless you cease your +persecution, I shall complain to the police.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer. Standing by the table, he fiddled with a long +poignard which was evidently used as a letter-opener. +</p> + +<p> +“You say I broke into your house—what makes you think that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I recognised you,” she said emphatically. “You came and took +away the box—though I could have saved you the trouble. I intended +returning it in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +To her amazement, he did not deny his presence, but, on the contrary, +gave confirmation of his action. +</p> + +<p> +“If I had known you were going to return it this morning I should +certainly not have called in the night,” he said with a calmness which +took her breath away. “I have been guilty of conduct which may seem to +you to be unpardonable, but for which there is a very simple +explanation. Until a quarter to two this morning I had no idea that +you had received the chocolates.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked across the room to a cabinet, pulled open one drawer and +took out the painted box. +</p> + +<p> +“These are the chocolates, are they not?” +</p> + +<p> +She was so taken back by his audacity that she could not speak. He put +back the box carefully in the cabinet and closed the door. +</p> + +<p> +“I underrated your intelligence, Miss Reddle,” he said. “I have done +that all too frequently in my life—taken too light a view of woman’s +genius.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I don’t understand you,” she said helplessly. “Only I want +to tell you——” +</p> + +<p> +“You want to tell me that if this act of mine is repeated, you will +notify the police.” He took the words from her mouth. “And I think you +would be wise. When do you take up your new position?” +</p> + +<p> +“On Monday,” she was startled into telling him, but, recollecting that +the object of her visit was not to furnish him with information about +her movements, she walked to the door. “You don’t deny that you came +into my room?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, why should I? You saw me. It was the flash of my lamp which woke +you. I am very sorry. But for that stupid blunder you would not have +known.” +</p> + +<p> +She stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“You admit you were there?” she said, with growing wonder, as the +nature of his offence began to take shape in her mind. “How could you, +Mr. Dorn!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is much easier for me to admit my fault than to lie about it,” he +said coolly. “Even you must give me some credit for my frankness.” +</p> + +<p> +He followed her out on to the landing and rang for the elevator. +</p> + +<p> +“You must keep your door locked, Miss Reddle,” he said. “No matter +where you are—even in the palatial establishment of the Countess of +Moron—you must keep your door locked.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked down the lift shaft and saw that the cage at the bottom was +not moving. The elevator man was outside the building and had not +heard the signal. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think, if I were you, that I should write to your mother,” he +said. “You may raise false hopes. At present she is well balanced. The +knowledge that you are alive—and know—may cut the thread that has +held her up all these years.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you know?” she gasped, gazing at him in terrified amazement. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the whine of the ascending lift. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I should write if I were you,” he said, and with a +smile handed the dazed girl into the elevator and waited until the +clash of the lift-gate told him that she had reached the ground floor. +Then he walked slowly back into his flat, closed the door behind him, +and resumed his place at the table, but this time he did not read. +</p> + +<p> +For half an hour he sat, his chin on his hand, and then, rising, he +opened the door that led to the second room. A spare little man, with +a dark and melancholy face, sat patiently on the edge of a chair, as +he had sat ever since the ring at the door had announced the girl’s +arrival. A beckoning jerk of Dorn’s chin brought the man to the study. +</p> + +<p> +“Go along and pick up Chesney Praye. Find out what he was doing last +night, and where he went. I think he was playing baccarat at the Limbo +Club, and, if so, find out what he lost. That is all.” +</p> + +<p> +Without a word the little man made for the door. His hand was on the +latch when Dorn called him back. +</p> + +<p> +“Call in at Scotland Yard and discover the owner of a blue Buick, No. +XC2997. I pretty well know, but I should like a little moral support.” +</p> + +<p> +When the door had closed behind his servitor Michael Dorn took several +sheets of paper from the stationery rack and for half an hour was +writing rapidly. When he had finished, he addressed an envelope, +stamped the letter, and, going out to the landing, rang for the +liftman and handed him the letter to post. Then he returned to his +flat, and, taking off his collar and his tie, lay down on the bed for +the sleep he so badly needed; for Michael Dorn had not closed his eyes +for more than thirty-six hours. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch08"> +Chapter Eight +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">All</span> her life, Lois Reddle could never recall what happened that +morning. She went about her work mechanically, like one in a dream; +and that she did not commit the most appalling blunders was due to the +natural orderliness of her mind. She went out with Lizzy to lunch at a +neighbouring restaurant, and this was usually the meal of the day. But +she could eat nothing, and her room-mate was genuinely alarmed. +</p> + +<p> +“Was it fierce, dear?” asked Lizzy anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +Lois roused herself from her thoughts with an effort. +</p> + +<p> +“Was what fierce?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The fight you had with his nibs?” +</p> + +<p> +At first Lois did not comprehend what the girl was talking about. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you mean Mr. Dorn? No, it wasn’t fierce at all. It was a +very—mild encounter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you tell him about his nerve?” asked Lizzy. +</p> + +<p> +“He seemed to know all about that!” said Lois with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll bet he was upset and asked for mercy. Did he go on his knees?” +</p> + +<p> +She was anxious for details, but Lois shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing sensational happened. He was a little bit penitent, but only +a little bit. I am scared.” +</p> + +<p> +“Scared?” said Lizzy indignantly. “What have you got to be scared +about? I’ll go and see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you’ll do nothing of the kind. He’s not likely to worry us +again,” said Lois Reddle hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“But what happened? Didn’t you ask him what he meant by it?” said her +disappointed friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I asked him something of the sort.” Lois was anxious to get off +the subject, but Lizzy was insistent. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, if you were properly engaged and you were ill, and you’d +had a tiff, it would have been all right his coming,” she began. +</p> + +<p> +“We aren’t engaged, properly or improperly, and I am in disgustingly +good health, and we haven’t had a tiff, so it <i>wasn’t</i> all right. +He’ll not trouble us again, Lizzy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been trying all morning to get a word with you,” said the +disgruntled typist, “but you’ve been going about all blah and woozy, +and naturally I thought you’d been raising hell—if you’ll excuse the +unladylike expression—and that there had been an awful scene, but I +did think you’d tell me when we came out to grub.” +</p> + +<p> +But Lois was adamantine, and the meal passed in what was to Lizzy a +wholly unsatisfactory discussion of her friend’s plans. +</p> + +<p> +The one happy result of the morning’s interview was that, neither that +day nor the next, did she so much as catch a glimpse of Michael Dorn +and his long black car. But, as the days passed, this relief was not +as pleasant as she had anticipated, and on the Saturday afternoon she +found herself wishing that she had an excuse for meeting him. +</p> + +<p> +What did he know about her mother? Had he known all the time, and was +that the reason he was taking so great an interest in her? That he +could have been associated, even remotely, with the case was +impossible. His age, she guessed, was in the neighbourhood of thirty; +possibly he was younger; and he must have been a child when Mary +Pinder stood her trial. +</p> + +<p> +Lois remembered with a start that her own name must be Pinder, though +the question of names did not matter very much. +</p> + +<p> +On the Monday morning she packed her two boxes, and, with Lizzy’s +assistance, carried them down into the street to the waiting cab. +Lizzy was inclined to be tearful. Old Mr. Mackenzie, in his black +velvet coat, hovered anxiously in the background, though he did not +emerge from the house which had been his voluntary prison for +twenty-five years. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s he shoving his nose in for?” demanded Lizzy viciously. “I’ll +bet he’ll play ‘The Girl I Left Behind Me’ when you drive away!” +</p> + +<p> +But it was to no such accompaniment that Lois left her old lodgings, +and she came to the chaste atmosphere of Chester Square without any of +the mishaps which Lizzy had so gloomily prophesied. The door was +opened by a liveried footman, and she was apparently expected, for he +led her up the broad, carpeted stairs to a wide and lofty room looking +out on to the square. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Moron was sitting at her small writing-table when the girl was +announced, and rose magnificently to meet her. She was arrayed in a +bright emerald velvet gown, which no other woman could have worn. On +her ample bosom sparkled and flashed a great diamond plaque which was +suspended from her neck by a chain of pearls. Her face was powdered +dead white, against which her jet-black eyebrows seemed startlingly +prominent. Lois noticed, now that she had time to inspect her new +employer, that, though the blackness of her hair was natural, both +eyebrows and eyelashes had been treated, and the scarlet lips were +patently doctored. +</p> + +<p> +“The maid will show you your room, Miss Reddle,” said the Countess in +her deliberate way. “I hope you will be happy with us. We are +extremely unpretentious people, and you will not be called upon to +perform any duties that would be repugnant to a lady.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment of this promise, and +a few minutes later was viewing her new bedroom with pleasant +surprise. It was a big room at the top of the house, overlooking the +square. There was here everything for comfort, and, for some reason +which she could not define, she compared the furnishings of those she +had seen of Mr. Michael Dorn’s and decided that they were in the same +category of luxury. +</p> + +<p> +She changed and came down to the drawing-room, which was also, she +learnt, Lady Moron’s “work-room.” She opened the door and stopped. Two +men were there; the first of these she recognised as the weak-kneed +holder of the title. The second man was shorter and more sturdily +built. His fleshy red face was eloquent of his love of good living, +and when he smiled, as he did frequently, he showed two lines of large +white teeth, that in some manner reminded the girl of a tiger’s, +though there was certainly nothing tigerish about this gentleman, with +his plump body and his curly red hair that ran back from a rather high +forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me introduce Mr. Chesney Praye,” said her ladyship, and Lois +found her hand engulfed in a large moist palm. +</p> + +<p> +“Glad to meet you, Miss Reddle.” His voice was pleasantly husky. His +keen eyes looked at her with undisguised admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“You know Lord Moron?” +</p> + +<p> +His lordship nodded and muttered something indistinguishable. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Reddle is my new secretary,” said her ladyship. She pronounced +the four syllables of the word as though they were separated. “You may +see a great deal of her, Chesney—Mr. Praye is my financial adviser.” +</p> + +<p> +He certainly did not look like one who could offer any other advice +than on the correct cut of a morning coat or the set of a cravat. He +himself was perfectly dressed. Lois had often read the phrase +“well-groomed” and now for the first time realised all that it +signified, for Mr. Chesney Praye looked as though he had come from the +hands of an ardent, hissing hostler, who had brushed and smoothed him +until he was speckless and shining. +</p> + +<p> +“A pretty nice pitch for you, this, Miss Reddle,” said Praye. “If you +don’t get on with her ladyship, I’m a Dutchman! Ever been on the +stage?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I haven’t,” she said, with a faint smile, as she recalled old +Mackenzie’s warning. +</p> + +<p> +“A pity. You ought to have done well on the stage,” he prattled on. +“You’ve got the style and the figure and the voice and all that sort +of thing. I’ve played for a few years in comedy—it’s a dog’s life for +a man and not much better for a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed uproariously, as though at some secret joke, and Lois was +surprised that the majestic countess did not chide him for the free +and easy attitude which seemed hardly compatible with that of a +trusted financial adviser. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to go on the stage.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the silent Lord Moron, and his tone had a note of sulkiness +which was surprising. It was as though he were a small boy asking for +something which had already been refused. +</p> + +<p> +The countess turned her dark, unfriendly eyes upon her son. “You will +never go on the stage, Selwyn,” she said firmly. “Please get that +nonsense out of your head.” +</p> + +<p> +Lord Moron played with his watch-guard, and moved his feet +uncomfortably. He was, she judged, between thirty and forty years of +age, and she guessed he was not married, and had more than a suspicion +that he was mentally deficient. She was to learn later that he was a +weakling, entirely under the domination of his mother, a quiet and +harmless man with simple, almost childish, tastes. +</p> + +<p> +“Not for you, my boy,” said Mr. Chesney Praye, as he slapped the other +on the shoulder, and Lord Moron winced at the vigour of this form of +encouragement. “There is plenty of occupation for you, eh, countess?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer him. She was standing by the long French windows +looking down into the square, and now she turned and, fixing a pair of +horn-rimmed lorgnettes, lifted them to her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that man?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +Chesney Praye looked past her, and Lois, who was watching at the time, +saw his mouth twitch and the geniality fade from his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Damn him!” he said under his breath, and the countess turned slowly +and surveyed him with a stare. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is he?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s the cleverest ‘busy’ in London—that’s who he is. Detective, I +mean. I’d give a thousand for the privilege of going to his funeral. +He’s got a grudge against me——” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped, as though he realised he was saying too much. Lois looked +over his shoulder at the man in the street. He was walking slowly on +the opposite pavement. +</p> + +<p> +It was Michael Dorn! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch09"> +Chapter Nine +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Lady Moron</span> was talking. +</p> + +<p> +“A detective? Really, I don’t see why you should be worried about +detectives, Chesney. You are not, I hope, a member of the criminal +classes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I’m not,” he said brusquely, almost rudely, “but I loathe +this fellow. His name’s Dorn—Michael Dorn. He is the only private +detective in England who is worth twopence. They call him into +Scotland Yard for consultations; they think so much of him. He was the +fellow that organised the raid on the Limbo Club, and he tried to get +a conviction against me for being one of the proprietors, which of +course I wasn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael Dorn had passed out of sight now, and the girl was thankful +that their interest had been so concentrated upon his hateful presence +that they had not noticed her; otherwise she must have betrayed her +knowledge of the man. +</p> + +<p> +A detective! At this moment Mr. Chesney Praye was amplifying his +description. +</p> + +<p> +“That fellow’s got the nerve of the devil,” he said, unconsciously +echoing Elizabetta Smith. “He is utterly unscrupulous, and would +‘shop’ his own maiden aunt to get a conviction. He used to be a Deputy +Commissioner of Police in India, but resigned to take up the case of +an African millionaire who lost some documents and paid him a fortune +for recovering them—at least, that’s the yarn I’ve heard.” +</p> + +<p> +What did “shop” mean, she wondered, and guessed that it was synonymous +with “betray.” And what sort of a man was this Mr. Chesney Praye that +he could use these cant terms in the face of his noble employer? She +had heard of men and women who occupied so well-established a position +in the households of the great that they could grow familiar with the +people they were paid to respect, and she supposed this was one such. +</p> + +<p> +It was left to Lord Moron to protest. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t like ‘shop,’ old thing,” he quavered. “Sort of a low-down term +to use before a young lady—what?” +</p> + +<p> +Again those menacing eyes of his mother cowed him. +</p> + +<p> +“It does not shock me, Selwyn, and I have no reason to suppose that my +secretary will be shocked either.” +</p> + +<p> +He wilted under the glance, muttered something incoherent and stole +guiltily out of the room. Lois would gladly have followed, but there +was no excuse. Instead, it was Mr. Chesney Praye who was dismissed. +</p> + +<p> +“You must run along now, Chesney,” said the countess. “I want to have +a little talk with Miss Reddle.” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney, with his ever-ready grin, took a somewhat elaborate farewell +of his hostess, bending to kiss her plump white hand that was so +covered with jewels that Lois wondered whimsically whether he would +cut his lip. +</p> + +<p> +“You, young lady, I hope to meet again,” he said briskly, as he shook +hands with unnecessary warmth, his bright eyes never leaving hers. “I +might take her around a bit, don’t you think, countess? Is she from +the country?” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Reddle has lived for some years in town,” said Lady Moron, and +the reproof in her voice would have chilled most persons, but Chesney +Praye was not the kind to be snubbed. +</p> + +<p> +“Anyway, she hasn’t seen the sights I shall probably show her. Perhaps +her ladyship will let you come and dine one night at the club. Do you +dance?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I’m allowed to choose my own partners, I dance rather well,” said +Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you shall choose me,” said the thick-skinned young man, “for I’m +a dandy hopper!” +</p> + +<p> +It was some time after they were left alone before Lady Moron spoke. +She stood, surveying the square below, her hands behind her, and Lois +thought her ladyship must have forgotten that she was present, until +the countess spoke, without turning her head. +</p> + +<p> +“There will be nothing for you to do to-day. I’ve answered all my +letters. We lunch at one-thirty, and you, of course, will invariably +be at our table except when we have visitors. Dinner is at eight +o’clock. You will be allowed to go out every other afternoon from five +to ten, and such weekends as I am in the country will be your own. +Thank you very much, Miss Reddle,” and with this dismissal Lois went +directly up to her room, wondering how she would fill in her spare +time between meals. +</p> + +<p> +When Chesney Praye left the house in Chester Square he looked left and +right, and presently saw what he sought. An idle man, standing at the +corner of the street, his back towards the red-faced young man. +Hesitating only a moment, he turned resolutely towards the seemingly +unconscious Michael Dorn. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Dorn!” +</p> + +<p> +Dorn turned round slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Mr. Praye,” he said, with a lift of his eyebrows, as +though the man who confronted him was the last person in the world he +expected to meet in that place at that time. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s your idea in tailing me?” +</p> + +<p> +Michael Dorn’s eyebrows met in seeming perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Tailing’? Oh, you mean following you, I suppose? I haven’t quite got +used to the argot of the London underworld. In India we call it——” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind what you call it in India,” said the other roughly. +“What’s the great idea?” +</p> + +<p> +Dorn looked at him with a thoughtful expression. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you under the impression that I’m tailing you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not only under that impression—I know,” said the other, his face +growing darker. “I spotted you this morning when I came out of my +rooms in St. James’ Street, and thought you were there by accident. +And one of your bloodhounds has been up to the Limbo Club, pumping the +waiters. What’s the general scheme?” +</p> + +<p> +“Curiosity,” murmured the other, “just idle curiosity. I’m thinking of +writing a book on the bizarre criminal, and naturally you’d have a few +pages all to yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney Praye’s eyes were veritable slits as he tapped the other +gently on the waistcoat. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to give you a tip, Dorn,” he said. “Keep your finger out of +my pie, or you’re going to get it burnt!” +</p> + +<p> +“One good tip deserves another,” said Dorn. “And mine is, keep your +finger off my waistcoat or you’ll be severely kicked!” +</p> + +<p> +He said it in the most pleasant manner, but the furious man knew that +he meant every word, and dropped his hand. Before he could master his +wrath, Dorn went on: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got a good job, Praye—don’t lose it. I understand that you’re +financial adviser to a very noble lady—unprepossessing, but noble. +If, by chance, I hear you’re advising her to put money in some of your +wildcat schemes, or advising her to finance some of the little +gambling houses which you have found so profitable in the past, I +shall be coming right along after you with a real policeman.” +</p> + +<p> +“You damned amateur!” spluttered the other. +</p> + +<p> +“You have found the chink in my armour.” Dorn was coolness itself, and +the shadow of laughter gleamed in his fine eyes. “I hate being called +‘amateur’! I have warned you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not in India now——” began Chesney, and recognised his +mistake too late. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not in India now, nor are you,” Dorn’s voice was gentle, almost +silken. “Seven years ago I was in India—in Delhi—and there was a +certain smart young Government official, also a financial adviser to +some heads of departments, whose accounts went a little wonky. He was +some twenty thousand pounds short. The money was never discovered. It +was generally thought that the financial authority was more of a fool +than a rogue, and, although he was dismissed from the public service, +he was not prosecuted.” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney Praye licked his dry lips. +</p> + +<p> +“I, for my part, advised his prosecution,” Dorn went on. “In fact, I +knew that the money was lying at a bank in Bombay, in the name of a +lady friend. The Simla big-wigs were so scared of a scandal that the +thief”—he paused and watched the other wince—“this thief was allowed +to transfer his ill-gotten gains to Europe. And lo! I meet him again +in the rôle of financial adviser!” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney found his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a law of libel in this country,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“There are several other laws, including the very excellent criminal +law,” said Dorn. “And the statute of limitations does not apply to +felonies. One loud squeal in an irresponsible newspaper, and they’d +have to pinch you, whether the Government liked it or not.” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney Praye looked first one way and then the other, and presently +his eyes caught the detective’s. He was paler than he had been. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t associate you with that business,” he said. “I knew I had an +enemy somewhere in the background. It was you, was it?” +</p> + +<p> +Dorn nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“It was I—by the way, where is your dissolute friend, Dr. Tappatt, +located? I thought he must have drunk himself to death, but I hear +that he is in London—you introduced him to the countess a year ago. +Did you tell her about his queer record? Or is he now her medical +adviser? Or is he running one of the famous unregistered homes for +mental cases? That man will hang sooner or later.” +</p> + +<p> +Praye did not reply. His face was working nervously; for a second he +had a mad impulse to strike at his tormentor, but thought better of +it. It was in a calmer voice that he said: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see why we should quarrel over what is past. You’re wrong +when you think I made money out of that Delhi business, and I haven’t +seen Tappatt for months. But I know I can’t convince you. Let’s bury +the hatchet.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael Dorn looked down at the extended hand, but made no effort to +take it. +</p> + +<p> +“If I bury any hatchet with you, Praye,” he said, “it will only put me +to the expense of buying a new one. You go your way and let your way +be as straight as possible. If you run foul of me, I’m going to hurt +you, and I assure you I shall hurt you bad!” +</p> + +<p> +He saw the flaming hate in the man’s eyes, and his own gaze did not +waver. Suddenly Praye turned on his heels and walked away. +</p> + +<p> +The detective waited until the man was out of sight, then strolled +along the side-street, passed up the mews at the back of Chester +Gardens, and made a careful examination of the back premises of No. +307. The stables and garages on the other side of the mews interested +him considerably, and it was some time before he was clear of the +mews, and met the silent little man whom he had sent out on an errand +the morning Lois Reddle had visited his flat. +</p> + +<p> +“Wills, there’s a garage to let in this mews. I have an idea that it +belongs to her ladyship—her own cars are at the Belgrave Garage. Go +along and see the agents, tell them you wish to rent the place and get +the keys—to-night if possible—to-morrow certain.” +</p> + +<p> +He handed a note he had made of the agent’s address to the other, and +without a word the silent Wills strolled away. He never asked +questions—which, to Michael Dorn, was his chief charm. +</p> + +<p> +Michael came into Chester Square from the opposite end. He saw Lady +Moron’s big Rolls standing at the doorway, and presently had the +felicity of seeing her ladyship, accompanied by her son, enter the car +and drive away. She was going shopping and would come back to lunch, +he thought, and loafed along the side-walk, slackening his pace as he +came opposite the house. There was no sign of the girl, but Michael +Dorn was a very patient man. It was not Lois whom he expected or +wished to see. The man for whom he was waiting came out ten minutes +after Lady Moron’s car had turned from Chester Square. He was a tall, +broad-shouldered man with a somewhat unpleasant face, whom Michael +knew to be Lady Moron’s butler. Him he followed at a distance, and +this time Michael made a very profitable trail. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch10"> +Chapter Ten +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> Countess of Moron, Lois discovered, had one amiable weakness; it +was for jigsaw puzzles, which were made especially for her—pictures +in greys and blues and elusive shades which would have driven an +ordinary puzzle expert to despair. They were cut in tiny pieces, and +her ladyship would spend hours before the big table in the library, +putting them together. This she confessed at luncheon, and it was the +first time that Lois had seen the human side of her employer. In the +main the conversation was confined to the two women, Lord Moron being +in the party, but not of it. When he spoke, as occasionally he did, +his mother either ignored him or answered him in monosyllables. And +apparently he was used to such treatment, which he did not seem to +resent. The only servant present throughout the meal was the butler, +Braime, for whom Lois conceived an instant dislike. He was a man with +a forbidding face, sparing of speech, and though he was polite enough, +there was something about his height and bulk which produced in the +girl a sensation of uneasiness. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t like Braime, Miss Reddle?” asked the countess, when the man +was momentarily absent from the room. +</p> + +<p> +Lois marvelled at the intuition of her employer, and answered +laughingly: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know whether I like him or not.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is a very satisfactory person,” said the countess in her majestic +manner. “I like tall servants, and the fact that he is unpleasant +looking is an advantage. None of my callers will try to steal him. In +society one finds one’s best servants so frequently enticed away by +people who pretend they are one’s friends.” +</p> + +<p> +It was then that she told of her passion for jigsaw puzzles. +</p> + +<p> +“Braime is very helpful and quite clever at that sort of thing, and I +have frequently had to call on him for help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you had him long?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some six months. He was recommended to me by some people anxious to +reform criminals,” was the startling thing she added. +</p> + +<p> +Lois nearly jumped from her chair. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean that he has been in prison?” she asked, bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Moron inclined her head in a stately agreement. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I believe he has been in prison for some foolish +offence—stealing silver, I think. I have given him a new start, and +the man is grateful.” When the butler returned, Lois gave him a more +careful, if more furtive, scrutiny. Despite his powerful physique, he +moved with a gentle, almost feline tread and his big clumsy hands +manipulated the delicate china with a dexterity which was surprising. +</p> + +<p> +Partly to her amusement, but more to her embarrassment, Lois found +that a maid had been allocated to her—a fresh-faced country girl who +had been recruited from her ladyship’s own village in Berkshire. For +the Earls of Moron were wealthy landowners, and Moron House, near +Newbury, was one of the show places of the county. +</p> + +<p> +The maid had all the loquacity of her kind, and Lois had not been very +long in her room before she learnt that her distrust of the butler was +generally felt throughout the servants’ quarters. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s always prying and spying, miss,” said the maid. “He’s just like +a great cat, the way he walks; you can’t hear him until he’s behind +you. And us servants are not good enough for him. He has all his meals +in his pantry, and whenever we get a new servant here he watches her +as if she was a mouse. I wonder her ladyship stands such an ugly, +bad-tempered man about the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he very bad-tempered?” asked Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” admitted the girl with reluctance, “I can’t exactly say that. +But he looks bad-tempered,” she said triumphantly, “and you can always +judge a man on his looks. Her ladyship took a lot of trouble about +you, miss.” +</p> + +<p> +“About me?” said Lois in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +The girl nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“She had these chairs put in for you and chose your bed, and—hullo, +what’s this? Is this yours, miss?” +</p> + +<p> +She had pulled open the empty drawer of a bureau, and now she held in +her hand a large cabinet photograph. Lois took it from her; it was the +picture of a young man; she judged him to be in the early twenties. He +was singularly good-looking, and there was about the face something +that was vaguely familiar. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know how that got there,” said the chattering girl. “I +cleared these drawers out myself yesterday. Her ladyship must have +brought it up and left it.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois saw, though it was only a bust photograph, that the young man +wore the uniform of a Highland regiment, and she tried to recall the +badge. As a child she had been interested in regimental insignia. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s good-looking, isn’t he, miss?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good-looking,” said the girl. “I wonder who he is?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve got lots of photographs in the house and nobody knows who they +are. Her ladyship collects them,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I will take it down to Lady Moron,” said Lois. +</p> + +<p> +She found the countess sitting with her head in her hands before a +half-completed puzzle picture. +</p> + +<p> +“Where was that? In your room?” +</p> + +<p> +Lady Moron took the photograph from her hand, looked at it +disparagingly and dropped it into a table drawer. +</p> + +<p> +“He was a boy I knew some many years ago,” she said, and did not +trouble to discuss how the photograph had appeared in Lois’ room. +</p> + +<p> +Lois went back to her own room. It was a sunny afternoon and rather +warm. The long windows were open and one of these led on to a small +stone balcony, one of the many which ornamented the front of the +house. Across the window opening, however, was a light wooden gate +which barred access to the inviting place. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re not allowed to go out on the balconies in the daytime,” said +the girl. “Her ladyship is very particular about that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does that apply to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, miss,” said the girl. “Her ladyship doesn’t go out on to her +own balcony, except in the evenings. Nobody is allowed out by day.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois was wondering what induced the eccentric countess to prohibit a +very pleasant lounging place during the day. +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon post brought a number of letters, which, contrary to +Lady Moron’s express principles, had to be answered that afternoon, +and she was busy until an hour before dinner. And then the stately +lady made a suggestion for which the girl was very grateful. +</p> + +<p> +“If you have any girl friend you would like to ask to tea you may—any +afternoon I am out. To-morrow will be a free evening for you. I shall +be going out to dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +That night, before she retired to her comfortable bed, she wrote a +long letter to Lizzy Smith and posted it herself, and Lizzy’s reply +was characteristically prompt. Lois was eating a solitary breakfast +the next morning when a footman came in to say that she was wanted on +the telephone. It was Lizzy. +</p> + +<p> +“That you, kid? I’ll be coming along to-night. Are you sending the +car, or am I taking the old No. 14? Don’t dress for me; I’m a plain +woman without any side.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be silly, Lizzy. I shall be all alone and expecting you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of a crib is it?” asked Lizzy. +</p> + +<p> +“Very nice, very nice, indeed,” said Lois, but without any enthusiasm. +“Only there isn’t enough work to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Only’ is not the word you want, it’s ‘and,’ ” said Lizzy. “What is +coming over you, Lois? Find me a job without work—here’s old +Rattlebones!”—the latter in a lower tone told Lois that the girl was +telephoning from the office and that the managing clerk had arrived. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Moron and her son had gone out to dinner and a theatre party, and +Lois was alone when the girl came. +</p> + +<p> +“This is certainly great,” said Lizzy in a slow tone, as she looked +round the resplendent dining-room. “That big chap’s the butler, I +suppose? I can’t say that I like his face, but he can’t help that. How +many courses do you have?” she asked, after the third course. “My +doctor says I mustn’t take more than six.” +</p> + +<p> +Following dinner the two girls went up to Lois’ room and Lizzy sat +down to stare and admire. +</p> + +<p> +“I always thought these sort of jobs didn’t exist outside of good +books,” she said. “I mean the books they give you for Sunday School +prizes. You’ve certainly rung the bell this time, Lois!” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems too good to be true, doesn’t it?” laughed Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t seen <i>him</i>, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean Mr. Dorn? Yes, I saw him this morning. He was walking up and +down Chester Square. And Lizzy, he’s a detective.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy’s eyes lit up. +</p> + +<p> +“A real detective?” she said, in an awestricken tone. “And I thought +he was the other way about—that he was one of the people detectives +catch. What did he say, Lois?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t speak to him. I only saw him through the window. Lizzy, I’m +so worried and puzzled about it all—and he’s such a queer man! The +things he <i>could</i> have said when I collided with his car!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know why you need be worried,” said the philosophical Lizzy. +“Even detectives have their feelings. There was one married the other +day—I saw a bit in the paper about it. And some of them are quite +respectable men.” She looked up suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I heard footsteps outside the door.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois walked to the door and threw it open. The corridor was empty. +</p> + +<p> +“What made you think there was somebody there?” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” she said vaguely, “only I’ve got sharp ears, and if +they weren’t slippers moving on a carpet, I’ve never heard ’em!” +</p> + +<p> +Lois closed the door and sat down on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Lizzy, I’m going to tell you something,” she said, and the interest +of Miss Elizabetta Smith quickened. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she said, drawing a long breath. “I knew you’d tell me sooner or +later. But, my dear, it won’t be any news to me. He is one of the +nicest men I’ve ever met——” +</p> + +<p> +“What on earth are you talking about?” demanded Lois, aghast. “Are you +thinking of that wretched Mr. Dorn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what else have you got to tell me?” demanded Lizzy indignantly; +and Lois, in spite of the seriousness of the subject she was about to +broach, fell into an uncontrollable fit of silent laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, I can’t tell you now, not—not in this mood,” said Lois. +“You poor little matchmaker! Mr. Dorn is probably married, with a +large family. We won’t talk about him either.” Then, as a thought +struck her: “Would you like to see this wicked city by night, with all +its lights? I’ll show you.” She walked to the French windows and +opened them. “This little balcony is forbidden territory by day, but +it is rather wonderful now, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +She stepped out on to the balcony and, walking to the balustrade, +rested her hand upon the broad parapet, looking down into the street, +which seemed a terribly long way below. And even as she did so, she +felt the balcony sag slowly beneath her. +</p> + +<p> +She turned in a fright and leapt towards the window; but at that +minute there was a loud crack, and the stone floor dropped suddenly +beneath her. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch11"> +Chapter Eleven +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">As</span> she fell, Lois clutched wildly, and her fingers caught a +projecting ridge of stone an inch wide; the jerk nearly pulled her +arms from their sockets, but for the moment she hung. +</p> + +<p> +She heard the frightened scream of Lizzy. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you there? Oh, for God’s sake hold on, Lois! I’ll get them!” +</p> + +<p> +And then, looking up, she saw the girl jerked violently backwards. She +was falling; she could not hold on a second longer. There was a +terrible, unendurable pain in her shoulders and her head was swimming. +</p> + +<p> +And then, just as her fingers were slipping, a big hand grasped her +wrist, and she felt herself drawn upwards until another hand caught +her under the arm and pulled her into the room. She looked up into the +unpleasant face of Braime, the butler. +</p> + +<p> +He laid her on the bed, then, going to the window, knelt and peered +down. The crash of falling masonry had attracted one of those small +crowds which gather from nowhere at any hour of the day or night in +London. Braime saw a policeman running across the street, and, rising, +dusted his knees carefully, closed the window door and latched it. He +said not a word to the girl, but went out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Lois, on the very verge of collapse, lay white of face, as pale as +death. But her distress was as nothing to Lizzy Smith’s, who was +paralysed by all the tragic happening, until the girl’s moan aroused +her to action. +</p> + +<p> +Lois came from semi-consciousness to a clearer understanding, with a +sense that she had been drowned, then, as out of a haze, loomed the +white-faced Lizzy with a water-jug in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“That was a close call!” breathed the girl. +</p> + +<p> +Something in the words was reminiscent; Lois had heard them before. +Then in a flash she remembered the motor-car which had nearly killed +her and Michael Dorn’s words. She struggled up to a sitting position +and found that the sensation of drowning was not altogether illusory, +for Lizzy had been very lavish in her use of the water-jug. +</p> + +<p> +She had hardly got to her feet when there was a tap at the door and +the butler came in, followed by a policeman. +</p> + +<p> +“The officer wishes to see the balcony,” said Braime, and opened the +door for the policeman’s inspection. +</p> + +<p> +With the aid of his lamp the officer made a cursory examination and +brought his head back into the room. He looked strangely at Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll never get nearer to trouble than that, miss,” he said. +“There’s an old crack in the slab that you trod on, and the balustrade +doesn’t support the flooring at all. I’d like to see some of the other +balconies,” he said, and disappeared with the butler. +</p> + +<p> +This was the second accident in a few days; her spine crept at the +thought. What malign influence was following her? For the first time +she wished she was returning to her humble little room in Charlotte +Street, and she said good-bye to Lizzy with real reluctance. +</p> + +<p> +The countess arrived home soon after the girl had gone, and came +immediately up to Lois’ room as she was undressing. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew that balcony was unsafe,” she said, “and I told that fool of a +butler to keep the gate fixed. Where is the gate?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was here this afternoon; I did not notice it before I went down to +dinner, Lady Moron,” said Lois. “I thought it had been moved to allow +the windows to be closed.” +</p> + +<p> +The countess bit her red lip thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“There is more in this than I care to think about,” she said. “I hope +you’re not going to have a sleepless night, Miss Reddle. I cannot tell +you how distressed I am. How were you saved?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois told her and Lady Moron nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Braime?” she said. “But what was he doing on the third floor at that +time?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked searchingly at the girl and then, without another word, +went to her own room. +</p> + +<p> +It was two o’clock in the morning before sleep came to Lois; and by +that time her nerves were on edge, so that she started at every sound. +Something was keeping her awake—something she was trying to remember. +Some thought was working insistently at the back of her mind, +demanding revelation. As she tossed from side to side, consciousness +of this inhibited memory made her grow wider and wider awake. And +then, as she came back to bed, after the second tramp to the washstand +for a glass of water, it flashed upon her. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep your door locked—even in the palatial home of the Countess of +Moron!” +</p> + +<p> +Michael Dorn’s warning! It was that. She went to the door and felt for +the key. But there was none, nor was there any bolt. Turning on the +light, she lifted one of the smaller arm-chairs, carried it to the +door, and pushed the back beneath the handle. Then she went back to +bed and was asleep in a few seconds. +</p> + +<p> +She awoke the next morning to find the sun streaming past the edge of +the blind. There was a gentle tap-tapping at the door. She jumped out +of bed and pulled away the chair to admit the maid. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, miss,” said the maid cheerfully, and was inclined to +discuss the accident of the night before, but that Lois was most +anxious to forget. +</p> + +<p> +“Her ladyship’s very much upset. She hasn’t had any sleep all night, +miss,” said Jean. “She asked me if I’d warned you about the balcony. +Of course I told her I did, but only in the daytime—I didn’t know it +was unsafe. I’ve only been here a fortnight. Her ladyship was in the +country until then.” +</p> + +<p> +She drew the blinds, and, crossing to the window, Lois looked out. The +jagged edge of the broken balcony was there to remind her of her +narrow escape and she shuddered as she recalled that dreadful moment +when she had hung in space. +</p> + +<p> +“It was the butler’s fault,” said Jean maliciously. “I shouldn’t be +surprised if he got the sack.” +</p> + +<p> +“If it hadn’t been for the butler I should have been killed.” +</p> + +<p> +“If it hadn’t been for the butler, miss, you wouldn’t have been in +danger,” said the girl, and there seemed some truth in her remark. +“Her ladyship told me to move you to-day to his lordship’s room on the +floor below.” +</p> + +<p> +“But surely she’s not turning out Lord Moron?” asked Lois, aghast. +</p> + +<p> +Apparently the household staff entertained towards his lordship +something of the contempt which his mother displayed, in public and +private. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, him!” said the girl with a shrug. “He doesn’t mind where he +sleeps. He’d be just as happy in the garret. All he wants to do is to +go on the stage and play with his silly old electricity! I wonder her +ladyship allows him to go on in that childish way.” +</p> + +<p> +So the Earl of Moron’s queer desire was public property, thought Lois. +Apart from the shock of the news that he was being turned out of his +apartment to make room for a secretary, Lois was not sorry that new +accommodation was to be offered to her, and her pleasure was +intensified after her interview with the countess. +</p> + +<p> +Her ladyship, who had a predilection for strong colours, wore a gown +of petunia that morning. Lois thought it made her look old. She made +no reference to the accident, and for the first hour after breakfast +they were engaged in letter-writing. Lady Moron had many +correspondents, and there was the usual sprinkling of begging letters +which had to be dealt with in the usual way. When Lois had finished +her work and brought the last letter for her employer’s signature, the +countess looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not suffering any ill effects from last night’s terrible +experience?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” smiled Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“I have told the maid to move you into Selwyn’s room. As a matter of +fact, it is never used by him; he prefers his little study at the top +of the house and sleeps there nine nights out of ten. You are not +worried about what happened?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Or nervous?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“I was a little nervous last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you would be, and I have been considering what would be my +best course to induce you to stay. I like you. And there is another +reason; I want a woman in the house to whom I can talk +confidentially.” She turned in her swivelled chair and looked up into +Lois’ face. “I don’t want to be alone,” she said. “I am rather +frightened of being alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Frightened, Lady Moron?” +</p> + +<p> +Her ladyship nodded. There was certainly nothing in her voice to +indicate her fear. She picked and chose her words with characteristic +care. “I can’t explain why, but I am frightened—of certain people. If +you care to remain with me, I will raise your salary, and I am quite +willing that your friend should sleep in the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“My friend?” asked the surprised Lois. “Do you mean Miss Smith?” +</p> + +<p> +Again the countess nodded, her dark eyes never leaving the girl’s +face. +</p> + +<p> +Lois hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“That might be very—very awkward for you,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +The countess waved a flashing hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I have considered the matter in all its aspects, and if it is +agreeable to you and your friend, I will have another bed put into +your room. Perhaps you would like to see Miss Smith and discover her +opinions on the subject? I will have the car ready for you in a +quarter of an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +Looking over the edge of the wire blinds, Lizzy Smith saw the +glistening limousine pull up at the door, and Lois alight, and, +defiant of all the rules of the establishment, she ran out of the +office and came half-way down the stairs to meet the visitor. +</p> + +<p> +In a few words Lois told her of Lady Moron’s proposal. +</p> + +<p> +“Gee whiz!” said Lizzy, flabbergasted. “You don’t mean that?” +</p> + +<p> +She gripped Lois by the arm and pulled her upstairs. “Come right along +to the ’phone!” she hissed, “and tell her royal highness that I’ll be +on the mat at six!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch12"> +Chapter Twelve +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Lois</span> did not go into the office; she left her friend on the +threshold and went on to the appointment she sought. Leaving the car +in Parliament Street, she walked down Whitehall to the Home Office +building, and, filling in a blank, took her place in the waiting-room. +</p> + +<p> +There was very little possibility, she told herself that the august +Under-Secretary, with whom she craved an interview, would grant her +that privilege, in spite of the pressing nature of the note which she +had sent with the official form. She began to despair and was looking +round at the waiting-room clock for the tenth time, when a messenger +came for her. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Reddle?” he asked. “Will you follow me?” +</p> + +<p> +Her heart beat a little faster as he knocked on an imposing door, and, +opening it, announced her name. An elderly man, who was sitting at the +far end of a big room, his back to an empty fireplace, an immense desk +before him, half rose from his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down, Miss Reddle,” he said, with official brusqueness. “I read +your note, and I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I had an important +conference here.” And then, without further preliminary: “You say that +Mrs. Pinder is your mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, I am certain of that.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a big folder before him, and this he opened. +</p> + +<p> +“The case is familiar to me,” said the Under-Secretary. “As a matter +of fact, I was a junior engaged in the courts when she was tried, +though not in the case. I don’t know what I can do for you. Her +sentence has nearly expired, and if I were you I should wait until she +comes out before you take any further steps. There are certain other +people interested in the case, as you probably know, and that is the +advice I have given to them.” +</p> + +<p> +“But my mother was innocent,” said Lois, and he replied with an almost +imperceptible shrug of his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Innocence has this much in common with guilt,” he said, “that after +twenty years it is very difficult to prove or disprove. I followed the +case very closely and it seemed to me that there were two essential +pieces of evidence, one of which might have proved her guilt beyond +doubt, and one her innocence. And these were not produced at the +trial.” +</p> + +<p> +“What were they?” asked Lois quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“The first was the key to the box in which the jewellery and the +cyanide were discovered. If that had been found in your mother’s +possession any doubt in my mind would have been removed. That was the +judge’s view also. The other is the letter the murdered woman—or +rather,” he said hastily, “the woman who was found dead—would have +written had it been a case of suicide. You know, of course, there was +a pen and ink on the table and a pad of paper, but no letter was +found. It was a new pad, purchased by the dead lady that morning, and +one sheet had been torn away. The view of the defence was that, +preparatory to committing suicide, she had written a letter, as people +do in such circumstances. However, it was not found, although a very +careful search was made.” +</p> + +<p> +And then, abruptly, he began to question her about herself, her life. +When she had told him the means by which she had identified herself +with Lois Margeritta, Mrs. Pinder’s daughter, he agreed. +</p> + +<p> +“I should think you were right there,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Even Mr. Dorn thinks I am right,” she said with a half-smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Dorn?” he said sharply. “You mean the Indian man, the police officer? +Do you know him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not very well,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Could he be amongst the “other people interested in the case”? She +dismissed the possibility as absurd. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her keenly. +</p> + +<p> +“In what circumstances did you meet Dorn?” he asked, and Lois was very +frank. +</p> + +<p> +“Humph!” said the Under-Secretary. “Dorn isn’t that kind of man. I +mean, he wouldn’t go chasing round after a girl if there wasn’t +something else to it. He is a man of the highest integrity and +honour,” he said emphatically; and for some extraordinary reason she +was pleased to hear this tribute to the man who had so often annoyed +her. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing more to be done, and when he rose to signify the end +of the interview and shook her hand, he put into words her own +thought. +</p> + +<p> +“When your mother comes out of prison she will be able to give you a +great deal more information than any of us possess. There is the +question of your father, for example, who disappeared for a week or +two before the crime and was never seen again. What happened to him? I +remember there was a half-hearted attempt on the part of the +prosecution to hold your mother responsible for his disappearance.” +</p> + +<p> +“How horrible!” said Lois indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I suppose it was horrible.” +</p> + +<p> +From the Under-Secretary’s tone it seemed to Lois that he did not +regard the matter quite in that light. +</p> + +<p> +“In criminal cases, my dear young lady, the prosecution have to +presume the most horrible things, and they’re usually right!” +</p> + +<p> +There was very little profit for the girl from this interview, but at +least she had the satisfaction of knowing that she had made a start. +Somehow she had never thought very much about her father and his +disappearance. That seemed so unimportant by the side of her mother’s +suffering. +</p> + +<p> +The letter and the key; these were two new points which she had never +considered or known about before. She went back to Chester Square with +a sense of accomplishment, and arrived in time to witness perhaps the +strangest incident that mortal eye had seen. +</p> + +<p> +As she opened the door of the drawing-room, she heard a shrill voice +raised in anger, recognised it as Lord Moron’s, and would have drawn +back, only her ladyship, who had seen her, called her into the room. +</p> + +<p> +Moron was beside himself with rage. His sallow cheeks were pale, and, +as he spluttered his annoyance, he stamped his foot in childish anger. +</p> + +<p> +“I refuse, I absolutely refuse!” he almost screamed. “I appeal to Miss +What’s-er-name. I appeal to you, miss. Is it right that a man in my +position should do what any wretched boozing doctor tells him to do? +Don’t think that I’m afraid of this horrible creature, because I’m +not! I know the law, by gad!” +</p> + +<p> +“Braime simply carried out his instructions,” said the countess in her +deep, booming voice. +</p> + +<p> +She was standing near her writing-table, slowly sharpening a pencil +with a little knife, and did not look up from her task. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t mind giving up my room for a young lady,” said the Earl +rapidly, “any gentleman would do the same. Besides, my study’s awfully +jolly. But if I want to go out alone, I’ll go out alone, and I won’t +have any beastly criminal butlers going with me—not if all the +beastly doctors in the world order it. I’ve stood enough, my dear +mother.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook a trembling finger at the woman, who, seemingly oblivious to +the scene, continued her pencil-sharpening. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve stood enough. You may marry this wretched Chesney Praye, the +infernal blackguard! Ah, yes. I know all about that! I know a lot of +things you don’t imagine I know! You may use my money as you jolly +well please, you may——” +</p> + +<p> +Lois saw Lady Moron’s hand go up and touch her son’s face with a +caressing gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a naughty boy,” she said, her thin lips curled in a smile. +</p> + +<p> +And then, with a scream of pain, the man stepped backwards and put up +his hand to his bleeding face. +</p> + +<p> +Lois could not believe the evidence of her eyes. Yet there it was—a +long, straight cut, and the little knife with which the woman was +sharpening her pencil showed a tiny red stain. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch13"> +Chapter Thirteen +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">You’re</span> a very naughty boy,” said the countess, intent again upon +her pencil-sharpening, “go back and play with your batteries!” and, +with a gasp of fear, the man turned and ran blindly from the room, his +face dabbled red. +</p> + +<p> +There was a dead silence, and then the countess looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you think I’m very horrid? But Selwyn is difficult at +times—shockingly difficult, and shockingly sulky. I must impose my +will on him for his own good. And really, he isn’t hurt any more than +he would have been if his razor had slipped.” +</p> + +<p> +The cold-bloodedness of the thing left Lois breathless and shaken. She +could hardly believe that she was not dreaming horribly. +</p> + +<p> +“It was rather—drastic, wasn’t it?” she said, speaking with +difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +Again the dark eyes met hers. +</p> + +<p> +“Drastic? Yes. Dr. Tappatt wishes me to be even more drastic. Did you +speak to your friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Lois, almost grateful to be lifted out of the scene. +</p> + +<p> +“And she will come? How dear of her! I told you I was afraid this +morning, Miss Reddle. I don’t suppose you guessed why, even after +Moron’s amazing exhibition of childish temper?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois did not guess and was wisely silent. Her ladyship made no further +reference to the scene. When Lord Moron came to lunch with his face +conspicuously plastered, his mother did no more at the end of the meal +than say: +</p> + +<p> +“Please don’t come to dinner like that, Selwyn. One would imagine you +had been in an earthquake.” +</p> + +<p> +To which he answered, with a meek: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madam.” +</p> + +<p> +The change of rooms had been effected, and Lois was now in what might +very well have been a small state apartment in one of the royal +palaces. The new bed had been erected, and as the hour approached for +Lizzy’s arrival, the uneasy qualms which Lois had been feeling all day +began to dissipate. Though she had given strict injunctions as to the +appearance her son should present at dinner, the countess herself +dined out. She sent for Lois before she left the house. +</p> + +<p> +“If you could amuse Selwyn, please do so. He is quite a good companion +if you can reduce your mentality to the level of his. Possibly your +friend will find him easier than you,” she added, and Lois would have +been amused if she were not a little shocked. +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy came promptly at six, bringing with her a battered black bag +containing what she described as her “court dress and coronation +robes” and the girl prepared her for a shock. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re dining to-night with the Earl of Moron,” she said, and Lizzy +collapsed into a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t and I won’t,” she said energetically. “I knew there was going +to be a catch in this!” +</p> + +<p> +Lois soothed her fears, and, though she did not wish to follow the +example of the servants and speak of his lordship in terms of +disparagement, she sufficiently reassured her friend that Lizzy +neither fainted nor flew when she was introduced to the vacuous, +young-old man. +</p> + +<p> +He was standing with his back to the empty fireplace in the +drawing-room, a cigarette drooping from his lips, when Lois ushered +her friend into his presence. He gave Lizzy a feeble handshake. +</p> + +<p> +“Awfully glad to meet you. Nice weather we’re having,” he said, and to +Lois: “Her ladyship’s gone, I suppose? That beastly bounder Praye +called for her.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois remembered the scene, of which she had been an unwilling witness, +and Mr. Chesney Praye’s attitude towards the countess, which seemed +inexplicable, was within her understanding. Chesney Praye was +something more than a financial adviser. Apparently he had advised the +lady in affairs of the heart only too well, though Lois found it +rather difficult to imagine the masterful countess in a tender mood. +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly beastly bounder,” said his lordship with such energy that +she realised that the spirit of revolt was not wholly crushed. “That +wretched boozing doctor is bad, but Chesney Praye is worse! I call him +a bird of prey—that’s not bad, what? Chesney, the bird of prey!” +</p> + +<p> +He chuckled at his mild jest and visibly brightened under the +influence of his own humour. This was the second reference that had +been made to the mysterious doctor. Lois wondered if she would be +called upon to meet him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m glad she’s gone with her bird of prey. Let’s go along and +have some grub.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy’s jaw dropped at the sound of this familiar vulgarism; and that +moment probably marked the beginning of an interest in the aristocracy +which was fated to grow in intensity. +</p> + +<p> +It was one of the most cheerful dinners that Lois remembered, and +certainly for his lordship it was an hilarious feast, for he trotted +out his joke about “bird of prey” some half a dozen times, and on each +occasion with an increasing measure of amusement. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t see the joke at first,” said Lizzy, wiping her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“His name’s Praye,” explained his lordship eagerly. “I call him the +bird of prey—rather good, what? Let’s play draughts. I’m rather a dab +at draughts.” +</p> + +<p> +It was an opportunity to learn to know him better and Lois very +skilfully drew him out. He had been to a public school—he thought it +was Harrow; in fact, he was pretty sure it was Harrow—for two years, +and then his mother had taken him away. He hated school life; it was +rough. Since then he had practically not left his mother. He thought +he was a member of one of the clubs, but he wasn’t quite sure which +one; at any rate, he had never been there. +</p> + +<p> +“You aren’t married?” asked Lois boldly. +</p> + +<p> +The question afforded him a tremendous amount of enjoyment. +</p> + +<p> +“Married—me? Good gracious, no! Who wants to marry a silly old johnny +like me? Oh dear, no! There was a girl who wanted to marry me, I +understand, when I was rather young, but her ladyship wouldn’t have +her at any price.” +</p> + +<p> +He had never occupied any responsible position. His mother managed his +estate with the aid of bailiffs and lawyers; from time to time +documents came to him for his signature; and he had been to the House +of Lords once to take his seat. +</p> + +<p> +“Never again—too silly,” he said. “They dress you up in red velvet +and put crowns and things on your head!” +</p> + +<p> +She discovered, to her surprise, that he had a hobby, and +incidentally, his mother’s sneering remarks about his “batteries” were +cleared up. He had a passion for electrical apparatus. His study, into +which the girl had not been invited, was a litter of model dynamos, +electric trains, and batteries. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve done one of the neatest little jobs for her ladyship in the +library—ask her to show it to you.” His face went serious, “Perhaps +you’d better not,” he said hastily. +</p> + +<p> +Electrical work was not wholly an amusement to him. He claimed with +pride to have fixed all the bells in the house, and later the girl +learnt that this was true. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever terrors the peerage had for Lizzy were quickly dissipated; +towards the end of the evening she was hotly disputing the bona fides +of a piece which had mysteriously appeared on his side of the +chequer-board. +</p> + +<p> +“Never had such a perfectly jolly evening in all my young life,” said +his lordship. He had been glancing nervously at the clock for some +time. “Now I think I’ll toddle, before the madam comes.” +</p> + +<p> +He made one of his rapid exits, and the two girls came out into the +hall. Braime was standing by the front door, staring through the glass +panels into the street. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night, miss,” he said respectfully, and then continued his +vigil. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like that man,” said Lizzy, when they got to their room. +</p> + +<p> +“Braime? I didn’t, but I owe him so much. If he had not been there +last night——” +</p> + +<p> +“How did he get there—that’s the question?” said Lizzy. “He must have +been in the room when the balcony fell, for almost at once I felt +somebody pulling me aside.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of Lord Moron?” asked Lois, anxious to turn the +conversation to pleasanter channels. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s wonderful,” said Lizzy dreamily. “From what I heard about him I +thought he was dippy; but that boy’s got brains!” +</p> + +<p> +Lois was in bed, and Lizzy, who was too intensely interested in her +own views to be a quick-change artist, was in that condition of +deshabille which made her least presentable, when there came a frantic +tapping at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that?” asked Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s me, young lady. Can I come in?” +</p> + +<p> +It was Lord Moron’s voice. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch14"> +Chapter Fourteen +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">I’m</span> afraid you can’t come in now. Is there anything you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I forgot something,” said the agitated voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Can I get it for you?” asked Lois, now at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m afraid you can’t, it’s—er——” +</p> + +<p> +His voice died down into a rumble of sound. Then! +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind. I don’t suppose—I say, don’t be alarmed or anything of +that sort—I mean, don’t mention to the madam anything that seems +remarkable, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl shook her head in bewilderment. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you mean. Is there something I can get for you?” +</p> + +<p> +But he had evidently gone. Lizzy, who had a practical mind, suggested +that the articles he required were false teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s got that kind of delicate mind that wouldn’t mention them to a +lady,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +But her companion did not accept that explanation. +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy, who was not affected by the stateliness of the surroundings, +was asleep almost as soon as she had finished talking. But Lois Reddle +had never been more wide awake in her life. She heard the clock strike +the quarter and the half and the hour. She turned from side to side +and counted sheep and furnished houses and followed all the +prescriptions for sleeplessness which had ever been offered. But at +half-past one she was alert and wakeful. She heard the whine of a car +as it stopped in front of the house. That was Lady Moron returning, +she guessed. +</p> + +<p> +The bed she occupied was a small four-poster. Perhaps it was this +unusual factor which kept her awake. She stared up in the dark at the +silken canopy above her head, wondering whether she would sleep more +comfortably upon the big settee at the foot of the bed. +</p> + +<p> +The deep breathing which came from Lizzy’s bed irritated her +unreasonably. She rose, touched the pillow, and turned over again, and +then—— +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Did she know the photograph?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +She sat up with a jerk. It was the voice of Chesney Praye and had come +from the canopy above her! +</p> + +<p> +It was as though somebody was lying on the top and speaking, for the +words were clear and distinct. It was the voice of the countess who +answered him. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” came the deep tones. “I put it in the drawer just before she +arrived.” +</p> + +<p> +A pause, and then presently he spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“You took a risk.” +</p> + +<p> +She heard the deep laughter of Lady Moron. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve taken a greater one to-night, I think, Chesney.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Leonora,” Chesney’s voice was pained, “surely you can trust +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have to,” the deliberate tone of her ladyship came down from the +canopy, “and I think you will be wise not to play the fool. Selwyn is +worrying me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Selwyn!” contemptuously. +</p> + +<p> +“Selwyn. He knows more than I gave him credit for. How did he know +that we were to be married? He came out with it in his rage to-day. +And how did he know that I’d been lending you money——” +</p> + +<p> +“Come into the dining-room.” +</p> + +<p> +There came the sound of a knock and then the voice of Braime spoke +very faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve set the table, my lady.” +</p> + +<p> +After that Lois heard no more. +</p> + +<p> +“Who was that? Was it somebody talking?” It was Lizzy who spoke. “Was +it you, Lois? I heard somebody say they’d lent money.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois was out of bed now, and had switched on the little lamp that +stood on the table by the bedside. She looked up fearfully at the +canopy. It had the heavy, respectable appearance which all such +articles of furnishing have. Lois had a wild idea that a door had been +left open, but the only door in the room was that which led to the +corridor and it was locked, as she knew. +</p> + +<p> +“What was it, Lois?” Lizzy was struggling into her dressing-gown. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I heard somebody speaking. It seemed to be in the +room.” +</p> + +<p> +“It came from the direction of your bed,” said Lizzy. “Lord! This is a +queer house. I don’t like it, Lois. I’d sooner have old Mackenzie and +his fiddle any day or any night.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois Reddle jumped on to the bed, lifted the table lamp and began an +examination of the valance above. Presently she uttered an +exclamation. In one corner, suspended by two wires, was a black, +bell-shaped piece of ebonite, which at first she thought was a +telephone receiver. Behind was a flat and circular box, and this was +wired to the canopy. +</p> + +<p> +“That is where the voice came from; it’s a loud-speaking telephone!” +</p> + +<p> +She found the wire; it was cunningly hidden along the valance, +descending one of the bed-posts, where it ran in a red flex to a +wall-plug. The mystery was a mystery no longer, and now she understood +the agitation of Lord Moron. She appreciated, too, his skill as an +electrical engineer. He had been spying on his mother, if such a term +applied to one who heard rather than saw. Somewhere in the house, +probably in the drawing-room, was a concealed microphone, and too late +that night he had remembered that he had not disconnected the +instrument. Lady Moron was puzzled as to how her son knew so much. +Lois could have told her. +</p> + +<p> +“What a bird!” said Lizzy admiringly. “Fixed it all up himself! The +boy’s got brains! What did you hear, Lois?” +</p> + +<p> +But the girl was not inclined to be communicative. She pulled out the +plug from the wall, sent her companion to bed, and followed her +example. +</p> + +<p> +Whose photograph was it that had been placed for her inspection? And +what risk had Lady Moron taken? She remembered the picture of the +handsome young officer who was “a boy I once knew” to her ladyship. +And what risk had the woman run in leaving that under her secretary’s +eyes. She got out of bed again and re-fixed the plug, feeling that she +was being guilty of a despicable act. But something was happening +which was so vital to her, that she could not afford to allow niceties +of conduct to weigh against her need. No sound came from the +microphone. But perhaps after supper they would return here. And, in +any event, the weariness and monotony of waiting might induce the +sleep which refused to come to her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Three o’clock struck, half-past three, four and half-past, and the +chill of dawn began to show on the white blinds. Lois was not as far +from sleep as she had been, and she was beginning to doze when a faint +sound brought up her head from the pillow. +</p> + +<p> +Click, click! +</p> + +<p> +It was as though somebody was turning on the lights in the +drawing-room. She waited tensely for the next sound. Presently there +was an indistinguishable whisper, and then a voice spoke. Clearly the +words came to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Lois Reddle is very near to death!” +</p> + +<p> +She knew the voice, in her imagination could almost see the speaker. +</p> + +<p> +It was Michael Dorn. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch15"> +Chapter Fifteen +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">In</span> a second she had recovered, and had leapt out of bed. Better the +known than the unknown. All fear had vanished; she would face Dorn and +have the truth. Snatching up her dressing-gown, she went to the door, +turned the key noiselessly and ran down the dark stairs. +</p> + +<p> +The drawing-room faced her as she came on to the landing, and she did +not hesitate, but flung open the door. The place was in darkness, and +reaching out, she felt for the light switches and turned them. The +room was empty; there was no sound save the musical ticking of a +French clock on the mantelpiece, no sign of Michael Dorn or of his +unknown companion. She gazed bewildered. Then she heard a noise behind +her and spun round. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +It was the countess, who slept on the same floor as the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Turn on the landing lights,” said the woman calmly, and when she did +so, Lois saw the older woman standing on the landing above, wrapped in +a white ermine coat, as calm and imperturbable as ever. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I heard voices and came down.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the drawing-room? Of course, it is under your bedroom!” +</p> + +<p> +Lady Moron descended the stairs without haste and walked into the +salon. +</p> + +<p> +“You must have been mistaken, there’s nobody here,” she said. “I’m +afraid your nerves are on edge. The opening of your door woke me. What +did the noise sound like? The windows are fastened. None of the +furniture has been moved.” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard somebody speaking,” said Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“Go to bed, my child.” +</p> + +<p> +Her large hand patted the girl gently on the shoulder, and Lois went +meekly up the stairs and into her room. +</p> + +<p> +She came down to breakfast the next morning feeling a wreck, and +Lizzy, warned by her friend, made no reference at the table to the +voices of the night. She saw the girl off and came back to the +dining-room. A footman was clearing the table under Braime’s watchful +eye. When the man had gone: +</p> + +<p> +“Her ladyship says you heard somebody speaking in the night, Miss +Reddle?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I did. Perhaps I was dreaming, or only imagined that I +heard her ladyship in my sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lady Moron did not go into the drawing-room last night,” was the +surprising reply. +</p> + +<p> +Lois stared at the man, who went on: +</p> + +<p> +“Her ladyship went into the library, but you would not hear her from +your apartment.” +</p> + +<p> +The library! That was where the microphone was fixed, and all the time +she had been talking to Lady Moron on the landing Michael Dorn and his +assistant had been on the floor below. The library was situated on the +ground floor at the back of the house. She was thankful that she had +not found him whilst that watchful woman was hovering in the +background. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I heard you come out of your room, miss,” Braime continued; +“in fact, I was on the point of coming downstairs when her ladyship +came up. By the way, her ladyship will not be down until one o’clock, +miss, she has two friends coming to lunch. She asked me if you would +deal with any letters which are not marked personal.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois was in the midst of this occupation when Lord Moron came into the +drawing-room, a nervous and apprehensive man. +</p> + +<p> +“ ’Morning, Miss Reddle,” he said, eyeing her keenly. “Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not very well, thank you!” smiled Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“Queer house this,” he mumbled. “All sorts of odd noises. These old +places are like that, you know. Nothing disturbed you, I suppose? +Nobody—er—talking in the street?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, nothing disturbed me,” she said untruthfully, and he heaved a +sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“Awfully glad. You don’t mind my going into your room to get the +things I left behind, do you? I say, don’t mention this to her +ladyship, will you, because she thinks I’m a careless devil and she’ll +rag me most fearfully!” +</p> + +<p> +Lois promised, and he hurried from the room. When she went up to +prepare for luncheon, she examined the canopy and found, as she had +expected, that the microphone and its attachments had been removed. +</p> + +<p> +In other circumstances she might have been amused, but she was +conscious that a terrible danger was hovering over her, and in some +way that the menace was associated with the countess and her friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Lois Reddle is near to death!” She shivered at the recollection. +</p> + +<p> +Twice in a week she had escaped destruction by a hair’s breadth. Those +were not accidents; she was sure now. But who could desire her harm? +And what had the photograph of the young man in uniform to do with +her? +</p> + +<p> +On one point she was determined, and she had confided her intention to +Lizzy that morning whilst they were dressing, before they came down to +breakfast. She must leave this house and take the risk of unemployment +for a while. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Moron came into the drawing-room just before lunch, looked over +the letters and signed such as required her signature, and then Lois +broke the news. To her surprise the big woman was neither indignant +nor entreating. +</p> + +<p> +“When I saw you early this morning I was afraid this would happen,” +she said. “And really I cannot blame you, Miss Reddle. You have had a +most terrifying experience, though I believe that last night’s trouble +was purely imaginary.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“When do you wish to go? As soon as possible, I gather from your +hesitation. Very well, I am not blaming you. I feel partly to blame, +and I will pay you a month’s salary and arrange for you to leave +to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +The two visitors were Chesney Praye and a man whom Lois had not seen +before, though she had heard his lordship’s views on him. Later she +felt she had no particular desire to meet him again. He was a bald man +of fifty, with a face even redder than Mr. Praye’s, a big, bulbous +nose, a loose mouth. She might, had she met him in the street and not +in this chaste atmosphere, have analysed him as a typical drunkard. +Nor would that description have been uncharitable. His frock coat was +old and shone at the seams, and she observed that he had made only a +half-hearted attempt to make his nails presentable. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to meet Dr. Tappatt.” +</p> + +<p> +So this was the famous doctor. She was not impressed. +</p> + +<p> +“Glad to meet you, young lady, very glad to meet you,” said the doctor +with spurious heartiness. And with his words came the faint aroma of +something that was not entirely whisky and not entirely cloves. “This +is the young person your ladyship was speaking about? Hears voices, +eh? Dear, dear, that’s a bad symptom,” he chuckled, “a very bad +symptom. Eh, Chesney? We’ve had ’em for that! We’ve had ’em for that!” +</p> + +<p> +Lois saw the butler fill this strange creature’s glass with wine, and +when she looked again the glass was empty. Apparently Braime, if he +did not already know the peculiarities of the guest, had been +carefully coached, for, without asking, he had refilled the glass. +</p> + +<p> +Lord Moron appeared at the lunch table, a sulky and silent young man, +his face less extensively plastered. +</p> + +<p> +“Had an accident, eh? Been in a railway smash?” demanded the doctor. +“Your lordship should be more careful.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t been in a railway accident,” said Selwyn sulkily. +</p> + +<p> +He evidently knew the doctor, and the girl had a feeling that he was +afraid of him, for once or twice she saw him glancing furtively and a +little fearfully in the direction of the untidy man. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s another one who hears voices, eh? Your lordship hasn’t been +followed by a dog—a nice black dog with a waggly tail, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I haven’t,” almost shouted Lord Moron, going red and white. “I +never said I had, did I? I’m perfectly—I know what I’m doing and all +that sort of thing. You leave me alone, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +It was in every way an uncomfortable meal for Lois Reddle. The +glowering resentment of Moron, the calm indifference of his mother, +the crude jocularity of Chesney Praye, and the presence of the doctor, +who, when he was not drinking, was boasting of the wonderful cures he +had effected in India, brought a sense of nightmare to the girl. Only +once more did Dr. Tappatt turn his attention to Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s this I hear about your trying to throw yourself over the +balcony? Come, come, young lady, that will never do!” He wagged his +animal face at her, and the bloodshot eyes gleamed unpleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be stupid.” It was Lady Moron who spoke. “The balcony gave way +under Miss Reddle; there was no suggestion that she attempted to throw +herself into the street.” +</p> + +<p> +“A joke, a mere jest,” said the doctor unabashed, and pushed his glass +towards the watchful Braime. “That’s a good wine of yours, your +ladyship, a fine, full-bodied wine with a generous bouquet. +Romanee-Conti, I think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Clos de Vougeot,” corrected the countess. +</p> + +<p> +“There is very little difference between the wines of Vougeot and +Vosne,” said the connoisseur. “As a rule, I prefer the Conti, but your +ladyship has converted me.” +</p> + +<p> +The lunch did not end soon enough for Lois. When the countess had +risen, she strolled to where her son was standing. +</p> + +<p> +“When you come down to dinner to-night, be so good as to have the last +of that ridiculous plaster taken from your face. I wish, at any rate, +that you should look like a gentleman and not like a prize-fighter.” +She mouthed the words deliberately. “Otherwise, perhaps I shall have +to consult Dr. Tappatt.” +</p> + +<p> +Lord Moron shrunk at the ominous words, and his muttered rejoinder did +not reach Lois’ ears. +</p> + +<p> +The suggestion that she should work in the library was one which Lois +was glad to accept; for beyond a glimpse, she had never seen the room +wherein the Countess of Moron spent so many hours with her jigsaw +puzzles. And there was another reason; she must find the artfully +concealed microphone which Lord Moron had installed. +</p> + +<p> +It was a pleasant room, low-roofed and long, and ran from the wall of +the reception-room at the front of the house to a small conservatory +which hid the ugliness of the tiny courtyard at the back. Every wall +was covered with bookshelves, and there were, in addition, more than a +dozen big filing cabinets in which the countess had accumulated, and +carefully docketed, the little souvenirs which had come to her in the +course of her life; theatre programmes, newspaper cuttings, +correspondence which most people would not have thought worth +preserving. But Lady Moron was a methodical woman and had a horror of +waste. This she told the girl when she introduced her to the room. +</p> + +<p> +Left alone, Lois made a careful inspection of the library, without, +however, discovering the hidden receiver or its wiring. She noticed +that one section of the bookcase was covered by a strong door, covered +with fine wire mesh, through which the titles could be seen; and +studying these in the ample leisure she had, she was more than a +little surprised at the precautions taken to prevent casual reading of +this forbidden library. The books were of the most innocuous type, and +she surmised that there had been a time when this section held +literature less innocent. +</p> + +<p> +She had finished her work and was browsing about the books, taking +down one after the other and glancing at their contents, when Braime +came in. One glance at the man told her that something unusual had +happened. His face was twitching, and he was evidently labouring under +the stress of great excitement which he had not succeeded wholly in +suppressing. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you go to the dining-room, miss? There’s a gentleman wishes to +see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“A gentleman? Who is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know his name,” said the man, “but if he’s not there, will +you wait for him?” +</p> + +<p> +“But who is it, Braime? Didn’t he give his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, miss.” The hands clasped before him were trembling, his eyes held +a strange light. +</p> + +<p> +“In the dining-room?” she said as she went out. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, miss.” +</p> + +<p> +To her surprise, when she looked round, she found he had not +accompanied her. The dining-room was empty, except for Jean, her maid. +The girl was engaged in dusting, and seemed surprised at the arrival +of Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“Braime told me a gentleman was waiting to see me?” +</p> + +<p> +Jean shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know anything about a gentleman, miss, but I do know one +thing,” she said viciously. “<i>He’s</i> no gentleman. I caught him coming +out of the countess’ room just now and I’m going to tell her ladyship. +A sneaking, prying——” +</p> + +<p> +“Please find out who it is wishes to see me,” said the puzzled girl. +“Perhaps he is in the hall.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean went out, but returned in a few minutes, shaking her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody is there, miss. Thomas, the footman, says that there have been +no callers since Dr. Tappatt left. Mr. Praye is with her ladyship in +the drawing-room.” +</p> + +<p> +What did this mean? Lois frowned. Braime’s story was obviously an +excuse to get her out of the room. She hurried back to the library. +The door was closed and she threw it open. +</p> + +<p> +“Braime——” she began, and then stopped and said no more. +</p> + +<p> +The butler lay on his back in the middle of the floor, a silent, +motionless figure, a look of agony on his white face, his lips +distorted in a grimace of agony. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch16"> +Chapter Sixteen +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Her</span> first impulse was to fly, her second, more merciful, was to run +to his side, and, kneeling down, loosen his collar. Was he dead? There +was no sign of life or sound of breath. The hands, upraised, as though +to clutch an invisible enemy, were stiff and rigid. +</p> + +<p> +She flew out of the door and called the maid. +</p> + +<p> +“Telephone for a doctor, please. Braime is ill,” she said +breathlessly, and rushed up the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Moron was deep in conversation with her visitor, but at the sight +of the girl she came hurriedly across the room. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she asked in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Braime,” said Lois breathlessly. “I think he’s dead!” +</p> + +<p> +The countess followed her down the stairs at a pace which Lois did not +think was possible for so heavy a woman. For a moment she stood in the +doorway, surveying the silent man. +</p> + +<p> +“This is not for you to see,” she said gently, and, pushing the girl +back into the passage, closed the door. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she came out. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid he’s dead. Tell me what happened. Or first ring through to +the Limbo Club for Dr. Tappatt.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois told her that she had already given an order for a doctor to be +called, and her instructions were fulfilled more efficiently than she +had supposed. For Jean had rung the Virginia Hospital, which is within +a hundred yards of Chester Square, and even while they were talking in +the passage there came the clang of an ambulance bell, and the footman +hurried to open the door. +</p> + +<p> +The youthful house surgeon who had accompanied the ambulance made a +brief examination of the prostrate figure and was obviously puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +“Was this man subject to fits?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not aware that he was. He has been quite well since he has been +in my employ,” said Lady Moron. +</p> + +<p> +Lois, who had been attracted to the room, was looking down fearfully +at the still figure. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no wound of any kind that I can see,” said the doctor, +peering through his spectacles. “I will have the attendants in and +we’ll rush him to the hospital.” +</p> + +<p> +He went back to the hall and signalled for his assistants, and a +stretcher, withdrawn from the ambulance, was brought into the library. +</p> + +<p> +And then, as they were about to lift the man on to the canvas, there +came the sound of running footsteps in the hall and a man burst +violently into the room. He was hot and hatless and stood breathing +heavily in the doorway, looking from one to another. Presently his +gaze fell upon Lois. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God!” he said shakily. +</p> + +<p> +Then, with two strides, he was by the side of the prostrate figure. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you a doctor?” began Lady Moron. +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Michael Dorn—a name probably unknown to your ladyship,” +said Dorn brusquely. +</p> + +<p> +His keen eyes searched the room. Rising, he lifted a china bowl filled +with roses, swept the flowers on to the floor, and dashed the water +into the man’s face. Ripping off the collar of the man he knelt over +Braime’s head and drew up the stiff arms, pressing them back again to +the body. Lois watched him in bewilderment. He was applying the +restorative methods which are used for people who are partially +drowned. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you a doctor?” asked the young surgeon, a little irritably. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Michael, without ceasing his work. +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask what you think you’re doing with this man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Saving his life,” was the brief reply. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Moron turned at that moment. She had heard the voice of her son +in the hall, and, sweeping out of the room, she intercepted him. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want, Selwyn?” she asked coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“Something’s happened in the library. They say old Braime’s got a fit +or something—thought I might be useful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go back to your study, please, Selwyn,” said her ladyship. “I will +not have you excited over these matters.” +</p> + +<p> +“But dash it all——” began his lordship, but the look in his mother’s +eyes silenced him, and he grumbled his way back to his den. +</p> + +<p> +The countess waited until he was out of sight, and then came back to +the little party that was watching Michael Dorn and his seemingly +futile efforts. A few minutes passed, and then: +</p> + +<p> +“I really think this man should be taken to the hospital, +Mr.—er—Dorn.” +</p> + +<p> +Lady Moron’s visitor had by now joined the group. Chesney Praye had +witnessed the arrival of the detective and had thought it wise not to +offer his advice. But now, morally strengthened by the presence of the +countess, he added his voice to the argument. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re probably killing that man, Dorn. Let him go to the hospital, +where he’ll be properly attended to.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael made no reply. The perspiration was pouring down his face; he +stopped only to strip off his coat before he resumed his work. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you’re a better doctor than you are a detective,” said +Chesney, nettled by Dorn’s attitude. +</p> + +<p> +“In the present case, I am as good a doctor as you are an embezzler,” +said Dorn, without turning his head. “And, in any circumstances, I am +a better detective than you are a crook. He’s reviving.” +</p> + +<p> +To Lois’ amazement, Braime’s eyelids were flickering. She saw the +slow, unaided movement of his chest. +</p> + +<p> +“I think he’ll do now,” said Dorn, getting up and wiping his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you a detective?” It was the doctor who asked the question. +</p> + +<p> +“Sort of a one,” said Michael with a smile. “I think you’d better get +him into hospital as soon as you can, doctor. Please forgive me for +butting in, but I have had a case like this before.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” demanded the puzzled medico, as the butler was lifted on +to the stretcher and carried from the room. “I thought it was a stroke +of some kind.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was a stroke of a pretty bad kind,” said Michael grimly. +</p> + +<p> +He did not attempt to follow the ambulance party, but, putting on his +coat, he strolled round the room on what appeared to be a tour of +inspection. He examined the ceiling, the floor, and ran his eye over +the library table. +</p> + +<p> +“He fell six feet from the table, didn’t he?” he mused. He pointed to +the patch of water that had discoloured the carpet. “Do you mind +telling me where his feet were? He had been moved when I came in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lady Moron would prefer to discuss that matter with the police when +they arrive,” snapped Chesney Praye. “You’ve no right whatever to be +here, you know that, Dorn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will somebody tell me where his feet were?” +</p> + +<p> +It was Lois who pointed. +</p> + +<p> +“He was lying across the room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course—yes.” The puzzled Dorn stroked his chin. “You weren’t here +when it happened, I suppose, Miss Reddle?” +</p> + +<p> +“I forbid you to answer any questions,” said the countess in her most +ponderous manner. “And I completely agree with Mr. Praye that this is +not a matter for outsiders. Do you suggest the man was assaulted?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suggest nothing,” said Dorn, and again his eyes sought Lois +Reddle’s. “You have quite a lot of accidents in this house, don’t you, +Miss Reddle?” he asked pleasantly. “If I were you, I think I’d go back +to Charlotte Street; you’ll be safer. When I saw the ambulance at the +door I must confess that I nearly died of heart failure. I thought you +were the interesting subject.” +</p> + +<p> +Her ladyship walked to the door and opened it a little wider. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you please go, Mr. Dorn? Your presence is unwelcome, and your +suggestion that any person in this house is in the slightest danger is +most offensive to me”—she looked at Praye—“and to my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then your ladyship should change your friend,” said Dorn +good-naturedly, “and, lest you should think that the fine feelings of +Mr. Chesney Praye are lacerated by my suggestion, I will relieve your +mind. There are only two things that annoy Chesney, and they are to +lose money he has and to be thwarted in any attempt to get money which +doesn’t belong to him. Can I speak with you alone, Miss Reddle?” +</p> + +<p> +“I forbid——” began the countess. +</p> + +<p> +“May I?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois hesitated, nodded, and preceded him from the room. +</p> + +<p> +It was in the hall, deserted even by the footman, that he spoke his +mind. +</p> + +<p> +“I confess I didn’t expect the succession of accidents which have +followed one another at such close intervals since you have been in +this house,” he said. “I only consented to your coming here at all +because I thought that——” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>You</i> consented?” Her eyes opened wide. She flushed with sudden +anger. “Does it occur to you, Mr. Dorn, that I do not require your +consent?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry.” He was humility itself. “I am on the wrong track, but my +nerves are a little jangled. What I wanted to say was that I ought to +have known, after you received those poisoned chocolates——” +</p> + +<p> +She went pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Poisoned?” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course they were poisoned. Hydrocyanic acid. Why did you think I +came into your room that night to get them away? I came with my heart +in my mouth as I did a few minutes ago, expecting to find you dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you so—so interested in me?” she asked, but he evaded the +question. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you leave this house to-day and go back to Charlotte Street?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t until to-morrow. I’ve promised Lady Moron that I would stay +with her until then, and I’m sure, Mr. Dorn, that you’re mistaken. Who +would send me poisoned chocolates?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who would try to run you down with a car?” he countered. “Look at +this.” He put his hand in his waistcoat pocket and took out a little +roll of cloth. “Do you recognise this stuff?” +</p> + +<p> +Her mouth opened in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that is a piece of my skirt that was cut out when the car——” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly, and I found it hanging on the car. The people who garaged it +were in such a hurry that they didn’t attempt to examine or to clean +the machine.” +</p> + +<p> +“But who—who is this enemy of mine?” she asked in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Some day I will tell you his name. I think I have already told you +too much, and made myself just a little bit too conspicuous. My only +hope is that the knowledge that I am around will scare them. You can’t +leave to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it is impossible,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“All right.” He glanced past her to Lady Moron, who was standing at +the door of the library, deeply engaged in conversation with Chesney +Praye. Presently he caught the eye of the red-faced man. “I want you, +Praye.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked out of the house, waiting on the sidewalk for Chesney to +join him. +</p> + +<p> +“Now see here, Dorn——” began the other loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“Lower your voice. I am not deaf. And, anyway, there’s no call for you +to talk at all. Understand that. I’ve been to the India Office this +morning, and sounded the Secretary. There will be no difficulty in +getting a warrant for you in connection with that Delhi business if I +take a little trouble. Let fact Number One sink into your mind. The +second is this; if any harm comes to this girl Reddle—and I can trace +your strong right hand in the matter—I’ll follow you through nine +kinds of hell and catch you. Absorb that.” And with a nod, he turned +and walked away, leaving the man speechless with rage and fear. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch17"> +Chapter Seventeen +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Lois</span> thought it was kind of Lady Moron to give her the afternoon and +evening to herself. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, I’ll be glad to get rid of you,” said her ladyship frankly. +“That wretched man Dorn has quite upset me, and I’m not going to visit +my resentment on you. Go away for a few hours and begin to forget that +there is such a place as 307 Chester Square. And if you feel you’d +like to go to a theatre later, please do so. I will leave instructions +for the night footman to wait up for you. I have just heard from the +hospital that Braime is quite conscious and perhaps he will give us an +account of the mysterious happening. I’ve had the library searched, +and I’ve not found anything to account for his extraordinary seizure. +I doubt even whether the clever Mr. Dorn will be any more successful,” +she added, without evidence of malice. +</p> + +<p> +Lois was glad to get away, and her first thought was to acquaint her +friend with what had happened. She made her way to Bedford Row, and as +she reached that familiar thoroughfare, she saw the ancient Ford at +the door and Mr. Shaddles pulling on his gloves preparatory to +departure. +</p> + +<p> +He lived in Hampstead, and was invariably the first and last user of +the old machine. His glare was distinctly unfriendly as she mounted +the steps. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” he asked. “You’ve come back, have you? Tired of your job, eh? +I never thought you’d be much good as a private secretary.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not tired of it, but I’m leaving,” she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Young people must have change,” deplored Mr. Shaddles. “It is the +cursed unrest of the age. How long were you with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some years, Mr. Shaddles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Two years, nine months, and seven days,” he said rapidly. “That seems +like eternity, I suppose, young woman? To me it is”—he snapped his +fingers—“yesterday! I brought you down from Leith, didn’t I? One of +my clients mentioned you, and I gave you your chance, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said, wondering why he had grown so unexpectedly +reminiscent. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” He looked up at the sky as though for inspiration, or +applause—she wasn’t quite sure which. “You’ll want to come back to +your old job, I suppose?” And without waiting for her reply, “Well, +you can start to-morrow. I’ll give you three pounds a week, and you +can start to-morrow morning at half-past eight.” He laid special +emphasis on the last words. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Mr. Shaddles,” said the dazed girl, “that is awfully kind of +you—most kind. I’d love to come, but I can’t come to-morrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Half-past eight to-morrow morning,” he blinked at her. “Don’t keep +me, I’m in a hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +He went down the steps, mounted his car, and she stood watching him +until he was one with the traffic in Theobalds Road. +</p> + +<p> +So great was the shock of the lawyer’s generosity that this was the +first news she told the sceptical Lizzy. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s been something strange about him for the last two days,” +decided that young lady. “Softening of the brain, I think. He didn’t +mention about putting up my salary? Maybe he’s not so far gone as +that. I shouldn’t take too much notice; he’ll probably change his mind +to-morrow. Three pounds a week? He must be mad! I’ll bet he’ll come +down to the office in the morning in his pyjamas, playing a cornet, +and calling himself Julius Cæsar.” +</p> + +<p> +The clerks had gone; Lizzy was alone in her office; she had stayed +behind to type an interminable memorandum of association, which was +never finished after Lois had told the story of what had happened at +the house that day. +</p> + +<p> +“I think Mike’s right,” said Lizzy, nodding vigorously. “That house is +too full of tricks. I hate the idea of leaving Selwyn——” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean Lord Moron?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s Selwyn to me,” said Lizzy calmly. “I’m going to the pictures +with him to-morrow night. He’s a nice boy, that. What he wants is a +mother’s care and he’s never had it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you’re going to be the mother?” Lois laughed, and then, +seriously: “I can’t leave at once. You must please yourself what you +do. I promised Lady Moron I would stay.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy pulled a long face. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t desert you, but I’ll tell you straight, that I’d rather sleep +on the top shelf of a mortuary than at Chester Square to-night. I’ll +go with you, but I’m doing you a favour. Put it down in your book. As +to old Shaddles he’ll be in charge of a keeper to-morrow. If anybody +else but you had told me about that three pounds a week business, I’d +have known they were lying. And now, what do you say to coming back to +Charlotte Street and pretending we are poor again?” +</p> + +<p> +To Lois there could have been no more attractive way of spending the +evening. The old room with its shabby furniture, its faded chintzes, +was home; and even the squalling of playing children in the street had +a special charm which Lois had never observed before. +</p> + +<p> +There was too a welcome awaiting them. Old Mackenzie saw them through +the window of his room and came down to greet them in the passage. He +was pathetically disappointed when he learnt they were not staying the +night, but cheered up after Lizzy told him their plans. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us ask him up to dinner,” said Lois, as she sat on the kitchen +table, watching the girl manipulating the frying-pan. +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy nodded. She was a thought distrait, and later Lois learnt the +reason. +</p> + +<p> +“If I’d had any sense, I’d have asked Selwyn to drop in, and he’d have +come,” she said. “He’s democratic—one of the best mixers I’ve ever +met. He told me last night, when you went out to get a handkerchief, +that he felt thoroughly at home with me, and that I was the first girl +he’d ever felt at home with all his life. That’s something for an earl +to say, knowing that I’m a thirty-five bob a week key-shifter.” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice trembled slightly and Lois regarded her with a new interest. +She had been acquainted with Lizzy for many years and had never known +her so emotional. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s never had a mother’s care, that boy,” she said again, her voice +shaking. +</p> + +<p> +Lois charitably overlooked the fact that the boy in question was +somewhere in the region of thirty-five. +</p> + +<p> +“That woman hasn’t got any more sympathy with Selwyn than I’ve got +with her. She’s got a heart like a bit of flint, she’s——” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Mackenzie will be a poor substitute for your Selwyn, but shall we +have him up?” asked Lois again. +</p> + +<p> +“Yell for him,” was the terse reply. +</p> + +<p> +In many ways Mr. Mackenzie was a more entertaining guest than Lizzy +had hoped. In the first place he was very interested in her account of +the Morons’ house and daily life, for it was Lizzy who spoke as an +authority on the subject, appealing only occasionally to Lois for +confirmation. +</p> + +<p> +“Silk curtains? Really!” said Mr. Mackenzie, impressed. +</p> + +<p> +“And satin ones,” said Lizzy recklessly. “At least, they look like +satin. And silver mountings everywhere. And real marble walls in the +bathroom. Am I right, Lois? And a silver fire-grate in the +drawing-room.” +</p> + +<p> +Old Mackenzie sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“It must be very gran’ to live amidst such surroundings,” he said, +“though I never envy any man or woman. And the countess is a charming +lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t call her that,” said Lizzy. “She’s all right up to a +point. She’s a bad mother but a good scout, if you understand me.” +</p> + +<p> +“She has young children?” Mr. Mackenzie was interested. +</p> + +<p> +“He is not exactly young,” Lizzy was careful to explain, “he’s a young +man in what you might term the first prime of life. No, he’s not at +school,” she snapped to the unfortunate question. “He’s a wonderful +man. Selwyn wants to be an actor, and why his mother doesn’t let him +go on the stage is a wonder to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Again Mr. Mackenzie sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a bad life, the stage. I think I have told you young ladies +before, all my sorrow and troubles come from my association with the +stage.” And he went on disjointedly: “She was a bonny girl, with a +beautiful figure and a face like a—a——” +</p> + +<p> +“Angel?” suggested Lizzy, pausing with uplifted fork. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Madonna’ was the word I wanted. To me it is still a matter of wonder +that she ever looked at me, let alone accepted my humble suit. But at +that time, of course, I was in a very good position. Some of my comic +operas were being played. I had a considerable sum of money which, +fortunately, I invested in house property, and she was a +little—er—extravagant—yes, that’s the word, she was a little +extravagant. It was perhaps my fault.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a long silence while he ruminated, his chin bent on his +chest, his eyes fixed upon the table-cloth. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was my fault. I told my dear friend Shaddles, when he +suggested a divorce——” +</p> + +<p> +“Shaddles?” squeaked Lizzy. “You don’t know that old—that gentleman, +do you?” +</p> + +<p> +Mackenzie looked at her in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Mr. Shaddles is my lawyer. That is how I came to have the good +fortune to secure you as my tenants. You remember Mr. Shaddles +recommended my little house?” +</p> + +<p> +“Shaddles! Good Lord!” said Lizzy, pushing back her plate. “I don’t +think I could ever have slept in my bed if I’d known!” +</p> + +<p> +“He is a good man, a true man, and a friend,” said Mr. Mackenzie +soberly. +</p> + +<p> +“And he’s a mean old skinflint,” said Lizzy, despite Lois’ warning +glance. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a wee bit near,” admitted Mr. Mackenzie. “But then, some lawyers +get that way. His father was like that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he ever have a father?” asked Lizzy, with assumed surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“His father and his father’s father were the same way. But the +Shaddles are great lawyers, and they’ve managed great estates. They’ve +been lawyers to the Moron family for hundreds of years.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know the Morons then?” asked Lois. +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot say that I know them. I know of them. The old earl, the +father of the present boy, I have seen once. He lived abroad for many +years, and was—weel, I’ll no’ call him bad, but he was a gay man by +all accounts. And a scandalous liver. Willie, his son, was a fine boy, +but he died. Selwyn, the younger son by the second wife, must be the +lad to whom you’re referring.” +</p> + +<p> +Even Lizzy was impressed by the old man’s knowledge of the Morons’ +genealogical tree. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a good thing for the family that they have this fine boy, +Selwyn; though, if her ladyship had a daughter, she would succeed to +the title, the Morons being one of those families where a woman +succeeds failing a male heir.” +</p> + +<p> +After dinner was cleared away he brought up his violin and played for +half an hour; and Lizzy, whose respect for the musician seemed to have +taken an upward curve, tolerated the performance with admirable +fortitude. +</p> + +<p> +The evening passed all too quickly, and at ten o’clock Lois looked at +her watch and the two girls exchanged glances. Lizzy rose with a +shiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Back to the house of fate,” she said dramatically. “And thank heaven +this is the last night we shall sleep there!” +</p> + +<p> +She could not guess that neither Lois Reddle nor she would ever pass +into that house of fate again! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch18"> +Chapter Eighteen +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">At</span> five o’clock that afternoon there was a great thudding of doors +and snapping of keys in Telsbury Prison. The evening meal-hour was +over. The last visit had been paid by the chief wardress. Laundries, +cook-houses, and workshops had been locked up by the officers +responsible, and the five halls, that ran, star-shaped, from the +common centre, were deserted except for the wardress on duty at the +desk, who was reading the letters which had come addressed to the +prisoners and which would be delivered to them in the morning. She +worked with the sure eye and hand of an expert, using her blue pencil +to cover up such items of general news as convicts are not allowed to +receive. +</p> + +<p> +So engaged, she heard the burr of a “call,” and, looking round, saw +that the red disc had fallen over one of the hundred apertures in the +indicator. She put down her pencil, walked along the hall, and, +stopping before a cell, inserted her key and pulled the door open. +</p> + +<p> +The woman who rose from her bed did not wear the prison livery. +Instead, she was dressed in a dark blue costume; her hat and coat lay +on the bed and on top a pair of new gloves. In one corner of the cell +was a small Gladstone bag and an umbrella. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to trouble you, madam,” said the prisoner nervously, “but +I wondered if they had forgotten, if——” Her voice shook and she +found it difficult to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“They haven’t forgotten, Mrs. Pinder,” said the wardress calmly. “The +officer should not have put the lock on you.” She pushed the door open +wide. “If you feel lonely come out and sit with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said the woman gratefully, and the official saw that she +was very near to tears. “Only the governor told me that he had +telegraphed to my friends. There has been no reply?” +</p> + +<p> +“There wouldn’t be,” said the tactful wardress. “They will be here +very soon. Probably they think that you would prefer to wait.” She +laughed. “Usually prisoners are discharged in the morning, but the +Home Office allowed the governor to use his discretion in letting you +out over-night. I don’t think I should worry, Mrs. Pinder.” +</p> + +<p> +She waited at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Come out when you want,” she said good-humouredly. “There’s the whole +hall to walk in and the lock is on, so you won’t be seen by any of the +women.” +</p> + +<p> +Mary Pinder came slowly into the wide hall and looked along the +familiar vista of small black doors, tier upon tier, at the big window +at the end of the hall through which the light of the evening sun was +shining. For the first time in twenty years she was free of restraint, +could walk without observation, and soon would pass through that +steel-barred grille into God’s sweet air and into a world of free +people. +</p> + +<p> +She checked the sobbing sigh that came, and, her hands tightly clasped +together, stood motionless, thinking. She dared not believe the story +she had been told; dared not let her mind rest upon what happiness lay +beyond the bars. +</p> + +<p> +The wardress had gone back to the desk and her occupation, and the +woman watched her wistfully. She was in contact with the world; had a +husband perhaps, and children, outside these red walls. Mary Pinder +had been cut off from life and human companionship for nearly twenty +years. Outside the world rolled on; men had risen and fallen, there +had been wars and periods of national rejoicing; but here, in this +shadowy place, life had been grey, without relief, and even pain had +become a monotony. +</p> + +<p> +She walked timidly towards the officer and sat down in a chair near +her. The wardress stopped her work to smile encouragingly, and then +laid down her pencil again. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you’re going to forget this place, Mrs. Pinder?” +</p> + +<p> +The other shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t think it were possible—to forget,” she said. “It is +life, most of the life I have known. I was eighteen when I came here +first; twenty-three when I was transferred to Aylesbury, and thirty +when I came back. I have little else to remember,” she said simply. +</p> + +<p> +The woman looked at her curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re the only prisoner I’ve ever known that I had any faith in, +Mrs. Pinder,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Mary Pinder leant forward eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“You believe that I was innocent?” And, when the woman nodded: “Thank +you. I—I wish I had known that somebody believed that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I had told you,” said the wardress briefly. Then, as the sound +of a turning key came to her: “Here comes somebody who thinks you were +innocent, at any rate,” she said, and rose to meet the governor. +</p> + +<p> +“All dressed and ready, eh?” said he cheerfully. “You’re a lucky +woman! I wish to heaven I were free of this wretched place. But I am a +prisoner here until I die!” +</p> + +<p> +It was a stock joke of his and the woman smiled, as he took her arm +and paced with her along the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Your friends will not be here until ten o’clock. I’ve just had a +wire. They thought you’d rather leave after dark. Do you know where +you’re going?” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t any idea,” she said. “The address I gave you will always +find me.” And then, in a changed tone: “Doctor, I wasn’t dreaming that +you told me about—about——” +</p> + +<p> +“That young lady who saw you? No, it is a most amazing coincidence. If +I’d had any brains I should have known, the moment I saw how upset she +was, that she was the girl with the branded arm.” +</p> + +<p> +“My daughter!” she breathed. “Oh God, how wonderful! How wonderful!” +</p> + +<p> +“They didn’t want to let you know. They were afraid of the effect it +might have upon you. She’s a pretty girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s lovely,” breathed Mary Pinder. “She’s lovely! And does she +know?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“She knew that day she was in my room, when I told her about Lois +Margeritta. If there’s any doubt about it the letter I had from the +Under-Secretary should set your mind at rest. She went to see him with +the idea of getting further particulars about the—about the crime you +were charged with committing. Mrs. Pinder, will you tell me +something?” He dropped her arm and faced her. “I am an old man and +haven’t a very long time to live, and I’ve lost most of the little +faith in human nature I ever possessed. Were you innocent?” He paused. +“Were you innocent or guilty?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was innocent.” She raised her eyes fearlessly to his. “What I have +told you has been the truth. I went out to look for work, and when I +came back I was arrested.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about your husband? Where was he?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“He was dead,” she said simply. “I didn’t know then, but I have learnt +since. Doctor, do you believe that?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded silently. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been wonderful to me, sir,” she said in a low sweet voice. “I +wish I could repay you for your kindness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you can,” he said in his gruff way. “When you get out into the +world, you’re bound to meet some poor women who will suggest that you +have your hair dyed red—don’t do it.” +</p> + +<p> +He found an especial pleasure in the soft laughter that his jest +evoked. +</p> + +<p> +“And now you can come along and dine with my wife and me,” he said. +“The only satisfaction I’ve ever got out of having a house within the +prison walls.” +</p> + +<p> +At five minutes past ten that night a small saloon motor-car drew up +before the gates of Telsbury Prison and the driver got down and pulled +the bell. He was challenged, as usual, from the wicket. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve called to take away Mrs. Pinder,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better come in and see the governor.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d rather stay.” The driver lit a cigarette and paced to and fro to +kill the time. But he had not long to wait; five minutes after, the +little wicket-gate swung open and a woman stepped out. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that Mrs. Pinder?” asked the man in a voice little above a +whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is I.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me take your bag.” +</p> + +<p> +He opened the door of the car, pushed the bag inside and put out his +hand to help her enter. Then, swinging into the driver’s seat, he +closed both doors and sent the car spinning along the London road. In +the shadow of the prison-gate the doctor watched the departure, and +turned back with a sigh towards his office. Telsbury Prison had lost +something of its interest with the passing of one whom the newspapers +had described as “The Hereford Murderess.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch19"> +Chapter Nineteen +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Lois Reddle</span> was in no mood to return to Chester Square; but she was +less willing to break faith with the woman whom she was beginning to +dislike, and debated the question, she and Lizzy, on the Charlotte +Street doorstep. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s stay,” urged Lizzy. “At any rate, don’t let’s go back yet. We +shan’t see anything of Selwyn. Besides, remember what Mike said.” +</p> + +<p> +“What Mike said means nothing to me—if by ‘Mike’ you mean Michael +Dorn,” said Lois quietly. “We must go back, Lizzy—I’ve promised.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy groaned. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, these honourable people—you make my head ache! Well, don’t let’s +go back yet,” she urged. “The old lady said you could stay out to do +a theatre. What’s the hurry?” +</p> + +<p> +Again Lois hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“No, we’ll go back now,” she said firmly. +</p> + +<p> +She looked across the road. An idler was standing with his back to the +railings and she knew at once that it was not Dorn. No sooner had they +moved towards Oxford Street than the lounger was galvanised to life +and followed at a slow pace on their trail. Once Lois looked back; the +man was following them. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us turn round to the right,” she said. “I’m almost sure we are +being followed.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will keep to the main street,” said the intelligent Lizzy. “I +prefer being followed that way.” +</p> + +<p> +They reached Oxford Street, and crossed the road, the shadow coming +after them at a respectful distance. +</p> + +<p> +“Try Regent Street,” said Lizzy, “and when we get a little way down +we’ll cross the road and come back on the other side. Then we’ll be +sure.” +</p> + +<p> +The movements of the man, when this manœuvre was completed, left no +doubt. He, too, crossed the road and came back with them, and, when +they boarded a westward bound ’bus, Lois saw him call a cab, which +kept behind them all the way. +</p> + +<p> +“If I thought it was Mike, I’d go back and give him a bit of my mind,” +said Lizzy. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not he,” Lois assured her. “Mr. Dorn is not so tall and he’s +smarter looking.” +</p> + +<p> +They got out of the ’bus near Victoria, and, as they hurried across +the road, Lois saw that the cab had stopped and the man was getting +out. Surely enough, by the time they had plunged into silent +Belgravia, he was on their heels. He never attempted to overtake them, +showed not the slightest inclination to be any nearer to them than he +was. If they dawdled, he slackened his pace; when they hurried, his +stride lengthened. Then suddenly, ahead of them, Lois saw Michael +Dorn. He stood squarely in the middle of the pavement and it was +impossible to avoid him. +</p> + +<p> +“I want a word with you, Miss Reddle,” he said. “You’re not going back +to Lady Moron’s?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is just what I am doing,” said Lois quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“That is just what you’re not doing,” he said firmly. “Miss Reddle, +I’ve rendered you many services. I would like you to do something for +me in exchange.” He seemed momentarily at a loss for words. “And I +have a personal interest. I don’t suppose you like me very much, and, +anyway, that doesn’t count in the argument. But I like you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“You can afford to be sarcastic—I do not complain of that; but I am +telling you the plain, naked truth. I like you as any decent man would +like a girl of your character and——” +</p> + +<p> +“Sweetness,” suggested Lizzy, an interested audience. +</p> + +<p> +“That is a very good word,” said Dorn with a faint smile. “But because +of this personal interest and—liking—I realise I’m being very lame +and unconvincing, but I’m rather a fool in my dealings with women—I +want you to go back to Charlotte Street.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I quite understand that you are disinterested,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not,” he interrupted. “I’m too interested in you to be +disinterested.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, in spite of that, or because of that, I am staying with Lady +Moron to-night. To-morrow we are leaving, Miss Smith and I, and are +returning to Charlotte Street.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are returning to Charlotte Street to-night,” he said, almost +harshly, and she stiffened. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” she demanded coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean just what I say. I will not have you stay in this devil house +another night. Won’t you be persuaded, Miss Reddle?” he pleaded. “You +don’t imagine for one moment that this is a caprice on my part? Or +that I have any unreasoning prejudice against Lady Moron and her son? +I beg of you not to go to that house to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you give me any reason?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“You must trust me, and believe that I have a very excellent reason, +even though I can’t for the moment disclose it. That is, unless you +see some reason yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t,” she said. “There have been a number of accidents; do you +suggest Lady Moron is responsible?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suggest nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll say good-night,” she said, and was passing on; but he +barred her way, and at that moment he must have signalled to the dark +figure in the background, for the tall man came forward. +</p> + +<p> +“This is Sergeant Lighton, of the Criminal Investigation Department,” +he said, and then indicated the girl: “This is Lois Reddle. I charge +her with being concerned in the attempted murder of John Braime!” +</p> + +<p> +The girl listened, thunderstruck, rooted to the spot. +</p> + +<p> +“You charge me?” she said in horror. “But, Mr. Dorn——” +</p> + +<p> +Michael Dorn made a signal, and the tall man caught Lois gently by the +arm. Within half an hour of the prison gate opening for her mother, a +cell door in a mundane police station closed upon her daughter. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch20"> +Chapter Twenty +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">And</span> that’s that!” said Michael Dorn lugubriously, as he left the +police station in company with the tall officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Lighton, I’m going to catch a real thief now, if my theories are +sound. And my main theory has something to do with an envelope which I +begged from a clerk at the Home Office to-day, and which was posted to +my address this afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Letter-box stealing?” asked the other, and Michael did not reply +until he had secured the cab that was crawling on the other side of +the street and they were seated. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us say letter-delaying. I got on to this business owing to the +fact that all the letters that came to me from my stationer and from a +friend of mine in a Government office were unaccountably delayed +twenty-four hours in the post. After giving the matter some thought I +reached the conclusion that this coincidence was due to the fact that +they were both enclosed in blue envelopes.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is Braime?” asked the sergeant. +</p> + +<p> +“Better,” was the reply. “I had a talk with him to-night—he’s had the +shock of his life.” He chuckled softly, though his heart at that +precise moment was aching for the dazed and indignant girl who was +occupying the matron’s room, a large and airy cell, at the Chelsea +police station. +</p> + +<p> +The cab stopped before Hiles Mansions, and the lift-man took them up +to Michael’s cosy flat. There were two or three letters waiting for +him in his letter-box. He took them out and examined them. Then he +went on to the landing and rang for the elevator. +</p> + +<p> +“You brought these letters up?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“What time did they arrive?” +</p> + +<p> +“Half-past nine, sir,” said the man. +</p> + +<p> +“There was a blue envelope posted to me this afternoon at +three-thirty. It’s not here. How do you account for that?” +</p> + +<p> +The liftman looked past him. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure I can’t tell you, sir,” he said, studiously avoiding +Michael’s eyes. “I bring the letters up as they come and put ’em in +your box.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re on duty from nine at night until nine in the morning, aren’t +you?” asked Dorn. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“You handle the morning and the night posts. Why is it that all +letters enclosed in blue envelopes fail to reach me until twenty-four +hours after they are due?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t tell you that, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell this gentleman. He’s a detective from Scotland Yard. And tell +him without hokum, or you’ll sleep uncomfortably to-night, my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +For a while the man blustered and protested and then suddenly +collapsed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got a wife and four children,” he whined, “and there’s an Army +pension I shall lose——” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll lose nothing if you tell me the truth. Who employed you to +stop my letters?” +</p> + +<p> +“A man, sir. I don’t know his name. If I die this minute, I don’t know +his name! He gives me two pounds a week to hold up all the blue +envelopes and the official ones. They’re not stolen, sir, they’re +always put into the letter-box——” +</p> + +<p> +“I know all about that,” interrupted Michael curtly. “You’re wasting +your breath, man. Who is your employer?” +</p> + +<p> +“I swear I don’t know him, sir. I met him at a public-house one night. +He kidded me on to this job. I wish I’d never seen him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does he call for the letters?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, he called this morning after the post came in, but I didn’t +give him the blue envelope because I hadn’t got it then. The postman +overlooked it and came back a quarter of an hour later.” +</p> + +<p> +“The blue envelope? Which blue envelope?” asked Michael quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“It is downstairs, sir,” whimpered the unfaithful servant of Hiles +Mansions. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll go down with you and get it.” +</p> + +<p> +In the lobby below was a small cubby-hutch which served the porters as +an office, and from beneath a stained blotting-pad he drew out two +blue envelopes. +</p> + +<p> +The first Michael recognised as that which he had written himself; the +second he tore open and read, and the detective-sergeant saw his face +change. Thrusting the letter into his pocket, he turned to the +frightened servant. +</p> + +<p> +“What else came for me to-day? Come, across with it, quick!” +</p> + +<p> +Without a word the man put his hand into the pocket of a jacket that +was hanging against the wall and took out a telegram, which had +obviously been opened and reclosed. Michael read it in a fury of +anger. +</p> + +<p> +“Deal with this man,” he said and flew out of the hall, springing on +the first empty taxi he saw. +</p> + +<p> +A run of ten minutes brought him to his garage. Almost before the cab +could turn round, the long black car was running out of London in +defiance of all speed regulations. +</p> + +<p> +Midnight was booming from Telsbury Parish Church when the car shot up +to the entrance of the prison and Michael leapt out and pulled the +bell. +</p> + +<p> +“The governor’s in bed, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must see him at once. This is a matter of life and death. Take my +card to him.” He thrust it through the bars of the grating and waited +impatiently until he was admitted and conducted to the doctor’s house. +</p> + +<p> +The governor, in pyjamas and dressing-gown, was waiting for him in his +small study. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Pinder left at ten o’clock. Didn’t you send down for her?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, I knew nothing whatever about the release. The letter from +the Home Office giving me the information had been held up. Ten +o’clock? Who called for her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, I thought it was you. I saw the car and didn’t trouble +to make enquiries.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know which way they went?” +</p> + +<p> +“They turned towards the London road. The car was a small saloon—a +Buick, I think, with an enclosed drive. Hasn’t she turned up?” +</p> + +<p> +Michael shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, she’s not in London.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no time to be lost. He got into his machine and flew back +along the London road. At the junction of the Telsbury by-road was a +filling station, and he knew that an attendant slept upon the +premises. It was some time before he could get an answer to his +knocking, and then he was rewarded with valuable information. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw the machine pass. It went south, towards Letchford.” +</p> + +<p> +“It didn’t take the London road?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, it turned there.” He pointed. “I could see the rear light +going up over the hill. It was just before I closed down for the +night.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael got back into his car, and, opening out, flew over the hill +and covered the fifteen miles that separated Telsbury from Letchford +in exactly fifteen minutes. Here again he was in luck. One of the town +police had seen the machine; it had taken the westerly road. But +thereafter his fortune failed him, for he came to a place where four +roads met, and there was no trail that could help him determine which +route the unknown driver had chosen. They were not bound for London at +any rate. He tried one road without success; worked across country to +intercept the second, but could meet nobody who had the slightest +information to offer. +</p> + +<p> +At four o’clock in the morning a weary man brought his machine to a +standstill before the Chelsea police station and went slowly up the +steps into the charge-room. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Mr. Dorn!” said the sergeant. “The superintendent’s been +looking for you all night about that charge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what about it?” asked Michael drearily. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s going to be the devil to pay. It appears that the countess +says the girl wasn’t in the room when Braime was hurt. We’ve had a +full statement from her in writing, and the superintendent says he’s +got something to say to you that you won’t forget in a hurry!” +</p> + +<p> +Dorn’s lip went back in an angry snarl. +</p> + +<p> +“If he should say anything that’s worth remembering I’ll go out of +business,” he said. “Anyway, you can release her. I’d like to offer my +apologies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let her out!” laughed the sergeant. “You’re a bit late. She was +released at one o’clock this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Dorn’s eyes narrowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Released at one o’clock this morning?” he said softly. “Did she go +away by herself?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, she did not. A gentleman called for her in a blue Buick.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael Dorn staggered back; his face was drawn and haggard. Of a +sudden he seemed to have grown old. +</p> + +<p> +“The man who released that girl may be an accessory to murder!” he +said. “Tell your superintendent that when you see him!” +</p> + +<p> +And, turning on his heel, he left the charge-room. +</p> + +<p> +The Public Prosecutor’s office opened at ten o’clock, and Michael Dorn +was waiting for him, a dusty, unshaven, grimy figure, when that +official arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Dorn! What is wrong?” he asked, and, in as few words as +possible, the detective explained the position. +</p> + +<p> +The Prosecutor shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“We can do nothing. You haven’t the evidence we want, and no charge +would lie. We’ve given you the freest hand, in view of all the +remarkable circumstances of the case, but I cannot consent to a +warrant for arrest until you bring me proof positive and undeniable.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael Dorn bit his lip thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“In the old days, when they couldn’t get a man to tell the truth, what +did they do with him, Sir Charles?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the other drily, “they tried something with boiling oil +in it! Those were the days when criminal investigation was a little +easier than it is now.” +</p> + +<p> +“No easier.” Michael shook his head. “I’m going to get the truth. I’m +going to find out where they have taken these two women. And the rack +and the thumbscrew will be babies’ toys compared with what I will use +against them! I’ll have the truth if I have to pull Chesney Praye limb +from limb!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch21"> +Chapter Twenty-one +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Lois</span> was wakened from an exhausted sleep by the opening of the cell +door; she got up unsteadily, not quite knowing what she was doing, and +followed the matron to the charge-room, dizzy with sleep, inert from +the very shock of the charge levelled against her. She heard the +desk-sergeant say something, and dimly heard the name of the countess. +And then somebody shook hands with her; she thought it was the +sergeant. And a young man, who had appeared and disappeared in her +focus of vision and had not entered into recognition, took her arm and +led her slowly into the dark street. He jerked open the door of a car, +and, before she knew what was happening, had set the car in motion. +She experienced a pleasant sensation of languor—her head drooped. +</p> + +<p> +It was the bump of her forehead against the driver’s seat that wakened +her. It was nearly daybreak. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +She was uninterested in the identity of the driver, but, as he turned +his head to answer her, she saw that it was the red-faced man, Chesney +Praye. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right, Miss Reddle,” he said, showing his big teeth in a +grin; “I’m taking you down into the country.” +</p> + +<p> +She frowned, trying to remember clearly the events of the night +before. She was still dazed with sleep, then she recalled her arrest +and became wide awake. Before she could ask any further questions, he +was explaining over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Her ladyship thought you’d better be kept out of the way of that +sleuth for a day or two. He’s got a grudge against you, and he’s a +vindictive beast.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Dorn?” she asked. “Why did he arrest me? I knew nothing whatever +about Braime’s injury.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you didn’t,” he said soothingly. “But that was his way of +getting even.” +</p> + +<p> +With whom he was getting even he did not explain, and even to the +girl’s tired brain it seemed a little illogical to suggest that +Michael Dorn had procured her arrest in order to get even either with +Mr. Chesney Praye or the Countess of Moron. +</p> + +<p> +They were passing across the wide slope of a hill. Beneath them she +saw the glitter of a meandering river and the grey smoke rising from +little cottages in the valley. The road was narrow and bumpy and was +little more than a lane. She wondered why he came this way, for down +the hill-side she saw a broader thoroughfare which seemed to be +running more or less parallel with that they traversed. +</p> + +<p> +“We are nearly there.” +</p> + +<p> +They were reaching the mouth of the valley. The lane dipped +unexpectedly into a thick plantation of young trees, turned abruptly +at right angles over a cart track, and five minutes later she sighted +a long discoloured wall, which enclosed a squat, low-roofed building. +She saw that the other side of the house faced a road, and again she +wondered why they had not reached their destination by a more +comfortable route. Evidently she was expected, for the weather-beaten +gate was pulled open and they passed into an untidy farmyard. Half a +dozen chickens scattered at their approach; from a patched and broken +pen came the grunt of a pig. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped the car, and, jumping out into the litter, he jerked open +the door and helped her to alight. The girl looked round in surprise. +She saw a long, rambling farm-house, and of the windows that were in +view, all except two had not been cleaned for years. To her left was a +cavernous black barn, its doors hanging on broken hinges, and, she +guessed, immovable. It was empty save for a rusted old plough and the +wheelless body of a farm waggon. The place smelt of decay and she +noted in that brief survey that at one end of the building the roof +was nearly innocent of tiles. +</p> + +<p> +“This is not on Lady Moron’s estate?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it is a little place that a friend of ours—hers I mean—has. +You’ve met Dr. Tappatt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Tappatt?” she frowned. Of course, it was the queer, uncleanly +doctor, with the bulbous nose, who had lunched at Chester Square. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he here?” she asked dismally. The last person in the world she +wanted to spend a day with was the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he’s here. He’s not a bad fellow; I knew him in India, and I +think you’ll like him.” +</p> + +<p> +They had evidently come in the back way of the farm, for the only +visible door into the house was closed and bolted. He knocked for a +little while before a woman’s harsh voice asked who was there, and in +a little time there was a sound of rusted bolts being drawn and a +tall, gaunt female showed in the doorway. She wore a soiled print +dress; her face was sallow and grimy. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, mister,” she said, and they passed into a dark corridor. +</p> + +<p> +The house smelt damp and sour, and the ancient carpet on the floor was +too thin to deaden the hollow echoes of their footsteps. +</p> + +<p> +“The doctor is here.” She wiped her hands mechanically upon her black +apron, and showed them into a room leading off the passage. +</p> + +<p> +It was a dingy apartment, as unsavoury as the house itself. Huddled in +one corner of a horsehair sofa, before the ashes of a wood fire, a man +was sleeping, wrapped in an old dressing-gown. The air was thick and +redolent of stale smoke and whisky fumes, and the girl drew back in +disgust. +</p> + +<p> +Chesney went past her and shook the sleeping man. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, wake up,” he said roughly. “There’s somebody to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Tappatt’s head jerked up. If he had been unpleasant at midday in +Chester Square, he was repulsive now. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, what?” he grunted. He got up on to his feet and stretched +himself. “I’m tired. I told you I should go to sleep. You said you’d +be here before now. <i>She’s</i> sleeping. I’ll bet she’s got a more +comfortable bed to-night than she’s had for twenty years.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up, damn you!” said Chesney under his breath. “Here’s Miss +Reddle.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor blinked at the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo! Glad to see you, miss. Sorry for you to see me like this, but +I’ve been up all night with—with a patient.” He boomed the last word +as though by its very emphasis it would carry conviction. +</p> + +<p> +“Now listen, Tappatt. There’s a warrant out for this lady, but we’ve +succeeded in getting her away from the police, and she is to remain +here for a few days until her ladyship can square matters.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“A warrant out for me?” she said in amazement. “But you told me that +Dorn had no right to arrest me!” +</p> + +<p> +He smiled and signalled to her to keep silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Has the woman got Miss Reddle’s room ready? She is very tired and +wants to sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, surely,” mumbled the doctor. He held a bottle upside down +over a glass, and a very small trickle of liquid came out, to his +annoyance. “I must have a drink,” he grumbled. “This fever is playing +Old Harry with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Mr. Praye,” said Lois, “I don’t quite understand the position. +Why am I staying here? Where is this place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Near Nottingham,” replied Praye. “And, for heaven’s sake, don’t stray +out of the farm and lose yourself. You’ll be all right; you needn’t be +here longer than a few days, and I assure you that there is no cause +for worry.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at his watch and uttered an impatient exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Miss Reddle’s room ready?” he asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor led the way out along the passage and up a narrow flight of +stairs. On the top landing he unlocked a door and threw it open. +</p> + +<p> +“Here it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m not tired, Mr. Praye; in fact, I was never so wide awake, and +I’d rather stay up, if I could have some tea?” +</p> + +<p> +“You can have anything you like, my child,” said the doctor gallantly. +“Where’s that woman? Hi, you!” he roared down the stairs. “Bring this +lady up some tea, and bring it quick!” +</p> + +<p> +Lois walked into the bedroom. It was poorly furnished but clean. She +had the impression that every article of furniture had been newly +placed. +</p> + +<p> +“This was the room we got ready for the other,” began the doctor, “but +when I heard the young lady was coming——” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney Praye silenced him with a look. +</p> + +<p> +The other? Twice he had made reference to another visitor who had +already arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“That door at the end leads to a bathroom,” said the doctor. “It is +the snuggest little country lodging you could hope to find.” +</p> + +<p> +He closed the door on her and softly turned the key. The two men went +down the stairs together. When they were alone in the doctor’s room: +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Pinder?” asked Chesney Praye. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s all right,” said the other carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s nowhere near this girl?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, she’s in the other wing. She’s easy. Twenty years of prison +discipline behind her. She won’t kick!” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you tell her?” +</p> + +<p> +“The yarn you told me, that somebody wanted to get at her, and she had +to lie here quietly for a day or two. That housekeeper of mine will +look after her, believe me. She had charge of one of my homes in +India.” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney looked at his watch again. +</p> + +<p> +“It is four miles to Whitcomb Aerodrome; you can drive me over.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you take the car?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, you fool, I don’t want the car to be seen. Hurry up!” +</p> + +<p> +In five minutes the doctor had harnessed a raw-boned pony to a +dilapidated trap. The blue car had been driven into a shed and the +door locked, and they were bowling down the road to Whitcomb as fast +as the ancient animal could pull them. A quarter of a mile short of +the aerodrome Chesney got down. +</p> + +<p> +“Those two women are not to meet——” +</p> + +<p> +“They’re not likely,” interrupted the other. +</p> + +<p> +“And you’d better keep to the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about money?” asked the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +Chesney took a pad of notes from his pocket and passed two to the man. +</p> + +<p> +“And try to cut out the booze for the next week. You’ve got a chance +of making big money, Tappatt, but you’ve also got a chance of being +pinched. If Dorn so much as smells the end of the trail, he’s sure to +have you before you realise you’re suspected.” +</p> + +<p> +Tappatt grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“On what charge?” he asked. “They both came of their own free will, +didn’t they? I don’t pretend they’re certified.” +</p> + +<p> +“They may want to go away of their own free will,” said the other +significantly. +</p> + +<p> +He walked rapidly along the road through the big gates of the +aerodrome and crossed the field towards a two-seater scout that had +been drawn out of its hangar and was attended by three men. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning. I’m Mr. Stone,” he said. “Is this my machine?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. You’ve got a good morning for your trip.” +</p> + +<p> +Praye looked at the frail machine dubiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Will that make Paris in one trip?” +</p> + +<p> +The aerodrome manager nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Two hours and fifty minutes,” he said. “Maybe shorter. You’ll have a +following wind.” +</p> + +<p> +He helped the passenger into a heavy leather coat. The pilot had +already taken his place, and, when Praye had been strapped and gloved +and received his final instructions, the propellers turned with a +roar, and the machine, running lightly along the grass, swept up into +the blue sky and was soon a speck of white above the eastern horizon. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch22"> +Chapter Twenty-two +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">When</span> Michael Dorn left the police station he hurried his car to +Charlotte Street. At such an early hour of the morning there was no +sign of life in this thoroughfare. He expected to be kept waiting +before there came an answer to his knocking. But had he known +something of old Mackenzie’s habits, he would not have been surprised +at the promptitude with which his signal was answered. +</p> + +<p> +The old man was in his dressing-gown and had not been half an hour in +bed when Dorn arrived. He looked with mild suspicion at the visitor—a +suspicion which was intensified when he learnt the object of his +visit. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, Miss Elizabetta Smith is in the house. Are you from the +police?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Michael, without stretching the truth. “Can I speak to +Miss Smith?” +</p> + +<p> +“She came in late and very distressed. I understand that the good +countess has promised to do all in her power to secure the release of +my young friend, Miss Reddle. It is indeed an awful thing to have +happened. Will you come in, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +Michael followed him up the stairs to his little room and sat down +whilst the musician went up to arouse Lizzy. She also had heard the +knocking and was waiting in the doorway of her room when Mackenzie +came up. +</p> + +<p> +“Dorn, is it?” she said viciously. “I’ll come down and Dorn him! He’ll +be ‘sunset’ by the time I’ve finished with him!” +</p> + +<p> +She came into Michael’s presence a flaming virago. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got a nerve!” she said. “After swearing away the life of poor +Lois——” +</p> + +<p> +Michael shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s not here?” he interrupted with a touch of asperity. +</p> + +<p> +“Here? Of course she’s not here! She’s in the police station, and how +you could——” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s not in the police station, she’s been released, and I want to +find the man who released her.” +</p> + +<p> +Something in his tone silenced the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t she with Lady Moron?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to Chester Square, but I don’t expect to find Miss Reddle +there. I locked her up to save her life—I suppose you realise that? +There have been two attempts made to kill her, and I had information +that the third would be more successful. I knew her mother was on the +point of being released from prison—she was in fact released last +night. It is vitally necessary that I should have Lois Reddle under my +eye.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy had collapsed into a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Her mother released from prison?” she said hollowly. “What are you +talking about? Her mother’s dead. And killing? Who’s going to kill +Lois? Why! It was an accident—the balcony.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was no accident,” said Michael quietly. “The balcony has been +unsafe for a year past and was condemned by the borough surveyor on +the advice of a local builder who was brought in to repair the slab. +Until Miss Reddle occupied that room in Chester Square the French +windows leading to the balcony had been kept locked up.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“But the servants——” +</p> + +<p> +“The servants were all new. None of them had been longer in the house +than a fortnight. Sergeant Braime came up from Newbury, and even he +knew nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sergeant Braime?” she repeated, wide-eyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Braime is an officer of the Criminal Investigation Department, who +has been in the countess’ household for six months,” was the +staggering reply. “Nobody was allowed to go on to the balcony. A gate +was fixed to prevent the servants from forestalling the plan—it was +removed the night Lois went to her room.” +</p> + +<p> +“By whom?” asked Lizzy quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Michael Dorn shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Who knows? I shall discover later.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Lois now?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is exactly what I want to know. I’m going to Chester Square +right away. Will you come with me?” +</p> + +<p> +She was out of the room in a flash. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Mr. Dorn, this is a terrible thing you say; that any person +should conspire against the life of that innocent lassie!” said old +Mackenzie, horrified. “You will surely find Miss Reddle at the good +countess’ home.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so, but I very much doubt it, Mr. Mackenzie,” said Michael. +</p> + +<p> +The old man’s lips were tremulous. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything I can do? It is not my habit to leave the house, +but I would even take that step——” +</p> + +<p> +Michael shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid you can do nothing, except in the unlikely event of Miss +Reddle returning here. You will see that she does not go out again, +and that she does not receive visitors in any circumstances. I very +much doubt,” he smiled faintly, “whether you will be called upon to +render this help. I can only wish to heaven that you will be!” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy was down in a very short time, dressed for the street, and, as +they drove towards Chester Square, she told him the part she had +played in securing Lois Reddle’s release. +</p> + +<p> +“I went and found the countess; she was at a friend’s house, and told +her about Lois. She was very much upset. I’d never seen her before to +speak to, but she was quite decent to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she have anybody with her? Do you know Chesney Praye?” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’ve heard of him from Lois, but I’ve never seen him.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael described the man and again she shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, he was not there.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did the countess do?” +</p> + +<p> +“She telephoned to somebody and said she was sending a letter to the +police officer in charge. She told me to go home to Charlotte Street +and wait in patience until Lois came back.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“You could rest in patience because she knew that Lois wasn’t going +back to Chester Square!” he said grimly. “And if she hadn’t come back +to Chester Square and you were there waiting for her, you would have +wanted to know where she had been taken.” +</p> + +<p> +The car drew up before 307, and Michael got out and pressed the bell. +There was no reply. He rang again, and followed this up by knocking. +Still there was no answer. Stepping out from under the porch he looked +up at the windows, just as a sash was raised and a tousled head thrust +forth. It was Lord Moron, and apparently he was sleeping on the floor +which was usually given over to the household staff. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo! What’s the trouble, old thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you come down?” called Michael, and the head was withdrawn. +</p> + +<p> +They waited for a longer time than it would have taken for him to +reach the ground floor, before the door opened, and then the +explanation for the delay was unnecessary, for with him the countess +stood in the hall, wrapped in her cloak, a majestic and imposing +figure. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch23"> +Chapter Twenty-three +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">What</span> is the meaning of this?” she demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve come for Lois Reddle,” said Dorn shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“She is not here. I have put her beyond your vindictive reach.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is she?” +</p> + +<p> +“I refuse to make any statement, after your disgraceful conduct last +night in arresting this poor innocent child——” +</p> + +<p> +“You can leave that out, Lady Moron,” said Michael savagely. “Nobody +knows better than you why she was arrested. Where is she?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve sent her away to friends of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“The address?” +</p> + +<p> +The Countess of Moron smiled slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“A very persistent young man,” she said, almost pleasantly. “Will you +come into the library? I cannot speak in this draughty hall. Is that +Miss Smith you have with you? She may come in too.” +</p> + +<p> +“She’ll be safer outside,” said Michael coolly and passed into the +hall. +</p> + +<p> +All this time Selwyn had said nothing, but now he turned to his +mother. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Miss Reddle? Perhaps your ladyship will tell me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall tell you nothing,” was the cold reply. “You may go back to +your room.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be blowed if I’ll go back to my room,” protested Lord Moron. +“There’s something remarkably fishy here, and I want to know just what +the deuce it is all about.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a most heroic speech for him, and Michael, who knew all the +courage that was required to oppose this woman, felt a little glow of +admiration for the bullied man. Even the countess was taken aback. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Selwyn,” she said in a milder voice, “that is not the tone to +adopt towards your mother!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care what it is or what it isn’t,” said Selwyn doggedly. +“There’s something fishy—I’ve always said there was something fishy +about—things. Now, where the deuce is Miss Reddle?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is with some friends of ours in the country,” said her ladyship. +</p> + +<p> +The reply seemed to exhaust his power of resistance. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” he said meekly. +</p> + +<p> +He looked through the open door at Lizzy, smiled and waved his hand at +her, looked back at his mother, and then, visibly bracing himself for +the effort, walked boldly down the steps in his pyjamas and attenuated +dressing-gown to talk to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you satisfied, Mr. Dorn?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am far from satisfied, your ladyship,” said Michael, as he +followed the woman into the library. +</p> + +<p> +He noticed the dull patch on the carpet where the water had been +thrown upon Braime, and saw her eyes also fixed upon the spot. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, Mr. Dorn,” she said, almost amiably, “there is no reason why +we should quarrel. What is this mystery that you are making about Miss +Reddle? The poor girl was beside herself last night. It was an act of +mercy to send her off into the country.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who drove her?” +</p> + +<p> +“My chauffeur.” His keen eyes were fixed upon her, but she did not +falter. +</p> + +<p> +“Not Mr. Chesney Praye by any chance?” he asked softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Praye is in Paris. He has been there some days,” was the +staggering reply. “You’ve found a mare’s nest. Really there is no +mystery at all about anything that has happened to this young lady in +my house. What reason in the world was there for me to engage her, +except my desire to find a comfortable job for a very very nice girl?” +And then: “Is Braime better?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sergeant Braime is much better,” said Michael, and saw that he had +got beneath her guard. +</p> + +<p> +She cringed back as at a blow, and her voice had lost a little of its +assurance when she faltered: +</p> + +<p> +“Sergeant Braime? I am talking about my butler——” +</p> + +<p> +“And I’m talking about Sergeant Braime of the Criminal Investigation +Department, who has been in your service for six months.” +</p> + +<p> +Her mouth was an O of amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“But—but he was recommended to me by——” +</p> + +<p> +“By a spurious Prisoners’ Aid Society,” said Michael. “The idea was +that, if you believed that the man had a criminal record, he had a +better chance of coming into your ladyship’s service.” +</p> + +<p> +She had recovered herself in an instant. +</p> + +<p> +“But why?” she drawled. “Why put a detective in my household? It is an +abominable outrage and I shall report the matter to the Commissioner +of Police immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +He was looking round the room and his eyes rested upon that section of +the bookshelves which was protected by the wire-covered door. +</p> + +<p> +“You have a book there that I should like to see. I intended coming +last night, only something prevented me.” +</p> + +<p> +“A book?” +</p> + +<p> +“A book called <i>The Life of Washington</i>—sounds a fairly innocuous +title, doesn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +She walked to the bookcase, and, taking a key from the drawer of her +desk, opened the wire net cover. +</p> + +<p> +“There it is,” she said. “Read it and be improved.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned to walk to the door and stood there watching him. And then +he did the last thing she expected. From his pocket he took a thick +red glove and drew it on his right hand. Reaching up, he seized the +back of the book and jerked it loose. There was a click, a spark of +blinding white light, but nothing else happened, and he laid the book +with some difficulty on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“A very good imitation,” he said quietly, “but it is less of a book +than a steel box, and any person who attempts to pull it out +automatically makes contact with a very powerful electric current. +Where is the switch?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not reply. Her face, under the powder, was drawn and haggard. +Walking to the door, Michael searched for a while, then, stooping +down, he turned over a big switch that was well concealed by a hanging +portière. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you the key of this box?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not locked,” she said, and, coming to his side, pressed a +spring. The lid sprang open. +</p> + +<p> +The “book” was, as he surmised, hollow. It was also empty. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there a law against having a safe-box made like a book?” she +asked, and her voice was almost sweet. “Does one get into <i>very</i> +serious trouble for protecting one’s property from thieving butlers +and—inquisitive amateur detectives?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a law against murder,” said the other shortly. “If I had +touched that book without rubber gloves, I should have been as near +dead as makes no difference. It did not kill Braime, because he is +constitutionally a giant.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not ask you to take down the book,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Neither did you warn me,” Michael smiled crookedly. “Empty, eh? Of +course, it would be. You suspected Braime, and left a little notebook +around carelessly in your bedroom, in which you made reference to the +<i>Life of Washington</i>. Braime saw it and fell into the trap. He came to +the library, and would have been a dead man if I hadn’t applied first +aid.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all?” asked Lady Moron. +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite all. I want to know where is Miss Reddle?” +</p> + +<p> +“And I’m afraid I cannot tell you. The truth is, when she was released +last night, or in the early hours of this morning, she refused to come +either here or to her house in—wherever her house may be. She said +she wanted to go into the country——” +</p> + +<p> +“And did Mrs. Pinder express a desire to go into the country?” he +asked, his cold eyes fixed on hers. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Pinder? I do not know Mrs. Pinder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did Mrs. Pinder express a desire to go into the country?” he asked +again. He raised a warning finger. “Madam, there is very considerable +trouble coming to you, and to those who work with you.” +</p> + +<p> +She shrugged her broad shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“If it takes any other form than an early morning call by a +melodramatic detective I shall bear it with equanimity,” she said, and +stalked through the doorway into the hall, Michael following. +</p> + +<p> +As she stood aside for him to pass through the door, she saw the +grotesque figure of Selwyn leaning over the side of the car—intently +occupied—and her lips curled. +</p> + +<p> +“My son has found his intellectual level,” she said, and called him by +name. +</p> + +<p> +To Michael’s surprise the young man merely turned his head and resumed +his conversation with the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Selwyn!” +</p> + +<p> +Even then he took his time. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, young lady. Don’t forget”—in a stage whisper—“pork +sausages, not beef. Beef gives me indigestion.” And, waving her an +airy farewell, he went back to the woman whose face was a thundercloud +of wrath. +</p> + +<p> +“It sounded almost as if you were making a date with that young man,” +said Michael as they drove off. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s coming to supper,” said Lizzy. “Was Lois there?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I didn’t expect she would be.” +</p> + +<p> +Even the prospect of a <i>tête-à-tête</i> meal with a scion of the +nobility was not sufficient to compensate for this news. +</p> + +<p> +“But where is she, Mr. Dorn?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s somewhere. I don’t think she’ll come to any harm for a day or +two.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do,” he protested. +</p> + +<p> +She did not take her eyes from him. +</p> + +<p> +“You look nearly dead,” she said. “You’re pretty fond of her, aren’t +you?” +</p> + +<p> +He was startled by the question. +</p> + +<p> +“Fond of Lois?” The question seemed in the nature of a revelation. +“Fond of her—why—I suppose I am.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Michael Dorn realised that he had something more than a +professional interest in the girl he sought, and he was shocked at the +discovery. +</p> + +<p> +He dropped Lizzy Smith in Charlotte Street, and, declining her +invitation to come in, drove home, and, leaving his car in the +courtyard of Hiles Mansions, he dragged himself wearily up to his +room. He was sleeping on the top of his bed when the silent Wills came +in with a telegram in his hand, and, struggling up, he tore open the +cover and read the message. It had been handed in at Paris at eight +o’clock and ran: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +Will you please inform me name of District Commissioner, Karrili, +during period you were in Punjab. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +It was signed “<span class="sc">Chesney Praye</span>, Grand Hotel.” +</p> + +<p> +“An ‘I’m here’ enquiry,” said Michael, handing the telegram to Wills, +“the idea being to establish the fact that he is in Paris at this +moment. Get on the ’phone, Wills, to all the private hire aerodromes +within a radius of a hundred miles of London, find out if anybody +hired a private machine in the early hours of the morning to take him +to Paris. Report to me later.” +</p> + +<p> +Wills nodded and stole forth silently. +</p> + +<p> +“To try that stuff on me!” said Michael wrathfully, as the door closed +upon his man. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch24"> +Chapter Twenty-four +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> was three o’clock in the afternoon when Lois Reddle woke from a +heavy sleep, feeling ravenously hungry. She got off the bed, and, +putting on her shoes, walked to the window. The prospect was a dreary +one. She saw the farmyard into which she had driven that morning, and +recognised the slatternly woman who was feeding the chickens as the +janitress who had opened the door. Beyond the discoloured wall was the +slope of a treeless down, and, by getting close to the pane and +looking sideways, she could see no more than a further fold of the +hills, surmounted by a black copse. +</p> + +<p> +She felt refreshed when she had bathed her face and hands, but the +pangs of hunger had grown more poignant, and she went to the door and +turned the handle. It did not budge; the door was locked. The window +sash, she found, only opened a few inches, but it was sufficient to +call to the woman in the yard, and presently she attracted her +attention, for she waved her hand impatiently and went on feeding the +chickens. Then, after a few minutes, she went out of the girl’s line +of vision. It was some time before her heavy tread sounded on the +stairs, and obviously the locked door was no accident, for, when the +woman came in carrying a tray, the key was hanging from a chain +fastened to her waist. +</p> + +<p> +“Please do not lock the door again,” said Lois, as she surveyed the +very plain fare with some appreciation. +</p> + +<p> +“You get on with your eating and never mind about the door,” was the +unexpected reply. +</p> + +<p> +Lois was left in no doubt as to the woman’s hostility and wisely did +not continue the argument. Then, to her amazement, as the woman went +out of the room she turned the key again. Lois ran to the door and +hammered on the panels. +</p> + +<p> +“Unlock this door,” she said, but there was no reply save the sound of +the dour attendant’s footsteps on the stairs, and the girl went slowly +back to her meal to confront a new problem. +</p> + +<p> +The appetite of youth was not to be denied, and when she had finished +her meal some of her confidence and poise had returned. It was +impossible that they could be keeping her prisoner; she scoffed at the +idea. Possibly the locking of the door was the act of an over-zealous +custodian who was to keep her safe from—she shook her head. Not from +Michael Dorn. Whatever views the countess might have of him, however +unforgivable had been his behaviour, he was not vindictive, nor would +he pursue her in any spirit of revenge. That was the greatest +impossibility of all. +</p> + +<p> +She tried the door again; it was undoubtedly locked. And then, in a +spirit of self-preservation, she attempted to open the window, and +found that two slats of wood had been so screwed as to make it +impossible for the sash to rise or fall more than a few inches. The +other window had been similarly dealt with. She was examining this +when she saw the doctor in the yard. He wore his rusty frock coat, but +he was collarless, and on his head was an old golf cap. +</p> + +<p> +Walking with unsteady steps to the gate through which she had come, +and which was open, with some difficulty he closed it. She needed no +special knowledge of human weakness to see that he had been drinking +more than was good for him, for his gait was unsteady, and when, +turning back to the house, he saw her, and yelled a greeting, it was +interrupted by a hiccough. +</p> + +<p> +“Had a good sleep, young friend?” he shouted. “Has that old hag +brought your lunch?” +</p> + +<p> +“Doctor”—she spoke through the slit of the sash—“can’t I come down? +She has locked me in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Locked you in?” The statement seemed to afford him some amusement, +for he rocked with laughter. “Well, well, fancy locking you in! She +must be afraid of you, my dear. Don’t you worry, you’re all right. +I’ll look after you. You’ve heard no voices, have you? Seen nobody +following you around, eh? You’ll be all right in a day or two.” +</p> + +<p> +His words filled her with apprehension. Once before, at the luncheon +where she had met him, he had spoken about mysterious voices and +people following her. Did he think she was mad? She went cold at the +thought. Going to the door, she waited for him to come up the stairs, +but there was no sound from below, only a soft patter of feet, and +presently something snuffled under the door and there was a low growl. +The woman’s harsh voice called from the passage. +</p> + +<p> +“Bati, Bati, <i>hitherao</i>! Come down, you black <i>soor</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +She heard the animal running down the stairs, there was the sound of a +smack and a sharp yelp. Later, she saw the dogs—there were two of +them—in the yard. Great black beasts, bigger than Alsatians, but +lacking their fineness. They were prowling about, nosing into stable +refuse. One of them saw her, growled and showed his fangs, the +bristles stiff, and she hastily drew out of sight. She knocked again +on the door, stamped on the floor, but attracted no attention, and +though she heard the doctor’s voice and called to him he ignored her. +Her situation was a dangerous one, and she began to understand dimly +the reason for Dorn’s drastic action. +</p> + +<p> +Where she was she could not guess. So much of the country as she could +see had no meaning for her; and, except that her window faced +northward, she was unable to locate her position. +</p> + +<p> +The woman brought her up some more tea in the afternoon—vile stuff +beside which Lizzy Smith’s concoctions were veritable nectar. +</p> + +<p> +“I insist that you leave this door open,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“They’d tear you to pieces if I did,” said the woman. “There is no +holding them with strangers. Hark at Bati now!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a snuffling and growling outside the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Go away, you! <i>Juldi</i>!” she cried shrilly in her queer mixture of +English and Hindustani. +</p> + +<p> +The girl faced her. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not afraid of dogs,” said Lois steadily, and walked to the door. +</p> + +<p> +Before she was half-way the woman had overtaken her, and, catching her +by the arm, had swung her round. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll stay where you are, and do as you’re told, or it will be worse +for you,” she said threateningly. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the doctor? I wish to see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t see any doctor. He’s gone down to the village to get a +drink.” +</p> + +<p> +She kicked away the dogs that strove to get through the half-open +door, closed and locked it, and for half an hour Lois sat before her +untasted meal, trying to think. The light was fading in the sky when +there came the second dramatic interruption of that day. +</p> + +<p> +Lois was standing by the window, looking into the dreary yard and +thinking of Michael Dorn. He had certainly become a bright nucleus of +hope. Michael Dorn would not fail her; wherever she was, he would +follow. Why she should think this, she could not understand. Why he +should give his time and his thoughts to her protection, was a mystery +yet to be solved. But he was working for her—working for her now. It +was a comforting thought; she almost forgot her fears. +</p> + +<p> +Then from the yard below came the screaming voice of the gaunt woman. +</p> + +<p> +“I told you to wash those dishes, didn’t I? Never mind what you’re +doing; when I give you an order you carry it out, you old gaol-bird.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why am I kept here?” Another voice spoke sweet and soft. Lois +trembled at the sound. “He told me that——” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind what he told you,” shrilled the other. “Wash those dishes, +and then you can scrub the floor; and if it is not done in half an +hour I’ll put you in the cellar with the rats or give you to the dogs, +and they’ll tear you to pieces! Hi, Bati! Mali!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a harsh growl from the dogs and a clanking of chains. +</p> + +<p> +“I refuse”—again the gentle voice—“I refuse!” +</p> + +<p> +<i>Crack!</i> +</p> + +<p> +“Refuse that! Give me any trouble and I’ll whip you till you bleed. +Ah, you would, would you?” +</p> + +<p> +There was the sound of a struggle and the horrified girl, craning her +neck, saw a frail woman stumble and fall to the ground, saw the cruel +whip rise and fall—— +</p> + +<p> +“Stop!” cried Lois hoarsely, and at that instant, as the old hag +stooped over the stricken woman and jerked her out of view, the knees +of Lois Reddle gave beneath her and she fell to the floor in a swoon. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch25"> +Chapter Twenty-five +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Lois</span> came to consciousness almost at once, as she thought, though +she had been lying on the floor for half an hour before she moved, +and, sick and shaking, dragged herself with difficulty to the bed. +</p> + +<p> +She felt ill and shaken and sat with her hands before her eyes trying +to shut out that hideous scene. The raised whip—— +</p> + +<p> +She lay down on the bed, her face in the crook of her arm, trying to +reconstruct from the confusion of her mind a sane and logical +explanation, and always her thoughts flew back to Michael Dorn, with +his saturnine face and his soul-searching eyes. Why he should weave in +and out of her troubled thoughts, she could not fathom, except that +she came back to that sure foundation of faith. Who was this other +prisoner? What had the countess to do with this experience of hers? +Was it true, as Michael Dorn had hinted, that the falling balcony and +the motor-car incident were not accidents, but deliberate attempts to +kill her? +</p> + +<p> +When the woman brought her supper, Lois was outwardly calm, +recognising the futility of questioning her. When she came up to clear +away, she brought a small oil lamp and lit it. She pulled down the two +ragged blinds before she left, and at the door paused for her +good-night message. +</p> + +<p> +“If you want anything, stamp on the floor,” she said. “If you take my +tip you won’t send for the doctor, because he’s raving drunk; and +don’t take any notice of that woman downstairs, she’s crazy!” +</p> + +<p> +It was not a very cheering farewell. One thing was certain, she was +free from interruption for the rest of the night; and she decided to +put into operation the plan she had formed. +</p> + +<p> +She had found in her little handbag a small nail file. The slats that +prevented the windows opening had been screwed into the sash grooves, +and Lois guessed that by breaking off the point of the file she would +be able to improvise a screwdriver. The snapping of the file was an +easy matter, but when she came to fit the jagged end in the screws, +she found both the instrument and her strength insufficient for the +purpose. She tried another screw with no better result, and finally +gave up her task in despair. The windows could be broken, but they +were scarcely a foot wide. And the dogs were below; she heard them +growling as she worked. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing for her to do, nothing to read. She did not even +know the time, for her watch had stopped, and she could only judge the +hour by the light of the sky. +</p> + +<p> +Pacing up and down the room, her hands behind her, she resolutely +refused to be panic-stricken. The blind impulse of panic, which came +to her again and again, had made her want to scream aloud. What was +Lizzy doing now? And Michael Dorn? Always her thoughts came back to +Michael Dorn. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if I’m in love with him?” she said aloud, and smiled at the +thought. +</p> + +<p> +If she was, then he was the last person she had ever expected to love, +and Lizzy would never believe that she had not been fond of him all +the time. He would find her. She was sure of that. But suppose he did +not? She drew a long sigh. Turning down the light and resting her +elbows on the window-sill, she stared out into the darkness. The moon +was rising somewhere on the other side of the house. She saw the +ghostly light of it turn the dark downs to silver. Then she heard +hurried steps in the hall below, and, going back to the table, turned +up the light. The lock snapped back and the door was thrust open. It +was the doctor, and he was not drunk. He was, in truth, haggardly, +tremblingly sober. +</p> + +<p> +“Come out of this!” he jerked, and dragged her from the room down the +stairs into the hall. “Go up and put that light out,” he said to some +one in the darkness, and the gaunt woman, appearing from nowhere, +brushed past her and ran up the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want, doctor? Is anything——” +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up!” he hissed. “Have you put that light out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said a sulky voice from the stairs. “What is there to be scared +about? You’ve been drunk and dreaming.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll smash your head if you talk to me like that!” said the man +without heat. “I tell you I saw the car coming over the hill. It +stopped in front of the house. Do you think I’m blind? You go up to my +room and you can see the lights. He got out and came along the wall, +then I lost sight of him.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois’ heart so thumped and swelled that she almost choked. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he now?” asked the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up.” +</p> + +<p> +Again a dreadful, long silence, broken at last by the faint sound of +the howling dogs. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s at the back!” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor still held Lois’ arm in his firm grip, and now he gently +shook her. +</p> + +<p> +“If you scream or shout, or do anything, I’ll cut your throat. I mean +what I say—do you hear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you leave her upstairs?” growled the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I wanted her here, where I could see her. Find my silk +handkerchief; I left it in the study. And bring the irons, I’m not +going to take any risks.” +</p> + +<p> +The woman went into the room and came back. Suddenly Lois felt the +handkerchief against her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t struggle; I’m not going to hurt you, unless you shout. Get the +irons.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here!” said the woman’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +Lois felt her wrists gripped and dragged behind her. In another second +she was handcuffed. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down there.” He pushed her into a chair, felt at the gag, and +grunted his satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen! He’s knocking.” +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tap-tap-tap!</i> +</p> + +<p> +Silently the two stepped into the darkness of the front yard and the +woman called. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s there?” +</p> + +<p> +And then came a voice that made the girl half-rise from her chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see the master of this house,” said Michael Dorn. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch26"> +Chapter Twenty-six +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> was the worst kind of fortune that Michael Dorn received news of +two early morning departures from aerodromes situated a hundred miles +apart; and worse that he should have chosen the Cambridgeshire venue +first. Here the telephone enquiries he made gave him little +information, and it was not until he arrived at Morland that he found +the early morning passenger was an undergraduate from Cambridge who +had been summoned home through the serious illness of a sister and had +left for Cornwall. +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t in the office when you enquired,” said the aerodrome chief, +“or I would have told you that.” +</p> + +<p> +“It can’t be helped,” said Michael. +</p> + +<p> +He went back to his car and studied the map. He was separated from +Whitcomb by a hundred and seven miles of road, mainly indifferent; +and, to add to his troubles, he had two bad punctures in the first +twenty miles and went into Market Silby on a flat tyre. By the time +the new tyre was purchased and fixed he had lost a good hour of +daylight and had still the worst of the road to negotiate. And it was +by no means certain, even when he reached his objective, that he would +be any nearer to finding the girl. +</p> + +<p> +During the period of waiting while the tyre was being fitted he +studied the little time-table he had made that morning. The girl had +been taken from the police station in the neighbourhood of two +o’clock, he had discovered. She had left in the car for an unknown +destination, and at eight o’clock—six hours later—Chesney Praye had +wired him from Paris. Supposing he had flown from a private aerodrome +near London, it would have taken him two hours to reach the French +Capital, which meant that he must have departed somewhere about five +o’clock. +</p> + +<p> +Between two and five o’clock was the unknown quantity of distance. By +accepting this period he had decided that Lois had been taken to a +spot between an hour and a half and two hours distant from the +metropolis. He also guessed the aeroplane theory was right, that the +place of detention and the aerodrome were within twenty miles by car, +and six or seven miles if the abductor drove or walked. +</p> + +<p> +The Cambridge aerodrome was an ideal fulfilment of his calculations. +So was Whitcomb, on the borders of Somerset. He came to the aerodrome +in time to catch the manager just before he left for the night, showed +his authority, which had a more official value than Lady Moron had +imagined, and accompanied the manager to his office. +</p> + +<p> +“The gentleman’s name was Stone. We had a telephone message late last +night from London, asking us to have a machine waiting to take him to +France, and he arrived on time.” +</p> + +<p> +He described the traveller so faithfully that Michael could almost see +Chesney Praye standing before him. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the gentleman,” he said. “How did he get here?—Did he come +here by car?” +</p> + +<p> +The manager shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, he came up in a trap to the end of the field and walked the rest +of the distance.” +</p> + +<p> +“A horse-drawn trap? Who drove him?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I cannot tell you. It was too far away to see. I know very few +people here.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael considered for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you will show me where the trap set down.” And, as a thought +struck him: “Have you an Ordnance map of this district?” +</p> + +<p> +This request the manager was able to satisfy. He could also show him +on the plan the point at which the passenger had left the cart. +Michael traced the road with the tip of his finger, and then began a +wide sweep in search of houses. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s Lord Kelver’s place. I do happen to know that, because I’ve +been there. That’s the house of his bailiff.” When Michael touched +another red square: “That’s the road to Ilfey Village. There is an inn +there, the Red Lion, where he may have been putting up,” he suggested, +but Michael rejected the likelihood of Chesney having stayed in the +neighbourhood. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this place?” +</p> + +<p> +His finger paused, but the manager shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t remember it. Perhaps one of my mechanics will be able to tell +us.” +</p> + +<p> +He went out and came back with a workman who bent over the map. +</p> + +<p> +“That is Gallows Farm,” he said. “It is an old place—been there for +hundreds of years. I don’t know who has it now, but he isn’t a +farmer—at least, I never saw any cattle coming out of his yard.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a telephone on the table; Michael took it up and gave the +number of the nearest police station. He introduced himself and then +put his question and waited whilst the particulars were found. +</p> + +<p> +“Gallows Farm was let twelve months ago to a Mr. ——” He gave a name +which was unfamiliar to Dorn. “There’s nobody there except the +gentleman and his housekeeper.” +</p> + +<p> +This was not very informative, but Michael was not discouraged. Again +he went over the map, and in the end concluded that Gallows Farm was +the only house in the neighbourhood which was in any way under +suspicion. He snatched a hasty meal in the aerodrome mess, and it was +growing dark when he skirted the field and took the road along which +the cart had come in the early morning. Presently, as he came over the +crest of the hill, the farm showed dimly in the circle of his powerful +headlamps. There were no lights or sign of life about the house. The +long, white, ugly wall was surmounted by broken glass, and the gate, +which opened on to the road, was securely fastened. There was no +evidence of a bell-pull. +</p> + +<p> +He went back to the car, and, finding an electric torch, continued his +investigations. The farm building lay on the slope of the hill and he +had to descend to get to the back of the premises. Here the gate was +larger and more insecure, and his attempt to open it was followed by a +furious barking and straining of chains. He listened, interested; the +barking had a familiar sound. It was not the deep roar of the mastiff, +or the half-frightened, half-angry discordance of the terrier; there +was a howl in that note that he had heard before on dark nights as he +had passed through sleeping Indian villages. +</p> + +<p> +“If they’re not native dogs, I’ve never heard any,” he said softly, +and continued his circuit. +</p> + +<p> +From the declivity at the back of the house he could not see the top +windows of the building, low as it was, and he turned to the front of +the house and rapped on the heavy black wooden gate. +</p> + +<p> +Somebody must have been aroused by the barking of the dogs, for almost +immediately the sharp voice of a woman called: +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see the master of this house,” said Dorn. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you can’t see him, not at this time; he’s in bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let me see you. Open this gate,” said Michael. +</p> + +<p> +There was an interval of silence, and then the woman said: +</p> + +<p> +“Go away, or I’ll telephone for the police.” +</p> + +<p> +That pause before she spoke betrayed the situation to the keen-witted +man at the gate. There was somebody else behind that barrier, somebody +who was prompting the woman in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you please tell your master, who is in bed, but not, I think, +asleep, that unless you open the gate I’ll come over the top?” +</p> + +<p> +This time the woman needed no prompting. +</p> + +<p> +“If you dare, I’ll set my dogs on you!” she screamed. +</p> + +<p> +He heard her footsteps running on the cobbled yard, and presently the +throaty growl of the dogs as they came flying before her. +</p> + +<p> +“Now will you go away?” shrieked the woman. “If they get out they’ll +tear the heart out of you, <i>ek dum</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +Michael Dorn uttered an involuntary exclamation. “<i>Ek dum</i>?” Who was +this who used the Indian phrase? +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’d better let me in, my sister,” he said, and he spoke in +Hindustani. +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply for a moment, and now he was sure somebody was +whispering—whispering fiercely, urgently. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you mean by your outlandish gibberish,” said the +woman’s voice huskily. “You get away, mister, before you’re in +trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael, thrusting his lamp in the direction of the gate-top, looked +up at a row of rusty iron spikes. Should he take the risk? These +people might be law-abiding, and it was not remarkable that the woman +should have a few Indian phrases. She might have been a soldier’s wife +who had lived in India and had acquired the habit of that pigeon talk. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you be sensible and let me in? I only want to ask you a few +questions.” And then, as an inspiration came to him: “I am from Mr. +Chesney Praye.” +</p> + +<p> +This time the silence was so long that he thought they had gone. Then +the woman spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“We don’t know Mr. Chesney Praye, and we’re going in.” +</p> + +<p> +“We? Who’s your friend?” asked Michael, but there was no answer. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the door was slammed ostentatiously. Behind the gates he +could hear the growling and snuffling of the dogs, and when he put his +toe cautiously under the space between earth and gate he heard the +vicious snap of a jaw, and smiled in the darkness. Soon after, the man +and woman at the upstairs window heard the whine of a motor and saw +the two white beams of its head-lamps moving towards London. +</p> + +<p> +And Lois Reddle lay sobbing on her bed, and in her heart the despair +of hopelessness. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch27"> +Chapter Twenty-seven +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Two</span> hours after Michael Dorn had gone, Dr. Tappatt sat in his +parlour, his elbows on his knees, his big face cupped in his hands. +Beside him was a half-filled tumbler of whisky, and he was gazing into +the fire, which was lit for him summer and winter since he had left +India. There had been a time when his name had ranked high in the +profession of medicine, but an unsavoury incident had driven him from +Edinburgh, where, although he was young, he had established an +excellent practice, and he found himself in India, with no other +assets than his undoubted skill, the meagre remnants of his savings, +and a taste for good wine. For a time he had been attached to the +court of an Indian prince, and then, in an evil moment, he had +conceived the idea of a mental home for wealthy Indians. +</p> + +<p> +But for the growing craving for drink he might have retired after a +few years, with sufficient to keep him for the rest of his life. But +there was a kink somewhere in Dr. Tappatt’s nature and it showed +itself only too clearly in his conduct of the home. He had to leave +the North-West Provinces in a hurry and settle in Bengal, where there +were queer stories about the home he founded there. There were +applications at court by the relatives of patients who had been put +away by interested people, and in the end his home was closed and he +moved into the Punjab. +</p> + +<p> +His brilliant brain had been sharpened by conflict with authority, and +he had become something of a strategist, for strategy is the art of +knowing your enemy’s mind. +</p> + +<p> +Staring into the fire, he was studying the mentality of Captain +Michael Dorn and he reached certain conclusions. The woman attendant +had long since gone to bed, and was asleep when he shuffled down the +passage and knocked at her door. +</p> + +<p> +“Come out; I want to speak to you.” +</p> + +<p> +He heard her grumbling, and went back to the study. Once in the period +of waiting he looked at the telephone and reached out his hand +half-way to take it. But he knew that the person he had in mind was +not to be lightly disturbed again, and he had already made his report. +No, his method was the best, he decided; and if he was mistaken in his +estimate of Michael Dorn no harm would be done. +</p> + +<p> +When the woman came blinking into the light, buttoning up her dress, +he nodded to a chair and for half an hour they talked, the woman +interpolating sour objections which he dismissed without ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t had any sleep for two nights,” she complained, “and I don’t +see why——” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you expected to see anything?” he snarled. “You’re a listener—no +more!” +</p> + +<p> +She had served him for the greater part of twenty years and was afraid +of no other person in the world. And from grumbling she came to +whining, until he waved her out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +At seven o’clock in the morning Dr. Tappatt, dressed in a thick +woollen overcoat, for he felt the chill air of the morning, drew up +the blinds and opened the windows of his parlour, having previously +made a tour of inspection. Heaping two more logs on the fire, he +gathered some scraps of meat and carried them out to the dogs, who +greeted him with hoarse barks of welcome. He took his time, finding a +malicious joy in his tardiness. Then, when he had toured the yard, he +went round to the front of the house again, turned the key, unbolted +the gate, and pulled it open. A man was standing squarely opposite the +entrance, and the doctor started. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Dr. Tappatt,” said Michael Dorn. “I had an idea I +should see you if I came early enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good gracious!” said Tappatt, in feigned surprise. “This is an +unexpected pleasure, Captain Dorn!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad you think so. Did Miss Reddle sleep well?” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor’s brows furrowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Reddle? I can’t remember—oh, yes, of course, it was that +delightful young lady I met at the Countess of Moron’s house. What a +queer question to ask me!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a silence. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t invited me in. You’ve lost your old Anglo-Indian sense of +hospitality,” bantered Michael. +</p> + +<p> +Tappatt stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, his inflamed +face thrust forward. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t remember that we were especially good friends, Dorn,” he +said. “I seem to remember certain unpleasant encounters——?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless—you are going to invite me inside, or else——” +</p> + +<p> +“Or else?” repeated the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“Or else I shall invite myself. I have a particular wish to look round +your little place.” +</p> + +<p> +Tappatt’s big mouth twisted in a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“With or without a search warrant?” he asked politely. +</p> + +<p> +“Without, for the moment. You and I are two old law-breakers, Tappatt; +we have never been great sticklers for formality.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time he had walked through the gate, and, curiously enough, he +did not seem to expect the dogs. Tappatt noticed this and grew even +more alert. He had matched his brain against this sometime chief of +police, and so far the honours were with him, he felt. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t resist you, Dorn,” he said, and waved his hand to the open +door of the house. “Step right in.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael did not require a second invitation. He strolled carelessly +into the house, and turned to the study as though he had been there +before. Following him, the doctor closed the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to search these premises—I am seeking a lady named Pinder and +her daughter, Lois Margeritta Reddle, whom I believe are forcibly +detained here.” +</p> + +<p> +Tappatt shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you’re on a wild goose chase. Neither of these ladies are +inmates of my house. In fact, I have no patients just now——” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor yet a licence to take patients,” added Michael. “I took the +trouble to look up the records—they are available even in the middle +of the night—fearing that short-memoried authority had overlooked +your many grievous faults; I was happy that the official mind has +showed commendable discretion.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t applied for a licence,” said Tappatt shortly. Any question +regarding his profession touched him on the raw. “I don’t see why I +should allow you to make a search,” he went on. “You have no more +authority to act as a detective than I have to run a mental home. You +can start here—look under the table or under the sofa,” he grew +heavily sarcastic, “I may have some unfortunate person concealed +there!” +</p> + +<p> +Dorn walked from the room, along the passage, and stopped at the door +at the foot of the stairs, turning the handle. +</p> + +<p> +“My housekeeper’s room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is she?” asked Michael. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s in the kitchen.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael passed into the room, pulled up the blinds and again looked +round. Though he did not show by any sign his state of mind he was +neither uneasy nor unalarmed at the readiness with which permission +had been given to him to make the search. Rather were matters working +out according to his expectations. +</p> + +<p> +“There are two rooms upstairs; would you like to see them?” +</p> + +<p> +Dorn nodded and followed on the man’s heels to the landing. +</p> + +<p> +“This is a ward I should use if I had luck enough to get a patient.” +He threw open the door of what had been Lois’ room. It was empty; the +bed was stripped of all its clothes and the blankets were neatly +folded at the foot. Michael walked into the room, inspected the little +bathroom, tried the windows, and came out without a word. Most women +use a distinctive perfume. He had noted that Lois was faintly fragrant +of lavender—the room had that scent too. +</p> + +<p> +The room opposite was even less completely furnished, and it was also +tenantless. He knew that there was no space between the ceiling and +the roof to conceal any but a willing fugitive, and satisfied himself +with the briefest of scrutinies. +</p> + +<p> +The other wing of the house was scarcely habitable; in some places the +sky showed through the gaps in the roof, and all the upper floors were +rotten with storm-water and would hardly bear the weight of a child. +</p> + +<p> +“Where does that lead?” asked Michael when he came out from the +inspection of the lower floor of the old wing. He pointed to a flight +of steps that terminated in a door. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a cellar of some kind; you can go in,” said the other +carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +Michael pushed the door open and stepped into a little apartment. A +certain amount of light and air was admitted through a small grating +that had been let into the wall, but there was little of either. Other +light or ventilation there was none, except for the spy-hole in the +door. He flashed his lamp around, saw an old bed in one corner and a +washstand. He walked to the bed, turned over the folded blankets, and +then came into the daylight. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite an airy apartment,” he said drily. “Is this for a patient too?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is many a poor fellow sleeping out at night who would be glad +of that room,” said Dr. Tappatt virtuously, and Michael showed his +teeth for a moment in an unpleasant smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Ever been in prison, Tappatt? I don’t think you have, have you?” he +asked, as he ascended the steps again. +</p> + +<p> +Nobody knew better than Michael Dorn that the doctor had escaped +conviction, but it was his way of giving a warning. +</p> + +<p> +“I have not had that distinction.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet,” finished Dorn. “The cells of Dartmoor are much more wholesome +than this black hole of yours—as you will find. Plenty of fresh air, +immense quantities of light—and the food is good.” +</p> + +<p> +Tappatt licked his lips but made no answer. +</p> + +<p> +“What is in here?” He stopped before a locked shed. +</p> + +<p> +“A motor-car belonging to a friend of mine. Do you want to see it?” +</p> + +<p> +“A blue Buick, by any chance?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think it is a Buick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Left here the night before last, I think?” +</p> + +<p> +Tappatt smiled and shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“It has been here a week. There are times when you are just a little +too clever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see it,” said Michael. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor went back to the house for keys, whilst Michael made a +rapid inspection of the remaining buildings. The two dogs broke into a +fury at his approach, straining at their chains until it seemed that +they must choke or the leashes break. Then the doctor returned and +found Dorn contemplating the back gate with absorbed interest; the +ground was hard and showed no footmark—even the car had left no +tracks. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is a key.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I want to see the car,” said Dorn slowly. “I know it +rather well and the owner more than a little.” He looked round. “I +don’t see your housekeeper anywhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect she’s gone into the village to do her marketing,” said the +other. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly Michael took a gold case from his pocket, selected a cigarette +and lit it, throwing the match towards the dogs, an act which angered +them to madness. +</p> + +<p> +“You want to be careful of those dogs,” warned the doctor. “They’re +not the kind to monkey with. I don’t know what they would do to you, +even if I were with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“They want to be careful of me,” said Dorn. “I had the death of more +pariahs on my soul than any other police official in India during the +term I was serving.” +</p> + +<p> +“They would get you before you got them,” said the doctor angrily. +</p> + +<p> +Michael Dorn smiled, and stretched out his hand stiffly before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see that?” he asked. “Watch!” +</p> + +<p> +Where it came from, how it got there, Tappatt could not for the life +of him tell; but though the hand apparently had not moved it was +holding a short-barrelled Browning of heavy calibre. +</p> + +<p> +“Where on earth did that come from?” he gasped. “You had it there all +the time——” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it came out of my pocket,” laughed Michael. Again he was engaged +in one of his subtle acts of intimidation. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll swear that it didn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Watch!” +</p> + +<p> +Again the hand was held stiffly. An imperceptible movement, whether up +or down or backward Tappatt could not say, and the hand was empty. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a trick,” said Dorn carelessly. “And if you speak dog language +you might explain to these hounds of yours that I am a man to leave +severely alone. By-the-way, dog patrols have always been a specialty +of yours? Wasn’t the trouble in Bengal over a patient who had been +worried to death? Refresh my memory.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor swallowed something, and then Dorn asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Why are these dogs chained up?” +</p> + +<p> +“I keep them chained.” +</p> + +<p> +“They weren’t chained last night. You knew I was in the neighbourhood, +and that doesn’t seem to be the time to put them on the leash. Yet at +four o’clock this morning they were fast. Why did you tie them up, +doctor?” +</p> + +<p> +Their eyes met. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I tell you why?” +</p> + +<p> +Tappatt was silent; the detective had returned at four o’clock in the +morning; he had just missed the little procession that had crossed the +fields! +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I tell you why?” Dorn asked again. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re in an informative mood,” sneered Tappatt. +</p> + +<p> +“Very. You tied them up because you took those two women out of the +house last night, out through this yard, and you could only do that +when you had put the dogs on the chain. Correct me if I’m wrong. They +went out this way and they will come back this way.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Tappatt’s jaw dropped; this was a turn to his disadvantage with a +vengeance. He had expected Dorn to be satisfied with his search and to +leave some time during the day. His plan was not working as he had +expected. +</p> + +<p> +“You can invite me to breakfast; I shall stay until they return.” +</p> + +<p> +“I swear to you that I know nothing whatever about any women,” +protested Tappatt violently. “You’re making a mistake, Dorn! Anyway, +you’ve no right here—you know that!” +</p> + +<p> +Michael shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I never make mistakes,” he said arrogantly, “and I have every right +to be here. It is the first duty of a citizen to frustrate any +wrong-doing, and the first duty of a host to ask his guest if he is +hungry. Now you can invite me to breakfast. And over that pleasant +meal I will tell you something which will interest and amuse you.” +</p> + +<p> +The baffled man looked first one way and then the other. He was +trapped; his ruse had not only failed, but had rebounded against +himself. Dorn, out of the corner of his eye, saw the quick rise and +fall of his chest, and knew something of the panic in him. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t stay here. I don’t want you!” exploded Tappatt angrily. +“That story about women being in my house is all moonshine and you +know it. I’ll give you one minute to clear out! You can’t bluff me!” +</p> + +<p> +Michael Dorn laughed softly. +</p> + +<p> +“What will happen if I don’t clear out? Will you send for the police? +There is the opportunity to get back on the cruel police commissioner +who shut down your little home in the Provinces and might have got you +five long weary years in Delhi prison if the official mind had only +moved a little quicker. Send for the police, my good man; it will be a +grand advertisement for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Tappatt had no intention of sending for the police; the force was +not a popular constituent of public life with him. From the height of +his intellect he looked down upon all other professions and callings +than his own. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” he growled, “come in. And as for the women, you’ll find +you were mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let us discuss them,” said Michael with an airy gesture of his +hand. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch28"> +Chapter Twenty-eight +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">He</span> could almost afford to feel jubilant at the contemplation of his +partial success, only he was a man who never counted eggs as chickens; +nor did he underrate the resourcefulness of the man he was dealing +with. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor was thinking rapidly, and a stiff glass of whisky helped +further to clear a mind which was only normal when it was stimulated. +Dorn was there to stay; such subterfuges as came into his mind to rid +himself of the unwelcome visitor, he rejected. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me where the coffee is and I will make it myself,” said Dorn. +“Please forgive me if I’m a little suspicious, but doctors have an +uncanny knowledge of the properties of certain drugs, and I should +hate to feel myself going to sleep for no other reason than that you +had found an opportunity for doctoring my drink.” +</p> + +<p> +He went into the kitchen, kindled the fire and put on the kettle. In +one of the cupboards he found a tin of biscuits and a can of preserved +milk—there were the elements of safe refreshment here. He knew his +doctor very well—he had set a train of thought in motion. Would he +take the obvious step, or go outside the detective’s plan? +</p> + +<p> +The doctor crouched before the fire in his study, his mind working in +all directions. It was a curious fact that, until Dorn’s jesting +remark, he had not thought of drugs. He heard Michael whistling softly +to himself, and, rising noiselessly, crossed to his desk and searched +among the bottles that were arrayed on various shelves and in divers +pigeonholes, and presently found what he sought. +</p> + +<p> +He slipped a grey pellet from the phial, dropping it into the palm of +his hand, and, replacing the bottle, pulled down the desk cover. There +might be no opportunity. Against that, every man as self-assured as +Dorn was left himself open at one point. +</p> + +<p> +Wedging the pellet between the second and third fingers of his left +hand, he came back to the fire, and was there when Michael Dorn came +in later with coffee, cups, and saucers on a tray, the biscuits under +his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been thinking that perhaps, after reflection, you will tell me +what time you expect our friends to return?” he asked. “Or, failing +that, would you tell me what is the signal you are to give to signify +that the coast is clear?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re mad to make such suggestions,” said Tappatt gruffly. “I +thought you weren’t going to talk about the women. They are not here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody has got to talk about them,” murmured Michael +apologetically. “Have some coffee? It is infinitely better than that +yellow stuff you’ve got on the mantelpiece, and costs about one +twentieth the price.” +</p> + +<p> +He poured out a cup and pushed it towards his companion, but the +doctor did not so much as turn his head. +</p> + +<p> +Michael sipped luxuriously at the hot comforting fluid, his eyes fixed +upon Tappatt’s moody face. Suddenly the doctor lifted his head as +though he had heard something. +</p> + +<p> +“There is somebody coming now,” he said, and the detective walked to +the door and listened. +</p> + +<p> +When he turned the doctor was in his old posture. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re getting jumpy—it is the whisky, my friend,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He refilled his cup, stirred it vigorously, and dropped in a liberal +supply of condensed milk. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this interesting thing you were going to tell me?” asked +Tappatt, still staring into the fire. +</p> + +<p> +“It concerns you. There is a movement to get you brought before the +General Medical Council for that Indian trouble, which means, I +suppose, that you will be struck off the medical register.” +</p> + +<p> +This was news to the doctor, and he sprang to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“That is a lie!” he said loudly. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Michael bent his head. +</p> + +<p> +“What was that?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Tappatt looked round. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t hear anything.” +</p> + +<p> +But the detective motioned him to silence. He rose, picked up his +coffee, and walked to the door, listening. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay here,” he said and disappeared from view. +</p> + +<p> +He was back again in a minute, but remained standing by the door, +sipping at his cup, and the doctor affected to be amused. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got nerves, man,” he said. “If you’d trusted me enough to +leave your cup behind I’d have given you something to cure you!” +</p> + +<p> +“So I suppose,” said Michael, setting down the vessel nearly empty. “I +hate showing discourtesy to a host, but I have made a practice all my +life of pouring out my own drinks when I’m in dubious company, and +hanging on to them until I’m finished.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor glanced at the cup and his face cleared. It had been so +absurdly easy, though the danger was by no means over. +</p> + +<p> +“What I like about you, Dorn, is that you’re a gentleman. I’m not +paying you a compliment. I’m merely stating a fact. I’ve had to do +with a few police officers who have been the scum of the gutter, and +the contrast is refreshing. You were kidding about striking me off the +register, weren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +Michael shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I never kid. I am the man who intends making a personal application +at the next meeting of the Council,” he said. “You can be sure that I +shall be able to lay before them sufficient proof to make your +position in England a pretty uncomfortable one.” +</p> + +<p> +Tappatt forced a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“In that case,” he said, rising, “I’d better do what I can to get on +the right side of you. If you will come with me, I will show you +something you’ve overlooked.” +</p> + +<p> +He smiled in the other’s face, and Michael followed him down the +passage into the yard. +</p> + +<p> +“You were rather unkind about the airiness of this admirable place of +detention,” said Tappatt. He stood on the top of the steps which led +to the underground room. “Did it occur to you that it might be just a +little more airy than you had imagined? Come!” +</p> + +<p> +He ran down the steps, pushed open the heavy door, and went into the +cellar chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“You did not see the trap-door in the corner of the room, did you?” +</p> + +<p> +Michael pushed past him and strode across the brick floor. He had +taken three steps when the door shut. The key squeaked as it turned +and there came to him the sound of Tappatt’s mocking laughter.… +</p> + +<p> +“That is a trick of mine—now show me your trick with the gun!” +laughed the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +A splinter of wood leapt from the door; there was the sound of a +muffled explosion and Tappatt scrambled up the steps, laughing +hysterically. +</p> + +<p> +He ran back to the room. Michael’s cup stood on the table, and he +spooned a quantity of the lukewarm liquid and tasted it, smacking his +lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Brain against brain. I think I’ve scored the final point!” he said +with satisfaction. It had been so crudely simple. What would happen +after, he did not stop to consider. +</p> + +<p> +For Dr. Tappatt the game was almost finished. His employer had been +more than generous—a large sum was due for his latest services, and +the whole world was open to him. For two years he had served his +friend faithfully and well. It had been an unromantic service, a +service that kept him well within the boundaries of the law. The +doctor had a very clear viewpoint. He knew that the end of this +adventure meant the worst kind of trouble, and one more offence +against the law would make little difference if he faced a jury. He +was determined to avoid juries. The detention of Michael Dorn gave him +a breathing space—a respite. The machinery of the law moved slowly, +and nowadays a man who took forethought might go from one end of +Europe to the other between sunrise and sunrise. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour passed, an hour. He looked at his watch for the twentieth +time, and, pulling open a drawer of his desk, he took out a pair of +handcuffs, humming a tune as he worked the hinges. +</p> + +<p> +Returning to the cellar room, he knocked loudly on the door and called +the prisoner by name. There was no reply, and he unlocked the door and +peeped cautiously inward. The slit afforded him a view of the bed. +Michael Dorn was lying face downward, his head on his arm and +motionless. +</p> + +<p> +Without hesitation, the doctor went into the room, and, turning the +inert figure on its back, began a quick search. There was no pistol in +the hip pocket; he found that in a specially constructed pouch inside +the coat. Dorn’s eyelids flickered as the doctor made the search, and +there came from the lips an unintelligible mutter of sound. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not so talkative now, my friend,” said Tappatt pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +He took some papers from the detective’s pocket and these he +transferred to his own. Watch and chain he left; but anything that +might be used as a weapon, even the little penknife, he took away. +When he had finished he fastened the handcuffs and gazed upon his +finished work with a smile of satisfaction. Returning to the house, he +found the tin of biscuits, and, filling a ewer full of water from the +yard pump, he brought them back to the prison. These he placed near +the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Michael Dorn, you were easy,” he said, addressing the unconscious +figure. “Much easier because you have no official standing, and have +few friends who will worry about you, or notify the police of your +disappearance. And if they are notified, where are they to search? +Tell me that, Michael Dorn!” +</p> + +<p> +He locked the door and, passing through the gate at the front of the +house, he made a reconnaissance. There was just a chance that the man +had left his motor car near by, and a standing machine might attract +the attention of the constabulary. There was even a possibility that +he had not come alone. But, though the doctor walked a mile in either +direction, there was no sign of a car, and he returned to the house, +tired but triumphant. Never again would the thought of Captain Michael +Dorn come like a shadow over his pleasant dreams of the future. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch29"> +Chapter Twenty-nine +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Dear Miss Smith</span>,—I have been trying to get into communication with +a Mr. John Wills, who is an assistant of mine, and possibly I have +succeeded. But in case, by any mischance, my messages have failed to +reach him, I should esteem it as a great favour if you would find him +and hand him the enclosed, which is a duplicate of the instructions +already posted. I think I have located Miss Reddle, and hope to have +good news for you to-morrow. But I am dealing with a man for whose +genius I have a profound respect. Miss Reddle is at Gallows Farm, near +Whitcomb in Somerset, and, if you do not hear from me by telegram in +the course of the day, it is extremely likely that I shall also be +there—against my will. I have calculated every contingency; foreseen, +I think, most of the possibilities, but there is always a big chance +that I may not be as clever as I think I am! Will you therefore remain +all day at Charlotte Street? I suggest that you should ask your +employer, Mr. Shaddles, to let you off for the day, and, if necessary, +show him this letter. He may remember me by name; I met him many years +ago. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +Yours very truly,<br> +<span class="sc">Michael Dorn</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> words, “If necessary, show him this letter,” were heavily +underlined. +</p> + +<p> +The letter had come by special delivery, a red express label on the +face, and the postmark was a town in Somersetshire. Lizzy Smith read +it three times, once to master the calligraphy, once to understand it, +and once out of sheer enjoyment, for she felt more important with each +reading; though it struck her as humorous that Michael Dorn should, in +his most extravagant mood, imagine that her flinty-faced employer +would grant her leave of absence on the strength of a meeting which he +must long since have forgotten and would most certainly disclaim. +</p> + +<p> +The news was too vital to be kept to herself, and she took the letter +down to old Mr. Mackenzie, and found him engaged in fitting a new +string to his violin. +</p> + +<p> +“Wore it out last night, I should think,” said Lizzy, not unkindly. “I +heard you tuning and tuning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tuning!” said old Mackenzie in surprise. “I was no’ tuning, young +lady. Perhaps, to the ear of one who is not acquainted with the +peculiar qualities of classical music, it may have sounded that way. I +was playing the aria from <i>Samson and Delilah</i>. ’Tis a bonny piece.” +</p> + +<p> +He pulled on his spectacles from his forehead, and took the letter +from her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You would like me to read this?” he asked, and when she nodded, he +followed the quaint crabbed writing line by line. “It seems very good +news,” he said. “Will Miss Reddle be back to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy sighed impatiently. It was the sort of question he would ask. +</p> + +<p> +“How do I know whether she’ll be back to-night?” She was annoyed that +he was not as impressed as she had expected. “She may not be back at +all! Don’t you understand anything you can’t play on your fiddle, Mr. +Mackenzie? She may be in the power of this Gallows man! The whole +thing now depends on me. Mike understands human nature, and when he +got into trouble naturally his mind flew to Elizabetta Smith. That man +has got experience.” +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally,” murmured Mr. Mackenzie. +</p> + +<p> +“Now the thing is,” considered Lizzy, her face wearing a frown of +profoundest thought, “shall I try to find this fellow Wills first, or +shall I go to the office?” +</p> + +<p> +“You might telephone to Mr. Dorn’s flat,” suggested the old man +helpfully, and Lizzy was irritated that that simple solution had not +occurred to her. +</p> + +<p> +On her way to the office she stopped at the first telephone booth and +called Michael’s number, and after a long wait was told there was no +answer. The news pleased her rather than otherwise, for the +responsibility, vague as it was, gave her a pleasing sense that she +was intimately associated with great happenings, though she looked +forward with trepidation to her meeting with old Shaddles. That he +would grant her the day was a forlorn hope. Much more likely he would +point his skinny finger to the door and order her from his room. +Nevertheless, though she sacrificed her livelihood, she was determined +to be on hand in case her services were required—though what she +could do, and in what capacity she could act, she did not trouble to +consider. +</p> + +<p> +Before she reached the office she had created three alternative +excuses, none of which unfortunately had any relation to the other. +Happily she was only called upon to produce two. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Shaddles had arrived before her; he was invariably the first-comer +and generally the last leaver. Without taking off her hat, she knocked +at the glass panel, and when his gruff “Come in!” reached her she all +but abandoned the interview. He scowled at her as she came in, noted +her coat and her hat. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what is the matter? Why aren’t you at your work? You’re five +minutes late as it is!” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy rested her hand lightly on his desk, and in her most genteel +voice began: +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Shaddles, I’m sorry to ask you, but, owing to a family +bereavement, I should like the day off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s dead?” he growled. +</p> + +<p> +“An aunt,” she said, and added: “On my mother’s side.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aunts are nothing,” said the old man, and waved her to the door. +“Uncles are nothing either. Can’t spare you. What do you want to go to +funerals for?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the real truth is,” said the disconcerted Lizzy, and produced +the letter, “I’ve had this!” +</p> + +<p> +He took the message with apparent reluctance and read it through with +typical care. He sat for a long time, and she thought he was searching +for misspelt words—a horrible practice of his. +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing about your aunt in this,” snarled Mr. Shaddles. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Dorn has been more than an aunt to me,” said Lizzy with dignity. +“It is my pet name for him. And if he’s not dead, he may very well +be.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked out of the window, scratched his rough chin angrily, then +glared round at her. +</p> + +<p> +“You can have the day,” he said, and she nearly dropped with +amazement. +</p> + +<p> +Murmuring her incoherent thanks, she was making for the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait.” +</p> + +<p> +He put his hand in his pocket, laid a note-case on the table, and took +out three bank-notes. +</p> + +<p> +“You may not want these,” he said; “I cannot conceive that you will, +but you may. I shall require you to give me a very full account of any +expenses you incur. If you need a car, hire one from the Bluelight +Company—they are clients of ours, and they allow me a rebate.” +</p> + +<p> +Like a woman in a dream, Lizzy staggered out the office. Each note was +for £20. She had no idea there was so much money in the world. +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer the clerk whom she passed on the stairs, and had +not wholly recovered by the time she reached Hiles Mansions. Mr. Dorn +was not in, the liftman told her unnecessarily; and Mr. Wills had not +called since the previous day. Lizzy went out into the Brompton Road, +called a taxicab magnificently, and, reaching Charlotte Street, +discovered she had only sufficient loose cash to pay the fare. +</p> + +<p> +Such a tremendous happening could not be reserved to herself, and she +took Mr. Mackenzie into her confidence. +</p> + +<p> +“Shaddles is a grand man,” said Mackenzie soberly, “a big-hearted +fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know whether I shall get into trouble with the police for +taking this money from the poor old man,” she said. “He has been +strange for a long time: I’ve seen this coming on for days. When he +raised Lois Reddle’s salary to three pounds a week I knew something +else would happen.” She looked at the three notes in awe. “They get +like that when they’re about ninety,” she said. And then a great +inspiration came to her—so daring, so tremendous, that it left her +gasping. +</p> + +<p> +Borrowing some loose change from the old man, she dashed down to the +telephone box from which she had called Hiles Mansions and gave Lady +Moron’s number. The footman who answered her told her that her +ladyship was in bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, pray don’t trouble,” said Lizzy in an exaggerated tone. “Will you +ask his lordship to hop along?” +</p> + +<p> +“To what, madam?” +</p> + +<p> +“To speak to me,” corrected Lizzy. +</p> + +<p> +“What name shall I give him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him the Lady Elizabetta,” said Lizzy, and lolled languidly +against the cork-lined ’phone box as she would have lolled had she +been a person of title. +</p> + +<p> +She had to wait for some time before his lordship, who was sound +asleep at that hour, could be aroused and sufficiently interested in +the caller to come down to the drawing-room, where there was a +telephone extension. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo?” he asked feebly. “Good morning and all that! Sorry I didn’t +catch your name.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Miss Smith,” said Lizzy in a hushed voice, and she heard Selwyn +gasp. +</p> + +<p> +“Really? Not really? I say, there’s been an awful bother here! +Everything’s at sixes and sevens, and all that sort of thing. That +beastly bounder, Chesney Praye—you remember the fellow—bird of prey, +what?” (Even Lizzy could not laugh at that hour in the morning.) +“Well, he’s in the library with her ladyship!” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen—Selwyn!” She had to summon all her courage to voice this +familiarity. “Can you see me? You know where I live—you were coming +to dinner to-night; but I want you to come before. There’s something I +want to see you about, something—well, I can’t describe it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” he interrupted. “I’ll come right along. I’m supposed to +go to the South Kensington Museum to see some models, but—— All +right, colonel, thank you very much for calling!” +</p> + +<p> +The tone was louder and more formal. Lizzy, not unused to such +innocent acts of deception, guessed that a servant or his mother had +come into the drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +She went back to her lodging with a feeling of exaltation. Not only +had she secured the aid of a member of the aristocracy, but she had +also, with great daring, and exercising a woman’s privilege, addressed +him by a name which, to say the least, was intimate. She confided to +Mr. Mackenzie, with an air of nonchalance, that she was expecting Lord +Moron to call upon her, and he was impressed to a gratifying extent. +</p> + +<p> +“I told him to drop in—I know him rather well.” Lizzy flicked a speck +of dust from her skirt with a fine air. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so?” he asked, looking at her in wonder. “Well now, I never +thought that one of the Morons would ever do me the honour of entering +my house! They’re a fine family, a handsome family. I remember the old +earl: he frequently came to the theatre, though not, I fear, in the +most presentable condition.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Lizzy Smith was not interested in the old earl. She was, however, +immensely absorbed in the new one; and when Lord Moron’s taxicab +pulled up at the side-walk she was at the door to admit him. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, what an awfully jolly kitchen!” he said, looking round at a +room of which even Lizzy was not particularly proud. +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t have asked your lordship here——” she began. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, don’t give us any of that ‘lordship’ stuff,” he pleaded. “I’m +Selwyn to my friends. That’s a wonderful frying-pan: did you make it?” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy disclaimed responsibility. But he had his views, apparently, +upon culinary apparatus, had invented an electric chafing-dish, and +had plans for a coke oven. Until then she had not known that coke was +ever cooked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve often thought I’d like to run away from this awful ‘my-lording’ +and do some work. I’ve got a bit of money of my own that even her +ladyship can’t touch—and you can bet your life that it’s pretty well +tied up, old thing, if she and the bird of prey can’t get their hooks +into it!” +</p> + +<p> +He was delightfully, restfully vulgar, and Lizzy who only knew this +much about electricity, that lamps light up when you turn a switch, +without exactly understanding why, could have listened for hours to +schemes which might even have interested an engineer. But she had the +letter to discuss. +</p> + +<p> +He read it through, and, by stopping at every other line and asking +for explanations, understood the gist of it. She had noticed before +how, on really important matters, Selwyn had quite intelligent views; +and that he was no fool she discovered later in the day, when he +confided to her that he had countered his mother’s veiled threats of +getting him certified as mentally incompetent to deal with his estate, +by making a visit to three Harley Street alienists in consultation, +and procuring from them a most flattering tribute to his mentality. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what it’s all about,” he said, as he handed the letter +back. And then, answering her pained look: “Yes, I understand the +letter, but I mean all these accidents and things—old Braime dropping +dead, or something, in the library. Madam is my mother, and I suppose +I ought not to loathe her. But she’s fearfully devilish, Miss Smith, +fearfully devilish!” +</p> + +<p> +He fingered the red seam on his cheek tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“You can never be sure what she’s up to, and since that bounder Praye +and that awful boozy doctor have been around the house she’s been +queerer than ever. Do you know what she told me once? She said that if +she thought she’d be any happier by me being dead I’d be dead +to-morrow—those were her very words! Dead to-morrow, dear old Lizzy! +Isn’t it positively fearful?” +</p> + +<p> +“What a lady!” said Lizzy. “You’ve heard nothing at the house about +this business—I mean Gallows Farm?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“They never talk in front of me. But <i>something’s</i> happening: I’m sure +of that! That chap Chesney has been in with her ladyship since eight +o’clock this morning—they told you she was in bed—well, she wasn’t: +she was in the library. And the telephone seems to have been ringing +all night. I say, what do you think of that detective johnny putting +the young lady in gaol? A bit thick, what? I meant to have a few words +with him the other morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“He did it for a very good reason,” said Lizzy mysteriously. “I can’t +tell you everything, Selwyn; one day you will know the truth, but at +the present moment I’m not at liberty to talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody seems to be at liberty to tell me anything,” said the dismal +man. “But what’s the idea of that letter? Somebody’s got her in that +place with a fearful name!” He slapped his side. “Tappatt—the chap +who worries the wine! You know this fellow—the perfectly horrible +doctor! I’ll bet he’s the perfectly awful villain of the piece! He +hasn’t been near the house for days, and he had been sleuthing round +Chester Square a lot lately. And”—he slapped his knee again—“and +there was a trunk call came through from the country last night! I was +in the hall when the bell rang, and I’m sure he was the johnny who +called. He asked for her ladyship. Gallows Farm: that’s the place he +lives!” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he jumped up, his eyes bright with excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s there—I’ll bet a million pounds to a strawberry ice! Gallows +Farm, Somerset.” He tapped his forehead. “I signed a paper about that, +I’ll swear! It is one of the job lots her ladyship bought two or three +years ago, or one of her bailiffs bought. She is always buying old +properties and selling ’em at a profit. And I know old +stick-in-the-mud has got a home somewhere—Tappatt, I mean—because +her ladyship said she’d send me there if I wasn’t jolly careful. That +rosy-nosed hound has got Miss Reddle!” +</p> + +<p> +They looked at one another in silence. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a detective, Selwyn!” she breathed ecstatically, and he pulled +at his moustache. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m pretty smart at some things—what about a rescue?” said his +lordship suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“A what?” Lizzy’s heart beat faster. +</p> + +<p> +“A rescue,” he nodded. “What about hopping down into Somerset, seeing +old stick-in-the-mud, and saying: ‘Look here, old top, this sort of +thing can’t be tolerated in civilised society. Hand over Miss Reddle +or you’ll get into serious trouble’?” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy’s enthusiasm died down. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think that would make much difference to him,” she said. “And +it would be unnecessary, Selwyn; if Michael Dorn is there she will be +released this afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +Selwyn was disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” Lizzy went on, “what would her ladyship say if you were +away all day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Blow her ladyship!” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve had enough of her +ladyship—I have really. I’ve made up my mind that I’m through with +Chester Square, and I’ve got my eye on a dinky little flat in +Knightsbridge,” he said rapidly. “I feel it is time I asserted myself. +My idea is to live incognito. I’m going to call myself Mr. Smith——” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” said Lizzy coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a pretty good name. Anyway, Brown is as good.” He amended his +plans in some haste. “Now what about a little bit of lunch somewhere?” +</p> + +<p> +An hour later Lizzy went dizzily into the great dining-room of the +Ritz-Carlton, and Lady Moron, entertaining a guest at a corner table, +looked at her through her lorgnettes and shrugged her large shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Selwyn is sowing his wild oats rather late in life,” she said, and +Chesney Praye, who had returned from Paris that morning, was mildly +amused. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch30"> +Chapter Thirty +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Though</span> she could remember one or two uncomfortable days in her life, +Lois Reddle could not recall one that bore any comparison with the +twenty hours that followed her departure from Gallows Farm. She had +been awakened by the woman at some unknown hour in the middle of the +night, ordered to dress and come downstairs. The first order was easy +to obey, for she had not taken off her clothes. When she came down +into the passage she found the doctor waiting for her. He was wearing +his heaviest overcoat, and carried a thick stick, and was testing a +flash-lamp as she joined him. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you taking me?” she asked, as he led her across the yard to +the accompaniment of the savage chorus of the dogs. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll find out in good time,” was the unpromising reply. “I don’t +want you to ask questions or to speak until I tell you. After you +leave this house you are to be silent—understand that?” +</p> + +<p> +They mounted the gentle slope of the downs and presently descended +into a valley on the other side. Although the moon was obscured, there +was sufficient light to enable her to pick her way across the rough +ground and to dispense with the arm he offered her. Once they made a +wide detour to avoid a marshy patch, and once he had to help her +through a fence of hawthorn. Ahead of them was a dark line of trees, +which was on the estate. He told her there were twelve hundred acres +of land attached to the farm, only a small portion of which had been +sub-let, and none of which was under cultivation. +</p> + +<p> +“It is poor land, anyway—most of this downland is. That is Gallows +Wood,” he said, indicating the trees ahead. “The farm takes its name +from the wood. There used to be a gallows on the crest of the hill +years ago. Not scared, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +He chuckled when she answered “No.” +</p> + +<p> +After a while they struck a rough track which led into the heart of +the copse, and now for the first time he produced the flash-lamp; a +necessary precaution, for the path was overgrown and difficult to +follow. Although her voice was steady and her attitude one of sublime +confidence, Lois was inwardly quaking. There was something very +ominous in this move. Yet it was not the fear of what would happen in +the wood that frightened her. She guessed that the doctor was moving +her from the farm because he expected the return of Michael Dorn. She +dreaded only this; that Michael would search the house and be +satisfied that she was not there. Would the doctor move the +grey-haired woman too, she wondered? After ten minutes’ walk he +stopped, and she thought he had lost the way, until the light of his +lamp revealed a small stone cottage, standing back from the path and +almost hidden by trees and undergrowth. This, then, was the new +prison, she thought. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold this light,” he ordered, and she obeyed, whilst he tried key +after key in the lock. +</p> + +<p> +After a while the door swung open and he went in, turning his head to +see that she was coming after. The floor was thick with dust; the only +furniture in the room into which he invited her was an old backless +chair. On one of the walls was a yellow almanac for the year 1913, and +probably the house had not been occupied since then. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll stay here and keep quiet. There will be light in a few hours. +If you want anything, ask Mrs. Rooks—she will be here presently.” +</p> + +<p> +He went out, but did not lock the door; she found afterwards that it +was lacking in this appendage. Followed half an hour’s wait, and then +she heard footsteps in the hall, heard another door open, and a mutter +of conversation. Something dropped with a thud on the passage, and for +a second Lois’ heart came into her mouth. But it seemed that Mrs. +Rooks, who, she guessed, was the sallow-faced woman, had come heavily +laden, for the sound of her complaining reached the girl. Evidently +she had brought the provisions necessary for the party—the weight of +them was not very promising, and Tappatt was seemingly prepared for a +long stay. +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly broke my back,” she grumbled. “Why couldn’t she carry it, +doctor?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois crept nearer to the door and listened, hoping to hear something +that would confirm her theory that she was being hidden because the +doctor expected a return visit from Michael Dorn. +</p> + +<p> +“Get a chair from the other room,” she heard him growl. “What are you +making all this fuss about? It is no worse for you than for me. This +isn’t the first time you’ve sat up all night, is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see why you should take all this trouble,” grumbled the +woman. “He’ll not come back again, and, if he did, what’s to stop him +coming into the wood?” +</p> + +<p> +“He will come back—you need have no doubt about that. I know the man. +And you can make your mind easy about his finding them. He isn’t +likely to search every copse in the neighbourhood.” +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later the front door slammed as he went out, and she +heard the woman grumbling to herself. She was sitting within a few +feet of the door, and could hear every sound and move in the bare +room. To open the window might be possible, but to do so without her +hearing was a hopeless impossibility. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after daybreak Mrs. Rooks took her into the kitchen, and, passing +the room which held the second prisoner, Lois saw that there was a key +in that door. If the conditions were the same in the other prison room +it was as impossible for the unknown woman to escape. Who was she, she +wondered? Some poor creature, perhaps, who had been entrusted by her +friends to the tender mercy of Dr. Tappatt. Her heart ached for the +woman, and in her pity she forgot her own danger and discomfort. +</p> + +<p> +Throughout the long and weary day that followed she saw no sign of any +human being. The wood was situate on a private estate, and the +overgrown condition of the path had told her that it was not +frequented even by those who had authority to cross the land. From the +windows she could see only the trunks of beeches and the green tracery +of leaves. The oppressive loneliness told even upon the +uncommunicative Mrs. Rooks, who must have been unused to a solitary +life, for that afternoon she came into the room where Lois was +sitting. Lois had opportunity for studying her. She must have been in +the region of fifty, a harsh, sour-faced woman, with a grievance +against the world and its people. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s so pesky quiet that I should go off my head if I was here long,” +she complained. +</p> + +<p> +Lois wondered if she could make the woman talk about other things than +the loneliness of the wood. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you been in England a long time?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rooks had to master her natural repugnance to gossip before she +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Only two years. We were in India before then. I don’t know what that +has got to do with you, anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard you call your dogs by Indian names. ‘Mali’ means money, +doesn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you ask questions, young lady,” said the woman. “You behave +yourself, and you won’t be badly treated. Act the fool, and +you’ll——” She nodded significantly. “Of course ‘Mali’ means money. +Do you <i>mallum</i> the <i>bat</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois shook her head smilingly. She guessed that she was being asked if +she spoke or understood Hindustani. +</p> + +<p> +“Why am I kept here—can you tell me that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you’re not right in your head.” The reply would have driven +Lois to a fury, but she had already guessed the excuse that would be +made for her detention. “You’ve been hearing things and seeing things. +An’ people who hear things, voices an’ all that, are batty.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois laughed quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“You know that I am not mad, Mrs. Rooks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody thinks they are mad,” said Mrs. Rooks alarmingly. “That’s one +of the symptoms. The minute a person thinks she’s sane, she’s mad! The +doctor knows: he’s the cleverest man in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +She glanced back at the open door. Lois heard a steady echo of +footsteps, as though somebody was pacing the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is in the other room?” she asked, without expecting any very +satisfactory reply. +</p> + +<p> +“A woman—she’s nutty.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I saw her the other evening,” said the girl with affected +carelessness. “Weren’t you—talking to her in the yard?” +</p> + +<p> +The woman’s shrewd eyes looked her up and down. +</p> + +<p> +“You saw me quieting her with the whip. She gets fresh sometimes—most +of ’em do. You will too.” Lois shuddered at this ominous prophecy. +“Bless you, they don’t mind a licking! Lunatics ain’t human beings +anyway, they’re just animals, the doctor says, and you’ve got to treat +’em like animals. That’s the only kind of treatment they understand.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois tried to veil her horror and disgust and felt that she had not +wholly succeeded. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you will not treat me like an animal,” she said, and Mrs. +Rooks sniffed. +</p> + +<p> +“If you behave yourself, you’ll be treated well. All nutty people have +a good time if they don’t get fresh and obstrepulous. That’s the +doctor’s way.” +</p> + +<p> +It was clear to Lois that, whatever faults this woman might have, +however brutal she might be, she had accepted without any question any +diagnosis that the doctor might make. To Mrs. Rooks she was crazy, +just as was the other woman. And if she became “obstrepulous” she +would be served in the same way. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you call her a gaolbird?” +</p> + +<p> +Again that shrewd, suspicious scrutiny. +</p> + +<p> +“I call her lots of things,” said Mrs. Rooks indifferently. “If you +hadn’t been spying you wouldn’t have heard. Names don’t hurt anybody. +They’re better than the whip anyway—did you know that man that came +last night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Dorn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, who is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a police officer,” said Lois. +</p> + +<p> +The effect of the words upon the woman was unexpected. Her sallow skin +became a pasty white. +</p> + +<p> +“A detective!” +</p> + +<p> +Lois nodded, and Mrs. Rooks’ face cleared. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s part of your crazy ideas,” she said calmly. “He is a man the +doctor owes money to. I know, because the doctor told me. The doctor’s +been in difficulties, and he’s not the kind of man who’d have any +trouble with the police. They told a lot of lies about him in India, +but he’s a good man, the best man in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +And then a thought struck Lois, and she asked: +</p> + +<p> +“What is supposed to be my delusion?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rooks shot a cunning glance at the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m surprised at you asking that, young lady! You think you’re +somebody who you’re not!” +</p> + +<p> +Lois frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean I am under the impression that I am somebody important?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rooks nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—you think you’re the Countess of Moron!” she said. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch31"> +Chapter Thirty-one +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Lois</span> could hardly believe her ears. +</p> + +<p> +“Me?” she said in amazement. “I think I am the Countess of Moron? How +absurd! I think nothing of the kind!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you do,” nodded Mrs. Rooks. “The doctor said you think you’re +the countess. You tried to murder Lady Moron because you wanted the +title!” +</p> + +<p> +The suggestion was so ludicrous that Lois laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“How ridiculous! Such an idea has never entered my head. Lady Moron! +Why, I am a secretary—where did you hear this?” +</p> + +<p> +“The doctor told me,” said the woman stubbornly. “He never tells +lies—except to people he owes money to, but that’s natural, ain’t +it?” +</p> + +<p> +She went out of the room soon after and was gone for half an hour, +apparently attending to the needs of the other prisoner, for when she +came back she had something to say about discontented people. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s had all she wants to eat and all she wants to drink and still +she’s not satisfied. That shows she’s mad. I never knew a crazy woman +that was satisfied.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois thought it was a weakness, not entirely confined to the crazy. +</p> + +<p> +“When are we leaving here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know—to-night I guess,” said the other, vaguely. “Anyway, +the doctor will be here to take my place and I’ll get some sleep. I’m +nearly dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rooks was not disposed for further conversation and as the day +progressed she grew more taciturn and irritable. When night fell, she +seemed to be spending her time either at the door of the cottage or +outside. Lois heard her walking under her window, talking to herself. +She was dozing in her chair when she heard the doctor’s voice and was +instantly wide awake. +</p> + +<p> +“You take the other, I’ll bring this one along. You can leave all the +truck here. We may want to come back. I don’t think it is likely, but +we may.” +</p> + +<p> +The room was in darkness when he came stamping in and flashed his lamp +upon her. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve had an uncomfortable day, but you’ve got your friend to +blame,” he said. “You’ll be able to sleep to-night in your own bed, +which is more than he will do!” +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer him; the reference to Michael’s bed was too cryptic +to follow. +</p> + +<p> +“Clever fellow, Dorn, eh? Brilliant detective? He’s got all his wits +about him, don’t you think?” +</p> + +<p> +Still she did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, he’s clever,” said Tappatt. He was in a cheerful, almost a +rollicking mood, and she guessed with a sinking heart that if Michael +Dorn had come back, he had been outwitted. “Look at this.” He flashed +his lamp on an object which lay in his palm. It was a heavy-calibred +automatic pistol and she uttered an “Oh!” of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you, my girl. We don’t kill +people, we cure ’em! That is what they are here for.” +</p> + +<p> +As he patted her shoulder, she shrank back from him. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I wanted to show you that, because it is Dorn’s. I took it away +from him as easily as you might take money from a child. I just took +it out of his pocket and he said nothing! And he’s clever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he dead?” she asked, and the question tickled him. +</p> + +<p> +“No, he’s not dead,” he said jovially. “Nothing so dramatic. I don’t +kill people, I tell you. I cure ’em! He’s cured! The mania for +investigation has been entirely eradicated!” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rooks and her prisoner had, by this time, left the house. Lois +heard them swishing through the undergrowth and saw a momentary +flicker of light through the window, as the old woman sought for the +path. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll give them a start,” said the doctor, “and then we’ll follow +them. Rooks is slow; getting old, I guess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is the other woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“A patient of mine,” said the doctor casually. “She’s got some strange +delusions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you tell Mrs. Rooks that I was mad?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you are,” was the calm reply. “I have diagnosed you as +suffering from delusions, with suicidal tendencies. And my diagnosis +has never been questioned, my dear. And now, if you’re ready——?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you say that I think I’m the Countess of Moron?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you do! I’ve put that in my case book and case books are +evidence!” +</p> + +<p> +And he roared with laughter as if he had made a good joke. +</p> + +<p> +They returned to the other cottage, and even in her weariness Lois +looked forward to the walk across the fields, for her legs were +cramped and she ached in every limb. As they mounted the last gentle +slope, the long wall of Gallows Farm came into view. The gate was open +and they passed through. Half-way across the yard he caught her arm +and they stopped. She heard the rattle of the chained dogs and +wondered if he was about to warn her again of the dangers that +attended an escape. Instead: +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a nice little place down there,” he pointed into the +darkness—“a room that has been described as airy, though it is a +little below the level of the ground. I must show it to you some +day—it has an interesting story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to put me there?” she asked, her courage almost failing +her. +</p> + +<p> +“You? My dear, you’re the last person in the world I should put +there.” Again the hateful encouragement of his caressing hand. “Go +ahead, your own handsome apartment is ready for you.” +</p> + +<p> +He took up the lamp that was waiting in the passage and showed her to +the landing. Glancing at the room opposite, she saw that a new staple +had been fixed in the doorway and guessed that the other woman was now +her neighbour. Tappatt followed the direction of her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have company,” he said. “The old home is filling up rapidly! +All you require in any mental establishment is a start. Satisfied +clients are the best advertisements!” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Mr. Dorn?” she asked as he was leaving the room. +</p> + +<p> +“He has gone back to London with a flea in his ear. That fellow won’t +bother me again in a hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you ever speak the truth?” +</p> + +<p> +For some reason the question infuriated him and his manner changed in +an instant. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you the truth one of these days, my young lady, and it +won’t be pleasant to hear!” he stormed. +</p> + +<p> +With that he slammed the door and turned the key on her. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch32"> +Chapter Thirty-two +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Earlier</span> that day somebody else had asked for the truth. As a rule, +Mr. Chesney Praye had little use for that quality, but, as he +explained to the Countess over their protracted meal, he wanted to +know “exactly where he was.” He knew a lot, more than she guessed, for +he was a keen man with an instinct for hidden facts. He was also a +professional opportunist, as she was to learn. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re going to marry me, Leonora, as soon as this business is +cleared up. But before we go any further, I want all your cards on the +table. And first I want to know what I have been doing. Blind +obedience is all right in a soldier, but I’m not a soldier. I’ve +muddied my hands pretty badly over this business and I can see myself +getting five years’ imprisonment if Dorn ever gets on to my trail. But +there is a lot that you haven’t told me and I’d rather like to know +where I stand.” +</p> + +<p> +The Countess took the cigarette from her mouth, blew a cloud of smoke, +following it with her eyes until it dissipated, and then, slowly +extinguishing the cigarette in the ash-tray, she made her revelation +and Mr. Chesney Praye listened without interruption for half an hour. +And all that he heard he sorted for his own advantage. +</p> + +<p> +She paused only once, and that was when she saw her son, piloting the +girl into the palm court. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s prettier than I thought,” she said, “a chorus-girl’s +prettiness, but——” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind about her,” said Chesney impatiently. “What happened +after——” +</p> + +<p> +The Countess told him, concealing nothing, and when she had finished, +he sat back in his chair, hot and limp. +</p> + +<p> +“My God!” he breathed. “You—you are wonderful! And that’s the ‘why’ +of Gallows Farm, eh? I confess I was puzzled.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the why of Gallows Farm,” said Lady Moron, lighting another +cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +Chesney Praye left the hotel alone; the Countess was going down to her +place in the country, and, when she invited him to accompany her, he +had invented an appointment on the spur of the moment, for Chesney was +a quick thinker, and on the occasion of which Michael Dorn never grew +weary of reminding him, he owed his immunity from arrest to this +quality. +</p> + +<p> +He glanced up at the street-clock. There was time to carry out one +essential part of his scheme and, if his plan was not entirely worked +out when he picked up a taxi, it was complete in all details when he +reached St. Paul’s Churchyard. +</p> + +<p> +From the top of a plebeian ’bus Lord Moron and his companion saw the +cab flash past. +</p> + +<p> +“My stepfather!” groaned his lordship. “You wouldn’t think a horrible, +common bounder like that would attract a woman like her ladyship, +Elizabeth?” +</p> + +<p> +But Lizzy pressed her lips tightly together and expressed no opinion, +other than the noncommittal one that “likes attract like,” which may +or not have been as complimentary as she intended. +</p> + +<p> +There was no telegram for her in Charlotte Street when they arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“And there won’t be,” said Lord Moron with satisfaction. “I’ll bet you +any amount of money that the purply doctor has got away with it. Mind +you, Elizabeth, I know him! He’s had his skinny legs under my +mahogany, and whatever you may say about me, I’m a judge of +character.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’re clever,” admitted Lizzy, “and I’ve always said so. +What is your mother going to say about us going to lunch at that posh +restaurant?” +</p> + +<p> +Lord Moron expressed his complete indifference. +</p> + +<p> +“From to-day I am on my own; I can’t start too soon,” he said. “Her +ladyship doesn’t mind being seen in public with that perfectly +impossible Chesney Praye—the bird of prey, as I sometimes call +him——” he waited for applause, but received no more than an +approving smile,—“and if she doesn’t mind, I don’t see how she can +object to me going to lunch with one of the—at any rate, a very nice +girl,” he added lamely, and Elizabeth raised her eyes in the shy, +wistful way she had seen in the best films. +</p> + +<p> +At eight o’clock the post office was closed. Moron went down to the +nearest branch office and enquired for a telegram, but none had been +received; nor were they able to get into communication with Mr. Wills. +</p> + +<p> +On his way back to the house, Selwyn telephoned the Bluelight Garage, +in accordance with instructions, and they were flying along the broad +expanse of the Great West Road, when a faster car overtook and passed +them and Selwyn involuntarily shrank back to cover. +</p> + +<p> +“Who was it?” asked Lizzy, who had not seen the occupant. +</p> + +<p> +Lord Moron raised his fingers to his lips, though the possibility of +being overheard was negligible. It was not until the overtaking car +was a steady speck in a revolving cloud of dust that he turned +dramatically to her and whispered: +</p> + +<p> +“Chesney—Chesney Praye. He’s going down too! I knew he was in it. A +bounder like that would be in anything dirty!” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he see us?” +</p> + +<p> +Selwyn shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No. He was driving; but he was grinning like an ape. That shows!” +</p> + +<p> +At Maidenhead they passed the car standing outside an hotel. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s gone in to grub,” said Selwyn, all a-twitter with excitement. +“The thing for us to do is to be careful when he passes us again.” +</p> + +<p> +But no care was required, and his elaborate plan to be immersed in an +evening newspaper that completely hid himself and his companion when +the car came abreast, was unnecessary, for it was dark when the siren +of Chesney’s machine called for a clear road, and the car swept past. +</p> + +<p> +Within ten miles of the farm there were a number of enquiries to be +made. The exact situation of the farm was difficult to locate, and it +was only when they reached Whitcomb village that they were able to +take the road with any certainty. And there were other difficulties to +be overcome. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no sense in our dashing up madly to this old Gallows and +saying ‘Where is she?’ ” said his lordship, with perfect truth. “If +we’re on the track of something fishy, and I’m sure everything +connected with Chesney is fishy, we shan’t get a civil answer. On the +other hand, if there is nothing fishy about the business, we’ll be +getting ourselves a bad reputation if we barge in and there’s +nothing—er——” +</p> + +<p> +“Fishy,” suggested Lizzy helpfully. +</p> + +<p> +Two miles from Whitcomb they held a council of war, and decided to +send the machine back to the main road and to continue the journey on +foot. This was his lordship’s idea. +</p> + +<p> +“The situation requires a certain amount of tact, and if there’s +anybody more tactful than me, I’d like to meet them.” +</p> + +<p> +They trudged up the dusty road, keeping a watch for Chesney’s car. It +was dark by now and they were without any kind of light except the +matches that Lord Moron occasionally struck, and both were dead-beat +by the time they came in view of the farm. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a very cheerful looking place, is it?” said Selwyn, some of his +enterprise evaporating. “Beastly dismal hole. Shouldn’t be surprised +if there was a real gallows somewhere around. I think it was a mistake +to have left the car.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is too late to talk about mistakes,” said Lizzy brusquely, and led +the way. “We’ve found the place, that is something. Not that it looks +as if it is worth finding.” +</p> + +<p> +They came at last to the big black gate and the forbidding wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we ring or knock?” asked his lordship. “There’s a car +inside—do you hear it?” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy compromised by kicking on the wood. Her foot was raised to kick +a second time, when there came from the house a woman’s scream, so +vibrant with fear that Selwyn’s blood seemed to turn to ice and his +knees touched together. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the gates burst open with a crash, almost knocking them +down, and the bonnet of a car showed. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a woman in the car,” screamed Lizzy, but the roar of the +engines drowned her voice. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch33"> +Chapter Thirty-three +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mr. Chesney Praye</span> was a welcome visitor. He had parked his machine +in the forecourt, and now, sitting before the small wood fire, was +warming his chilled hands, for the night had turned unusually cold and +he had come at full speed across the windy downs. +</p> + +<p> +“Br-r-r!” he said, as he held his hands before the blaze. “And this is +what they call an English summer! I’ll be glad to get back to India.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think of going?” +</p> + +<p> +“I may. Everything depends——” +</p> + +<p> +“You were lucky to find me in,” said the doctor, putting glasses on +the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” asked the other, in surprise. “I thought you wouldn’t leave +this abode of peace, at any rate not now.” +</p> + +<p> +Briefly the doctor related the cause of his excursion and Chesney +looked serious. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any likelihood of Dorn coming back?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Tappatt’s merriment reassured him. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s back! In fact, he is practically under this roof!” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney sprang to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil do you mean?” he asked roughly. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down. There’s nothing to be alarmed about. He is behind a +two-inch door, with handcuffs on his wrists and a pain in his head +that will take a lot of moving. I’d have telephoned, only I don’t +trust the exchange.” +</p> + +<p> +And then he told the visitor of his encounter with Dorn. +</p> + +<p> +“It was a question of foresight, and I saw farthest,” he said. “It is +as good as a bottle of sparkling wine to match your brain against the +mind of a man like that, to look ahead and see what he will do in +given circumstances, and to counter and recounter his plans. Somebody +had to come out on top—he or I. He failed to take an elementary +precaution—the veriest amateur would have known that, if his +attention was distracted for a moment, I’d doctor his drink; and it +was absurdly simple. I don’t even take the credit for it. He played so +completely into my hands.” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney pursed his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Has he recovered from the drug?” he asked, a little apprehensively. +</p> + +<p> +Tappatt nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, I’ve had quite an interesting conversation with him through +the door. There’s a little spyhole that makes it easy to exchange +pleasant badinage. Captain Michael Dorn is a pretty sick man at this +moment.” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney Praye was pacing up and down the room, a worried frown on his +face. This was a development that he had not looked for. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it is better,” he said. “I shall be taking away the girl +to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“The countess didn’t——” began the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t worry about the countess. She’d have telephoned, but she +shared your fear of the exchange. The girl and Mrs. Pinder are to be +moved. The risk of keeping them here is too great. Dorn has people +working for him and you’ll wake one morning to find a cordon of police +round the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where will you go?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall take her abroad.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the other woman?” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney looked at him oddly. +</p> + +<p> +“I may want the other woman—later,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I had better bring Reddle down,” said the doctor, rising and going to +the door, but Praye beckoned him back. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no hurry,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He evidently had something which he had hesitated to say. +</p> + +<p> +“What are your plans, Tappatt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mine? I shall have to flit, I suppose. They’re striking me off the +register, at least Dorn told me so.” +</p> + +<p> +“What will you do with him?” +</p> + +<p> +An ugly smile showed for a second on the doctor’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. He is going to be a difficulty. I’ve seen that from the +first. I could leave him, and that is what I shall probably do. Nobody +would come near the farm perhaps for months, perhaps for a year.” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney Praye’s face was ashen. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave him to starve?” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” asked the other coolly. “Who would know? I thought of going +to Australia. And I’d take my nurse with me. She would think that I +had let Dorn out, and anyway she’s not the kind of person to ask +questions. This place is Lady Moron’s property. Who would visit it if +I left? It might be empty for years.” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney Praye’s mouth was dry, the hand that went to his lips shook. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know—it seems pretty awful,” he said irresolutely. “To leave +a man—to starve!” +</p> + +<p> +“What will happen if he gets after me?” asked the doctor, stirring the +fire that had almost gone out. “I should either starve or get my meals +too regularly! I understand the food is fairly good at Dartmoor, but I +am willing to take anybody’s word for it. I do not want to have a +personal experience. And anyway, there’s always a way out for a +medical man. I owe Dorn something. He hounded me from India, and he’s +not exactly a friend of yours, is he, Chesney?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the other shortly, “only——” +</p> + +<p> +“Only what? You’re chicken-hearted! What do you think is going to +happen to you and me if that gets out?” He pointed to the ceiling. “It +would mean the best part of a lifetime for you—more than a lifetime +for me. No, sir, I am well aware of the risks I am taking and more +than determined what further risks I’ll accept. You’d better have the +girl down. I suppose you want to be alone?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded and the doctor went out of the room, and was gone for a long +while. When the door opened, Lois Reddle stood framed against the dark +background of the passage. At the sight of Praye she stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“You!” she said in wonder. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, Miss Reddle. Won’t you sit down?” +</p> + +<p> +Chesney was politeness itself and his manners were unimpeachable. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you’ve had a very unhappy experience,” he said. “I only +learnt about it this afternoon and I came down immediately to do +whatever I could. The doctor tells me that you have been certified.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is not true,” she said hotly. “I know very little about the law, +but I have been in Mr. Shaddles’ office too long to suppose that any +person can be certified as mad by one doctor! Are you going to take me +away?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“And that other unfortunate woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“She may go too,” he said slowly, “on conditions.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite understand you, Mr. Praye.” +</p> + +<p> +He motioned her to a chair, but she did not move. +</p> + +<p> +“Now listen to me, Miss Reddle. I am taking big risks for your sake. I +needn’t particularise them, but if I fail this evening, my future, and +probably”—he hesitated to say “liberty”—“at any rate, my future is +seriously jeopardised. I’ve made this journey without the knowledge of +a person who shall be nameless and I am betraying the trust she has in +me. She will not forgive me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean the Countess of Moron?” she asked quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no use in beating about the bush. I refer to the Countess of +Moron.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I here by her orders?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“But why? What have I ever done to her that she should wish to injure +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will know one of these days,” he said impatiently, “but that is +beside the point. I can save you and your mother——” +</p> + +<p> +She fell back a pace. +</p> + +<p> +“My mother?” she breathed. “That woman,” she pointed her trembling +finger to the door—“not my mother?” He nodded. “Here? Oh, my God! +Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s here for the same reason that you are here,” was his cool +reply. “Now, Miss Reddle, you’ve got to be an intelligent being. I +want you to be sensible and recognise the sacrifices I am making for +you, and to agree to my conditions for taking your mother away from +this place.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are the conditions?” she asked slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“The first is that you marry me!” said Chesney Praye. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch34"> +Chapter Thirty-four +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">She</span> looked at him bewildered, as though she could not grasp the +meaning of his words. +</p> + +<p> +“That I marry you?” she repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“That you marry me to-morrow. I took the precaution this afternoon of +going to Doctors’ Commons and securing a special licence, which allows +me to be married to-morrow morning. I had some trouble in getting it, +but it is here——” he tapped his breast pocket. “Before leaving +London I telegraphed to the vicar of Leitworth, a village some thirty +miles from here, and asked him to perform the ceremony at ten o’clock +to-morrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +His face was white; he was obviously labouring under the stress of +some tense emotion. Presently he went on in a lower voice: +</p> + +<p> +“I will make you a rich woman. I will place you and your mother beyond +want. I will give you a position in the world that you could not dream +you would ever occupy. I’ll do something more.” He came closer to her, +and before she realised what he was doing he had gripped her +shoulders. “I will clear your mother’s name—I can’t give her back the +years she has spent in prison——” +</p> + +<p> +She drew back out of his grasp. +</p> + +<p> +“No!” she said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. It may be true—all these +things you say—but I can’t marry you, Mr. Praye, and I—I don’t +believe you. My mother is in prison.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your mother is in this house.” +</p> + +<p> +He strode to the door and, pulling it open, called the doctor by name. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring down Mrs. Pinder,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The girl stood at the farther end of the room, her hands clasped +together, waiting, hoping, yet not daring to hope. She heard a light +step on the stair, again the door opened and the woman came in. +</p> + +<p> +One glance at that serene face was sufficient. In another second they +were in one another’s arms, and the girl was sobbing on her mother’s +breast. +</p> + +<p> +For a minute there was silence in the room, and only the murmured +endearments of the older woman interrupted. Then Mrs. Pinder held the +girl at arm’s length and looked into her tear-stained face. +</p> + +<p> +“My little Lois!” she said softly. “It hardly seems possible.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois tried to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“And have you come to take me away?” +</p> + +<p> +Watching the girl, Chesney saw her nod, and his hopes bounded as he +introduced himself. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Chesney Praye,” he said awkwardly, “a—a friend of Miss Reddle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Reddle? Then Mrs. Reddle gave you her name?” She looked at Chesney. +“When do we go?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“As soon as certain conditions are fulfilled. Will you leave us, Mrs. +Pinder?” +</p> + +<p> +The woman’s eyes fell upon the girl. Gathering her in her arms, she +kissed her tenderly. Chesney, in his feverish anxiety, almost tore +them apart in his urgency. He closed the door upon Mrs. Pinder and +came back to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” he said. “I told you the truth?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“And you’ll do this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Marry you?” She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“But you told your mother you would!” he said furiously. “You know +what it means, don’t you, if you refuse?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t, I can’t! How can I marry you, Mr. Praye? You’re engaged to +the Countess of Moron——” +</p> + +<p> +He interrupted her with an oath. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind about the countess! You know what I’m doing for you, don’t +you? I’m saving your life, I’m giving you your mother——” +</p> + +<p> +She looked past him at the closed door. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t!” she said helplessly. “How can you ask me to decide? I—I +don’t know you, you must give me time.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll give you as much time as it will take you to sign this paper.” +</p> + +<p> +He pulled out a sheet of foolscap from his pocket and laid it on the +table. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s an agreement. You needn’t trouble to read it. Just put your +signature here, and I’ll bring in the doctor to witness it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what is the document?” she asked, and tried to turn it back to +the first page, but he prevented her. +</p> + +<p> +Her suspicion was growing, and the reaction from that tremendous +meeting had left her chilled and numb. Into her heart had crept an +uneasy suspicion that the conditions he offered were not in his power +to fulfil. All her instincts told her this man’s word was valueless. +</p> + +<p> +“I can do nothing until I have seen Mr. Dorn.” +</p> + +<p> +Why she mentioned the detective’s name at all, she could not +understand. She wanted time. She mentioned the first name that +occurred to her, and might as well have referred to Mr. Shaddles. +</p> + +<p> +“Dorn! So that’s how the land lies, eh? Michael Dorn is the favoured +gentleman? Well, Dorn or no Dorn, you’ll marry me to-morrow morning at +ten o’clock. I’ve gone too far to pull back now. And Dorn’s dead, +anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead?” she cried in horror. +</p> + +<p> +“He came here this morning, looking for you, and——” +</p> + +<p> +The door was opening slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want you, Tappatt. Shut the door, damn you!” +</p> + +<p> +But still it was moving, slowly, slowly. And then around the edge came +the black muzzle of a pistol, an arm, and then, last, the smiling face +of Michael Dorn! +</p> + +<p> +“Put up your hands, Praye!” he said. “I want you!” +</p> + +<p> +As the door opened and the hand came in, Chesney Praye’s fingers +closed around an ebony ruler, and then, at the hateful sight of +Michael Dorn’s face, he struck at the oil lamp that stood on the +table. There was a crash, a jangle of broken glass, and Lois screamed. +</p> + +<p> +Praye darted past her; she heard the thud of the door, and a grunt +from somebody. In another second the two men were at grips and she +shrank back farther and farther into a corner of the room, as tables +and chairs became involved in the struggle. She heard Chesney +screaming for the doctor at the top of his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Doctor—help! Get this swine!” And there came to the frightened ears +of the girl the sound of the door being wrenched open, the scurry of +footsteps, and Chesney’s voice was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay where you are!” +</p> + +<p> +The room reeked with the smell of kerosene. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t strike a light,” said Michael’s voice, but even as he spoke a +white flame leapt up from the hearth. The flowing oil had reached some +red-hot embers, and in a second the whole floor was blazing. +</p> + +<p> +The girl was paralysed with fear, but before she could move he had +picked her up and carried her into the passage. +</p> + +<p> +“Go into the back, quick! The dogs won’t hurt you,” he said, and flew +up the stairs, bursting into Mrs. Pinder’s prison. +</p> + +<p> +The room in which Mrs. Pinder had been confined was empty. There was +no sign of the doctor or of the woman. He came down into the hall +again and ran to the front door. As he opened the door, he saw +Chesney’s big car going full speed towards the closed gates. There was +a crack and a crash, the gates flew open, and the tail lights +disappeared as the car turned on to the road. +</p> + +<p> +The front room was now blazing. He tried the housekeeper’s room: that +also was empty. There was no need for further search. Dr. Tappatt had +got away, and with him the unhappy mother of Lois. +</p> + +<p> +He rejoined the girl and she told him what had happened before he came +into the room. +</p> + +<p> +“That is it,” he said bitterly. “The doctor was listening at the door +and, thinking he was going to be left in the lurch, decided to make +his getaway. When Praye turned your mother from the room he must have +put her into the car, and probably unfastened the gate when he heard +the fight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where will he have taken her? What will happen?” she asked fearfully. +</p> + +<p> +Her nerve had gone, and she clung to him like a frightened child, and +as he held the quivering figure in his arms, the world and all its +sordid horrors dropped away from him and for a second he lived in a +heaven of happiness. +</p> + +<p> +“Child, child!” His hand trembled as it touched her cheek. “Your +mother is not in danger—they dare not.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am an hysterical fool!” she sobbed as she rubbed her face against +his coat. “But, Michael, I am so frightened. What will happen to my +mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing; they will not dare injure her.” +</p> + +<p> +The fire had taken hold; great tongues of flame were leaping up from +the roof. +</p> + +<p> +“It will burn like tinder. I’m sorry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry?” she said, in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean I’m sorry to see property destroyed. I don’t suppose it is +insured,” was his strange reply. “I’ll pull the Buick out of the shed +before the fire gets to it.” +</p> + +<p> +As they were walking across the yard to the extemporised garage, he +caught her arm and drew her from the path, and, looking down, she saw +the stiff figure of a dog. +</p> + +<p> +“I had to shoot them,” he said. “I used a silencer, because I thought +the doctor would hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they told me you were dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you about it some day,” he answered briefly, and gave his +whole attention to breaking the lock of the shed. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he hauled out the car and examined the petrol tank. +</p> + +<p> +“There is enough to get us to the nearest village,” he said; “the +spare tin is full.” +</p> + +<p> +He got the car round to the front of the house, and was standing +watching the havoc of the flames when the first police cyclist came +thunderously from the direction of Whitcombe. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody is hurt except me,” said Michael in answer to the man’s +enquiry, “and in my case it is only a question of feelings. You didn’t +pass a car on your way?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I passed a big car, with three or four people in it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which way did they go?” +</p> + +<p> +“They took the Newbury Road.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we also will take the Newbury Road,” said Michael. +</p> + +<p> +On the journey back to London he told Lois what had happened to him. +</p> + +<p> +“I pretty well knew that he’d get you out of the house in the night, +but I also knew that he couldn’t take you far. It was impossible to +watch all sides of the house, and besides, it would have been as +impossible to get back on foot in time to intercept him. As I +expected, the house was empty when I made my search. I had formed a +plan which was fairly elementary. When he showed me the underground +cellar room, I slipped a spare gun and a small kit of tools amongst +the bedding, for I guessed that would be the place he would put +me—that is, if he managed to catch me. Honestly, I don’t believe he +thought of drugging me until I suggested it myself, and then he did +his work in the most clumsy way. He told me that he heard somebody +moving outside in order to distract my attention, and of course my +attention was distracted. When he had dropped the dope into my coffee, +I had a little distraction of my own. I found an excuse to go out into +the yard, poured away the coffee, and when I came back I stood in the +doorway, giving him the impression that I was drinking. I was standing +and he was sitting, so he couldn’t tell whether there was coffee in +the cup or not. But he was so smugly satisfied that he did what I knew +he would do—‘lured’ me down into the underground room—and I was glad +to be lured. I knew that the moment I was safely under lock and key, +he would bring you back again. I had cached my gun and tools, and when +he came in and found me unconscious, he did not trouble to search the +room again. If he had, he would have been shocked to have had a most +unpleasant beating from the helpless creature on the bed!” +</p> + +<p> +“But how did you get out?” +</p> + +<p> +“That was easy. Almost any key could have opened that old-fashioned +lock, and I came prepared with several. I waited all day because I was +certain that he would not bring you back until night. The handcuffs +were the most difficult part; I hadn’t a key to fit them. It took me +two hours’ hard work and a nearly dislocated thumb to slip them off.” +</p> + +<p> +They stopped at an all-night filling station, replenished the tank, +and continued their way to London. +</p> + +<p> +“I know one person who will be happy to-night,” said Michael, as the +car sped up the Bayswater Road. “I wonder whether she got the day +off?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whom do you mean?” asked the girl, aroused from an unpleasant +reverie. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Elizabeth Smith.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Dorn, do you really think that there’s no danger to my mother?” +she asked, for the moment oblivious to everything except the woman’s +danger. +</p> + +<p> +“None, I should imagine,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The car stopped before the house in Charlotte Street, and Mr. +Mackenzie answered the knock. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you Miss Smith with you?” he asked, after he had welcomed the +girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Lizzy?” said Lois in surprise. “She wasn’t with me. I haven’t seen +her. Why do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“She went to Gallows Farm with his lordship.” +</p> + +<p> +“With his lordship?” said Michael, in surprise. “Do you mean Lord +Moron?” +</p> + +<p> +“They left at eight o’clock,” said the old man, “in a hired car.” +</p> + +<p> +Michael and the girl were in the old man’s room when he gave them this +information, and the two exchanged glances. Here was an unforeseen +complication. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw no sign of a car, hired or otherwise,” he said. “And +Moron—phew!” He whistled. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps they lost their way,” suggested Lois, and he seemed prepared +to accept the suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t mind, Miss Reddle, I’ll wait here until they have +returned,” he said, and then: “You don’t wish to call up Lady Moron, I +suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois shuddered. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, not that terrible woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you know—or rather, you guess?” +</p> + +<p> +Lois shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing. The whole thing is a mystery to me. It is so +confusing that I think I should go mad, only I’m so grateful to be +here,” she smiled, and held out her hand. “And I knew that it would be +you who would come for me, just as I know it will be you who will +restore my mother to me.” +</p> + +<p> +He took her hand and held it, his eyes searching hers. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to tell you something,” he said in a low voice. They were +alone in the little room, and she felt her heart beating in time with +the cheap American clock on the table. “I suppose I really oughtn’t to +say anything,” he said, “because I have no right. But I feel if I +don’t tell you I may never have another opportunity.” +</p> + +<p> +She had dropped her eyes before his, but now she looked at him again. +</p> + +<p> +“I love you,” he said simply. “I can’t marry you, I won’t ask you to +marry me, and that is what makes this folly of mine all the more mad! +But I want you to believe that it has been a happiness to work for +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“For me?” she said. “Why, of course, you’ve worked very hard for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I have been paid very well,” was the disconcerting rejoinder. +“But I would do it again and pay all the money I have in the world for +the privilege.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he released her hand, and when she smiled up at him he, too, +was smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Two declarations of love in one night is more than any reasonable +girl can expect,” he said flippantly. +</p> + +<p> +“One declaration of love,” she said in a low voice, “and one offer of +marriage—quite different, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not an authority on these matters,” he said with a sigh, and +looked up at the loud-ticking clock. +</p> + +<p> +Michael saw the hour and frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m rather worried about these people; where on earth can they have +got? You don’t feel worried about sleeping here to-night alone—if you +have to sleep alone?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m troubled about Lizzy,” she said. “Poor Lord Moron! I wonder what +his mother would say if she knew.” +</p> + +<p> +“She probably knows,” said Michael. +</p> + +<p> +It was at that moment they heard Lizzy’s voice in the hall and the +sound of feet on the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Lois ran out to the landing and looked down into the lighted hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Michael!” she called wildly, and he was at her side. “Look—oh, +look!” she said in a hushed voice. +</p> + +<p> +And Michael Dorn looked—and wondered! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch35"> +Chapter Thirty-five +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">As</span> the gates burst open violently and the car lurched on to the +road, Lizzy pulled her companion back to the shadow of the wall. At +that moment a man came flying through the gateway and leapt upon the +running-board. Again the car slowed perceptibly. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s there,” whispered Lizzy fiercely. “Quick—luggage rack!” +</p> + +<p> +In an instant she was flying after the machine, caught the iron rail +of the rack and sprang on. The car was gathering speed as Selwyn Moron +stumbled forward, his hand gripping the rail, his legs moving faster +than nature had intended. Kneeling down, Lizzy caught him by a garment +which ladies do not mention, let alone grab, and hauled him up to her +side, breathless, almost dead. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold tight!” she squeaked in his ear, and there was need for the +caution, for the car was bumping from side to side over the uneven +road, at a speed beyond her computation. +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand miles an hour!” she jerked into his ear, and he nodded his +complete agreement. +</p> + +<p> +Now they were on the post road. The bumping had ceased, and the +machine was going even faster. Lizzy held tight to the luggage support +and adopted an attitude of passive fatalism. Once a motorcyclist +snapped past, going in the other direction, and she had a glimpse of a +uniform cap. It was a policeman, but by the time she realised the fact +he was out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +The seat was most uncomfortable. She began to realise the sensations +of a herring on a gridiron and wondered if the luggage rack would +leave the same marks. +</p> + +<p> +Selwyn was trying to whisper to her; he had recovered most of his +breath and all his sense of obligation. +</p> + +<p> +“What about that car of ours? We hired it by the hour,” he whispered +hoarsely, and she put her lips to his ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Shaddles will pay,” she said gaily, and found a delight in the +prospect. +</p> + +<p> +A little while later the car stopped, and the two unauthorised riders +got ready to jump. Peeping round the back of the machine, Lizzy saw +the cause of the delay. They had pulled up at a sort of sentry box and +one of the party was unlocking the door. She knew that the hut was an +automobile station equipped with a telephone, before she heard a +muffled voice speaking. Presently the telephoner came out. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” he said, as he climbed in and the car started again. +</p> + +<p> +They had not gone twenty miles when, to her surprise, the machine +slackened its speed again, slowed almost to a halt, and then turned +suddenly through a pair of old gates that had been opened for them. +She felt a communicated excitement from her companion as he bent over +towards her. +</p> + +<p> +“Old family estate,” he whispered. “Country seat and all that sort of +thing! Knew it as soon as I saw the gates.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whose?” she asked cautiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Mine,” was the surprising reply. +</p> + +<p> +And then, feeling that he had overstated the case, he added: +</p> + +<p> +“Her ladyship’s really. Beastly house—never liked it. Moron Court, +Newbury. Rum place——” +</p> + +<p> +They passed up a long avenue of elms, going slower and slower. Selwyn +tapped her on the shoulder and dropped off the rack, and, recognising +his wisdom, she followed, darting into the shadow of an elm only just +in time, for at that moment the car stopped and the voice of Lady +Moron sent a shiver down the back of her son. +</p> + +<p> +“Go to the west entrance: you’ll find nobody there. What were you +doing in Somerset, Chesney?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you later,” he said shortly. +</p> + +<p> +The car passed on and the two watchers saw the tall woman walking +slowly in its wake. How had she known they were coming? And then Lizzy +remembered the car stopping at the telephone box on the side of the +road. +</p> + +<p> +“Queer old crib, eh?” Moron was whispering. “See that bump in the +roof? That’s the alarm bell—works from the music-room… in case of +fire and all that sort of thing.” +</p> + +<p> +They waited till Lady Moron had disappeared from sight, then they +followed cautiously. The west entrance was reached through a +glass-covered porch, and the door was closed when they came up to it. +Moron smiled benignly at the girl, and took a small object from his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Pass-key,” he whispered, so loudly that he would have been heard if +there had been a listener. +</p> + +<p> +Inserting the key, he turned it and signalled the girl to follow. +Before them stretched a vista of red-carpeted corridor; a light burnt +in a ceiling lamp at the farther end. Moron crept along with +extravagant caution, and he was half-way up the passage when he +stopped and raised a warning finger, pointing energetically to a door +before he beckoned her past it. A little farther along was a broad +marble staircase. Up this he went, with Lizzy, feeling like a +conspirator, at his heels. +</p> + +<p> +They must have presented a terrifying sight. White from head to foot, +their faces were masks of dust. Lizzy’s crumpled hat hung drunkenly +over one ear. At the top of the stairs was another corridor, with the +same meagre illumination. He drew her head to his. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the gallery of the music-room!” He indicated a small door. +“For heaven’s sake don’t make a row,” he implored her, and opened the +door an inch at a time. +</p> + +<p> +The door itself was shadowed by the broad musicians’ balcony from the +light in the room below. They heard voices talking as they came in, +and, keeping flat to the wall, they edged forward until it was +dangerous to go any farther. Then Selwyn gave a start that nearly +betrayed their presence. Turning, he communicated what he had seen. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s not there—Miss Reddle, I mean. It’s an elderly lady with white +hair.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you have seen your daughter, Mrs. Pinder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madam, I have seen Lois.” +</p> + +<p> +Lois! Lizzy clapped her hand over her mouth. Lois Reddle’s mother, and +her name was Pinder! +</p> + +<p> +“A very beautiful girl,” said Lady Moron suavely. +</p> + +<p> +“A dear, sweet girl! I am very proud, whatever happens to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think will happen to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, but I am prepared for anything now.” +</p> + +<p> +Lizzy glanced at her comrade. He was staring open-mouthed into the +hall below. +</p> + +<p> +“She is too pretty a daughter to lose. Now, Mrs. Pinder, I am going to +make you an offer. I want you to take your daughter to South America. +I will pay you a yearly sum, more than sufficient for your needs. If +you undertake to do that, you will never be troubled again.” +</p> + +<p> +Mary Pinder smiled and shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam, your offer comes too late. Had it been made whilst I was still +a prisoner, had it been supported by any efforts to obtain my release +from that cruel punishment, I would have gone on my knees and thanked +you and blessed you. But now I know too much.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you know?” asked Lady Moron. +</p> + +<p> +And then Mrs. Pinder began to speak, and as she went on, Lizzy gripped +the hand of the man at her side, and laid her face against his arm. He +turned round once during the narrative, his weak face transfigured and +smiled down at her, as though he read in her gesture all that her +heart conveyed. Mrs. Pinder spoke without interruption, and, when she +had finished: +</p> + +<p> +“You know a great deal too much for my comfort, madam,” said her +ladyship’s voice, “and much too much for the safety of my friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I realise,” said Mary Pinder gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat my offer. I would advise you to think well before you reject +your chance of safety.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Leonora——” began Chesney Praye. +</p> + +<p> +“Be silent. I have found one friend to-night—one I can trust. It is +not you, Chesney. The doctor has told me all that has happened. You +thought you would go behind my back and forestall me. To-night you +will do as you’re told. Now, madam—do you accept my offer?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” was Mrs. Pinder’s reply. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Moron turned to the red-faced doctor. He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Mrs. Pinder,” he said, advancing to her, his tone jovial, his +manner friendly, “why can’t you be sensible? Do as her ladyship asks +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not——” +</p> + +<p> +He was near to her now. Suddenly his hand shot out and strangled the +scream in her throat. She struggled desperately, madly, but there was +no denying those relentless hands. Chesney Praye took half a step +forward, but Lady Moron’s arm barred him. +</p> + +<p> +And then came the interruption. A wild-looking, dust-stained man, +unrecognisable to any, leapt from the balcony and gripped the doctor +by the shoulders from behind. As Tappatt staggered back, releasing his +hold upon his victim, Selwyn sprang to the long red bell-cord that +hung on the side of the wall, and pulled. From overhead came a +deafening clang. Again he pulled. +</p> + +<p> +“You fool, you madman, what are you doing?” +</p> + +<p> +His mother rushed towards him, but he pushed her back. Presently he +ceased. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the alarm bell. We’ll have all the house and half the village +in here in a minute. And I don’t want to say before them what I’m +saying to you now.” He pointed an accusing finger at his mother. “You +think I’m a fool, and perhaps you’re right. But I’m not a wicked fool, +and I’m going to send you and your damnable friend before a judge!” +</p> + +<p> +“Get him away quick!” screamed the countess, as a patter of feet came +along the corridor. “I can say it was an accident.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t touch him!” +</p> + +<p> +A girl, almost as great a scarecrow as the panting Selwyn, was leaning +over the balcony. +</p> + +<p> +“You can tell them what you like, but you can’t tell them anything +they’ll believe after they’ve heard me!” +</p> + +<p> +The door was pushed open at that moment, and a man half-dressed came +running in, and stopped dead, gaping at the scene that met his eyes. +Almost immediately the doorway was filled with dishevelled men and +women. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any trouble, my lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“None,” she said sharply, and pointed to the door. “Wait outside.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at the girl in the gallery. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you would be well advised to ask my son to change his plans,” +she said, in the same calm, even voice which Selwyn knew so well. “The +matter can be adjusted to-morrow. Selwyn, go back to your friend and +take this lady with you.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pinder was sitting on a chair, her frail frame shaking +convulsively, while Selwyn strove to comfort her. At Lady Moron’s +words she stood up, and, with the man’s arm about her, passed into the +crowded corridor, and in a few seconds Lizzy Smith had joined them. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch36"> +Chapter Thirty-six +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Leonora</span>, Countess of Moron, paced her long dressing-room, her hands +behind her, a calm, speculative woman, for emotion did not belong to +her. Chesney Praye and the doctor she had left in the music-room, and +through the windows that overlooked the stone porch at the front of +the house she had, a few minutes before, seen the car pass which +carried Mary Pinder to happiness and freedom. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Moron felt no resentment against any save the weakling son she +had hated from his birth. There was still a hope that the wheel would +turn by some miracle in her favour. All she had played for, all she +had won, was gone. It was the hour of reparation and judgment, not yet +for her the hour of penitence. +</p> + +<p> +Opening a little safe that was set in the wall, concealed by a silver +barometer, she took out a tiny box and shook on to the table a folded +sheet of newspaper and a key. This she put into her bag. From the back +of the safe she pulled to view a small automatic pistol, and, jerking +back the cover to assure herself that it was loaded, fixed the safety +catch. This too went into the bag. Then she rang the bell, and her +scared maid answered after a long interval. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell Henry that I wish the Rolls to be at the door in ten minutes,” +she said, and at the end of that time, with her cloak wrapped about +her shoulders, she stepped into the car, pausing only to give +directions. “Charlotte Street,” she said, and gave the number. +</p> + +<p> +She turned over in her mind the events of the past few weeks, striving +to discover the key flaw of her plan. Some force had been working +against her. Dorn was the instrument, but behind that was a power the +identity of which she could not imagine. +</p> + +<p> +The car ran through the deserted streets of Reading along the long +road to Maidenhead. Still her problem was not solved. Who was behind +Dorn? She had for him a certain amount of admiration. She had known, +the moment he came into the case, that the little men who had seemed +so big, Chesney Praye and the doctor, were valueless. +</p> + +<p> +The car came noiselessly to the door of Lois Reddle’s home. She looked +up at the lighted windows and was slightly amused. Selwyn would be +there, basking in the approval of the bourgeoisie. Even her feeling of +bitterness towards him had been blunted on the journey. This was to be +the last throw. +</p> + +<p> +Old Mackenzie, on his way up to Lizzy’s kitchenette to brew more +coffee, heard the knock and called to Lizzy: +</p> + +<p> +“There’s somebody at the door, miss: will you open it for me?” +</p> + +<p> +A transfigured Lizzy, dustless and tidy, ran down the stairs two at a +time and pulled open the door. At first she did not recognise the +woman, and then: +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t come in here, ma’am,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to see Miss Reddle,” said the countess. “Please don’t be +ridiculous!” +</p> + +<p> +She had still an overawing effect upon Lizzy, and the girl stood on +one side, and followed the leisurely figure up the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +The door of Mackenzie’s room was open, and as she walked into the +chamber, a sudden silence fell upon the gathering. She looked from +face to face and smiled. But the smile faded when her eyes rested upon +the man who sat by the plain deal table near the window. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Shaddles!” she faltered. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“So it was you? I might have guessed that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madam, it was I. My family have been the Moron lawyers for +hundreds of years, and it was not likely that I should cease to study +their interests.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was you!” she said again. “I should have guessed that. You opposed +my marriage to Lord Moron.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I should have opposed it more if I had known what I know now,” he +said. “Will you be seated?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded and sat down, her bag on her knees, opened. Michael Dorn +stood by the lawyer’s side, and his eyes never left her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I suppose everybody knows now?” said the countess pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody knows—yet. I particularly asked Miss Smith, when she called +me on the ’phone, not to tell the story until I came. It is not a long +story, madam, if you will permit me?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“The late Earl of Moron married twice,” said Shaddles. “By his first +wife he had a son, William. By his second wife—which is your +ladyship—a son, Selwyn, who is with us to-night. William was a +high-spirited, honourable young man, who served Her Majesty Queen +Victoria in a regiment of Highlanders. He was a thought romantic, and +nothing was more natural than that, when he met Mary Pinder——” +</p> + +<p> +“Mary Pinder!” gasped Lois, but he did not notice the interruption. +</p> + +<p> +“——when he met Mary Pinder, who was then a very beautiful girl of +seventeen or eighteen, he should fall in love with her. He did not +reveal his identity. He had a craze for walking tours, and at that +time was travelling through Hereford—not under his own name, which +was Viscount Craman, but under the name of Pinder, which was his +mother’s maiden name. He met the girl several times without telling +her who he was, and married her by special licence, in the name of +Pinder, intending to reveal his status after the marriage. They had +been living together for a month, when he was suddenly called home by +the illness of his father, and arrived in Scotland to find the late +Earl dying of malignant scarlet fever. By a cruel fate, William was +infected with the disease and died two days after his father, leaving +his widow, ignorant alike of his identity and where he was staying. +</p> + +<p> +“As he was dying, he told his stepmother, the present Lady Moron, the +story of his marriage, and begged her to send for his wife. This she +refrained from doing, especially when she learnt that the girl did not +know where or who he was. Lord Moron, as of course he was then, was +buried. Some time after the countess went to Hereford to seek out the +widow. Mrs. Pinder was living in the house of an eccentric woman, a +drug-taker and slightly mad. The woman had threatened to commit +suicide many times, and it happened that on the morning her ladyship +arrived in Hereford and made a call at the house to satisfy her +curiosity about her stepson’s wife, the landlady took the fatal step, +and when the caller walked into her room, she found her dead, with a +letter on the table announcing why she had committed suicide. +</p> + +<p> +“Lady Moron is a woman of infinite resource. Here, she thought, was an +opportunity of removing for ever a possible claimant to the Moron +estate. On the table were a number of jewels and some money, which the +woman had put there in her madness. Gathering these, her ladyship went +into the girl’s room. She guessed it was hers when she saw the +photograph of William on the mantelpiece, a photograph which was +afterwards left in Lois’ room to discover if she knew her father. Lady +Moron placed the jewels and the poison in an open box, locked it, +taking away the key, and also a letter which would not only have +established Mrs. Pinder’s innocence, but if the part Lady Moron played +became public property, would also establish hers! That is the +explanation for what would seem at the most to be an indiscretion. +</p> + +<p> +“As you know, Mary Pinder was tried, sentenced to death, and her +sentence commuted. In the prison her baby was born and taken in charge +by a neighbour friend—though for some reason it was announced in the +newspapers that the child of the ‘Hereford murderess’ had died. That, +at any rate, satisfied Lady Moron, and she made no attempt to verify +the story until she learnt by accident one day that Lois Reddle was +the missing girl. How she discovered this I do not pretend to know—I +am under the impression that one of her servants was connected with +the Reddle family. +</p> + +<p> +“For years,” Mr. Shaddles went on, “I have been satisfied in my mind +that William was married, and have been trying to find his wife. I saw +him soon after he was dead, and there was a gold wedding ring on his +little finger, which was not there when he was buried. I also believed +that the child was alive, and sought her out. I found that she was +working at an office in Leith, and brought her down to my own office +so that she should be under my eye, and eventually engaged the +cleverest detective I could find to protect her. I then discovered +that Lady Moron had some inkling of her identity, and I confess I +hesitated when her ladyship suggested that the girl should go to her +house as secretary. It was only after consultation with Mr. Dorn that +I agreed. I had notified my suspicions to the Home Office, and a +special service officer, Sergeant Braime, had been planted in her +household to make enquiries, and to discover if she had been foolish +enough to preserve the suicide’s letter.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused. +</p> + +<p> +“I think that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“An excellent story,” said Lady Moron, “and in confirmation——” +</p> + +<p> +She took something from her bag and threw it on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Dorn stooped and picked up the key and the letter, gave one quick +glance at its contents, and handed it to the lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +“And now I have something else to say.” There was a dreadful silence. +The pistol was in her hand, and the safety-catch had been lowered. +“Most people in my position would commit suicide. But it will be very +poor satisfaction to me to go out of the world and leave my enemies to +triumph. I have a son—of sorts.” She smiled across the room to +Selwyn, and he met her gaze steadily. “I should not care to leave him +behind. Nor this wretched shop-girl”—her eyes sought Lois Reddle’s, +and instantly her mother was by her side, her frail body interposed +between the woman and her vengeance. “That is all,” said her ladyship. +</p> + +<p> +And then Selwyn saw a look of horror come into his mother’s face. She +was staring at the doorway. Little Mackenzie, a tray in his hand, had +not seen the new visitor and he put down the tray with a chuckle. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a curious thing——” he said. +</p> + +<p> +And then he saw the woman with the pistol. +</p> + +<p> +“Martha!” +</p> + +<p> +“My God!” she moaned. “I thought you were dead!” +</p> + +<p> +The room was very quiet. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d have recognised you if I hadn’t heard your fine, deep voice,” +said the old man, blinking at her. “It’s Martha, my wife—you’ve met +her, Mr. Shaddles?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you were dead!” she said again, and the pistol dropped from +her nerveless hand. +</p> + +<p class="spacer"> +* * * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +“The point is,” said the disconsolate Selwyn. “I am in a perfectly +painful position, old dear, I’m not Lord anybody; I suppose I’m a +Moron of sorts. I’m what you might term a naughty Moron. I’m really +not worried about the mater—she’s in the south of France, and she’s +jolly lucky she’s not in a hotter place! She’s been a perfectly +fearful mother to me, and I don’t suppose I shall ever see her again, +and I don’t jolly well want to! She’ll probably live to ninety—she’s +that kind of mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be silly, Selwyn. Of course it makes all the difference!” said +Lizzy. “If you’d asked me when you were a real lord and I was a +typist—I’m a typist still, for the matter of that—I simply couldn’t +have allowed you to ruin your career. As it is——” +</p> + +<p> +They were walking along a quiet by-path of the park when suddenly +Lizzy caught him by the arm and swung him round. +</p> + +<p> +“Not that way,” she said. “Here’s a path through the rhododendrons. +They’ll never think of coming round here, and there’s a perfectly +beautiful seat—and at this time of the morning there’s nobody about. +We can sit and talk——” +</p> + +<p> +Michael saw the hasty retreat and smiled to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the queerest aspect of the whole case.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so?” asked Lois, Countess of Moron. “I know lots of +things that are queerer. I had a bill this morning from Mr. Shaddles. +He has charged me one pound six shillings for the damage you did to +his Ford!” +</p> + +<p> +“He never has?” said the admiring Michael. “What a man! He must have +spent ten thousand pounds on this case if he spent a penny. Most of +which,” he added, “went to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you feel repaid?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall when your ladyship has said ‘thank you.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t I said that yet?” she demanded in feigned surprise. “And +please don’t say ‘ladyship’—you give me the creeps. Well, I’ll thank +you, now—no, not now.” +</p> + +<p> +They paused at the end of a little path. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go down here,” she said. “I think I remember there’s a +shrubbery at the other end, and a garden seat, and it’s hardly likely +that at this time of day…” +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +THE END +</p> + + +<h2> +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES +</h2> + +<p> +The Hodder and Stoughton Limited (1926) edition was consulted for +many of the changes listed below. +</p> + +<p> +Minor spelling inconsistencies (<i>e.g.</i> liftman/lift-man, +prison-gate/prison gate, Whitcomb/Whitcombe, etc.) have been +preserved. +</p> + +<p class="noindent mt1"> +<b>Alterations to the text</b>: +</p> + +<p> +Abandon the use of drop-caps. +</p> + +<p> +Add ToC. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Seven] +</p> + +<p> +Change (“Even you must <i>given</i> me some credit for my frankness.”) to +<i>give</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Thirteen] +</p> + +<p> +(“Lizzy came promptly at six, bringing with her a…) delete the +quotation mark. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Eighteen] +</p> + +<p> +“periods of national rejoicing but here, in this shadowy place” add +semicolon after <i>rejoicing</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Twenty] +</p> + +<p> +(“I’ve got a wife and four children,” he whined “and there’s an…) +add comma after <i>whined</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Twenty-one] +</p> + +<p> +“in order to get even either with Mr. <i>Chester</i> Praye or the Countess” +to <i>Chesney</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Twenty-five] +</p> + +<p> +(“I want to see the master of this house,” said Michael Dorn!) change +the exclamation mark to a period. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Twenty-six] +</p> + +<p> +“he could not see the top windows of the <i>buildings</i>” to <i>building</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Twenty-seven] +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Tappatt had no intention of sending <i>of</i> the police” to <i>for</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Twenty-eight] +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Tappett</i> forced a smile.” to <i>Tappatt</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Twenty-nine] +</p> + +<p> +“He scowled at her as <i>he</i> came in, noted her coat and her hat” to +<i>she</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Thirty] +</p> + +<p> +“The farm takes <i>it</i> name from the wood.” to <i>its</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“steady echo of footsteps, as though somebody was <i>passing</i> the floor” +to <i>pacing</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Thirty-three] +</p> + +<p> +“be sensible and recognise the <i>sacrifies</i> I am making for you” to +<i>sacrifices</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Thirty-six] +</p> + +<p> +(“<i>It</i> a curious thing——” he said.) to <i>It’s</i>. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[End of text] +</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75858 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75858-h/images/cover.jpg b/75858-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1f66abb --- /dev/null +++ b/75858-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5dba15 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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