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| author | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-06-16 22:59:10 -0700 |
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| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-06-16 22:59:10 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f57f44 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text +*.htm text +*.html text +*.png binary +*.jpg binary +*.svg text +*.pdf binary +*.bmp binary +*.zip binary +*.midi binary +*.mp3 binary diff --git a/78884-0.txt b/78884-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c05391 --- /dev/null +++ b/78884-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11580 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78884 *** + + + + + The Looker-On + + A Romance of Journalistic London + + BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX + + AUTHOR OF + "THE SECRET OF THE SQUARE," "WHATSOEVER A + MAN SOWETH," "SINS OF THE CITY," + ETC. ETC. + + LONDON + + F. V. White & Co., Limited + 14 Bedford Street, Strand, W.C. + + 1908 + + _Copyright in the United States of America by + William Le Queux, 1907_ + + + + + CONTENTS + + + I. "OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT" + + II. CONCERNS THE CURIOUS AFFAIR AT BARNES + + III. IN THE GLARE OF PUBLICITY + + IV. CONTAINS SOME SURPRISES + + V. REPEATS A MESSAGE TO PLYMOUTH + + VI. AROUSES SOME SUSPICIONS + + VII. IS MAINLY ABOUT DAISY MARVIN + + VIII. SHOWS THE PULSE OF THE WORLD + + IX. BEHIND THE SCENES OF THE _HERALD_ + + X. SHOWS A TIGHT CORNER + + XI. THE PRESS AND THE PUBLIC + + XII. IS EVEN MORE MYSTERIOUS + + XIII. IS A REVELATION + + XIV. CONCERNS THE STRANGER + + XV. THE HOUSE OF SHADOWS + + XVI. WHAT THE TAPE REVEALED + + XVII. CONTAINS MRS DAVIS'S STORY + + XVIII. IN WHICH WE MAKE A DISCOVERY + + XIX. IN WHICH ANOTHER DISCOVERY IS MADE + + XX. THE PHOTOGRAPHER TELLS HIS STORY + + XXI. REVEALS THE GULF + + XXII. THE DOUBLE LIFE + + XXIII. IN SEARCH OF THE TRUTH + + XXIV. SOME DISCOVERIES IN SCARBOROUGH + + XXV. ONE FACT IS MADE CLEAR + + XXVI. THE MYSTERIOUS MR STONOR + + XXVII. THE STEPS OF THE STRANGER + + XXVIII. REVEALS A CROOKED CIRCUMSTANCE + + XXIX. IS DISTINCTLY CURIOUS + + XXX. A NIGHT AT THE SAVAGE + + XXXI. A SERVANT OF THE PUBLIC + + XXXII. THE MYSTERIOUS M'SIEUR SMITH + + XXXIII. THOSE WHO KNEW + + XXXIV. FACE TO FACE + + XXXV. DESCRIBES AN EXCITING CHASE + + XXXVI. MORE MYSTERY! + + XXXVII. THE PALACE THEATRE, HAMMERSMITH + + XXXVIII. MY LOVE'S CONFESSION + + XXXIX. TO THE UNKNOWN + + XL. CONTAINS A GRAVE CHARGE + + XLI. WHICH REVEALS THE TRUTH + + + + + THE LOOKER-ON + + + + + CHAPTER I + + "OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT" + + +"And what about the girl?" + +"It's a most mysterious affair--a complete mystery!" I answered. + +"And I suppose you'll keep it so for a couple of days longer, eh?" + +"Of course. I've worked it up for all it's worth in to-night's +'special.' Seen it?" + +"Yes. A first-class story. What's the real truth?" + +"Mystery--with a capital M, my dear fellow. Even Whitlock, at Scotland +Yard, is utterly in the dark." + +"He tells you so." + +"He is. He and I are pals. He often tells me the truth first, and then +tells me the picturesque lie for the paper." + +"You're frank, Keene, if nothing else." + +"Frank! Well, it's the truth," I declared, lighting a fresh cigarette. +"You recollect the Pimlico mystery? Well, Whitlock told me the truth +from the first, but we kept up the sensation for four days--until the +arrest." + +"And you will do the same in this case, I suppose?" remarked my friend +Julian Little, with a light laugh. "By Jove! you, the Murder-Monger, +have a much better chance of doing good work than I have." + +"But you are special correspondent, travelling the world over, and +sending startling telegrams that are signed; while I'm a mere reporter, +whose special duty it is to work up any likely story of mystery or +crime," I protested. + +"Your work is a lot more interesting than mine," replied the great +special correspondent, the man whose name was known the world over, +and who had been through every campaign of recent years, from the +bombardment of Alexandria to the fall of Port Arthur. "Wherever I +am--even when on a political inquiry--I have a hidden ogre in the shape +of a censor who strikes out all the best sentences from my telegrams +and turns the sense of a message to just the opposite to what I +intended. Very often I don't recognise my own stuff in the _Herald_. +You, however, are a freelance, living here in the civilisation and +luxury of London life and----" + +"And at the beck and call of old Marvin day and night on that +confounded telephone," I interrupted. "He hawked me out of bed at +half-past three this morning, the snappy old fossil!" + +Little laughed. + +"You should just have a taste of my life for six months," he said. +"You fellows fancy it's a grand thing to be a 'special,' travelling +all over the world and hobnobbing with all sorts of well-known people. +That's the side of it which people know. But there's the reverse of +the picture, in long, tiresome journeys to out-of-the-way holes where +there are no hotels and no telegraphs, hostile authorities who hate +the Press, suppress every message, or mislead one by putting forward +official lies. Besides, there's always an element of personal danger in +wars, or even in revolts. Take the Russian rising, for instance. I had +a jolly narrow squeak one afternoon at a barricade in Warsaw. No, I'd +rather be the 'Murder-Monger,' as old Marvin calls you." + +"Well," I said, "I'd be quite content to try your life for a year, old +chap. But that will never be. I can't do such vivid descriptive work as +you can. I'm a mere reporter, and shall, I suppose, always remain so." + +"Why?" asked the rather thin man reclining in the armchair before the +fire. "How old are you?" + +"Twenty-seven." + +"And if I remember right, you were with Hogg up in Manchester and in +Glasgow, weren't you?" + +I nodded. + +"And you know as well as I do, Victor," he went on, "that at the office +the chief acknowledges you to be the smartest man on the staff. That's +why they put you on special work. Old Marvin was only talking of you +the other day." + +"Blackguarding me, I suppose? All sub-editors jeer at their reporters. +And a sub-editor's sarcasm can be a very bitter one." + +"Not at all. He was praising your work highly." + +"H'm! That's funny," I said thoughtfully. "He probably wouldn't, if he +knew the truth." + +"Of your love for his daughter Daisy, eh?" Little said. "Do you know, +Victor, I've been thinking about you a lot lately." + +"Because you've been at home a whole fortnight at a stretch. The first +long stay you've done in London for quite a couple of years." + +"True. I don't see much of town--or of this happy home of ours," +he exclaimed, smiling, and glancing round the large, old-fashioned +sitting-room of the chambers in Gray's Inn which we jointly occupied. +"But it wasn't that. To tell you the truth, I've been thinking about +Daisy Marvin." + +"Well--what about her! You've heard, I suppose, that she's getting +on in her profession famously? Last week she was at the Holborn, and +yesterday she signed an engagement at the Tivoli. Her new song, 'The +Motor Maid,' is really very catchy." + +"Catchy! Yes, my dear boy; that's the very word. She'll catch you--if +she hasn't caught you already." + +"Oh, I know!" I exclaimed, impatiently, for Little was for ever +warning me against the undesirability of marrying the daughter of +James Marvin--News Editor of the _Evening Herald_--who, having gone on +the variety stage, was already well on her way to becoming a "star." +"You're not fond of Daisy." + +"She's very clever, I admit. I saw her at the Palace six weeks ago, +just before I went up to Norway. But you know my motto, Victor: 'Don't +marry.'" + +"You're such a confirmed bachelor, my dear Little," I declared, +laughing. "Yet it isn't quite fair to the other sex, is it?" + +"Well, look at me; What could I do with a wife?" he asked, stretching +out his long legs towards the fire. "I shouldn't see her half a dozen +times in a twelvemonth. And certainly she couldn't travel with me at +the pace I'm often compelled to move." + +"But all men are not like you," I argued. + +"Nor like you, Keene. You are young. You have your way to make in the +profession, therefore take the advice of an old hand--a man who has +seen more of the world than most men--and don't let the dainty Daisy +fascinate you, as she does her music-hall audiences." + +"Oh, hang it, Julian!" I cried. "Let's talk of something else." + +"We were talking of something else," he said. "Of this curious affair +over at Barnes that you've worked up so well that you've set all London +talking. It is, as you say, a first-class story." + +And the renowned special correspondent of the great newspaper, the +London _Daily Herald_, carefully selected a fresh cigar, cut off the +end, and contemplated it with the eye of a connoisseur. + +Julian Little was one of the world's famous men; famous on account +of his vivid descriptions of every sort of public function and of +every sort of fighting. Long years of travel, of hardship, and of +knocking about in odd remote corners of the earth had rendered him +a cosmopolitan to the very backbone. Besides being a newspaper +correspondent he had written a couple of novels which had achieved +success, while his pleasant personality had rendered him popular at the +British Embassies and Legations in the various capitals. + +"Little of the _Herald_" was known to every Consul from Stockholm to +Constantinople, while he was an especial favourite with Ambassadors and +Ministers because it was known that, unlike so many correspondents, he +never betrayed a confidence, and he often wired a lie to London when +the exigencies of British diplomacy required it. Many an Ambassador had +"inspired" his messages, and with more than one crowned head he was +_persona grata_. + +About forty-five, tall, rather thin, with fair hair, and moustache just +turning grey, his was a pleasant face, though hard and weather-beaten, +with wrinkled brow and lines which showed plainly the hard life he +so often led. His blue eyes betrayed the merry twinkle of genuine +_bonhomie_, his features were somewhat aquiline and shrewd, while in +his cravat he wore a pin in the form of a Royal crown and cipher--a +present from a reigning emperor. Merry and easy-going, he sat there +in dark-blue clothes--for he had been down to the office, and had +therefore not dressed for dinner--he was the picture of the perfect +cosmopolitan man of the world, whose range of acquaintances in various +countries was, perhaps, unequalled. + +Yet, like most other men, he had his skeleton in his cupboard. From +his careless manner, his apparent recklessness, and his irresponsible +good-humour no one would even suspect that, though he had risen to the +very head of his profession and his income was an ambassadorial one, he +was world-weary and heartsick. In the days long ago, when he had been +a reporter like myself, there had been an unfortunate incident which +had ever since clouded his life. I knew his secret vaguely, but not the +exact facts. Like so many other men who are famous, he was embittered +against the world, and his popularity was but a hollow mockery. + +Julian was exclusively on the staff of the morning edition of the +_Herald_, that newspaper of great power and enormous circulation, while +I was employed upon the evening edition. Both journals emanated from +the same palatial offices, just off Fleet Street, and both had been +founded by the same journalistic genius, who had built up an enormous +fortune out of his newspaper enterprises. + +On the _Daily Herald_ expense was never considered where it became a +question of obtaining authentic and interesting news. Little often +travelled half round the world on an errand which proved quite +fruitless, and was his own master to go hither and thither in search of +intelligence to interest the British public at home. + +Readers of the paper were often astonished at the rapidity with which +he seemed to move. One day a telegram, signed by him, would be dated +from St Petersburg, two days later from Budapest, and still two days +later from some outlandish place in Asia Minor or Greece. Or, again, he +would suddenly start a series of articles from Tokio or San Francisco, +or commence to describe doings on the Rand. + +Because of this I envied him. Since I had left Cheltenham College--for +a University man is of but little use on the Press nowadays--I had +graduated, step by step, upon provincial papers, commencing by +reporting country benches and ending by a seat in the gallery of the +House of Commons. But I hated mere speech-taking, so I commenced to +specialise, and my position on the _Evening Herald_--at a very decent +salary, I might add--was to keep my eye upon and investigate the +various London mysteries that cropped up from time to time. + +Thus, in the great office with its enormous staff of specialists and +its private barrister to advise upon legal points, and more especially +the law of libel, I had earned the nickname of "The Murder-Monger." + +I had known Julian Little from childhood. He was the son of old Sir +Halliday Little, K.C.B., a retired Ambassador, who had served the +country at half a dozen European Courts, and whose family seat was +Winholt Hall, in Suffolk, my father being vicar of that parish. + +It was, therefore, not surprising that when at last I had the good +fortune to receive an appointment on the _Herald_ by Julian's +influence, I should share his rooms in Gray's Inn. He was away so much, +he declared, that if I lived there I would prevent them from becoming +musty. + +They were quaint, old-fashioned apartments overlooking the green +square and the long black trees where the rooks cawed, rooms that +he had modernised and furnished with taste combined with comfort. +The room in which we were sitting that chilly autumn night was +carpeted with moss-green and filled with Chippendale furniture well +in keeping with the old Adams ceiling and mantelpiece. Around were +well-filled bookcases--two of which were my own--and upon the side +table a number of Julian's souvenirs, big autographed portraits of +reigning Sovereigns, Cabinet Ministers, and men and women of note +in various parts of the world, who were his personal friends. Many +of those photographs bore inscriptions penned by Royal and Imperial +hands--inscriptions which showed in what esteem the great correspondent +was held. + +On a nail beside the fireplace hung a well-worn leather revolver-belt, +with the weapon buttoned in its case, his constant companion on his +many campaigns, while in the big glass case on the wall opposite +were a quantity of odds and ends of old jewellery he had picked up +in his travels. The Pirot hearthrug of beautiful Oriental colouring +he had brought from Servia, the heavy curtains before the window he +had purchased in the bazaar in Bagdad, the pearl inlaid coffee-table +whereon stood our drinks had been given him by his friend Tewfik Pasha, +the Ottoman Minister of Foreign Affairs, and the fine diamond ring upon +his finger was a souvenir from an Imperial Princess. + +Position such as this would have turned the head of many a man. But +he was good-natured, unassuming and modest to a degree, always ready +to lend a helping hand to a youngster in the same profession, while +his hand was constantly in his pocket to assist those elderly Pressmen +who, in these modern days when competition is so keen, find themselves +crowded out. Fleet Street, alas! contains many human wrecks and +pitiable tragedies--men who are still brilliant and active yet who, +merely because they are getting on in years, have been forced to resign +in favour of beardless youths. + +Time was when experience was a necessary qualification, but to-day +smartness is required even at the risk of irresponsibility, and elderly +men are cast forth to become "liners," and to end their days in the +bars of the back alleys of Fleet Street. The people who run great +newspapers are not philanthropists; their motto is, "Get on, or get +out," and in some offices so precarious are men's positions that he who +is an editor to-day may find himself next week at the bottom rung of +the ladder. + +Ah yes! the world of modern journalism is a queer and turbulent world +indeed--one that is a closed book to the public, but one that contains +much romance. The public buys its morning or evening paper, reads +it, and casts it aside without a thought of the strange and often +adventurous lives led by the men who have written what they read. They +know Julian Little because he is a great man and always signs what he +writes. But a man like myself, who whets their appetite for mystery, +and whom they only know as "an _Evening Herald_ representative," is +unknown and remains ever so, their faithful but anonymous servant. + +And yet I suppose I have nothing to grumble at. In my own line I am +acknowledged to be a master. In more than one mysterious case my own +personal inquiries have resulted in information which I have, in +confidence, imparted to Scotland Yard, and in one celebrated affair +the culprit was arrested upon my information, tried, found guilty and +hanged at Gloucester Jail. + +No man, however, is contented with his lot, and I was comparing his +life with my own as we smoked together, prior to turning in. + +"Well, my dear Victor," my friend laughed, "there isn't much +difference, after all. You look after sensations at home, while I look +after them abroad." + +"You deal with wars and political conspiracies while my sphere lies +among thieves or jealous husbands." + +"But your work is surely much more interesting than mine!" he declared. +"This Barnes affair for instance. I didn't read all the facts. What is +the problem?" + +"Well--in a few words it's this," I said. "Beyond Hammersmith Bridge, +going towards Barnes, is a wide main thoroughfare called Bridge Road. +The houses are all large, old-fashioned ones, each standing in its own +garden. Once, before the advent of the motor 'bus, the road was a very +pleasant suburban thoroughfare within easy distance of the City, but +during the past year or two, owing to the vibration caused by passing +motors, a great many of these houses have been untenanted. + +"One of them, larger than most of the others, standing back some +distance from the road with a gravelled drive in front, has been empty +for about twelve months. It belongs, it appears, to an eccentric old +lady who, rather than accept a lower rent, preferred to allow the place +to remain empty. The day before yesterday, at four o'clock in the +morning, a police-constable named Horton, on the beat, saw that the +rusty padlock on the front gates had been unlocked, and that the latter +were slightly ajar. + +"This aroused his curiosity, for he had noticed that the lock was +upon the gate when he had gone on duty a few hours previously. So he +entered and tried the doors front and back. Both were, however, locked. +All seemed secure and he was about to leave the neglected garden when +he thought he detected a faint glimmer of light through the closed +venetian blinds in one of the back rooms. This surprised him, for +he knew that the house had been empty for a full year. He tried the +door again, but without avail. The conservatory door was also locked. +He then tried the windows and discovered one on the ground floor +unlatched; so, opening it, he entered." + +"And what did he find?" asked Little, much interested, as he knocked +the ash from his cigar. + +"He found--well, something that forms one of the most complete and most +astonishing mysteries that ever puzzled the London police," I replied. +"Listen, and I'll explain the affair, which is certainly more peculiar +than any I've ever before investigated." + + + + + CHAPTER II + + CONCERNS THE CURIOUS AFFAIR AT BARNES + + +"Was it still dark?" asked Little, whose interest in the affair +seemed rather unusual, for he always set his face against sensational +journalism, and often raised his voice against my too lurid +descriptions in the evening edition of the _Herald_. + +"Day was just breaking," I went on. "The constable opened the window +and, entering the empty house, walked along a short passage to where +he saw a light shining beneath the door. He pushed it open, and a +sight met his eyes which astonished him. The room, a small one, was +comfortably furnished. The only illumination, however, was a child's +night-light burning under a little yellow glass dome upon the table, +and this was scarcely sufficient to reveal the farther corners of the +room. Along one side was an old horsehair couch with a sheet, blanket, +and eider-down quilt upon it, showing that the usurping occupant made +it both living and sleeping room, while opposite was an easy-chair, and +a small table upon which were a quantity of new books and the remains +of some food. To first appearances it was the room of a caretaker, and +the constable was about to retire, grumbling to himself that he had not +been informed that the place was inhabited, when he was startled to +hear, in a corner of the room, a sharp intermittent clicking. Opening +his bull's-eye he threw the light upon the dark corner, where there +was revealed something that was certainly unusual--a small deal table +with a telegraph instrument screwed down to it. And as he looked the +instrument clicked away some message which he, of course, could not +understand." + +"A telegraph instrument!" cried Julian, in quick surprise. "That +doesn't appear in to-night's 'special.'" + +"No," I replied, smiling. "I'm keeping a few facts over till to-morrow. +There were reasons why the presence of the instrument should not at +present be mentioned. Whitlock asked me to say nothing about it. I got +the whole story exclusive." + +"A real first-class 'scoop,'" declared Little, in journalistic slang. + +"Yes. Not bad, was it? Whitlock rang me up on the 'phone at nine +yesterday morning, and I went at once to Barnes and saw the house." + +"But the girl?" + +"Ah! that's just it. Horton, the constable, was standing watching the +clicking instrument, ticking some mysterious message to that lonely, +unoccupied house, when of a sudden his eyes caught sight of something +on the floor, close by the table. He turned his lantern upon it, +and saw that it was a young girl about twenty, fully dressed, lying +prostrate where she had fallen. The face was very beautiful, but very +pale. He bent and touched it. It was icy cold. She was stone-dead! +Horrified at the discovery, he turned to go out for assistance, when +he saw, standing in the doorway, pale and startled, another woman, +very good-looking, and about two years older than her dead companion. +She----" + +"That isn't in the 'special,' either," Little remarked. + +"No; I held it all back until to-day, and the remainder I shall +give to-morrow," I answered. "The whole affair is so absolutely +extraordinary in every detail. Let me finish. Well, Horton, face to +face with the woman, asked how it was that the girl was dead. The +new-comer started, looked at the body, then at the constable, but made +no response. Trembling from head to foot she stood there, her face +livid, her jaws set, her eyes glaring at the officer, as though staring +into eternity. Twice the constable repeated his question. 'I--I know +nothing!' she stammered at last. 'Then I shall be compelled to trouble +you to come to the station with me,' was Horton's reply, for the whole +circumstances warranted, in his opinion, the detention of this woman, +whose attitude showed guilt." + +"But he had not ascertained that the girl had died by foul means," +interrupted the special correspondent. + +"He surmised it. For an ordinary constable Horton was above the average +intelligence," I asserted. "He put many inquiries to the woman, but +she would vouchsafe no reply. He is convinced, however, from the fact +that she had her hat on, that she followed him into the house--probably +through the same window as that by which he had entered." + +"In that case, why did he arrest her?" + +"Because of her guilty attitude," I answered. "Wait until you hear +all, and then judge whether or not the constable was justified in his +action. They stood together in the room, beside the prostrate body of +the girl, the instrument still clicking on, the woman staring at the +lifeless form, her countenance white to the lips. 'Who is this girl?' +he demanded of her again. 'I--I don't know,' was the woman's reply. +Therefore, finding that he could obtain no information, he compelled +her to accompany him to the door, unlocked it, and brought her out +into Bridge Road, where, after calling assistance with his whistle, +he took her to the police-station. There the inspector endeavoured to +obtain from her her name and address and the name of the dead woman, +but without avail. She steadily declined to utter one single word, +even though he threatened to detain her. Therefore he had her placed +in the cells, while he himself went round to the empty house with the +divisional surgeon to examine the body. When he returned he went to the +cell to further question the woman." + +"And what statement did she make?" + +"None. She was dead--committed suicide." + +"Suicide!" he gasped, staring at me. "What? She's dead! Dead?" + +"Yes. She had swallowed prussic acid, and so carried her secret to the +grave." + +"By Jove! Extraordinary--most extraordinary!" exclaimed Julian, tossing +his cigar away and rising to stretch his long legs. "Then the theory +is--what?" + +"Well, there are a good many," I replied. "When the doctor came to +examine the poor girl they found she'd been shot through the heart. She +had no hat or jacket on, and the inference--because a pair of woman's +boots, a pink chiffon scarf, and a cycling skirt were found in a +cupboard in another room--is that she had lived all alone in that house +for some considerable time and with some mysterious purpose." + +"Connected with that telegraph instrument, I should think," remarked +Little, who now seemed to evince the utmost interest in the affair. + +"Yes. That instrument is a very mysterious factor," I said. "I was with +Whitlock and three other men from Scotland Yard when they searched +the premises. They had with them a telegraph inspector from the Post +Office, and he traced a wire cunningly concealed, passing out of the +window, along the wall of the back garden, and up an adjoining house to +where run overhead several of the trunk lines from London to the south +of England. One of these--the Portsmouth line--was tapped by that wire +by a very ingenious contrivance, so arranged that it would escape the +eye of any linesman on the lookout for 'faults,' and in a manner that +it might be disconnected at will. Whitlock is pretty cute. He wouldn't +let me publish anything about this, and he's put on a Post Office +telegraphist night and day, in the hope that some message will come +through that may give a clue to the motive of the strange affair." + +"Then the theory is that the girl herself was a telegraph clerk?" + +"Yes; or, at anyrate, she could read all messages which passed between +Portsmouth and London whenever she switched on her communication." + +"Did you see the dead girl?" + +"Yes--at the mortuary. She was very beautiful, with long fair hair +and a perfect complexion. Myself, I don't think she was a clerk, but +a lady. She's refined, with soft white hands, and her dress, though a +plain blouse and skirt, was expensive and well made." + +"Anything which may lead to identification?" asked Julian Little, in a +changed voice, turning from me. It struck me that since he had risen +from his chair he had grown strangely uneasy. + +"Nothing. Her only ornament is a ring with two small diamonds and an +emerald--one of quite an ordinary pattern--while none of her clothes +bear either laundry-marks or initials." + +"And the woman who committed suicide rather than answer questions?" he +asked, his face still turned from me. "What of her?" + +"The same--only from her clothing the laundry-marks have been +recently cut; and there are other things--such as the cutting away +of a waistbelt from her bodice, which no doubt bore the dressmaker's +name--which show that she intended to conceal her identity if arrested." + +Little gave vent to a sigh of relief, I thought. Yet next instant I +laughed at my foolishness. It was mere fanciful suspicion. Before +he had turned, his face, usually so full of careless merriment, had +undergone a change, and was white and drawn and haggard. Now, as he +faced me again, it had resumed its normal appearance. + +"Then both women are complete mysteries?" + +"Yes. They lie side by side at the mortuary, their lips sealed by +death." + +"And what's Whitlock's opinion?" he asked, with an eagerness he +endeavoured in vain to suppress. + +"He has none. He's utterly confounded." + +"The tapping of the wire is, I take it, the chief point. When the +motive for that is discovered, the truth of the affair will possibly be +exposed." + +I shook my head. + +"The message which Horton watched has been discovered, from the +duplicates in the Central Telegraph Office, to be one of no +importance--a mere commercial message from the Southampton office of +one of the steam-ship companies regarding the sailing of a ship and +her number of passengers. Indeed, all day yesterday one of Whitlock's +assistants was engaged in examining the duplicates of messages over +that particular line, but he has, up to the present, discovered nothing +suspicious. That is why he thinks it is yet to come." + +"And as you've published a portion of the affair in the 'special' +to-night the sender of that expected message will probably not give +himself away--eh?" + +"It may have been a conspiracy against someone entirely unconscious of +the tapped wire at Barnes," I argued. + +"Yes," he said thoughtfully. "But do you anticipate the truth ever +being discovered?" + +"Who knows?" I exclaimed. "Certainly the features of the affair are +most extraordinary. Whitlock, Gunton, Meyer, and a whole crowd from +Scotland Yard have been investigating to-day. I spent the day down +there with them, and we lunched all together at the Red Lion. By all +it's regarded as an absolute and complete enigma. The motive must have +been a very strong one to induce a girl to live in an empty house all +alone, watching that telegraph instrument." + +"But did nobody enter the house?" + +"A clerk of the landlady's agent was there about nine months ago," I +answered. "After that the eccentric old lady refused to let the place +and was travelling abroad, so the agent did not bother further. For +fully nine months it has not been entered, so far as is known, except +by the girl now found dead. Another feature is that the lock on the +chain around the gates--which had always been found in its place by +the police--had been so arranged that it opened by pressure at the +side, not requiring any key, and could be locked by simply closing +it. The interior mechanism of the lock had been taken out and another +substituted." + +"And how long is the girl supposed to have lived there?" + +"At least for four months is the general opinion." + +"She must have had a pretty dismal time of it," he remarked +thoughtfully. + +"That's just what Whitlock says. How did she get food? No neighbours +ever saw her go in or out, therefore she must have done so at night. +But the shops would then be all closed, therefore someone must have +brought her supplies. That she lived there is proved by the cheap +enamelled cooking utensils in the kitchen. The gas was not cut off, so +she used the gas stove." + +"Well, the other papers will be on it pretty busily in the morning, no +doubt," he remarked somewhat uneasily. His sudden nervousness seemed +quite unaccountable. + +"The 'mornings' are on it now, of course. But they'll learn nothing. +I've taken jolly good care to keep the story all to myself," I +declared, with a journalist's pardonable pride of exclusive information. + +Scarcely had the words fallen from my lips when there was a loud double +knock at our outer door, and on opening it I found my friend John +Whitlock, inspector of the Criminal Investigation Department, standing +upon the mat. + +"Come in, old chap!" I cried, greeting him warmly, and ushering him +into our sitting-room. He had, no doubt, some fresh information for me. + +As Whitlock entered Julian Little rose, and the pair faced each other +as I introduced them. + +Upon Whitlock's ruddy countenance was an expression of keen inquiry, +while Little's face instantly blanched to the lips as he learned the +identity of the modestly-dressed man in the dark blue overcoat with +velvet collar, who had called upon us so unexpectedly. + +He turned quickly away to the writing-table, in order to hide his +confusion and gain time to recover himself, while Whitlock, fixing his +dark eyes upon mine with meaning glance, took a cigar from the box I +handed him. + +"I expect you'll want to talk, so I'll leave you together," Little +said, in a hard, changed voice, when, a few moments later, holding his +breath and turning, he again faced the famous detective. + +"No, Mr Little," responded our visitor, in clear, distinct tones. +"Please don't leave us, I beg of you. What I have to say may be said +openly, before you." + +The man addressed, glancing for an instant into Whitlock's hard, +serious face, sank into his armchair, inert, staring, breathless. + +Then, for the first time, I became convinced that Julian, my closest +friend, knew more than he chose to admit concerning that amazing affair +at Barnes, where a woman had calmly and deliberately gone to her death +rather than reveal her identity. + +Never was guilt more plainly written upon a man's face than upon his. + +I held my breath, amazed and wondering. + +What was the truth? + + + + + CHAPTER III + + IN THE GLARE OF PUBLICITY + + +"I was passing this way and thought I'd accept your kind invitation, Mr +Keene," Whitlock said. "You've so often asked me to look in." + +And I saw that his gaze was fixed upon the man seated in the armchair. + +"Delighted, I'm sure," I said, pouring out a drink and pulling forward +a chair for him. He would not take off his overcoat, for he declared +that he must be going in a few minutes. + +He was about forty-eight, dark-haired, with a mobile, pock-marked face, +broad-shouldered and muscular--a man who had risen from the rank of +constable in the T Division of the Metropolitan Police, to be one of +the most renowned officers of the Criminal Investigation Department. + +We had been friendly for several years, and he had on one occasion told +me the story of his career; how when he was a constable he one night +entered a coal-cellar beneath the pavement in Chiswick and captured +an armed burglar, who fired at him twice with a revolver, and how, by +dint of his watchfulness and ingenuity, he had received promotion and +transfer to Scotland Yard. + +The public know John Whitlock well by repute. His name figures in the +papers in connection with most murder mysteries that occur in London. +A dozen or so assassins have received their well-merited punishment +on the scaffold as the result of his energy, untiring inquiries, and +tenacious ingenuity. There were many men at "the Yard" in higher +positions, but not one was a better officer than he. For three years or +so I had known him intimately, and often met him in that cosy little +bar in Parliament Street, where he and his fellow-officers congregate +every evening about seven to have a friendly drink before setting forth +upon nocturnal vigils in various parts of the Metropolis. Sometimes I +had been his guest at his modest little flat at Battersea, where he +lived so happily with his wife, but he had never before honoured me +with a visit, though I had often invited him. + +In many of the celebrated cases of modern times he had figured. It +was he who followed Charles Spencer, the well-known promoter of bogus +companies, half over the world and arrested him in Vancouver; he +who solved the mystery of the Leytonstone murder and the remarkable +Greatorex forgery, recovering the greater part of the proceeds from a +house out at Harlesden. Readers of the newspapers will recollect the +recent Parsons case, where a woman's body was found in a trunk in the +cloak-room at Paddington Station, and how the culprit was cleverly +detected and arrested by him. They will also remember the seizure of +bombs at a house off Tottenham Court Road, and how the maker of them, +a Russian revolutionist, took one of them in his hand and threatened +him that, if arrested, he would dash it down and blow the whole place +to atoms. Yet, in face of death, he had rushed forward and secured his +man, whose extradition had been applied for by the Government of the +Czar. For his personal bravery the emperor had sent him a fine gold +watch with an inscription, and this he carried always, but without a +chain. He one day told me, with a grim smile, that if he wore an albert +he would probably not have the watch another week, such queer company +did he often keep. + +Such, then, was the man who flung himself into my chair, lit his cigar, +and smiled across at the world-famous correspondent, who sat pale and +nervous in his presence. + +"I've seen the _Herald_ to-night," he said to me, when he had got his +cigar well under way. "You haven't given them too much, eh? I suppose +you'll publish the rest to-morrow? And when you do, by Jove! it'll +cause a sensation, won't it?" + +"No doubt," I said. "I've just been explaining the facts to Mr Little. +We were talking of it when you came in." + +"Extraordinary, isn't it?" remarked Whitlock, turning to Julian with +affected carelessness. + +"Absolutely amazing," he declared. "Have you discovered anything +further?" + +"Nothing of real importance," was the response. + +"Then it is still a complete mystery?" + +"Absolutely." + +Julian Little was palpably relieved at Whitlock's confession of +ignorance; while the latter was, I could see, equally astute in placing +him off his guard. He had not failed to notice his nervousness when +introduced. + +"Keene has been telling me the details which he has not yet +published--the telegraph instrument, and the woman who committed +suicide after arrest," remarked the famous correspondent. "It certainly +looks as though there has been some gigantic conspiracy in progress." + +"Yes," replied Whitlock, rubbing his smooth chin with his hand and +raising his glass to his lips, his keen eyes on the other's face. "We +hope to discover it. But, with both women dead, it will be a difficult +matter, I fear." + +"But there must have been others connected with the affair," argued +Little. + +"Of course. That's what we shall discover later on," he answered. "A +woman never tapped that wire, depend upon it." + +"But the two women must have quarrelled, and the one shot the other," +Little suggested. + +Whitlock was silent. He advanced no theory upon that point. + +"Isn't that your opinion?" Julian went on. + +"Well, to tell the truth, I haven't formed any opinion yet," answered +the man from Scotland Yard, who, turning to me, said: "The real reason +why I called, Mr Keene, was because I thought you'd like to be down +at the house to-morrow. I shall be there at nine-thirty to make some +further investigations, if you'd care to come." + +"I'd be delighted," I said eagerly. "I'll meet you at the house." + +"All right. But," he added, "I think it would be as well not to publish +anything further--until I see you. Publicity may negative all our +efforts in this affair." + +"Then I'd better hold back all the additional facts, you really +think?" I said, somewhat disappointed, and fearing lest one of the +rival journals might, by bribing an indiscreet constable, get hold of +intelligence which, up to the present, was entirely my own. + +"Yes; it will be best." + +"Inquiries are still being made?" asked Julian, rather anxiously. + +"Of course. In such a case as this we don't let the grass grow beneath +our feet," Whitlock said. "And if my suspicions are realised the truth +will create a profound sensation." + +"In what manner?" asked Little, with a start. + +The other shrugged his shoulders, answering-- + +"At present I can say nothing." + +"Ah!" laughed Little, uneasily. "You people are like ambassadors, +always mysterious." + +"Secrecy is highly necessary in my profession," declared the officer, +"just as necessary, indeed, as it is in diplomacy. We are not fond of +making statements to the Press. Our friend here," he added, indicating +me, "is, however, usually in our confidence." + +Then Whitlock expressed pleasure at meeting a man so popular and +famous as my fellow-tenant of those rooms, declaring that he often +read his articles in the _Daily Herald_, and had long desired to +make his acquaintance. Their conversation then turned upon travel, +adventure, and the Boer Campaign--through the whole of which Julian +had been--until at last the detective rose, shook our hands, and left, +promising to meet me at Barnes at half-past nine in the morning. + +Why he intended to further investigate that dismal empty house, I could +not guess. Yet the fact that he had invited me to be present showed +that he held some fresh theory and anticipated interesting developments. + +"I don't like that man," declared Julian, when I returned to the +sitting-room. "There's something false and egotistical about him that +arouses my instinctive dislike." + +I recollected his surprise and fear when I had introduced him, and, +suspicious at his declaration, said-- + +"My dear Julian, he's one of the best fellows in the world. Police +officers are supposed to have neither heart nor conscience, but he has +both. When down the East End together I've seen him myself give money +to known thieves who have been starving." + +"I don't care. I don't like the fellow," Little repeated, causing my +wonder to increase. "He'd play you false if ever he had the chance." + +"Well, we'll agree to differ," I laughed lightly. "He's done me many a +good turn. Why, half the 'scoops' I've made for the past two years are +due to information he's given me in secret." + +"And you've paid him accordingly, I suppose?" he remarked with a covert +sneer. + +"Oh, he's received odd cheques now and then from Jennings, the +cashier," I admitted. + +"Well, that's all the same. He wouldn't help you if he were not paid +for it. He knows full well that the _Herald_ scale of payment is higher +than that of any other paper in London." + +"Yes. But he's also my friend," I declared. + +"Friend be hanged!" he cried. "It's past midnight. Let's go to bed, +Keene." + +And so we parted. + +But through that night I slept very little. My mind was full of the +strange and incomprehensible affair. I could not put away from myself +Julian's palpable fear when he met Whitlock, nor the latter's curious +attitude towards him. That the whole situation was one of doubt and +suspicion was apparent. My own opinion was that Whitlock had called +especially to meet Julian Little, and that the appointment for the +morrow was a mere excuse. + +Yet, after all, what connection could my friend possibly have with this +mysterious affair? + +The more I calmly reflected and argued with myself, the more puzzled I +became. I had anticipated launching upon the public the remainder of +the sensational story in the first edition on the morrow, but Whitlock +had prohibited this--prohibited it for some distinct purpose--a purpose +which he had refused to state. + +Hour after hour I lay, listening to the chiming church clocks of +London as they counted the long night, and trying to form some theory +regarding the tragic affair which had so entirely possessed me. + +Before my vision arose those two dead but beautiful faces, as they lay +cold and still, side by side, in the silent chamber of death; the one, +the younger and more beautiful, foully murdered, the other with her +secret safely concealed for ever. + +Upon the white, lifeless countenance of the former was a cold, hard +look, as though she had seen and recognised the assassin whose hand had +fired the fatal shot, while upon the other's face the white curled lip +smiled defiance at all the world. + +In the dull grey of the damp dawn those two dead faces haunted me. If +I tried to sleep I saw them. Sometimes they seemed to open their eyes +and gaze out at me. The murdered girl with the fair, child-like hair +seemed in my imagination to appeal to me mutely for protection, as +though urging me to assist in bringing the assassin to justice. Yet was +not the assassin that black-haired woman with the white face and curled +lip--the woman who, when arrested, had met death without flinching? + +I had assisted the police in investigating dozens of murder mysteries, +and had looked upon many a victim, but never had a dead face held me +in such strange, almost magnetic attraction as that of the unknown +telegraphist; never had the details of a mystery puzzled me to such +a tantalising point, and never had I been filled with such a strange +feeling of suspicion and dread as on that long and memorable night. + +The feeling was as though I had become suddenly overshadowed by some +mysterious evil--some sinister influence which threatened, at any +moment, to bear me down and engulf me in a vortex of disaster. + +An obsession was upon me that was irresistible. The shadow of a great +crime had suddenly darkened my life. + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + CONTAINS SOME SURPRISES + + +"You see the ingenuity of the whole affair," Whitlock remarked, +pointing to the plain deal table in the barely-furnished room wherein +we stood together next morning--the room in which the mysterious +tragedy had been enacted. "This instrument was fitted up by one who was +certainly an expert telegraph engineer. The transmitter, which bears a +number, as you see, has been discovered by the Post Office to be one +stolen about twelve months ago from the bag of a linesman while he was +eating his dinner in an inn at Lyndhurst, in the New Forest." + +"Could it have been arranged for the purpose of betting or Stock +Exchange frauds?" I queried, standing beside the dark stain upon the +floor which showed so gruesomely in the morning light. + +"No; certainly not. I've abandoned that theory. Let's go over the house +again." + +Before following him I glanced around the room, every detail of which +was already familiar to me. It was not large, and had probably been +used as a study when the place was tenanted, for along the faded walls +were black marks showing where bookcases had stood. Upon the centre of +the floor was an old bit of ragged Brussels carpet probably to deaden +the sound of footsteps. The chairs were old and rickety; while the old +sofa, which had been used as a bed, was worn and frayed. In the centre +of the couch was a deep cavity, showing that somebody had used it for +months. The blanket was a dark army one and the eider-down quilt, once +covered with dark green satin, was almost brown with age. Everything +had been left as it was found, but during the whole of the previous day +experts from Scotland Yard had been dusting the half-filled tumbler +with a pale greenish chalk and photographing the finger-prints upon it; +also taking prints from the door-plate and other polished surfaces in +various parts of the room and the house. + +The remains of some cold ham and bread--the unfortunate victim's +supper--were still upon the plate, and her half-consumed lager beer +showed that she had been probably interrupted in her meal by a passing +message. + +In the grey light of that autumn morning the room looked a dismal and +mysterious dwelling-place. The door stood open, and as we conversed our +voices echoed weirdly through the untenanted, neglected house. + +Whitlock stood in the centre of the room, gazing thoughtfully around +him. Every nook and corner of the place had been searched, in order +to find some copied message, or something to give a clue to its late +occupant. But all in vain. Discovery was apparently constantly dreaded, +and everything which might lead to identification had been, from time +to time, destroyed in the grate. + +Upon the table were a number of books, new novels of the lighter +kind--which showed the poor girl's taste for fiction--as well as some +weekly papers, and a half-knitted cravat of dark blue silk. + +Who could the beautiful girl be who had passed her days in such +loneliness and secrecy? And with what motive? + +My eye caught that tell-tale stain upon the unwashed floor-boards and I +drew back in horror. I saw her startled face, for it was now haunting +me continually. + +I tried, time after time, to put its memory away from me but without +avail. It appealed to me for vengeance. + +Whitlock's voice roused me to a sense of my surroundings. + +"Come, Mr Keene," he said. "Let's take another look round." + +Together we went out into the big square hall, where the wide, +old-fashioned stairs ran up to the first floor. It was a roomy old +place, built a century ago with old-fashioned comfort and solidity. +On each side of the hall were rooms--drawing-room, dining-room, +morning-room and the study which we had just left. One after the other +we entered. + +The drawing-room, a big apartment with two deep bay windows, had +once been decorated in white and gold, but the white was now grey +and the gilt sadly tarnished. The ceiling showed that it had been +a handsome room in the early Victorian days, but the cheap paper +was now smoke-grimed and faded. The dark sage-green walls of the +dining-room showed square marks where paintings had once hung, and the +morning-room must, when tenanted, have been a pleasant apartment. But +the neighbourhood had, in the last ten years, sadly deteriorated, and +motor traction, with its attendant noise and dust, had rendered those +hitherto comfortable "detached residences" practically uninhabitable by +anyone with nerves. + +Tenants who still remained in that thoroughfare were subjected to a +miniature earthquake every two minutes, and small objects, pictures, +ornaments and the like, were thrown down constantly and broken. + +The rooms were entirely empty. In the drawing-room an old newspaper +had been flung into the fireplace. Whitlock, picking it up, found that +it was dated four months back, this going to prove that the mysterious +tenant had occupied her room for that period, if not longer. + +"But tell me, Whitlock," I asked, as we stood together, bending over +the old news-sheet. "Your inquiries seem to show that you don't believe +the woman who committed suicide was the assassin." + +"No," he responded promptly. "You're quite right, Mr Keene. I have +other suspicions." + +"Of what?" I asked, recollecting Julian Little's strange attitude. + +"Of this strange affair," he replied, with that delightful vagueness +which he was so fond of assuming. + +"Then why did the other woman take her life instead of facing the +magistrate?" + +"Who can tell? Women are mostly strange, hysterical creatures. She had +a motive, of course; but it may have been a most remote one." + +"And it may have been very closely connected with the cause of the +tragedy." + +"It may," he admitted. "But," he went on, "I somehow feel that there +should be some clue to the affair remaining in this place. A man was +connected with it, without a doubt, but he is a mystery and at present +undiscovered." + +As we stood there a loud metallic clicking reached our ears from the +adjoining room. It sounded through the empty house, and next moment we +heard the sound of flying footsteps ascending the kitchen stairs. + +"Hark!" shouted Whitlock, "there's the telegraph!" but the words were +scarcely out of his mouth before the male clerk from the Post Office +was at the little deal table listening to the ticking of the instrument. + +Another moment and we were also at his side. + +He was scribbling the message upon a piece of paper, while we looked +over his shoulder in eagerness. + +But it was nothing. An ordinary message from a husband in Portsmouth to +his wife in Leeds, telling of his safe arrival. + +So we turned away in disappointment, and ascended the stairs to the +first floor, entering a room where, in a cupboard, the victim's skirt, +blouse, hat and other clothing were still hanging. + +"Now," exclaimed Whitlock, taking down the skirt from its peg and +holding it out, "there's an interesting point here. Last night I got +a costumier to examine these things, and he has declared that they +belonged to neither of the two dead women. The measurements are quite +different to the clothes they were wearing. Therefore there arises a +new query: To whom do they belong?" + +I handled the garments myself. This fresh fact was indeed puzzling. + +A dozen Pressmen I knew, having learnt of the tragedy through my +account in the _Evening Herald_ of the previous night, were now +haunting the neighbourhood, but at Whitlock's order all information was +being refused by the police. As I looked from the window of the empty +room I saw two of my journalistic rivals, both of them reporters of +evening papers, standing together on the opposite pavement. + +Passing into the back bedroom, I noticed in the empty grate the +unsmoked half of a cigarette, and picked it up. Eagerly Whitlock +examined it, and after minute scrutiny said-- + +"This was smoked not earlier than a week ago, and it proves two things. +First, that a man was in the habit of coming here, and, secondly, that +he had a connoisseur's taste for cigarettes, because--look!--printed in +blue on the paper, don't you see, is the trade-mark of a Greek temple +and some lettering in Greek. Greek cigarettes are not smoked in London, +therefore he is probably a traveller." + +A traveller! I recollected all that had passed in our chambers on the +previous night. Only a month before Julian Little had been in Athens, +interviewing the Greek Minister of Foreign Affairs regarding the +Macedonian troubles! I looked again at the unsmoked portion of the +cigarette, but it was unlike any I had seen before. + +"We may find that this Greek firm have an agent in London, and perhaps +trace the person to whom the cigarettes are supplied," remarked +Whitlock, carefully placing it in an old envelope he took from his +pocket. + +The vague suspicion upon my friend Julian was increasing. But suspicion +of what? Surely not of the murder of the girl with the angel face, now +lying cold and still in the mortuary? + +And yet had not the constable distinctly stated that the girl's face +was cold when he discovered her. Therefore the crime must have been +committed at least an hour, or perhaps longer, before its discovery. + +Of Julian's movements on that night I had no idea. I had been sent down +to Grimsby upon another matter, and had only arrived at King's Cross at +five that morning. At half-past, when I entered our chambers, he was +sleeping soundly in his room. + +Surely he was the very last person to suspect of having any hand in +that mysterious and dastardly crime! Yet had not guilt been written +plainly upon his face? + +Following Whitlock, I passed from room to room. He was in search of any +cupboard or cavity in which other belongings of the illegal occupant +might be concealed. For fully an hour we made diligent investigation, +leaving no hole or corner undisturbed. Suddenly, when in the servants' +quarters at the top of the house, in a room with a sloping ceiling, my +friend the inspector, while tapping the wall with his fist, produced a +hollow sound, and next moment we saw that a door flush with the wall, +being papered over, had escaped detection on the previous day. + +So well had the wall-paper concealed the door that one might enter the +room a hundred times without noticing it. The window was small, and the +place consequently badly lighted, while the door apparently gave access +to a large space beneath the sloping roof. + +But it was locked, and the key was missing. His curiosity aroused, +Whitlock descended to the garden, where he discovered a piece of old +iron--a rusty, bent poker, I think--and, returning quickly, broke the +lock and opened the door. + +Beyond was darkness, and the low roof sloped to the floor as we had +conjectured. Whitlock, striking a match, stepped within. + +"Halloa!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What's this?" And he raised from +the floor a small, cheap, brown leather suit-case, apparently quite +new, and brought it out into the centre of the empty room. + +It was locked, but in a few moments the brass fastening yielded to +the leverage of the piece of iron and the lid flew open, disclosing +a tangled mass of green telegraph-tape bearing messages, which was +evidently being, for some unknown purpose, preserved. Being in the +Morse alphabet neither of us could read it, but Whitlock, after +satisfying himself that nothing else remained in the cupboard, took the +great bundle of paper-tape in his arms to carry it down to the Post +Office clerk below. + +As he lifted it from the suit-case, however, my eye caught an object +which, perhaps fortunately, he did not see--an object which caused +me to hold my breath in sheer amazement, but which, next instant, I +snatched up in my hand and held concealed. + +It was inconceivable, incredible! My brain was awhirl. + +Last night Julian Little had, I recollected, warned me vaguely against +Daisy Marvin, the twenty-year-old daughter of James Marvin, news editor +of the _Evening Herald_, and my chief. He knew that we loved each +other; that though she had adopted the variety stage as a profession, +I adored her. Her photographs on post-cards were in every shop window, +and great posters of her in her huge stage hat and dancing skirt stared +at Londoners from hoardings everywhere. + +Both her talent and her beauty were acknowledged. Her father being +a journalist and her father's friends being journalists, she always +received favourable "notices" in the Press, and managers knew well that +if she were in their bill their "shows" would not be ignored. A line +of news is worth a good deal as an advertisement, therefore Daisy--my +own sweet-faced Daisy, whom I loved so well--was on her way to become +chief among the "stars," with a salary of from £100 to £200 a week. +There is great affinity between journalism and the stage, yet old +Marvin had always openly expressed himself against Daisy marrying a +Pressman--being ambitious enough to hope that her face and talent might +attract some scion of a noble house. Therefore our love was a secret +one, and I had often to resort to all sorts of ruses in order to meet +her and talk with her alone. + +But the little object I had just discovered, and the secret of which I +kept to myself, caused me an agony of doubt, of wonder, of fear. + +The revelation staggered me. + +What I had found was my own portrait--the one I had given her a year +ago! It was circular, about the size of a penny, enclosed in a small +gold rim and attached to a fine golden chain. She wore it always +beneath her dress, and she had many times told me that it never left +her, save when she was compelled to discard it in her stage _décolleté_. + +Why was it there, in that empty house of mystery? + +Had both she and Julian Little some connection with the astounding +affair? + +I slipped the little trinket into my jacket pocket, and followed +Whitlock downstairs like a man in a dream. + +"Look!" he exclaimed, holding out the armful of tape to the telegraph +clerk, who was seated near the instrument, idling over the morning +newspaper. "I wish you'd just see what this is all about." + +The man rose, but as he did so the instrument clicked again, and, +quickly reseating himself at the table, he commenced to scribble the +passing message. + +"Good heavens!" he gasped, glancing up at us in utter surprise an +instant later. "Listen! This is most extraordinary! There's some +mystery here. What can it mean?" + + + + + CHAPTER V + + REPEATS A MESSAGE TO PLYMOUTH + + +A journalist's life is full of surprises. + +I stood staring at the clicking telegraph instrument, Whitlock at my +side equally eager. + +We both saw that each word ticked out caused the postal clerk increased +surprise. + +The mysterious message held him in amazement. + +It was a long one, but at last ceased with two or three spasmodic +clicks. + +"Well," he remarked, turning to us with the paper whereon he had +hurriedly scribbled the words, "this is curious, to say the least, Mr +Whitlock." + +"What is it? Read it," the inspector urged. + +"It's a Press message--from somebody in London who apparently knows +more than we do of this affair. Listen: 'To _Western Evening Express_, +Plymouth.--The police, searching the house at Barnes this morning, +where a woman was found mysteriously murdered, made several curious +discoveries. In the room where the dead girl was found was a secret +telegraph instrument, and it further appears that a second woman was +discovered in the house, who, being placed under arrest on suspicion, +shortly afterwards committed suicide in the police cell----'" + +"Why, who's that from?" I exclaimed in amazement, interrupting. "Only +Little and myself know those facts, and I haven't yet published them!" + +Whitlock's ruddy face grew serious and thoughtful. + +"Listen to the remainder of the message," the clerk said. "It runs: +'This morning Inspector Whitlock, on making further examination of the +empty house, found a half-smoked cigarette of unusual brand, which may +lead to a clue, while upstairs in a cupboard, the door of which was +cleverly concealed in the wall, was found a suit-case, containing a +quantity of telegraph tape and the small portrait of a gentleman----'" + +"What can this mean?" gasped Whitlock. "Why, we haven't been outside +the place! How could it be known in London, unless--unless you +telegraphed it?" he added, looking at the telegraphist straight in the +face. + +"Well, I haven't sent a single word over the wire," the clerk replied. +"Besides, the message came through before I knew that you had found +this bunch of tape. Is it also true about the man's portrait?" + +For a moment I hesitated. + +"Yes," I replied. "Here it is. I found it at the bottom of the box." + +Whitlock took it eagerly in his hand. + +"Why, Mr Keene!" he gasped, staring at me. "It's you--you!" + +"I know it is," I said blankly. + +"But how came it here?" he asked. "What do you know about this?" and he +indicated the little trinket. + +"I only know that it's my photograph," I said. + +"Why should it be found here?" he inquired. "You saw the bodies of the +two women yesterday. Did you identify either of them?" + +"I have never seen either of them before in my life." + +"Is it not quite within the range of possibility that some friend--or +enemy--of yours might have placed this little picture in the suit-case +purposely?" + +"And then telegraphed the fact of its discovery to an evening paper," I +added. "Well, I don't know what to think." + +"Mr Keene," he said very seriously, "this mystery is increasing hourly. +It seems to me that somebody, who is your friend, knows a good deal +about the truth." + +Did he allude to Julian Little, I wondered, recollecting all that had +occurred on the previous night. + +"But that isn't all," the telegraph clerk went on. "The message +proceeds as follows: 'On further investigation, the police were led to +search in the old-fashioned garden at the rear of the house, and at +the foot of a big yew tree they unearthed a tin box. This, on being +opened, was found to contain several articles which, it is hoped, may +serve as a clue by which the mystery can be elucidated. The police are +very reticent regarding the affair, but we are in a position to state +that among the objects found in the tin box were a string of child's +beads of pale blue porcelain, a small gold watch, and several papers +of curious character. The inquest upon the two girls will be held this +afternoon.--Central News.'" + +"The Central News!" I gasped. "How could they possibly know these +facts?" + +"That's just it, Mr Keene. There's a big mystery here somewhere," +Whitlock declared. "What about the box at the foot of the yew tree? Is +there a yew tree here?" + +"Yes. Look yonder," replied the telegraph clerk, pointing out of +the window to a big, spreading tree near the bottom of the great, +old-fashioned, but neglected garden. + +"By Jove, there is!" exclaimed the police officer. "But how the dickens +can the Central News know more than we do? They've actually circulated +a discovery before we've made it." + +"An invention, perhaps?" I suggested. + +"No, that can't be, because all the other facts are absolutely true," +he pointed out. "They even reported the discovery of this little +portrait, which you very naturally concealed." + +"I wonder who sent the message to the C.N.?" I ventured, using the +initials of the telegraph agency as every Pressman does. The P.A. +means, in Press parlance, the Press Association; the C.N., the Central +News, while the "Exchange" is brief for intelligence received through +the medium of the Exchange Telegraph Company. + +"Well, at anyrate, we must make a search at the spot they indicate," +Whitlock said. "It's quite clear to me that somebody knows all about +it, while we are completely in the dark. If it were not that two women +have lost their lives, I should begin to think that the whole thing had +been arranged as a journalistic 'scoop.'" + +I laughed, recollecting many bogus "mysteries" that I had known. One +had been cleverly "brought off" near Sheffield a couple of years +before, when two journalists killed a dog on the railway-line, and, +carrying away the body a long distance, buried it. The police, of +course, believed that a foul murder had been committed, and it was +not until after a week of all sorts of weird theories cleverly worked +up by the enterprising Pressmen and telegraphed broadcast all over +the country, that an analysis of the blood proved it to be of canine +origin. Such journalistic "mysteries" are not at all uncommon. + +"But this isn't a fake!" I cried. "It can't be. The girl was found here +in this room--shot dead." + +"Well, I can't for the life of me see, Mr Keene, how your friends of +the Central News can possibly know facts about an affair of which we +are in ignorance. Not a soul has been in the house to-day except our +three selves. But," he added, "we'll go and see what we can find at the +spot in the garden. I wonder if there's a spade about. Let's go and +look." + +"You go. I'll go across to the doctor's opposite, ring up the Central +News, and ask them about their account." + +"Yes, do," he said. + +So I went out to where I saw that a telephone wire ran into a doctor's +house, rang, presented my card, and asked permission to use the +telephone, which was at once accorded to me. + +In a few moments I was on to the news editor of the Central News in New +Bridge Street, Blackfriars. + +He was a man named Burton, whom I knew intimately, often meeting him at +the Savage Club. + +"Halloa! How are you, Keene, old chap?" he asked. "Anything you want?" + +"Yes. I want to know about that account of yours of the Barnes +mystery," I said. "Where did you get it from?" + +"Barnes mystery?" he responded. "I haven't seen anything of it +personally. Hold on a moment; I'll ask round." + +For two or three minutes I held the receiver at my ear in expectation, +until at last Burton asked-- + +"Halloa! Are you there, Keene?" + +"Yes." + +"We haven't sent anything out this morning about the Barnes mystery. +Nothing fresh has come in. You must have made a mistake. It isn't from +us, old chap." + +"But the message addressed to the _Western Evening Express_ is signed +by your agency," I said. "Are you quite certain?" + +"Hold on again," he urged; "I'll make quite sure." + +Then a few moments later he continued-- + +"I've asked the telegraph operator. Nothing whatever concerning the +Barnes affair has gone out from us since 11.58 last night. We've got +two men down at Barnes, but they can't get anything. They report that +the police will not say a word. We shall get something from the inquest +this afternoon. Are you lunching at the Savage?" + +"No; I don't think so to-day," was my reply, and with a word of +farewell I rang off and crossed the road to meet Whitlock in the +garden. He had borrowed a spade and a pick from some men mending the +main road a little distance away, and was half-way down the garden +towards the spot indicated in the mysterious telegram. + +"The message was a forged one," I said. "The Central News has sent out +nothing to-day." + +He halted and looked straight at me. + +"Forged!" he echoed. "In that case let us ask over the wire where the +message was handed in and by whom." + +He turned on his heel, re-entered the house, and gave instructions to +the telegraphist to make the inquiry of the Central Telegraph Office. + +Within a few minutes the answer came back that it had been handed in at +the office in Southampton Street, Strand, and that it was typed upon +the usual forms for Press telegrams. The name of the sender was given +as "Cooper--Central News"--a fictitious name, of course. + +I saw that Whitlock's best energies in the near future were to be +devoted to discovering the sender of the telegram. + +"It's a very funny affair, Mr Keene," he declared. "Evidently the man +who sent the telegram was a journalist." + +I agreed, and my mind wandered at once to the suspicion upon Julian +Little. + +"But what I cannot see is why your portrait should be found here," +he went on, as we walked together down the garden. "Perhaps this +mysterious box which the passing message says we are to find will +explain something." + +The garden was larger than that of the other houses, secluded by high +walls of time-mellowed brick, mostly covered by ivy. Such a garden, +with big trees, level lawn, and quiet walks flanked by high box hedges, +was difficult to find so near London nowadays. But when the house was +built, in the days of George III., ground was not nearly so valuable as +it now is, and the Malls at Hammersmith and Chiswick were fashionable +residential centres. + +Till fifty years ago the garden had been four or five times larger +than it now was, but encroaching builders had purchased parts of it, +until now it was a mere apology for its former self--weedy, overgrown, +its gravelled walks full of rank nettles and grass, and its old stone +fountain moss-grown and broken; yet one or two fine trees remained, +among them the big yew, fully three centuries old, beneath which the +mysterious message declared that we had discovered a tin box. + +We approached it in wonder and excitement. All around the root of the +tree was a tangle of weeds that had not been disturbed for years. Of +late, previous tenants had done nothing to keep up the garden, nobody +caring to spend money upon it. Here everything grew wild and untrained. + +We both searched round the root of the tree, but saw nothing to +indicate the spot where any box had been recently buried. + +"The only way," I suggested, "is to dig a trench right round the root." + +"Yes," my friend assented. "You take the pick and I'll take the shovel. +But, by Jove! it looks as if it might be a long job. I'll get Sergeant +Henson with another spade." And so saying Whitlock went to the front +gate, where the detective was on duty with a colleague, and very soon +he joined us. All three of us took off our coats, and quickly we were +working away in search of the box which the mysterious message had +declared that we had actually discovered. + +While with my pick I dug up the thick layer of turf and weed-roots, +the others dug down into the earth in search of the promised find. A +full hour we worked on in a circle around the huge roots, but without +result. All three of us became uncommonly thirsty over our efforts, +therefore we sent Henson for three bottles of lager beer, and, having +refreshed ourselves, resumed our work of excavation. The huge twisted +roots of the yew puzzled us considerably, for we constantly struck them. + +From eleven o'clock till nearly two we worked hard in eager expectancy, +and had excavated a wide trench about two feet deep when of a sudden, +as I struck my pick into the ground, I brought up a big piece of turf +that had evidently been cut out square and carefully replaced. + +I pointed this out to my companions, who at once worked with a will, +and, digging to the depth of about two feet, Henson suddenly struck +something with his spade. + +"Hark!" he cried. "That's tin!" And he again struck down, producing a +dull, metallic thud. + +Quickly we all worked to clear away the earth, when at last there was +brought to light what was prophesied we should find--a square tin +biscuit-box. The paper covering was nearly all decayed and the whole +thing was badly rusted, but, placing our treasure on the ground, +we quickly prised open the lid, which had apparently been rendered +air-tight by sealing-wax, now nearly wholly perished by the damp. + +And then we eagerly peered within. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + AROUSES SOME SUSPICIONS + + +Within the rusted tin, lying on top of a piece of old newspaper, was +a lady's small gold watch, of cheap pattern, which had stopped at +half-past seven. The face was gilt, but blackened in one corner by damp +or age. The bevelled glass was cracked across, and as I turned it over +in my hand I saw that the engraving at the edges was nearly worn off. + +Carefully Whitlock drew out the pieces of old newspaper--dated nearly +two years before--and presently discovered a string of pale blue beads +such as children wear--beads of turquoise-blue porcelain just as +described in the mysterious message to the Plymouth newspaper! + +I held them in my hand, and pointed out to Whitlock that they had been +rethreaded upon shoemaker's waxed thread, and that the ring-clasp was +of gold and certainly did not belong to the necklet. + +Whitlock, however, was searching for the papers which the mysterious +telegram declared were there. With care he withdrew the pieces of torn +newspaper with which the box was packed one after the other, examining +each piece to see if any mark were upon it, until, in the bottom of the +box, he came to two folded papers. + +Eagerly he took them out, while Sergeant Henson and I stood peering +over his shoulder. + +The first he unfolded was a single sheet of blue foolscap whereon was +drawn a curious triangular diagram, apparently some plan, but of what +was entirely enigmatical. It seemed to be a rough plan of an estate, in +the top angle of which was a cross marked in red, as though to indicate +a spot. Without explanation, however, it was entirely inexplicable. + +A second paper, a white one, was a half-sheet of note-paper on which +were written several lines in German in a fine feminine hand. The ink +was violet, slightly run by the damp. + +"I can't read this, Mr Keene; can you?" Whitlock asked. + +I took the letter in my hand and found it was written from the Hôtel du +Nord, Cologne, but without a date. + + "DEAR CARL,--I arrived here from Würtzburg yesterday and have seen + Wilhelm. We have arranged everything. The secret will be kept, + therefore you need have no misgivings. He will trouble you no more. + I leave for Brussels to-night.--Yours as ever, + + ERNA." + +"H'm!" ejaculated Whitlock, dubiously. "That's a rather curious letter, +isn't it? I wonder who Carl and Erna are? Germans evidently." + +"A pair of undesirable aliens, no doubt," I remarked with a smile. + +Whitlock took the letter again in his hand and examined the writing +minutely. Then he put his hand into the tin and brought forth a third +document which caused us a thrill of excitement as the detective +unfolded it, for it proved to be nothing else than a birth certificate. + +It was the registrar's record that at Mina Road, Old Kent Road, in +the Parish of St George the Martyr, Southwark, Francis Douglas, son +of Henry Charles Drayton and Caroline, his wife, was born on the 22nd +day of October, 1876, the birth being registered two days later. +The certificate was a copy of the register, given and signed by the +registrar on that day. + +"Now this may really lead us to something," Whitlock said. "We must +discover the gentleman in question--this Mr Francis Drayton, who is now +about thirty years of age. He may be able to identify one or other of +the two dead women." + +"It seems very much as though that mysterious telegram was sent to +Plymouth to be published in order to place us on the scent of this box +and its contents," I said. + +"Yes. But the person who sent the wire and forged the name of the +Central News evidently knows all about it. We must also find him, Mr +Keene." + +The mystery became hourly more tangled. The discovery of this box with +its curious miscellaneous contents was utterly beyond explication. The +fact that a piece of the turf had been cut out to enable the tin to be +concealed was apparent. I examined it carefully, and judged that the +concealment must have taken place several months before. But how could +its presence there be known to the sender of the fictitious telegram if +he himself had not been present, or, at anyrate, had not been told of +its existence? + +The publication in Plymouth of the premature intelligence of the result +of the police search was with some distinct motive without a doubt. + +Whitlock stuck his hands in his trousers pockets and blankly regarded +the empty tin. + +"This is a complete puzzle, Mr Keene," he declared. Then, glancing at +his watch, he added, "By Jove! I'm due at the inquest. Coming?" + +I assented readily, and, leaving Henson to take charge of the rusty +tin and its strange contents, I put on my coat, and together we went +out into Bridge Road, walking along to the Red Lion, that hotel which +stands at the bottom of the long wide road, at the angle where Rock +Lane runs to Barnes Common. + +As we approached, a small crowd of idlers had, we saw, congregated +outside--the public who could not obtain admission to the upstairs +room, where the coroner was holding his inquiry. + +The constable at the foot of the stairs saluted us, and on entering we +found that the twelve jurymen, mostly local tradesmen, had viewed the +bodies of the two women, and the coroner, a short, bald-headed man, was +taking the evidence of P.C. Horton, who caused considerable sensation +when he described the sudden appearance of the living woman in the +doorway, and her subsequent strangeness of manner and refusal to give +any account of herself. + +The Press-table was filled to overflowing by my confrères, Raymond, +one of my fellow-reporters, "covering" the inquest for the _Evening +Herald_. He saw me and nodded. + +The evidence was then taken of the inspector who detained the second +woman, and who told how he questioned her, then went to the house, and +afterwards discovered the stubborn prisoner dead in her cell. + +Not a word was said about the telegraph instrument, for the police had +resolved to keep that fact a secret. + +Indeed, Whitlock's evidence, after that of the divisional surgeon, was +purposely vague and unconvincing. When called, he said in his quick, +professional way of giving evidence-- + +"John Whitlock, inspector, Criminal Investigation Department. The +inquiries in this case are in my hands. The identity of the two +deceased women is not yet proved. The murdered woman had evidently +lived alone in the empty house for some months, but for what reason +is not yet established. To give further evidence at this juncture +might negative my efforts, therefore I would ask that the inquiry be +adjourned." + +"Any question to ask the inspector?" inquired the coroner of the jury. + +The foreman, a fat little grocer, whispered something to his neighbour, +and then exclaimed-- + +"I would like to ask the inspector if, in his opinion, the woman who +committed suicide was the assassin?" + +"I'm afraid, sir," interrupted the coroner, "that is a question which +cannot be put to the police. You--the jury--have to return your own +verdict when you have heard the whole of the evidence. At the present +stage of the inquiry we have only the facts of the tragedy before us. +I propose to adjourn until this day week to allow the police to make +further inquiry." + +This was therefore done, and the Court rose. Then the room, hitherto so +breathlessly silent, became a babel of tongues as everyone discussed +the extraordinary story that had been told. For once, the newspapers +had omitted all the sensational points, but already, Press telegrams +were flashing over the wires to Fleet Street, and in half an hour the +world would be given a report of the inquiry verbatim. + +Only myself, Whitlock and his assistant, however, knew of the +discoveries we had made. + +I accompanied him back to Scotland Yard, and sat in his room while he +methodically proceeded with his inquiries. First he sent a wire to +the Plymouth police ordering inquiry to be made of the editor of the +_Evening Express_ as to the real origin of the telegram sent to him +from London. Secondly he sent out an inquiry regarding the watch, the +number upon which he carefully copied. The small photograph of myself +was lying upon the table. + +"And as for this," he said, looking at me, "what am I to do about it?" + +"Nothing," I replied. "Please leave that to me." + +"Have you any suspicion? I mean, do you suspect any enemy of yours?" he +asked. + +"Not in the least. I am just as puzzled as you are." + +For a moment he did not speak. His eyes were down cast upon his +blotting-pad. + +"Very well, Mr Keene," he answered. "You were frank and produced it; +therefore I leave that point in your hands. Only I beg of you to leave +no stone unturned to clear up the mystery of it being found in that +house." + +I promised him faithfully to do my best. + +The twilight was just creeping on when, letting myself into our +chambers with my latchkey, I walked into the sitting-room, and there +found a note on the table. At a glance I saw it was from Julian Little, +and tore it open. + + "I've just got orders to go to Servia, as some fresh trouble seems + to be brewing there," he wrote. "I leave Charing Cross at 2.20. + Sorry I can't wait to say good-bye. When next you see Daisy will + you give her the enclosed? Don't send it to her, but give her it + personally. _Au revoir_, old chap! I'll be back very soon, I hope. + Grand Hotel, Belgrade, will find me. Key of whisky cupboard is + under the corner of the sofa. Keep up your pecker. + + JULIAN." + +Enclosed was a letter, sealed with black wax, and addressed, "Miss +Daisy Marvin." + +I stood staring at it in the grey, uncertain light. The wax had been +impressed by the curious old engraved cornelian which he always wore +upon his finger. + +Julian Little had gone! He always went and came suddenly, for it was +part of his profession as special correspondent to move rapidly from +place to place. Yet he generally had a day's notice from the office. + +Switching on the electric light, I crossed to my writing-table and rang +up Wakeley, news editor of the _Daily Herald_--the shrewd, fair, rather +bald-headed and pleasant man who was accredited as being one of the +smartest journalists in all London, if not the very smartest. + +In a few moments I was talking with him. + +"I don't know," he said, in answer to my question. "Little seemed so +very anxious to go this morning that I've let him go. For my own part, +I think it's a wild-goose chase. There's been trouble in the Balkans +ever since I wrote in copy-books!" + +"So he's really gone upon his own initiative?" + +"Entirely." + +I wished him good evening and rang off. + +Had Julian Little actually fled? It seemed very much as though he had. + +Just as I turned away from the telephone a ring came at the outer door, +and on opening it I drew back with a cry of welcome surprise, for +standing before me was my dainty little love, Daisy. + +"I didn't expect to find you at home, Victor!" she laughed, entering at +my invitation, with a quick swish of her skirts. "I've just been to the +office to see dad, and he asked me, as I was passing this way, to leave +this note for you." + +And she gave me the letter from my chief. + +As she entered the green-carpeted sitting-room--not without some +trepidation, be it said, for it was only the second time she had been +there--I saw that she wore a well-cut, black tailor-made dress, and +that her chestnut hair, so profuse and universally admired on the +stage, was tightly bound beneath a neat black-and-white toque. Features +and complexion were alike perfect, from the arched, well-marked brows +to the Cupid's bow upon the full red lips, while the great eyes, so +clear and luminous, looked out upon me full of the light of true +affection. Ah, how sweet was our passionate and mutually devoted love! + +She carried none of her stage exaggerations into her every-day life. +Her cheeks were as soft, fresh, and child-like as though rouge had +never been applied to them. Unlike the artistes whom one meets in +Maiden Lane, Strand, or York Road, Lambeth, she was always neat and +unassuming; so quietly dressed, indeed, that no one would believe +she could ever assume that gay abandon of the variety stage, and +sing and dance with that smart up-to-dateness that had rendered her +already--though only just out of her teens--a music-hall favourite. + +She raised her soft, sweet lips to mine, and with my arm pressed +tightly about her slim waist I bent and kissed her fondly; for that +meeting was both unexpected and delightful. + +"Julian has gone to-day to Servia," I explained, noticing that she +glanced apprehensively at the door. "He has left this for you," and, +taking the letter from the table, I gave it to her. + +She tore it open, read eagerly through the scribbled lines, and then, +crushing the note in her gloved hand, stood staring at me, white as +death. + +In an instant her whole attitude had been transformed. + +Pale to the lips, she stood clutching at the edge of the table and +swaying forward, her eyes full of an expression of fear and horror. + +Upon her some mysterious blow had fallen. + +I stood there regarding her--breathless, amazed, confounded. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + IS MAINLY ABOUT DAISY MARVIN + + +"What's wrong?" I asked my well-beloved. + +"Oh, nothing--nothing," she hastened to assure me, quickly replacing +Julian's letter in the envelope. + +"But there is," I exclaimed; "I'm sure there is!" Her blanched face +told me plainly that some sudden blow had fallen upon her. She was +staring at me blankly, as though utterly dazed by what she had read. + +"How very foolish of you, Victor!" she cried, bracing herself up with +an effort, and trying to laugh. Her attempt to remain calm was but a +sorry one. + +"Look here, Daisy," I said quite frankly, "why don't you tell me the +truth? Surely I, of all men, ought to be allowed to know?" + +"To know!" she echoed, glancing wildly around the room. "Yes--yes, of +course. You are jealous that Julian should write to me, bidding me +farewell--eh?" + +"Well, his sudden departure certainly seems to have somewhat upset +you," I remarked a trifle coldly, noticing that she had already placed +the crushed letter within the breast of her blouse, for, woman-like, +she had no dress-pocket. + +"It was rather unexpected," she admitted lamely. "But, Victor," she +added, "you surely are not jealous of such a confirmed bachelor as +Julian? Only the other day we were discussing him at home, and dad +declared that he was quite a woman-hater." + +"Yes," I answered, "I believe he is. Yet is it not strange that he +should write you a letter of farewell?" + +"If there was anything in it that you should not see he would never +have confided it to your keeping, would he?" + +"Then I may read the letter?" + +"I hardly think that is quite a fair request," she exclaimed +resentfully. "You love me, Victor--and surely you can trust me?" + +"Yes," I replied, with just a slight hesitation. The effect of Little's +letter upon her had sorely puzzled me. He had left London suddenly, and +at his own request. Fled across Europe, in fact. + +Why? + +Was it some startling truth confessed in that hurried note that had +caused her that sudden and breathless surprise? Indeed, the expression +upon her face as she read those lines was more of horror than of mere +amazement. + +"You are not quite certain of me, Victor," she said slowly, looking +straight into my eyes and laying her gloved hand upon mine. "Come, +admit it." + +"I love you, Daisy," I answered. "I repeat every word that I told you +the other Sunday evening when I rowed you up to Hampton. You remember?" + +Her handsome countenance grew serious in an instant, and she nodded at +the recollection of my declaration of passionate affection and of our +mutual pledges. + +"Then why do you ask to see Julian's letter?" she said half +reproachfully. "Remember, he is an old friend of dad's." + +"And of yours." + +"Yes. I have known him almost ever since I knew myself. When I was a +little child he used to swing me on Sunday afternoons in our garden at +Dulwich." + +"And he confides in you sometimes?" + +"Sometimes--but very rarely. This is one of the occasions." + +"I can't think why he's gone out to Servia. There is no political +trouble apparent there." + +"He's gone, I suppose, because with him, like some other men of genius, +constant travel is part of their existence. They cannot live without +incessant change," she laughed. + +"Perhaps you are right, darling," I said. Then, after a pause, I drew +her to me, and, kissing her white brow tenderly, added, "Forgive me; I +know I had no right to ask to see that letter. But----" + +"But you are just a trifle jealous--eh, Victor?" she laughed, with +twinkling, mischievous eyes. "Now, confess!" + +"Well, darling," I said, pressing her to me again, and placing my lips +passionately to hers, "I suppose I must." + +"Then it's very wrong of you," she declared, lifting her finger in mock +reproof. "Jealousy leads to anger, and lots of bad things. My own boy +must not be jealous if he means to marry an artiste." + +"Means to marry!" I cried. "Why, of course I do. You are my own--my own +sweet little love--all my own--are you not?" And I placed my arm about +her neck, so that her splendid head fell upon my shoulder. + +"Your own? Of course, dearest," she replied in a soft voice, scarce +above a whisper, while in her eyes showed the love-light--that light +impossible to feign, that tells a man so plainly when he is beloved. + +For a long time we stood together in silence, locked in each other's +arms, our hearts beating in unison. And our love was all the sweeter +because it was in secret. I knew full well that my people would hold +up their hands in pious horror at the bare thought of my love for a +stage-woman; while if old Marvin, my chief, discovered it, my services +on the staff of the _Evening Herald_ would very quickly be dispensed +with. But I loved her fondly--aye, loved her with the whole strength +of my being. And for that very reason I was jealous that she should +receive a letter from another. + +"It must be very dull and lonely for you here, Victor, when Julian is +away," she said at last, crossing to the table whereon stood Little's +collection of autographed photographs of his Royal and diplomatic +friends. + +"Oh, not very. I have my work, as you know, and it keeps me well +occupied." + +"And in the evening you go to the halls to see and applaud me--eh?" +she laughed, holding aside her skirts daintily, and making a tour of +inspection of the room. + +"I suppose you'll say that's Julian's property?" she exclaimed, +pointing to a cabinet photograph of a pretty girl upon the mantelshelf, +and laughing. + +"Well, as it happens, it is his. The portrait of some girl he met in +Vienna--daughter of the Roumanian Minister, I think." + +Then, as a further breach of the _convenances_, she seated herself, +allowed me to light a cigarette for her, and gazed across at me through +the smoke-clouds from her pretty lips. + +Why, I wondered, had she discarded that little portrait of myself that +she had so constantly worn beneath her dress? I longed to ask her. Yet +to do so would mean explanations which at present I was somewhat averse +to making. + +I recollected Little's uneasiness when introduced to Whitlock, the +detective's curious manner, the discovery of the small portrait, +Little's flight, and the effect produced upon Daisy by his letter. All +was suspicious--distinctly suspicious. Was it possible that my love +possessed any knowledge of the remarkable affair at Barnes--the affair +of which the whole details were in the possession of some person active +but unknown? + +I stood regarding her in wonder. How sweet, almost child-like, was her +face; how clear and bright her eyes! How smart and _chic_ she was, from +the point of her patent-leather shoe to the crown of her neat toque! + +My profession as journalist took me into every phase of life. Sometimes +I was bidden to dinners, bazaars, receptions, and social functions, +where were assembled the prettiest women of that strange little world +where the _convenances_ are set at nought--Society. At others I found +myself hobnobbing with the respectable working classes, or chatting in +obscure bars with touts and thieves. + +Surely no man knows so much of the world, or sees so much of the varied +sides of human nature, as he who writes for the Press. The reporter +obtains the _entrée_ everywhere, often to places from which the public +are strictly excluded; consequently, even when still a young man, he +possesses a knowledge of the world that eclipses that of other men in +their dotage. + +In London I rubbed shoulders with hundreds of pretty women--often with +the women whose portraits appeared in the illustrated Press; but none +were, in my eyes, half so beautiful or possessed half the grace of my +news editor's daughter, Daisy Marvin. + +Mrs Marvin had been an actress of some note in the old Gaiety days, +hence it was but natural that her daughter should develop stage +inclinations. When she was ten she could dance well, and at seventeen +she was already playing in a "combination" on tour, in order to obtain +that perfection of song and dance that was to secure for her the +plaudits of a London audience. + +For my own part, I hated the thought that she should have adopted the +variety stage as a profession, and my secret desire was that when we +married she should at once retire. This, however, I had never told her, +for I knew full well how devoted she was to her art, and how she loved +the excitement of her evening "turn." + +She had many admirers, but what pretty girl on the music-hall stage +has not? They were in all walks of life--from the humble City clerk +with his briar pipe on Saturday nights to the white-waistcoated young +clubman who sent her bouquets and cards. But old Annie Axford, an +elderly woman who had been her nurse and was now a widow, went about +with her everywhere, acted as her dresser always, and kept a very +careful eye upon everything. Mrs Marvin seldom, if ever, accompanied +her daughter. She left her to old "Annie" entirely, and she certainly +could not have been in safer hands. + +"Well," she said at last, as she threw away the end of her cigarette +and leaned back, looking at me through half-closed eyes, "I suppose I +must go. Have you been out all day, as usual?" + +"Yes," I replied. "I've been doing that mystery at Barnes." + +"What's that?" she asked, as though quite ignorant of the facts. + +"What, haven't you heard of it! Not seen the paper?" + +"I don't often read the papers, as you know, Victor. Tell me about it. +Is it very mysterious?" + +"Glance at it yourself," I said, handing her a copy of the "special" in +which was a report of the inquest. + +She looked at it, pretending to be interested but, watching her eyes, I +saw that she was not reading. That proved to me that her ignorance of +the affair was feigned. But why? + +What would I not have given to know the contents of Julian's letter? + +I rose and crossed the room in order to get a better view of her +features. Suddenly the expression upon them entirely changed. In +an instant she grew interested, and read eagerly a portion of the +evidence; but which portion I was unable to determine. + +Her mouth was open. She was staring fixedly at the paper. Whatever +she had discovered had evidently caused her the utmost surprise and +consternation. + +It was as though some suspicion she had held had been suddenly +confirmed. + +"It's a curious affair," I said in a careless manner, returning to my +chair; "isn't it?" + +"Extraordinary!" she ejaculated, mechanically allowing the paper to +fall upon her lap. "Most extraordinary!" and she fixed her eyes upon me +with a strange look that told me her thoughts were very far away. + +"There are other facts not yet published which will increase the +mystery very considerably," I said. "I have been with Whitlock, of +Scotland Yard, all day, making inquiries. We dug up a box from the +garden." + +"A box! And what did you find?" + +"Several things of interest to the police," I responded. And then I +told her of the existence of the tapped telegraph wire. + +I longed to tell her of the discovery of the little portrait I had +given her, but to refer to it at that juncture was, I saw, unwise. + +She rose and placed the paper upon the table, then, in a hard, strained +voice, said-- + +"I must really go, Victor. Annie will be waiting for me at Charing +Cross. We shall go and have something to eat, and then to the +music-hall. I'm on at nine-forty." + +"I may look in for half an hour," I said. "That is, if I'm free. I have +yet to 'phone to your father at home. But you'll let me see you into a +cab." + +She pulled on the glove she had removed in order to smoke, and then I +placed my arm tenderly about her slim waist and kissed her fondly. + +"You are mine, darling," I said earnestly; "truly mine, are you not?" + +"Why, of course, Victor," she replied, looking up into my face with +frank, wide-open eyes. In her countenance I saw a look of sweet and +devoted affection, and I laughed at my suspicions. + +They were really too absurd, I reassured myself. I loved her, and was, +I suppose, jealous. Every word and every gesture aroused deep suspicion +within me, but how could I doubt her? + +Her red lips met mine with the fierce passion of perfect love. Gladly +would I have driven with her to Charing Cross, where the faithful old +servant awaited her, but to do that might, we both agreed, arouse +Annie's curiosity. + +Her visit to my rooms was not exactly what her parents would have +tolerated, for old Marvin had expressly told her to deliver the letter +to the porter. + +Therefore I descended the stairs behind my dainty little love, walked +out with her into Holborn, and put her into a cab. + +She waved me adieu with her white-gloved hand, and, turning, I retraced +my steps, little dreaming, alas! into what a slough of Mystery and +Despair I had already drifted, or of the black storm that had gathered +ready to burst and overwhelm me. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + SHOWS THE PULSE OF THE WORLD + + +Jealousy is the hydra of calamities, the seven-fold death; and things +are only worth what one makes them worth. + +Women have always some idea kept in the background. What, I wondered, +was Daisy's? + +I telephoned to Marvin at home, and received instructions to keep +an engagement at Hampstead--a meeting upon a question in which the +_Evening Herald_ had taken great interest. Then I lit a pipe and sat +for a long time pondering, thinking of the man who at that moment was +in the wagon-lit of the Orient Express, speeding eastward across Europe. + +I read the report of the inquest carefully, trying to discover what +it was which had so suddenly caused a change in the manner of my +well-beloved. But I could discern nothing. True, the story of the +mysterious second woman was told for the first time, with the account +of how she had committed suicide. Yet somehow I did not think it was +that which had caused her such consternation and amazement. + +My brain was awhirl. The problem was inscrutable. + +I went down to the Savage Club, and in the big picture-hung, +tobacco-mellowed room, half of which is devoted to smoking and half +to eating, I ate my dinner at a table with two friends, journalists +on rival newspapers. One was Day, a reporter on the _Morning Post_, +and the other Melville, of the _Globe_. Both had "done" the inquest at +Barnes that afternoon, and knowing that I had been with Whitlock were +anxious to hear the latest. But I was close and said nothing. Whitlock +knew that I could keep a secret, and for that very reason allowed me to +be present at so many confidential inquiries and investigations. + +From eight till nine I sat in a public hall at Hampstead, and at +nine-thirty took my stall at the Oxford Music Hall, waiting for the +appearance of my well-beloved. + +The place was packed in every part and thick with tobacco smoke. Not +a seat in the house was unoccupied, and had I not obtained a stall by +telephone I should have been compelled to stand in the lounge. + +At last a troupe of clever acrobats concluded their "turn," and Daisy's +number appeared in illuminated figures at the side of the proscenium. + +Then the curtain went up, and, as the slim, sweet-faced girl came +dancing on in her smart white motor-coat, cap, and veil, she was +greeted by a hearty round of applause, which showed in what public +favour she was held. + +Next moment, when the orchestra struck up, she began to sing "The +Motor Maid," the song that had already taken all London by storm, and +which was being whistled, hummed, and played upon the barrel-organs +everywhere. The whole audience quickly took up the tuneful chorus, +which began-- + + "This smart little motor maid, + With a dainty kiss she paid." + +The song received a loud encore, and in response she reappeared in +a most becoming dress of black chiffon, the short dancing-skirt and +bodice narrowly edged with pale pink, while the corsage was covered +with silver sequins. + +The orchestra struck up, and she executed a dance so full of wild +abandon that the packed audience applauded over and over again, until +she concluded with a final high kick, made her bow, and disappeared as +the heavy plush curtains fell together again. + +I hung about the stage door to catch sight of her, fearing to approach +her because of old Annie. Then, after seeing her and the faithful old +servant get into a cab and drive off, I returned along Oxford Street to +my chambers. + +James Marvin was, like most news editors and sub-editors in London, +a Scotsman. When I entered the large, well-lighted sub-editors' room +of the _Evening Herald_ next morning he had already been there since +half-past seven, seated at his table, littered with piles of telegraph +tape pasted upon slips of "copy-paper," and "flimsies," or sheets of +oiled paper, carbon duplicates of news that had been sent round to all +the other London evening papers. + +There he was, busily reading, flinging some upon the floor and tossing +others into the basket before him. + +He was a red-moustached, bald-headed man of fifty, rather short, and +when at work always sat in his shirt-sleeves, both summer and winter. +He wore gold pince-nez, and he was acknowledged by every journalist in +London to be--next to Wakeley, of the _Daily Herald_--the smartest news +editor in the kingdom. + +He had a keen eye for journalistic sensations and "scoops" both day +and night. A perfect demon for work, he kept the noses of the whole +staff to the grindstone, obtaining every ounce of force our bodies and +brains possessed. If a man became slow or even a trifle elderly, out he +went. Only the smartest of men were required on the up-to-date _Evening +Herald_, with all its American methods and ingenious competitions. + +"Late, Keene!" old Marvin snapped as I entered. "I marked you in the +book for an engagement in the City an hour ago. Oh, you needn't trouble +now. Franks has gone. Well," he went on, without glancing up at me, +his big blue crayon slashing out a lot of penny-a-liners' verbiage +from the piece of "flimsy" before him, "and what about that meeting at +Hampstead? Worth anything?" + +"Nothing," I replied. + +"Let's see! You're doing the Barnes mystery? Anything fresh?" + +"There's a bit just come in from the C.N.," remarked Hubbard, a +consumptive-looking, yellow-haired youth, who had recently been +promoted to the rank of an assistant sub-editor, and who was seated at +a table behind which stood a row of seven telegraph tapes, all of which +were clicking together, unrolling yards upon yards of news printed upon +the narrow paper ribbons. + +I crossed to his table to ascertain what fresh intelligence the Central +News had circulated. + +In the room were five other large writing-tables and five other big +waste-paper baskets, besides that of the news editor, Marvin. At each +sat the assistants, all engaged in the same work of rapidly scanning +the various telegrams and reports, and deciding which was of sufficient +interest to publish in the paper. On most newspapers nowadays the +person known to the public as "The Editor" is merely a figure-head who +arranges the subjects of the leading articles and directs the general +policy of the journal. It is the news editor who "gets up" the paper, +and upon whose shoulders the whole burden of responsibility falls. + +Thus the bald-headed Scot, surrounded by his tape instruments, his +telephones, his private wire to the City office--over which come the +Stock Exchange quotations--and his five assistants, held his finger +upon the pulse of the world. + +That office never slept. Those clicking tapes went on night and day. An +occurrence in San Francisco would reach the office within twenty-five +minutes, while the paper with the winner of the University boat-race +had been actually printing twenty seconds after the successful crew +had passed the winning-post at Mortlake. On great occasions, too, an +instrument which, covered by a small wooden box, was screwed to a +little table in the corner would be used--the cable instrument direct +from the New York office. + +In the collection of news for the _Evening Herald_ no expense was ever +spared. It was the unceasing hustle of which the staff complained. Each +reporter was bound to have the telephone in his private house, and +old Marvin--known in the office as "Joyous Jimmy"--would ring them up +constantly in the middle of the night, when some new idea for a "scoop" +or a good story occurred to him. + +The popular legend was that he never slept. One thing is certain--that +long hours never fatigued him, and that he was the first man in the +office in the morning and the last to leave. + +The _Daily Herald_ building was a perfect hive of industry, and, +indeed, one of the sights of London: the big square block of offices, +with its central courtyard whence the bundles of papers from the +machine-rooms poured out into the vans, motor cars, and motor cycles; +the six floors of small rooms housing the editorial staff of twenty +different publications in addition to the morning and evening _Herald_. +To the staff the place was known as the "rabbit-warren," for it +consisted of hundreds of different departments, the top floor of +which was given over to the _Evening Herald_. Below were the library, +reference-room, tape-rooms, and news editor's department of one of the +world's greatest and most influential journals, the _Daily Herald_, but +these rooms being insufficient at night, their staff overflowed into +ours from 9 p.m. till about 4 a.m. Therefore our rooms were never left +and our tapes ticked out their messages year in year out--Sundays and +week-days, incessant and never-ending. + +Into that big square apartment with its large skylight was concentrated +the whole news of the world day by day, hour by hour--nay, moment by +moment. + +The message which the consumptive youth handed to me proved to be a +piece of column tape from the Central News instrument, which stated +that, according to the _Western Evening Express_, at Plymouth, +Inspector Whitlock had, on the previous day, made certain discoveries +at the empty house in Barnes where the young girl had been found +murdered. The report was practically the forged telegram which Whitlock +and myself had read during its transmission on the previous day. There +was, however, no mention of the source of information, even though +it be so true, and evidently in the first place supplied by one well +acquainted with the truth. + +I wondered whether Whitlock's inquiries as to the sender of the +mysterious message had been fraught with any result. + +"Well," asked Marvin, still without looking up from his blotting-pad, +"anything fresh in that Barnes affair? Shall we make it a feature +to-day?" + +"No," I replied. "I'm looking after it again this morning, but there +won't be anything fresh for a day or two. The police know a lot of +things, but don't want them made public." + +He raised his head and peered forth at me through his gold-rimmed +glasses--looked at me rather curiously, I thought. + +"Do you know any of these things?" he asked. + +"Well--some of them," I replied. "Indeed, there's something here which +I suppose the other papers will give," and I handed him the piece of +tape. + +"H'm!" he grunted. "Is this true?" + +I responded in the affirmative. + +"And you knew it yesterday? Why didn't you send it up to us?" he asked, +glaring at me. "We could have made it the feature of the 'special.'" + +"Because--well, because Whitlock wouldn't allow it," I replied, +resolved to keep the secret of the message and its mysterious +authorship to myself. + +"Whitlock be hanged!" he snarled. "When you get hold of a good thing +publish it, and make an excuse afterwards. A Pressman who keeps his +news to himself isn't any good nowadays. The _Herald's_ a live paper, +and doesn't want to get its London news from Plymouth." + +"But I----" + +"What's the good of excuses?" he snapped, in his high-pitched voice. +"You knew a good thing and didn't publish it. If the Chief gets to hear +of it there'll be a row. You're not smart, Keene. I once thought you'd +make a good crime investigator, but in this case--a real first-class +sensation--you've failed miserably. What's the good of pottering about +with Whitlock if you don't let us know what he's discovered?" + +"But I managed to keep everything back from the other papers and +agencies," I protested. + +"And gave us nothing ourselves!" he laughed, with a sneer. "That's what +you call up-to-date journalism? Why, when I was down at Bath thirty +years ago we could do better than that--or we'd have got the sack." + +"The confidence Whitlock reposes in me is based upon the fact that I've +never abused it." + +"Rot! A 'scoop' like that was worth a couple of hundred pounds, or +more, to the paper. And you could easily have put it right with +him afterwards. Good heavens! If you're going to be so infernally +scrupulous about other people's feelings you'd better throw up +journalism and go in for the church. It would suit you better," he +declared, with a dry laugh. "But," he added, "let's see whether you +can't make a bit of 'copy' to-day. You're getting like Julian Little, +and won't write a line unless absolutely necessary." + +"I don't want to give the subs unnecessary work," I replied, laughing, +with an endeavour to treat his grumbling with humour. + +"Well, just give 'em a little bit of exercise to-day," he said. +"What's this about the police finding a small portrait of a gentleman, +for instance? Just go and see Whitlock and induce him--pay him if +you like--to let you have the loan of it, and we'll publish it in +to-night's special." + +"It might negative the efforts of the police." + +"Negative them! Why, my dear Keene, some reader or other may identify +the original and thus greatly assist them. Go along to Scotland Yard +at once, use your best influence with Whitlock, and give him my +compliments. Just get him to lend it to you for half an hour, and take +it along to Park's studio. He'd take a copy of it. That will be a real +good 'scoop' if we publish it to-night." + +And he resumed his work with his blue pencil, while I stood staring at +him without replying. + +The expression upon his countenance as he had spoken had been very +curious, almost as though he was actually aware of the amazing truth +concerning the portrait. + +He wished to publish it in that night's "special"! + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + BEHIND THE SCENES OF THE _HERALD_ + + +I was seated on the edge of a table in the reporters' room--a place +wherein were rows of dusty old books and a number of ink-stained +tables, whereat reporters deciphered their "notes" and wrote their +"copy." Upon the begrimed, colour-washed walls were stuck quantities of +newspaper cuttings, dirty and yellow with tobacco-smoke, caricatures +from the illustrated Press, war-maps, and other pictorial memos which +one or other of the reporting staff desired to preserve. Over the +fireplace someone had pasted a religious text. + +In that room men came and went. Some entered without a word, scribbled +half a dozen lines, flung the slip of paper, with his name written at +the top, into the basket--which would later on find its way to the +sub-editors--and left. Others sat busily writing with stubby pencils, +while still others, mostly clean-shaven youths, lit cigarettes, +gossiped, and congratulated themselves that they were "marked" in +the diary for some unimportant function, a society bazaar, a company +meeting, or a foundation-stone, which would set them free before four +in the afternoon. + +With one of these, Boyd by name, a typical Pressman of the modern +school, I was chatting, waiting to see Macdonald, the chief reporter. +The latter came at last, a tall, thin-faced, black-haired, rather +sallow Scotsman of forty-five, in silk hat, frock-coat, and seedy +umbrella, without which he was never known to go forth even on the +brightest day. Besides being chief reporter of the _Evening Herald_, he +was chief of the staff in the "gallery" of the House of Commons. Then, +after concluding his work for the _Herald_ at 6.30 in the evening, he +remained in the "House," reporting its proceedings for the Exchange +Telegraph Company, supplying that service of news which one reads in +clubs and hotels. In the House he was known as the "tape-worm," because +he supplied the "tape" with news. + +His manner was deliberate, his peculiarities many. A keen politician +and a clever journalist, he possessed a sense of dry humour and a fund +of quotation which rendered him a character in modern journalism. His +mind was a perfect dictionary of popular quotations in all sorts of +languages, and no matter what the occasion or topic of conversation, +"Mac," as we called him, always had a proverb or an apt quotation from +some dead-and-gone writer ready at hand. + +This fount of quotation constantly overflowed into his reports, and the +sub-editors were constantly on the alert with blue pencil to cut out +such portions of what they irreverently termed "old Mac's gas." Some +went as far as to say that he had committed Bartlett's and Benham's +collections of quotations to memory; while among the staff it was +a well-known fact that one of old Mac's idiosyncrasies was to take +a shorthand note of everything he witnessed. Indeed, somebody once +found in the reporters' room a slip of paper on which he had noted in +shorthand every movement and trick of a troupe of acrobats performing +at the Empire. + +"Well, Keene," he exclaimed, with his broad Scotch accent, as he +entered and glanced around at the several tables occupied by the men +under him, "what's the premium on murder this morning--eh?" + +A laugh went round at this, for, as "The Murder-Monger," I was +constantly the butt of Mac's ready wit. + +"Oh, we're dealing in sudden deaths to-day," I retorted. "Three of 'em +have just come up on the tape within ten minutes." + +He had walked to his table, and was looking down the list of +engagements for that day written in the diary. + +"Well," he went on, "we want some good story or other to-day. Things +are uncommonly quiet in London." + +"Perhaps Marvin will get a decent Reuter or two later on--an earthquake +in Japan or a scrap in Central America, with a few hundreds killed." + +"Or a railway disaster in the States--train wrecked and burned--English +passengers--and that sort of thing," I added. "Always good enough for +the contents bill." + +"Yes. There's nothing much in London to-day--not even a divorce case +worth half a dozen lines," Mac said, with a sigh, hanging up his silk +hat on the peg. + +"There ought to be something fresh to be got out of that Barnes +affair," a man remarked from the other corner of the room without +looking up from his blotting-pad. + +"Ah, yes!" said Mac. "You're doing that, Keene, of course. How's it +going? Any arrest likely?" + +"Not yet. Police entirely in the dark." + +"But you'll do half a column of the latest details," Mac said. "Work +the story up for all it's worth. Give a few of your first-class +patent-leather theories as to the crime, or rub up an interview with +somebody." + +"But there's nothing further to say at present," I remarked. + +"Nothing further?" he cried. "Why, my dear Keene, the thing's good +enough for another week. It's a real sensation. You must get the +photographs of the murdered girl and of the other woman. Committed +suicide in the police-cell, didn't she! If it were me, I should +work up a story that she committed suicide because her life was +threatened--victim of a secret society. Anything about continental +secret societies always goes down with the public. Hint that she's +a princess, a duchess, or some foreign notability, and that the +government are taking steps to suppress the real facts. Oh, my dear +Keene, there's lots in that. If I were doing it I'd startle London for +the next six days," he added. + +"With lies!" I remarked, laughing. + +"Well, the truth would not be nearly so interesting," old Mac said, for +he was entirely unscrupulous when it came to telling a good "story." +Many a good mystery had he worked up from nothing. A bogus mystery +generally lasts about three days, because rival journals make inquiry +and discredit the exaggerated report. + +In all journalistic "stories" the exhumation report is undoubtedly the +most telling. Unfortunately it cannot be often worked, but when it is +it never fails to attract. Hint at foul play and the exhumation of a +body, and you will have the world on the tenter-hooks of excitement. +Never does a suspicion of poison crop up without its attendant +journalistic prediction that the body of somebody else is to be exhumed. + +I once worked this "wheeze" so entirely successfully that the Home +Office, believing that there was something in my theory, actually +ordered the body of a woman to be exhumed and the stomach analysed +for poison. This was done, but no poison was discovered, and, in +consequence, the _Herald_ very narrowly escaped paying heavy damages +for libel. Indeed, the man whom I had alleged to be a murderer entered +an action, but for some reason, to this day quite unaccountable, +suddenly dropped it. + +While talking with Mac, a boy in an Eton suit entered with a message +from Sir Henry Neave, the founder and proprietor of the _Herald_, +asking me to go at once to his room, an order which I immediately +obeyed. + +Sir Henry, known to all the staff as "the Chief," was as unapproachable +as the Prime Minister himself. + +Through the office of a smart and handsome lady secretary, thence +through the apartment of the private secretary, admittance was gained +to a large, long, luxurious room with cosy easy-chairs, couches and +writing-tables, which had no semblance to a business office. Big silver +bowls--presents from the staff--were filled with fresh flowers; upon +the thick carpet one's footsteps fell noiselessly, and everywhere was +displayed an artistic taste which was sufficient index to the character +of the man who, above all others, was the most successful journalist +the world had ever known. + +About Sir Henry Neave there was nothing of the blatant millionaire. +Though enormous wealth had come to him since the days, not so long ago, +when he was a humble working journalist in Fleet Street; though he +possessed a fine house in Park Lane, a big place in the country, one at +the seaside, and a pretty villa on the Promenade des Anglais at Nice, +yet his great success had never spoilt him. + +The whole staff loved him. To them he was as one of themselves. He +would shout and condemn in unmeasured terms, and criticise the "get-up" +of one or other of his many journals with unequalled sarcasm. Yet next +moment he would say cheerily, "That's all--that's all I have to say. Go +away, my boy, and do better." + +And the culprit would smile and go away, and do his level best in the +future. + +As I opened the door I saw him lying back in his big saddle-bag chair +near the fireplace, smoking a cigarette and reading some proofs. +Fair-haired, clean-shaven and aged about thirty-five, his was a +countenance full of strong character and determination, a face which +once seen would never be forgotten--undeniably a face of genius. + +In his dress he was nothing of a fop. Devoted to motoring, and one of +its pioneers in England, he spent all his spare time on one or other +of his fine cars, and invariably wore a tweed suit and a soft tennis +collar. + +"Ah, Keene!" he exclaimed, in his quick, impetuous way. "Let me see. +Why did I send for you? Oh, I know!" he went on, looking up at me +and dropping the proofs on the floor at his side. "Of late, Keene, +I've been watching you. You've done a lot of real good work on the +'Evening,' and I've resolved to give you a better chance. Do you know +French?" + +"I was at school in Rouen for three years." + +"Good. Well, I've decided to put you on the _Daily Herald_, and give +you a chance abroad as special correspondent. I spoke to Wakeley last +night, and he thinks you can begin by doing some of the smaller things +on the Continent. Little will show you your way about at first. You can +consult Wakeley about your salary. Remember, we only want first-class +stories, and where those are concerned you need never spare expense. I +look upon you, Keene, as a coming man. Don't disappoint me. Go, my boy, +and do your best." + +His words had caused my heart to leap. I was to become a special +correspondent and sign my articles in the _Daily Herald_! The post was +one of the plums of the journalistic profession. + +"I can only promise you, Sir Henry, that I shall always have the +interests of the paper at heart. On the 'Evening' I've always done my +best, and shall certainly spare no effort to perform my duty in my new +post." + +"I know that--I know that! Go to Wakeley, tell him that you are in +future on the staff of special correspondents. Tell him from me to send +you out on the next short trip. That's all," and he ended abruptly with +dismissal, as was his usual habit. + +He was a man of remarkably quick decision. He never hesitated. Without +a moment's reflection he would decide matters involving the expenditure +of thousands, and would order a new paper to appear, or stop a +non-paying one, at a moment's notice. + +The staff within that great building, with its hundreds of different +departments, was the best that had ever been gathered together to run +newspapers and periodicals. The gigantic organisation was unique, while +the huge printing-works, that swallowed up hundreds of miles of paper +daily, were the most up-to-date in all the world. And all was due to +his careful forethought and his knowledge of what the public really +required. + +So many newspapers throughout the country did he control that he +could make or mar a Cabinet, while his political power was courted by +the Prime Minister himself, and his influence was such that he often +privately received "inspired" information from the highest quarters. + +And yet with all this power and wealth Sir Henry Neave was just the +same as when, as Harry Neave, he had been glad enough to report +police-court cases and accept the princely sum of seven-and-sixpence. +Though a bad enemy, he never forgot his friends of old days, and the +life of many a broken-down Pressman was made happier and brighter by +the secret charity that came from his pocket. + +Sir Henry had always been my friend. I had done my best, and the reward +he had given me was the greatest in his power. It would raise me from +mere murder-mongering to the highest rank in journalism--that of +special correspondent. + +In future I was to become the cosmopolitan and constant traveller, and +my signed telegrams would be read the world over. + +And with these thoughts I ascended in the lift to tell old Marvin that +I was no longer connected with the _Evening Herald_, and to send a line +in secret to Daisy acquainting her with my sudden good fortune. + +A new vista of life spread itself out before me. + + + + + CHAPTER X + + SHOWS A TIGHT CORNER + + +Much to Whitlock's annoyance and chagrin, the whole of the "Evenings," +the _Herald_ excepted--reproduced the intelligence received by the +Plymouth paper regarding his discoveries at the empty house at Barnes. + +At half-past five that evening I was seated in his room at Scotland +Yard, listening to his outspoken denunciation of the Press. + +"If we could only discover who was the author of that confounded +telegram!" he exclaimed at last, with a sigh. "Depend upon it that the +man who sent the wire knows all about the tragedy and is implicated in +it. He has given out the details with some ulterior object, but what it +is I can't, for the life of me, make out." + +"Is it with the object of shielding somebody whom you may later on +suspect?" I queried. + +"I think not. Why, for instance, should he put us on the track of that +box?" + +"In order to implicate innocent persons," I suggested. + +"Maybe--maybe," he exclaimed, in his quick, decisive way. "Nothing +can be learned regarding the message down at Plymouth. The editor of +the _Evening Express_ accepted and printed the news, believing it, of +course, to have emanated from the Central News Agency." + +"And the contents of the box?" + +"Well, as regards the birth certificate, we've already discovered +something. It appears that from 1872 to 1881, at the house in Mina +Road, Old Kent Road, there lived a man named Drayton and his wife. +Drayton, who worked at the Bricklayers' Arms goods station, was killed +by a light engine. His widow, with her boy, Francis Douglas, then +about five years of age, took furnished rooms with an old lady in +Albany Road, and lived there until about three years ago. At that time +young Drayton was a smartly-dressed young fellow, whose profession or +business was something of a mystery. His hours were very irregular, and +by the neighbours it was believed that he lived by betting or gambling." + +"And where did they move to? He supported his mother, I presume?" + +"Yes. But it seems that this Francis fell deeply in love with a pretty +young girl still in her teens. For a year before they moved away he +used to meet her in secret, and it was their habit to stroll together +of an evening about the dark roads of Camberwell and Lewisham. She +never once went to her lover's house, and my informant, the next-door +neighbour, tells me that she was an exceedingly pretty and lady-like +girl. She attracted attention as being about to throw herself away upon +this somewhat erratic and reckless young fellow." + +"And you haven't traced his present whereabouts?" + +"Not yet. They left Albany Road quite suddenly about three years ago, +old Mrs Drayton telling the neighbours that her son had business in +America and that she was to accompany him. A few months after their +departure the landlady died and the furniture was sold, so of Francis +Douglas Drayton all traces are lost." + +"But you are still making inquiries?" + +"I've had four men at work hard ever since yesterday. At present we +have found no record of Drayton's marriage," he said. "My idea is, if +possible, to discover his wife's friends--if he has married--and find +out from them where he is at present. But the registers at Somerset +House have been searched in vain." + +I recollected the old gold watch, the string of child's blue beads, +and--ah, yes!--my own picture! + +"And the letter from Erna to Carl?" + +Whitlock pulled a wry face. + +"Difficult--very difficult to discover anything regarding that. No +envelope, no date, and no surnames. Hundreds of Ernas have stayed at +the Nord in Cologne. And I wonder how many thousand Carls there are +in that city! No, my dear Keene. On the German side we shall discover +nothing. It is here, in London, that the clue will be found." Then, +looking me straight in the face with his dark, serious eyes, he added, +"To tell the truth, that little portrait of yourself puzzles me very +much. I never cease thinking about it." + +"Neither do I, Whitlock." + +"Have you any idea how it came there?" + +"None whatsoever." + +"The portrait was originally a love-token, of course," he said. "I +know, Keene, that you will pardon me prying like this into your private +affairs, but, as you see, it is imperative. And we are such good +friends that you know I mean no offence." + +I hesitated for a few moments, not knowing what to reply. + +"It was a love-token, as you surmise." + +"And have you any objection to me knowing the identity of the lady?" + +"Yes, Whitlock. I think that is a rather unfair question--at least at +present," I said. "I thought you had left the solution of that point to +me?" + +"So I have. But--well, I confess that my curiosity is much aroused by +this most inexplicable feature of the case," he said, leaning both his +elbows upon the small writing-table whereat he was seated. + +"I have promised to do my utmost to discover by what means, and with +what motive, the portrait was placed where I found it," I declared. +"Therefore, would it not be as well to allow me to continue my inquiry +undisturbed?" + +"Most certainly, Keene. I really meant no insinuations. My curiosity is +but natural, I think you'll admit." + +"Perhaps you suspect me?" I laughed. + +"No, I don't," he answered, in a hard voice, as he rose from the table +and went to the telephone at the opposite wall. "I suspect somebody +else." + +"Who?" I gasped. Did he, I wondered, refer to Julian Little? + +"At present that must be my own affair," was his answer. "This case +bristles with extraordinary features, each one more curious and more +puzzling than its predecessors. The utter absence of motive all round +affords us nothing tangible to work upon, while the fact that there +is one person in the background aware of the whole circumstances, and +prompting us in our inquiries, makes the affair a--well, an uncanny +one, to say the least." + +"Could it be this man Drayton himself who forged the name of the +Central News?" I hazarded. + +"Hardly. I'm inclined to think that the farther we endeavour to +penetrate this mystery the more complete will become the puzzle. In all +my twenty-five years in the police I've never had a case so chock-full +of riddles as this. If I knew to whom you'd given the little portrait +it would assist me immensely," he added. + +"I could hardly betray a lady and bring suspicion upon her of being +an accessory, especially when it may be a lady for whom I entertain +affection," I said. + +"You must love her, or you wouldn't give her your portrait to wear," he +said, smiling at my rather lame excuse. + +"And for that very reason I refuse to, at present, tell you her name, +my dear Whitlock." + +"Well, all I hope is that at the adjourned inquest they'll return a +verdict," he remarked, for, like all detectives, he disliked the public +inquiry, fearing always lest some fact should be given in evidence +which might put the culprit upon his guard. Many a murderer has escaped +justice through injudicious evidence being given at an inquest. For +that very reason he was now roundly abusing the Press for republishing +that report from Plymouth. + +"Why, in Heaven's name, haven't you editor-people a little more +discretion?" he cried, having answered the telephone. "They surely must +know that to publish such a report will hamper me!" + +"How were they to know?" I asked. "The facts might have been actually +gathered by a reporter of the Central News." + +"Yes," he said, after a moment's reflection, "you're right. But I +wonder, now that the first forged message has been so successful, +whether this mysterious journalist--evidently no amateur--will venture +another telegram?" + +"I wonder. But certainly he won't dare to send to Plymouth again." + +"I don't know--I rather think he will. But I fancy the Plymouth editor +will not print the intelligence, now that he knows through us that +the other message was not genuine. I have asked him, if he receives +anything, to re-telegraph it to me here at once." + +"By Jove!" I said, "I'd dearly love to know who it is who is so fully +aware of everything at that weird empty house over at Barnes." + +"So should I. He could identify both the dead girls, no doubt. Hasn't +it struck you that to send such a message to Plymouth he must be a +professional journalist?" + +"Yes," I said rather hoarsely, for his words showed me plainly that he +more than ever suspected Julian. + +Little was certainly in London when that message was despatched. He had +been Daisy's friend from girlhood. I recollected her start of surprise +when she had discovered something in the report of the inquest. But +what that something was I could form no idea. + +I told my friend of my good fortune in being transferred to the staff +of special correspondents of the _Daily Herald_, whereupon he said, in +a tone of regret-- + +"Then you'll be deserting us soon, I suppose, and travel incessantly on +the Continent?" + +"I expect so. But though, of course, the advancement is gratifying, my +heart is entirely in my present work." + +"Just as your friend Mr Little's heart is always across the +Channel--eh? By the way, when does he leave again?" + +"He left yesterday--for Servia." + +"Left yesterday?" he echoed, glancing at me sharply. "He went off +suddenly, then?" + +"As he always does. When I got back last night I found a note he had +left for me. He's gone to Belgrade." + +Whitlock took up a pen and twisted it between his fingers. + +"And when will he be back?" + +"That's quite uncertain. He predicts some political trouble, I think." + +Whitlock was thoughtful. His suspicion of Julian was very marked. +Julian was my friend, and I confess that I resented Whitlock's manner. +All my present success as a journalist I owed to Julian Little, and I +felt certain that it was he who had carried out a promise made long ago +and had spoken on my behalf to the Chief. + +I was about to go, when the detective-inspector said-- + +"I do urge upon you, Keene, to try at once and solve the mystery of +that little portrait of yourself." + +This I promised him, explaining that, though I was no longer connected +with the _Evening Herald_, I should continue to "do" the Barnes mystery +for the morning paper while awaiting orders to go abroad. Then I +gripped the great detective's hand, and strolled back to my lonely +chambers in Gray's Inn. + +As I went along the Embankment and up Norfolk Street to Chancery Lane +I reflected that, at any moment, I was now liable to be sent abroad to +any spot between Ostend and Ekaterinburg, or from Archangel to Villa +San Giovanni, and for an indefinite period. + +Wakeley, the brilliant journalist, who, as news editor of the _Daily +Herald_, had brought that journal up to its present greatness; the +man to whom the public owed all the exclusive intelligence, daily +"scoops," and interesting "stories" with which the paper was filled; +the man whose name had never appeared once in the journal, and who was +therefore unknown, had, when I had seen him that morning, congratulated +me heartily. + +"Now, Keene," he had said, "you have the chance which thousands of +other men will never get. Look at Little! His name is a household word. +Yours will become the same if you are shrewd, exercise forethought, and +give us good, sound stories that can't be contradicted by Reuter. I'll +send you away very soon, so keep your traps ready packed always. But +while you're waiting you might keep on the Barnes affair. Start on that +to-morrow for us. Let's see; what's your telephone number?" + +And he had taken it down in a book at his elbow and dismissed me with a +final, "Well, good luck to your future, Keene." + +My future! What was it to be? Would that I had been able to open the +closed book and see all that was in store for me! Had I been able to do +this, how differently I would have acted! I should have been forearmed +against my enemies and enabled to combat them with their own weapons. + +I entered my chambers and dressed prior to going down to the Savage to +dine among kindred spirits. I intended to afterwards go as usual to the +Oxford and watch my dainty little love do her "turn." + +I had just sat down to write a letter when the telephone rang. It was +old Marvin, who had returned home. + +"I say, Keene," he said, "I suppose you've succeeded in getting the +loan of that portrait from Whitlock? We must publish it to-morrow +morning. Now, even if you are on the 'Daily,' you must let us have +that. Don't give it to Wakeley, remember, because it was I who +suggested the 'scoop.'" + +I reflected for a moment. How could I give my own portrait for +publication in connection with such a tragedy? + +"Are you there?" he continued. + +"Yes." + +"You heard what I said. Have you got the portrait?" + +I hesitated. + +"Yes," I answered. + +"Then send it along to Jalland, at the office, at once, and say from me +that the block must be ready at 7.30 in the morning. Good-night." + +And next instant he rang off. + +What was I to do? How should I act? + +Marvin wanted a picture to publish. + +I crossed the room to a small chest of drawers in which I kept a +quantity of old papers, newspaper-cuttings, and other odds and ends. +From there I took out a _carte-de-visite_ of a young reporter named +Bingham, who had come to London about a year ago from Birmingham, and +who had soon afterwards died of consumption. + +I held it in my hand. Poor fellow! He and I had been the best of +friends. + +What harm could result if the _Evening Herald_ published it? At any +rate, it would puzzle the man who forged that curious telegram to +Plymouth. + +The mere fact of mystifying him appealed to me and decided me. + +So, with a scribbled note to Jalland, I placed it in an envelope and +despatched it by boy-messenger. + +It was an ingenious fraud upon the public, I admit, but its results +were destined to be stranger indeed than even I had imagined. + + + + + CHAPTER XI + + THE PRESS AND THE PUBLIC + + +Poor Bingham's portrait appeared in the _Evening Herald_ next day as a +copy of the photograph found under such curious circumstances in the +empty house at Barnes. + +The "scoop" was an exclusive one, and readers of the _Herald_ in every +part of London cudgelled their brains in trying to recollect if they +had ever seen the original. + +Beneath the picture were the words, "The portrait which the police are +endeavouring to identify." + +All that morning I was busy writing in my chambers until, about one +o'clock, the telephone rang, and I found that it was Whitlock, who was +at the public call-office at Feltham, in Middlesex. + +"I say, Keene," he said, "I've just bought the _Evening Herald_ at the +station here. I notice the most excellent portrait!" + +I held my breath. What could I say? + +"I--well--I thought----" + +"Of course," he interrupted. "Quite right. It's just what we want. Its +publication will puzzle the people who are trying to puzzle us." + +"I'm glad if you think so," I said. "Anything fresh?" + +"Nothing particularly--or, at least, nothing tangible. But," he added, +"by the way, have you heard anything of Mr Little?" + +Little! Always Little! He suspected him strongly. + +"Nothing," I replied. "He ought to arrive in Belgrade to-morrow, or the +next day." + +"When you hear from him, let me know at once, won't you?" + +I promised. + +"I may be in the Gambrinus, in Regent Street, to-night about nine. +If you're in the vicinity you might, perhaps, look in. It isn't an +appointment, you know." + +"Very well," I said, and he then wished me good-bye and rang off. He +was evidently down at Feltham, in pursuance of his inquiries. + +Hardly had I settled down to my writing when the 'phone rang again, +and a message came from Marvin that he wished to see me at the office +immediately. In obedience to the summons I presently entered the big +news editor's room of the _Evening Herald_, where the tapes were +whirring and clicking, and the five grave-faced "subs"--as they are +called in Press parlance--were busy reading and preparing the piles +of telegrams and flimsies arriving every moment from all parts of the +world. Two of them were so busy that they had their chops and glasses +of ale at their side, lunching and working at the same time. The most +busy time on the "Evening" was from one to four in the afternoon, +before the "special" went to press. + +"Joyous Jimmy," as we called him, was seated in his shirt-sleeves in +the midst of all the noise and litter, a big briar-pipe in his mouth +and the remains of his lunch at his elbow. + +At the moment when I entered he was uttering a string of unqualified +imprecations upon a small, trembling printer's imp who had delivered +a message wrongly to the foreman. Six tape instruments were clicking +in chorus, while two telephones were calling, and a boy was +repeating something about stocks and shares which was coming over +the 'phone from the City editor. To the unaccustomed, that room was +a perfect pandemonium. Indeed, how the sub-editors worked in those +nerve-shattering surroundings was always a marvel to the uninitiated. + +"And where's Keene, I wonder?" Marvin was saying, in the same breath in +which he had abused the boy. "Gone on another of those vain, wild-goose +chases of his--or else still in bed, I suppose! Franks, just wake him +up again on the 'phone. Tell him I want him here--at once. When I say +at once, I don't mean in half an hour. Tell him that." + +"You needn't," I laughed across to Franks, who was that day assisting +in the sub-editing; "I'm here." + +The red-moustached, bald-headed Scot turned at sound of my voice, +bristling up in a moment. + +"Well, young man?" he asked, looking me up and down. "And a fine +laughing-stock you've made of this precious rag to-day!" + +"I don't follow you," I said. + +"Follow me? Well, I should think your own common-sense--if you have +any--ought to tell you?" he snarled. "Look! What do you call that?" and +he pointed to the portrait in the front page of the paper. + +"Well--it's a picture." + +"Yes. And you've played a pretty neat game with us to-day. That +portrait which you've sent in as the one found down at Barnes is a +fraud--and you know it!" + +In an instant it occurred to me how curiously anxious he had been to +publish the picture. How could he possibly know the truth? + +"Well," I said, with rather offended dignity, "you're pretty outspoken." + +"Outspoken!" he cried. "And who, pray, gets the blame if things go +wrong? Who has to go and face the Chief, and hear all his nasty +criticism? Why, only yesterday he declared that the whole staff of the +paper were only fit to run a weekly in the country. I'm sick of the +whole bag of tricks!" + +"Well, you needn't blackguard me--I've done my best," I protested. + +"I hope you'll do better as a special on the 'Morning' than you've +done with me. That's all I've got to say," was his sneering rejoinder. +"Boy, take this tray away, and say it's the worst chop I've ever had. +Yes," he said, replying to one of his assistants, who inquired how much +space they should give to a speech by the Chancellor of the Exchequer +at the Mansion House. "There's a lot too much gas about the Colonies. A +'stick' is quite enough. Has any of that Bellamy divorce come in? When +it does, give it a column. It's worth that--and a few good cross-heads, +remember. We'll make it a feature, and put it on the bill." + +Then, having delivered himself of these hasty instructions, a youth +appeared with a proof of the contents-bill, which he held up for +Marvin's inspection. + +"Bah!" he cried, with withering sarcasm. "Does Beavan call that a bill? +I call it a tombstone--set like an epitaph! Take the thing back, and +tell him to set it again." The boy grinned and disappeared with the +message. + +"And as for this portrait," he went on, turning again to me, "I've +taken the thing out." + +He saw my look of surprise. + +"Do you know that an hour ago it was recognised?" he went on. + +"Recognised--identified!" + +"Yes; by the man's brother, who came up here to complain." + +"Of what?" + +"That we were publishing the portrait of his dead brother, who was +a young Pressman. He came up from Birmingham, and was on some small +financial rag in the City, it seems." + +This was a contretemps which I certainly had not expected. I never +knew, indeed, that poor Bingham had a brother. At least, he had never +told me of his existence. + +"A Pressman!" I ejaculated, in pretence that I was still in ignorance. + +"Yes. And you palmed it off upon us as the one which Whitlock found +over at Barnes," he said frankly, removing his pipe from his lips, and +looking straight into my face. "I hope you'll not play this kind of +game now you're on the 'Morning,' or Wakeley will soon shunt you, you +can rely on that." + +"Well," I said, angry at his manner towards me before his assistants, +"if you don't believe me, just ask Whitlock. He's certain to be in at +Scotland Yard about seven to make his report." + +"Then you actually declare that the portrait is the one which he found?" + +"I make no statement; please ask Whitlock," I replied sharply. "Merely +because the portrait is identified by the man's brother, you charge me +with attempting to perpetrate an absolute fraud on the paper!" + +And I turned upon my heel in anger. + +"I do charge you, Keene!" he shouted. "You and Whitlock have, I +suppose, arranged it together. He doesn't wish the real photograph +published--eh?" he asked, in a curious tone, a tone which seemed to +imply that he was aware of much more than he would admit. + +But I made no reply, and, leaving the room, banged the door after me. + +As I did so I ran into the arms of old Macdonald, nearly knocking him +over. + +"Hey, hey, mon!" he exclaimed, in his broad Highland accent. "You're +a wee bit angered-like, it seems. Remember what Publius Syrus says: +'MISERRIMA EST FORTUNA QUÆ INIMICO CARET.'" + +"Oh, dry up, old chap!" I cried. "I'm in no mood for philosophy." + +"Philosophy! Has not Cicero said: 'Oh, philosophy! guide of life, +explorer of virtue, expeller of vice,'" he exclaimed. + +"You're a marvel at quotations--a perambulating dictionary!" I declared. + +"Then, with Plautus, in his _Bacchides_, I would say, mon, 'Your +flattery is so much bird-lime.'" He laughed and passed on, chuckling at +his own aptness of quotation. + +It was true, as the eccentric old reporter--one of the most dry-as-dust +fossils in the whole Press-world--had only remarked to me on the +previous day, that our short span of life forbids us to spin out hope +to any length. Soon enough night will be upon us, and the fabled Shades +and the shadowy Plutonian home. And then? + +I strolled down the long corridor of the office, deep in thought. +Somehow, old Marvin's manner had struck me as distinctly suspicious. +Why, I could not tell. There was something peculiar in the manner in +which he looked at me which aroused my strong suspicion that he knew +the truth of my own picture having been found in that empty house at +Barnes. But how could he possibly know? + +True, I had originally given the little trinket to Daisy as a +love-token, but I knew full well that she was extremely careful never +to let old Annie see it. Only a fortnight ago, while we were lunching +together at Dieudonne's, she had told me how very careful she always +was of it, in order that her old servant should not discover our secret. + +I had queried whether it would not be wiser to take Annie into our +confidence, in order that I might meet my love more often and get a few +minutes with her each night when she left the halls. But she would not +hear of this. Annie would certainly tell her mother, and unpleasantness +would thus be caused. + +A wild and entirely foolish theory occurred to me as I descended the +stairs to the editorial rooms of the _Daily Herald_. Was it possible +that old Marvin himself had got hold of the little miniature, and knew +of it being concealed with that bundle of telegraph-tape? If so, with +what motive had it been placed there? But such a suggestion was utterly +improbable, and I dismissed it. I did not like Marvin--I never liked +him. He was a nigger-driver of the very worst sort, and would dismiss +any member of the reporting staff at a moment's notice. It was because +of this dislike, I think, that I held him in suspicion. + +Wakeley, who had just come on duty, was seated in his room looking +through his correspondence and dictating replies to the female typist. +His hours were from two in the afternoon till one in the morning, with +a couple of hours' interval at dinner-time. Full of discretion, clever, +up-to-date, and energetic, with a marvellous grasp of what the public +wanted, he was acknowledged to be among the first journalists in the +kingdom, if not the very first. + +He controlled the great staff of correspondents, numbering hundreds, +scattered all over the world, gave orders for special articles, decided +upon what should appear in the paper, and held under his control the +most powerful journalistic organ in the world. + +"Halloa, Keene!" exclaimed the merry-faced, middle-aged man as I +entered. "Want a job? You might cross to Lille to-night. There's +rioting among the miners there, and it might be worth a column of +descriptive. Ring up Paris, and Abbot will tell you all about it." + +"Well, I'm doing the Barnes affair," I said. "Don't you think I'd +better finish it?" + +"Oh, yes; I forgot. Of course, you'd better stay in town a few days +longer and finish that story. Whitlock is a friend of yours, and you +get exclusive facts from him," he said. "By the way, Marvin has made a +fool of the 'Evening,' it seems. Been and published the picture of a +young Pressman as a bit of police evidence! We've been rung up twice +about it this morning," and he laughed at the idea of immaculate Marvin +getting called down to hear some of the Chief's biting sarcasms. "I +only hope some of our rivals won't get hold of the truth. If they do +they're sure to start their old wheeze, and expose what they call the +methods of the _Evening Herald_. I wonder who sent in the photograph +and hoaxed old 'Joyous Jimmy'--eh?" + +I was silent. What could I reply? + + + + + CHAPTER XII + + IS EVEN MORE MYSTERIOUS + + +When, about nine that evening, I entered the Gambrinus Hall, that +German brasserie in Regent Street, the place was nearly filled with men +and a sprinkling of women, some drinking beer and others eating German +dishes. Above the dark-panelled wainscotting were many trophies of the +chase, while the whole interior was essentially Teuton in character. +It was one of the principal rendezvous of the German colony in London, +for there one could obtain genuine Bavarian beer, and lager brewed in +Pilsen itself. + +It was one of Whitlock's haunts at evening. There are certain places +in that vicinity upon which Scotland Yard keeps an open eye each +night, not because they are in the least ill-conducted, but because +into certain very comfortable beer-halls around Leicester Square there +often drop men who are "wanted." Indeed, it is a well-known fact to the +Criminal Investigation Department that any escaping foreigner arriving +in London will, sooner or later, make his way there, and thus fall +under the active surveillance of the detectives nightly on duty. + +So cleverly is the eye of the police kept upon all who enter that +the public never suspect. It is only perhaps when some old thief or +criminal, who, believing himself quite safe, has dropped in for a drink +and to hear the music, suddenly looks up to recognise, in alarm, a +detective seated at the next table, probably one of a merry party of +both sexes. Without the fair sex, indeed, the police would often fail, +and many a dangerous criminal has been arrested half an hour after +the sign or word given by some well-dressed, good-looking girl who, +ascending the steps, has disappeared into the jostling night crowd in +the vicinity of the Empire. + +Whitlock was never on duty about those places. He left it to the +younger men. When a man "wanted" was found, he was informed, and then +came upon the scene to direct the future movements of the watchers. + +The _habitués_ of the Gambrinus were not of the same class, of course, +as those of certain other establishments close by, and as I entered +I saw Whitlock seated with a gentlemanly-looking man in a blue serge +suit, over in a far corner, smoking and calmly playing dominoes. + +"Evening, Keene!" he exclaimed, as I approached. "You know my +friend--don't you?" + +I smiled in recognition, greeted him, and took a seat at his +side. Whitlock had not pronounced the other's name, for he was +Detective-Inspector Kennedy, a well-known officer. + +Beer was brought for me, and I watched their game. + +"We shan't be very long," Whitlock replied, deeply interested, for +dominoes were his chief recreation. I myself often played with him when +we had nothing better to do. + +"Anything special?" I whispered, surprised that they should both be +there together. + +He made a movement with his eyebrows which at once put me upon my +guard. I lit a cigarette, and, while pretending to be deeply immersed +in their game, glanced around at the dozens of men and women at the +tables. + +Presently, while Kennedy was shuffling the dominoes, Whitlock leant +towards me, whispering-- + +"We have something on. Your name is Hammond, and you are clerk in a +coal merchant's at Cardiff. My name is Hopkinson--understand?" + +"Yes," I answered excitedly. "Upon whom are you keeping observation?" + +"Don't look. But at the third table on your right is an ugly little old +man, reading the _Globe_. He'll be joined, we expect, by another man +presently. Remember, don't take any notice of them. I shan't look in +the old man's direction any more. You can watch and give me word." And +he commenced another game, apparently absorbed in it. + +That Whitlock should have Kennedy with him showed that they were +engaged upon some important case. Why, too, had he invited me to meet +him there? + +"Has this anything to do with the Barnes affair?" I whispered, as soon +as I got a chance. + +"We hardly know yet. Just remain quiet. I want to see the old man's +friend." + +Presently, after I had idled a few moments over an evening paper, I, +with pretended disinterestedness, obtained a good look at the old +fellow. About sixty, with sharp, thin features, a short white beard and +moustache, his keen dark eyes searched hither and thither, while every +few moments he turned towards the door, in eager expectation of the +arrival of his friend. Well-dressed in frock-coat and buff waistcoat, +he wore a silk hat slightly tilted, which gave him a jaunty, reckless +appearance. But he was very short of stature, and though I could not +see plainly because he was seated, I believed that he was a little +deformed. + +On his finger as he smoked glittered a fine diamond, and the drink +before him--a small glass of that Danzig liqueur with tiny particles +of gold floating in it--showed him to be an epicure. Another man, a +stranger to him, was seated at the same table--a young City man who had +called in for a rapid drink _en passant_. + +Who, I wondered, was the old man? + +There was certainly nothing about his exterior to suggest the criminal. +In my life I had met thousands of quiet old men such as he. The only +feature about his appearance was the unusual keenness and brightness of +his eyes, and the sporting manner in which he wore his hat. Yet that +abomination of dress, the silk hat, getting askew by accident, will +impart, even to a Wesleyan preacher, the air of the man-about-town. + +In the position in which I was sitting the old man did not notice me. I +tried to imagine what profession he could be, and put him down at last +as some successful tradesman--a jeweller, perhaps, on account of that +very fine diamond. That he was a bit of a dandy was evidenced by the +way in which he carefully dusted some tobacco-ash from his vest with +a dark-green silk handkerchief. The deliberate and careful manner in +which he selected a fresh cigar from his case also showed his habit of +smoking only the best of weeds. + +My two friends were too immersed in their game to take any notice--or, +at least, pretended to be so. + +"I fancy he's not coming, old chap," Kennedy remarked, speaking into +his dark beard, as he bent to pick up one of the dominoes that had +fallen. + +"The old man is fidgeting," I said; "keeps looking up at the clock." + +"Oh, he'll come," declared Whitlock; "keep the game up." + +And so the clicking dominoes were again shuffled, while I sat in wonder +as to what connection this old man could have with those two dead women +at Barnes, and trying to speculate as to what was about to happen. + +Time went slowly on. Customers came and went, but we still remained. +The clock showed half-past ten. I had intended to look in at the Oxford +as usual to see Daisy do her "turn," but she had already been on, and +was no doubt well on her way home. + +Hour by hour, as I thought of the woman whom I loved so devotedly, I +could not help the recollection of that little miniature arising within +me. Its connection with all those extraordinary discoveries in that +empty house was utterly inscrutable. Could it have been stolen from +her? Or had she lost it and feared to tell me, lest I might believe +that she treated my love-token with carelessness? The latter solution +was, to me, the most probable. She might have left it in one or other +of the dressing-rooms in rushing from hall to hall, as she sometimes +had to do when she had two, or even three, engagements nightly. Often +she appeared at the Canterbury in Westminster Bridge Road, the Palace +of Varieties at Hammersmith, and the Holborn on the same night, and +this, of course, meant a great rush in a hired brougham from one hall +to the other in order to get "booked in" at the proper time by the +stage-managers. + +What more probable than that my dainty little love should have lost it, +and that the finder had, for some purpose at present unknown, concealed +it where I had discovered it? + +Yes. I decided that on the morrow I would approach her, and get her +to tell me the truth. To exist in this uncertainty further was quite +useless. I saw that the point had sorely puzzled Whitlock, and it +should therefore be at once cleared up. + +"I'm afraid he's changed his mind," Kennedy remarked to his colleague, +beneath his breath. "It's getting on for eleven, and we can't sit here +much longer without arousing the old man's suspicion." + +"The manager knows who I am," Whitlock answered. "I daresay he's +wondering why we're here so long." + +"The old man won't stay much longer," I remarked. "He's just taken a +telegram from his pocket and read it as though to reassure himself of +the appointment." + +"That means he'll wait another ten minutes," Whitlock said. + +"Are you going to introduce me?" I inquired presently, recollecting +what he had said about my name. + +"We may. I don't yet know. Till the other man comes I can't decide how +I shall act." + +"Do you intend making an arrest?" I asked, excited at the prospect of a +dramatic scene. + +"Arrest! Well, not here--at anyrate," was my friend's response. "We +generally like to do things quietly when we can, you know," he added, +with a significant smile. + +"What's the old chap's name?" + +"He's got half a dozen, hasn't he?" Kennedy asked of his colleague. + +"Quite. He's a crook--and a pretty clever one; though he don't look it." + +"By Jove, yes," remarked Kennedy, still speaking into his beard, +pretending to contemplate his hand of dominoes before playing. "He's +worked one or two very smart games in his time, hasn't he?" + +"Yes; and a pretty tough customer into the bargain," added Whitlock. +"I wonder if our other friend will come? I'm tired. I left home at six +this morning." + +"I was at the office at half-past eight," said Kennedy. + +The manager of the restaurant passed to and fro, but gave no sign of +recognition to Whitlock. He never spoke to him unless the inspector +spoke first. A detective-sergeant whom I knew well by sight entered and +called for some beer, but, noticing his two superiors, drank, rose, and +departed without even a nod of acknowledgment. + +Whitlock and Kennedy were evidently playing a cunning game, while the +well-dressed old man, apparently anxious over the non-arrival of his +friend, was utterly unconscious of the surveillance upon him. + +It was getting late. Eleven o'clock had struck, and the place was now +filling rapidly with people from the theatres and music-halls in the +vicinity, whose habit it was to go there for a snack prior to taking +the motor 'buses and tubes to the suburbs. Still the old man remained, +calmly smoking a cigar and gazing upon the life and bustle about him. + +The diamond on his thin, bony finger attracted me, and each time he +removed his cigar from his lips it shone with a thousand brilliant +hues. It was an ill-gotten jewel without a doubt. + +At a quarter past eleven the old man's patience was, I saw, exhausted. +He had read a number of evening papers, looked at several foreign +illustrated journals, and had a number of drinks, yet his friend had +not put in an appearance. + +His whole demeanour was that of a man who feared a contretemps. He kept +his keen eyes ever upon the entrance from Regent Street, with brows +somewhat knit, half of disappointment, half of dread. + +I was bending, watching the play of my two companions when a sudden +movement of the old man attracted my attention. + +He had raised his hand and risen, while upon his grey countenance +spread a bright look of recognition. + +I glanced eagerly towards the doorway. Whitlock raised his eyes at the +same moment. + +Open-mouthed and speechless I sat there, utterly astounded. Was I +dreaming? + +I recognised in an instant that this vigil of Whitlock's was in +connection with the Barnes affair, but the matter had now assumed a +phase utterly and entirely mysterious. + +I watched the old man greet the new-comer. I was utterly dumbfounded, +breathless and mystified, for I had, in that brief moment, made an +amazing and startling discovery--one that was so strange as to be +utterly incredible--one that staggered belief. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + + IS A REVELATION + + +The contretemps was certainly a most startling one. I could not believe +my own eyes. + +There, through the doorway of the crowded restaurant, entered a tall, +dark-haired, rather handsome young man in crush-hat and black overcoat, +with a white muffler around his neck, while at his side walked a +woman--a woman in dark skirt, a cream jacket, and neat dark-blue hat--a +woman who was none other than my well-beloved! + +Yes. The man for whom the detectives were so anxiously watching was +accompanied by Daisy Marvin! + +So excited was I at the sudden recognition that I half rose from my +chair. Next instant, however, I sank back again into the obscurity of +the crowd, hoping not to be recognised. I intended to watch in silence. +She was, I saw, playing me false. + +If she could, after the theatre, escape from old Annie and meet this +young club-lounger, then why had she always told me that to see me +was impossible? She had cruelly deceived me, but I had fortunately +discovered her perfidy. + +Jealousy is the injured lover's torment. In a moment my heart became +filled with fierce resentment. There was the woman whom I had believed +to be mine, and mine only, laughing gaily with that stage-door +idler--the man for whom Whitlock and Kennedy were in wait. + +The new-comers found a seat against the wall in the farther corner of +the place beneath a balcony, where they were joined by the old man +who had been awaiting them so long. Then the two men spoke earnestly +together in serious conference, while the detectives, muttering in an +undertone, continued their game. + +The instant the new-comer had appeared Whitlock had whispered, "Be +careful! he may know us by sight," and then bent, his elbow on the +table, his hand to his forehead, as though thoughtfully contemplating +his dominoes. + +"Who's the girl with him, I wonder?" asked Kennedy, lifting his shrewd +eyes and watching keenly. + +"Don't know. Never saw her before," was Whitlock's response. "Rather +good-looking and ladylike, isn't she?" + +What would the man at my side think if he knew the truth regarding +the locket? Who, I wondered, was this man who was her companion? What +did they want with him, and why had they waited so patiently for his +coming? How, indeed, did they know that he would come there? + +"Who is that man?" I whispered, when the pair had seated themselves. + +"Merely a gentleman in whom we have some little interest just now." + +"In regard to the Barnes affair?" + +"Well--yes." + +It was indeed fortunate that Whitlock was at that moment absorbed in +his game, or my countenance would, no doubt, have betrayed me. + +Daisy's little miniature of myself being found upon those empty +premises connected her in some way with the mysterious affair; +yet the two officers seated with me were in ignorance of it. They +little dreamed that the tiny portrait had been the property of that +sweet-faced, graceful girl who was now leaning her elbows on the table +and smiling as she chatted with her good-looking cavalier. + +Both my companions were interested as to who she might be. They +discussed her, while I, filled with mad jealousy and anger, kept my own +counsel. Seated in such a position that she could not see my face, yet +from time to time I managed to glance back at her, and watch the manner +in which she treated her mysterious and suspicious companion. + +Whitlock's patience had been rewarded, and he sat playing on, contented +that at least he would ere long discover more about the man he had +been expecting for so long. He was a marvellously painstaking officer, +and to his inexhaustible patience his success was mainly due. Only by +its exercise had he been able to recover the whole of Lady Dumbarton's +valuable jewels, which, stolen at King's Cross Station, he dug up from +the sands five miles from Ostend nearly three years after the theft. +Besides, was it not he who had recovered the celebrated "Madonna" of +Titian, which, cut from its frame in a Park Lane mansion by burglars, +he was able to take from a hayloft outside a Warwickshire village two +and a half years later? Contrary to the method of many officers of the +Criminal Investigation Department, he never hurried. He waited and +watched, for by that, he always declared, he was able to obtain more +knowledge than if he acted precipitately and made an arrest. + +Thousands of pounds' worth of valuable stolen property is lost yearly +by injudicious arrests. The thieves, growing alarmed, destroy their +haul--often getting rid of it by throwing it into rivers or into the +sea; whereas, by careful inquiry and clever observation, the place +where the property is secreted until a safe opportunity is presented +for turning it into money can often be discovered. + +What was Whitlock's present game? Why did he not tell me the name of +Daisy's companion? + +Again I approached the subject, whereupon he replied-- + +"Of his real name I have only a suspicion. If that is correct, he is +the man we are looking for--the man whose birth-certificate we found in +such curious circumstances." + +"You mean Drayton!" I gasped. + +He nodded slightly in the affirmative. + +"Marvellous!" I gasped. Here already he had discovered the man, and +knew that his habit was to come to that café. + +"It's only a suspicion, remember," he went on; "that's why we are +keeping observation upon him--or, rather, we shall when he leaves here." + +The conference between the two men was hurried, and appeared to be in +secret from Daisy. She took up a paper and glanced through it while +they were in confidential conclave. Then, with a few final impressive +words, the old man rose, raised his hat to my well-beloved, and walked +out. + +Whitlock made no attempt to follow, and by that it was evident that he +was in possession of all the facts concerning the old man that were of +any importance. + +Ten minutes passed. + +The man under suspicion was bending to his companion, talking +earnestly. Where could be the faithful Annie, the woman who never let +Daisy out of her sight after she had finished her work at the theatre? +That my beloved should be going about London with a well-dressed +stranger at that hour was to me perfectly incredible. + +Smartly attired, he possessed the air of the man-about-town, while she +on her part was speaking with him confidentially. How I wished I could +overhear that conversation! + +The finding of the little portrait secreted in that empty upstairs room +had connected Daisy Marvin with the remarkable affair at Barnes in a +manner which was beyond solution. The discovery that my sweetheart +was a friend of this man whom the police were watching had utterly +dumbfounded me. + +In the café there were two doors, one leading out into Regent Street +and the other into Glasshouse Street. At Whitlock's suggestion we rose +and passed out by the last-mentioned exit, in order not to be seen by +the pair now in such close consultation. + +Outside, Whitlock and I passed round by the Café Monico into Regent +Street, in order to watch the pair if they should emerge that way, +while Kennedy remained idling near the door in Glasshouse Street. + +"Who is that man?" I repeated, as I stood with Whitlock on the edge of +the opposite pavement, for I had no desire that Daisy should recognise +me. + +"I believe him to be the man Drayton, though at present I am not +certain," was my friend's reply. "If he is, then the affair assumes a +very much stranger aspect than even it does at present." + +"How?" + +"Well, because this man is known. There's something very curious about +him. If he turns out to be Drayton, then we've tumbled upon one of the +most extraordinary cases of modern times." + +His words held me breathless. + +"Then you yourself believe him to be Drayton?" I inquired anxiously. + +"I have no opinion," he said, correcting me. "Others have, and believe +him to be Drayton." + +"And if he turns out to be Drayton?" + +Whitlock pursed his lips and looked mysterious. + +"Well, then we shall have to consider how to act. This man is, at +anyrate, a slippery customer, and I daresay has a revolver on him at +this moment. I wonder who the girl is? Not one of his crowd, evidently." + +"Crowd?" I echoed. "Are there others?" + +"Probably," he answered. "We want to find out something about this +interesting person. When he comes out I shall follow him." + +"May I come?" I begged, for I wanted to see where Daisy intended going. + +Whitlock hesitated. + +"Yes," he replied at last. "Providing you promise to drop out when I +tell you. We must run no risk of recognition, remember, for this is a +serious inquiry--a very serious one." + +"I'll promise to be discreet." + +"Then let us follow them separately. It will be best." + +That was just what I wanted, and scarcely had we finished speaking +when the door swung open and Daisy and her companion emerged. In an +instant I left Whitlock's side and turned away, so as not to meet +them. Another moment and I saw that they had mingled with the crowd of +foot-passengers going towards Leicester Square, therefore I followed +quickly. + +The man suspected to be the Francis Douglas Drayton--the man whose +birth-certificate was in possession of the police--had linked his hand +in Daisy's arm and was piloting her through the crowd of homeward-bound +pleasure-seekers. + +Whitlock, walking in the same direction, was not far from me as we +passed the entrance to the Pavilion, when of a sudden a dirty, unkempt +man, with a contents-bill and a bundle of papers in his hand, pushed +forward, and walking beside him cried-- + +"'Ere y'are, sir! _'Erald_, sir! Latest news, sir!" + +I recognised the man. Whitlock, without pausing, indicated the pair +he was following, whereupon the fellow disappeared instantly into the +crowd. He was a policeman's "nose"--one of hundreds in London who give +the police information, and assist them in a variety of ways of which +the public never dream. The "nose" had been put on the watch, and +Whitlock knew that, wherever the man and his lady friend might go, the +humble seller of evening papers would keep a very watchful eye upon +them. + +What he had told me about the man Drayton had greatly interested me. +If this man were actually the person suspected, then he was of bad +character and in no way fitted to be the companion of Daisy. With +eager, jealous eyes I watched them in anger and in wonder. What could +it mean? + +Whitlock had suspected two persons--Julian Little and this unknown +young man of leisure. Utterly unconscious that they were being so +closely followed, the pair walked on past Wardour Street, along the +north side of Leicester Square, past the Empire--now closed and +dark--and on through Cranbourn Street, where, at the corner of Charing +Cross Road, the man halted as though in expectation of meeting somebody. + +He glanced up and down. From across the way the unkempt man hawking his +papers was watching, while Whitlock had fallen back some distance. + +I could see that Daisy was very anxious to leave him and get home, but +on his part he was persuading her to remain, apparently assuring her +that the man expected would arrive in a few moments. + +At that midnight hour there was still plenty of life and movement, as +there always is in that quarter of London. The corner was not too well +lighted, now that the Hippodrome doors were closed, therefore there was +but little risk that Daisy would detect my presence there. + +She was, I felt, in the hands of unscrupulous persons, and it was +well that I was there to protect her. Indeed, it required all my +self-possession to restrain myself from going boldly up to the man +suspected to be Drayton, and demanding what business he had with the +sweet-faced woman whose heart was mine. + +To act thus, however, would ruin all Whitlock's plans. The present +inquiry was both important and difficult, for the mystery at Barnes +must, at all hazards, be cleared up. The affair had got upon my nerves, +and I was as keenly interested in every detail as was the renowned +police-officer himself. + +Daisy, at her companion's urgent request, remained idling up and down +near the Hippodrome for about five minutes, when from the direction of +Long Acre there hurried a short, grey-bearded, shabbily-dressed little +man, who had the appearance of a foreigner. + +I now saw the keen forethought of Whitlock in employing the services of +one of his unofficial agents. + +The two men met, swiftly exchanging some quick words, for the old man +was breathless, and I saw also that he was slightly deformed. + +Then Daisy was introduced to the sinister-looking, little old man +by her companion. His profuse manner in greeting her confirmed my +suspicion that he was a foreigner. The manner in which he raised his +shabby hat showed me that he was probably Italian. + +He was, however, in great haste. His words to his friend were quick +and to the point. Both consulted their watches, as though making an +appointment to meet later; then, raising his hat again, the queer +little old fellow stepped into a hansom and, giving the man an address, +drove rapidly away. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + + CONCERNS THE STRANGER + + +Hardly had the stranger left the kerb when another crawling hansom was +stopped a little distance off, and a man sprang in and drove after the +first vehicle. + +For an instant I saw his face and recognised it. It was Kennedy, who, +finding the pair had left the café, had hurried on, finally overtaking +us. He had seen that observation must be kept upon the queer little old +man and his identity established. + +Daisy, as soon as the old man had left, turned along Charing Cross +Road towards the station, where it was so often her habit to meet +old Annie prior to proceeding home. Her companion, however, seemed +to have suddenly grown very excited over something which the old man +had so swiftly related. He seemed to be speaking angrily, assuming +a threatening manner, not towards her, but towards some person not +present. + +Little did he dream that the breathless old fellow was being closely +followed in his rapid flight westward, or that he himself was being +watched by three keen pairs of eyes. + +A second vendor of evening papers approached the first, but, receiving +a sign, slunk away. He knew that his fellow-hawker had "got a job +on," for, looking across, he at once recognised Inspector Whitlock. +The public little guess how much information of great value to the +police those paper-men and cab touts pick up, or how clever they are in +discovering secrets and putting the authorities upon the right track. +Whenever I walked in the West End with Whitlock at night--and it was +often--there were frequently hasty words whispered in the dark in +passing by dirty, forbidding, ruffianly-looking men who were acting as +his "eyes" and "ears" in various matters. + +Truly the West End is a strange and complex world of pleasure and +crime, poverty and wealth, delight and despair; the concentration +of all the vices but few of the virtues of our modern Babylon; the +greatest, most extravagant, and at the same time most poverty-stricken +city the world has ever seen. + +Whitlock sauntered on, narrowly watching Daisy, and still wondering +who she might be. + +How would he act, I reflected, when he knew the truth, as he must ere +long. + +The pair strolled to the corner of Trafalgar Square, halting in front +of St Martin's Church. As I watched, I saw that the young man was +speaking earnestly with her, his hand linked again in her arm. What he +was saying had evidently created a great impression upon her, for she +stood staring before her as though utterly dazed. + +Suddenly her mind seemed made up, and her companion hailing a cab, she +entered, and they drove away along Pall Mall. + +"We must follow," Whitlock said, quickly; "but it is difficult now +there's so very little traffic." He signed to the news-vendor to leave +us, and calling a cab, which at that moment approached, we entered and +followed. + +Whither was this man taking my well-beloved? What was the object of +this midnight adventure? I sat back in the vehicle watching in anger +the two red lights of the cab in front. + +Up St James's Street, along Piccadilly and Knightsbridge we went, +towards Kensington. She was going in the opposite direction to her own +home--she who had so cleverly and so cruelly deceived me! + +Fortunate it was, perhaps, that Whitlock was with me, or I would have +faced the pair boldly long before, and demanded of her an explanation +on the spot. + +And yet, as I reflected, I could not disguise that there was about her +manner something which showed her to have fallen completely beneath +that man's influence. She was acting involuntarily. Old Annie was most +probably waiting for her somewhere, and waiting in apprehension. To +travel about in a cab at night with a stranger was certainly not like +Daisy Marvin. But was he such a stranger? Was not this man, so strongly +suspected by the police, her secret lover? + +That last hour had been a complete revelation to me. Daisy, so full +of wild abandon in her stage-dancing, so _piquante_, _chic_, and full +of fun before the footlights, was, in her private life, an entirely +different girl, modest, sweet, and full of a girlish charm that was +as indescribable as it was delightful. Had I been told that she loved +another I would never have believed it. But I had seen with my own +eyes, and even now, at that moment, was following them to an unknown +destination. + +"I'd like to know who the girl is," Whitlock remarked presently to me. +"If the man is the same that I believe him to be, then the whole affair +assumes the form of a problem a hundred times more complicated than +before." + +"How?" + +"That man, though not old, has had a past--a remarkable past." + +"Of crime?" + +"Well--not exactly. Rather of mystery." + +"But is not the finding of that birth-certificate very extraordinary?" +I asked, quickly reviewing in my own mind all the curious features of +the astounding affair. + +"Very. I can't, for the life of me, explain--first, why it was +concealed there, and, secondly, why the sender of the anonymous +telegram should wish to direct our attention to the spot." + +"Motives of revenge, perhaps." + +"That certainly seems more than likely--revenge upon the person named +Drayton." + +"The man in front of us?" + +"It may be him--or it may not." + +"And if he should turn out to be another man?" I suggested. + +Whitlock shrugged his shoulders. + +"Of course, I may be mistaken. But in any case we shall know definitely +to-morrow." + +"How?" + +"Wait, and I will show you in due course. I wonder," he added, "who +that old man was? Kennedy will, I hope, have something to tell us in +the morning. The old chap gave our friend in front some information, +and was apparently in a tremendous hurry to get out of the way. Kennedy +won't leave him till he's found out who and what he is, depend upon it." + +The cab we were following had already passed Kensington Church, and +was now on its way along the broad, deserted Phillimore Terrace, going +still westward towards Addison Road. Whitlock had given directions to +our man to keep a respectable distance behind, in order that the pair +should not suspect us of following. + +"They seem to be going a long way!" I remarked, impatient to ascertain +their destination. + +"Yes. There's some trickery in progress--that's my firm opinion. And I +tell you what, Keene; I don't think that girl is the kind of companion +for Francis Drayton. She seems far too genteel, modest and ladylike." + +I agreed, and perhaps my hot words aroused wonder within him. But he +only remarked-- + +"If that girl knew as much as I know, she wouldn't be seen about with +him, that's very certain." + +"Can't you tell me more, Whitlock?" I urged. "You've been speaking in +enigmas all the evening." + +"It's judicious to do so sometimes," he answered, turning his face +towards mine in the darkness. The tone of his voice struck me as +curious. He was, I knew, thinking of that small portrait of myself. +Little did he dream that the picture was the one I had given to the +girl travelling in the cab before us. + +Along the Hammersmith Road we went, down Bridge Road, and across the +bridge. + +"I wonder whether they are daring enough to go to the house at Barnes!" +exclaimed Whitlock, as we crossed the suspension-bridge. + +It seemed very much as though the house of mystery was actually their +destination. Our expectations were soon afterwards realised, when +about half-way along Castelnau the cab before us pulled up and the +pair descended. The suspected man must have paid well, for the driver +without protest, turned his horse round and came in our direction. + +We had already stopped and Whitlock, ordering our man to return to +the foot of the bridge and there wait, walked straight into the front +garden of the house before which we had pulled up, I, of course, +following. It was a ruse of his in order that if the man or the woman +glanced back they would not detect us. + +If, indeed, they had noticed us it would seem as though we had alighted +before our own door. + +My companion informed me that he had withdrawn the telegraph clerk, and +that the house was tenantless, as before. + +As we watched, we saw the stranger fumbling at the padlock upon the +gate--a lock which the police had placed upon it--and while the girl +stood eagerly watching up and down the road, in case someone might +approach, he succeeded in opening it, probably with a false key. + +From where we stood we could plainly see them standing together, as she +covered his suspicious movements. The long, broad road was deserted, +and the silence unbroken, save for the distant footfall of a constable. + +Quickly, however, the pair opened the gate and slipped within the +garden, while a few moments later the constable passed by, all +unconscious of what was in progress. + +What could possibly induce Daisy to visit that house? She knew quite +well by the papers of the strange happenings there. Was it only her +woman's curiosity that led her to accompany her companion on that +midnight visit, or were they there for some entirely different purpose? + +Had she been there before? That was the great question exercising +my mind at that moment. When I recollected how my portrait had +been concealed in that upstairs cupboard my heart sank within me. +I remembered, too, her surprise when she had read the report of +the inquest upon the two unfortunate women. In that report she had +discovered something--what it was I knew not--which had caused her the +greatest apprehension. Was she, therefore, cognisant of the real facts? +To me it seemed very much as though she knew much more about the affair +than she had admitted. + +She had disappeared within, together with her companion. + +"They have to get the door unlocked yet," Whitlock whispered to me, +after the constable had passed. "We'll give them a little time longer. +Then we'll just watch and ascertain the reason of this visit." + +As I stood there I could hear my own heart beating, so excited was I. +What were we about to discover? What link was there which connected +the woman I so dearly loved and adored with that most amazing and +motiveless crime and suicide? + +Daisy was alone in that empty house with the man whom Whitlock had +himself declared was unfitted to be her friend! I could hardly restrain +myself from dashing forth to her protection. It was on the tip of my +tongue to tell the truth to the man standing so patiently at my side. +Yet on reflection, I saw that any word from me might be misconstrued +into a shadow of guilt which would fall upon her unblemished +reputation. No; silence was best--for my sake, as well as for hers. + +For ten minutes or so we remained in that garden, hidden in the dark +shadows. To me, those anxious moments seemed hours, until at last +Whitlock motioned to me, and we crept as quietly as we could along the +pavement to the big iron gate, which I now knew so well. + +Pushing it open, we slipped in, walking over the grass to avoid our +feet making a noise upon the gravel, and, in the deep shadow of the +bushes, approached along the side of the house to its rear. + +Suddenly, just as we reached it, a sound broke upon our ears, causing +both of us to halt and hold our breath. + +The sound came from within that dark, silent house of mystery--a +woman's shrill, piercing scream. + +I listened again. The cry for help was from the lips of my own love--my +own sweet Daisy! + +For a second I stood there petrified. + + + + + CHAPTER XV + + THE HOUSE OF SHADOWS + + +I made a movement to dash forward and enter the house to the rescue of +my well-beloved, but Whitlock placed a quick, firm hand upon my arm +whispering-- + +"Wait--we may discover something further!" and he drew me back into the +shadow. + +"But----" + +My words were cut short by the sound of movement within. We were close +to the back entrance to the house, a short flight of steps leading from +the old-fashioned garden into one of the rooms. + +I listened for the cry of distress to be repeated, but there was no +further scream. + +"I wonder what is happening?" I gasped eagerly to the man at my side. + +"Hark!" he cried. "Listen!" + +I could hear voices within--voices in serious and deliberate +conversation. I held my breath, with ears strained to catch the words. +But all was an indistinct mumbling. As I stood there, inactive and +apprehensive, my impulse was to rush forward and face the pair. + +Of a sudden, without warning, the door opened, and they both came down +the steps, the man closing the door noiselessly behind him. Surely +their visit there was a bold step, having in view the fact that the +police had, until the previous day, remained in possession of the +premises. It almost seemed as though they had some inside knowledge of +the action of the authorities. + +"You are convinced now, are you not?" asked the man, as he came down +the steps behind my sweetheart. + +"How can I doubt further?" she said hoarsely, evidently much impressed +by something she had either seen or heard in that house of shadows. + +"You disbelieved me when I told you the truth. But you've now seen with +your own eyes," he remarked in a gruff, off-hand way. + +"Please do not mention it further," she urged as she passed close by +us, fortunately without detecting our presence, for we were standing +back in the darkness beneath the high wall. "It is as terrible as it is +incomprehensible. I never dreamed that!" + +"And you still believe in--in him, eh?" he sneered. + +I pricked up my ears at mention of myself. + +"I will not disbelieve until I have proof to the contrary," was her +bold response. + +"But you surely have had that to-night?" he said. + +What proof was there, I wondered. Was there a plot against myself? + +She made no answer, but walked to the gate, the well-dressed young +stranger following closely at her heels. + +We wondered where they were going, for they had dismissed their cab, +and conveyances at that late hour there were none. + +I could see that Whitlock's wish was to enter the house and ascertain +what had caused the young lady such fright. The incident had struck +us both as utterly mysterious and incomprehensible. Yet, on the other +hand, he was anxious to ascertain the destination of the pair. + +At the gate the man hesitated for a second, and then turned in the +direction of Hammersmith Bridge. + +"Good!" remarked Whitlock. "I gave the cabman instructions, and told +him who I was. Finding the cab there, they will most probably take it; +therefore the man will report to me at the Yard in the morning. I'll +watch--you remain here." + +He left my side and, passing along to the front gate, disappeared. + +Alone in the dark garden, where, beneath that great old tree to my +left, we had dug up the box containing those curiously-preserved +articles, I stood calmly reviewing the occurrences of that eventful +night. + +Was it possible that Daisy--my own Daisy--could be out until that late +hour without serious inquiry on the part of "Joyous Jimmy" and his +wife? Her companion had spoken of some man sneeringly, and his remarks +in themselves showed some serious conspiracy against me--a conspiracy +formed, perhaps, by himself. What, I wondered, could be its nature? +True, her little keepsake had been concealed in that upstairs cupboard, +but, on the other hand, had not that man's birth-certificate, buried +in the garden, been recovered by means of the forged telegram of the +Central News? + +I glanced up at the great old-fashioned house, which, in the silence of +that night-hour, seemed so full of forbidding shadows. Truly it was a +house of mystery and of tragedy. + +By whose hand had its lonely but beautiful occupant fallen? At whose +instigation had that second woman killed herself rather than face +inquiry? + +My thoughts wandered far away to Julian Little, my old and trusted +friend. What could he know of the affair? If innocent of it, then why +had he fled beyond the Danube? + +Could we only discover who had despatched that extraordinary Press +message to Plymouth, then we should certainly understand its motive. +Whitlock had promised that next morning would establish or deny the +identity of Daisy's companion with the man whose birth-certificate we +recovered in such remarkable circumstances. But how? After all, why was +my friend so anxious about Little if he did not suspect him? + +Standing there in silence, awaiting Whitlock's return, I reviewed the +whole of those amazing circumstances, and the more I reflected upon +them the more hopeless became the solution of the astounding problem. + +In my profession as journalist--or "murder-monger," as I was known +in the office of the _Evening Herald_--I had assisted the police in +investigating many strange and apparently motiveless crimes. Yet none +had presented such incomprehensible features as this affair; none were +so full of clues that seemed to lead nowhere. + +Was this visit the first Daisy had paid to the house? On calm +reflection I concluded that it was not. I recollected how, without sign +of fear, she had boldly accompanied her companion there, and how, in +descending the steps, she had, without hesitation, taken the pathway +leading to the front entrance. Her every movement was now photographed +upon my memory, while her shriek of terror still rang in my ears. + +That cry! Why had she uttered it? Certain it was that she was in no way +afraid of her companion. Therefore, she had undoubtedly seen something +within that house which had utterly unnerved her. But what? Aye, that +was the question! + +Standing there in the damp darkness of the night I awaited Whitlock's +return. Then we might, perchance, discover the cause of that loud +shriek from those lips that had so often met mine in fond and +passionate caress. + +Was she playing me false? I put it to you. Place yourself in my +position--and answer if you can! + +It seemed as though Whitlock would never return, and I began wondering +whether the pair had not found another cab, and under necessity my +friend had been compelled to follow them. + +The silence of the night was suddenly broken by the slow tread of the +constable returning along the pavement. Fortunately Whitlock--always +full of forethought--had closed the gate behind him, so the man in +uniform passed on without noticing that the padlock and chain had been +removed. + +A motor car came along, its whirr being heard a considerable distance +away, and its head-light shedding a bright streak of brilliance upon +the road quite a long time before its approach. Then, with a flash, it +went by, and the beat of its engines was quickly lost in the distance. + +Still I waited, though full of impatience. That inactivity was galling. +I wanted to enter the house and ascertain what had so terrified my +well-beloved. + +At last Whitlock's dark, burly figure appeared in the gateway, and he +exclaimed in a low voice-- + +"It's all right, Keene. They've taken our cab! We shall know more in +the morning." + +Daisy--my own sweet love, whom I had believed so true to me--had +driven away with that dressed-up young club-lounger, who seemed for an +unaccountable reason to hold some occult influence over her! Whither +had they gone? + +I bit my lip in the darkness. To-morrow I should know--but not until +then. And to-morrow was a long time. + +"Come along," exclaimed Whitlock, in his cheery, bustling manner. "I +have a bit of candle in my pocket. Seldom go out at night without it, +you know!" he laughed. "Let's have a peep inside and see if we can find +out the reason of the girl's scream. That strikes me as peculiar--very +peculiar. Do you know, Keene," he added, "I'm not quite sure that I'm +not mistaken, after all." + +"In what?" + +"In believing that that man is really Drayton." + +"But you said you will know in the morning." + +"Yes. I shall know positively," was his reply. "I leave little to luck, +as you know. I generally look ahead, and have done so in this case." + +"How?" + +"Never mind how. If you come to my office at noon to-morrow I will be +able to tell you definitely whether my surmise was correct, or whether, +after all, I'm on the wrong track." + +"Which at this moment you think you are--eh?" + +"Well, I fear that I've formed a wrong conclusion, that's all." + +"Why?" + +"Because that girl loves the fellow. If he were actually Drayton, there +are reasons why she would not do so." + +"I don't understand you." + +"No. I expect you don't. You see, you are not in possession of very +many of the facts." + +"No. But I want to be. All that I know constitutes a complicated and +amazing enigma, which the more I try to solve the more difficult it +becomes." + +Whitlock laughed lightly. + +"You're a good journalist, Keene; but you'd never be a good detective. +You take things far too seriously." + +Little did he dream that we were discussing the woman who was all in +all to me. + +I had never known love until I met her, and I had foolishly flattered +myself that she was only mine. But now, in the discovery of her +double-dealing, my brain was aflame. I saw how heartlessly she had +misled and deceived me; and now discerned how, in order to meet this +man, she had always declared to me that I must never come near the +stage-doors after her performance. + +You who have once been undeceived, and whose tender love has been +tossed recklessly aside in favour of that of another, know what I mean +when I say that the madness of jealousy was upon me. You who have never +experienced it can never know what torments I suffered in those moments. + +Whitlock noticed the strangeness of my manner, I think, for he said-- + +"Come along. Let's have a glance around inside." + +Together we ascended the steps, and when he had lit his piece of +candle-end, which he always kept in a little tin box, we passed on +through the dark passage, until we reached the room where the tragedy +had so recently occurred, and there we lit the gas. + +Nothing, as far as we could discern, had been disturbed. All remained +exactly as we had left it, except that three empty lager bottles stood +upon the table, having been bought by the telegraph clerk who, until +the previous day, had been there on duty. But he had been withdrawn, +and a surveillance placed upon the telegrams on that line received or +despatched at the chief office in London. + +From room to room we proceeded, Whitlock holding the candle aloft, but +we could discern nothing unusual. The place was exactly as we had left +it. + +Presently, returning to the room where the telegraph instrument still +remained, my companion walked to the table and pointed out that a +quantity of tape had come out. Upon it were dashes which we could not +read. + +"I wonder if that man could decipher any of this?" he said. "I wonder, +too, if there is any message here the text of which we ought to know?" + +"There may be," I said, at once adopting his suggestion. + +"Then we'll have it all read," he decided, and, tearing off the tape, +he twisted up the many yards of paper ribbon and wrapped it in an old +newspaper that lay upon the table. + +And with the packet in his hand we together left that house of grim +shadows. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + + WHAT THE TAPE REVEALED + + +Walking to Hammersmith Broadway we found a cab and drove to the +_Herald_ building off Fleet Street, where I knew that one or other of +our telegraph clerks could read that tangle of tape. + +By day Fleet Street and its vicinity lies in a lethargic state. True, +there is the bustle of business and the roar of traffic, but the great +newspaper offices are mostly deserted. The "case-rooms" are empty, the +editorial offices given over to junior clerks, and the only movement in +the machine rooms is the "taking-in" of those big reels of paper, each +about five miles in length, which about three o'clock in the morning +will be swallowed into those gigantic, roaring machines which print, +cut, paste, fold, count, and deliver automatically--marvels, indeed, +of man's inventive genius. By day the night-workers sleep soundly in +their suburban homes, and only when the business offices close, and +men rush home eastward to Ludgate Hill Station, or westward along +the Strand, arrive that great army of men who constitute the Press +of London--editors in their motor-broughams down to humble printers' +imps--to prepare the newspaper for to-morrow's breakfast-table. + +It is then that Fleet Street, Bouverie Street, Whitefriars, and +Salisbury Square begin to palpitate with life. The white electric +lights shine brightly, the silent streets are wakened by the quick +tread of messengers from Reuter's, the "P.A.," the "C.N.," and +commissionaires from the Post Office. Telegraph tapes and telephones +are at work incessantly; "comps." in those big, well-lighted buildings +are hard at it setting "ads."; the linotype composing machines click +on, casting in lead each separate line for the paper; the machine-rooms +are oiling up, the stereo foundries are busy with the "early plates," +and the newsrooms are agog with the mass of late intelligence which +crowds out the news accepted by the "subs" earlier in the day. The +feature decided upon an hour ago for to-morrow's paper is now rejected +for half a column of something far more sensational; while such is the +state of the public mind that the news editor knows that a motor 'bus +accident in the Strand is worth more space than an earthquake in Japan +or a revolution in South America. + +A strange, fevered, hustling world indeed is our Press-world of London +at two o'clock in the morning. + +Everyone, from editor to machinist, has his eye upon the clock--the +hands of which are every minute moved by electricity from Greenwich +Observatory, for there are trains to catch, and the paper must go "to +bed" at the exact moment. Otherwise there will be trouble. + +Two o'clock at the _Daily Herald_ meant frantic haste in every +department, for an edition--for the West of England--went to press at +2.28. Upon that very second the levers of those enormous machines must +be pulled, and with a bound and a deafening roar those great presses, +almost human in their work, would belch forth the _Herald_ printed, +folded, counted, and packed up in bundles ready for the special train +awaiting them at Paddington. + +Editor and leader-writer have done their work. The latter, sitting at +home in his study in North London, received at seven o'clock his order +by telephone as to what subject he should write upon. At half-past +nine a boy brought the "copy" down, and at eleven the leader-writer, +a youngish, clean-shaven man, came himself, read his proof, made some +dry remarks upon the political situation in general, and went back +home in a cab. He had finished his duty. But the news department was +still frantically busy. Telephones were going and tapes were clicking +as merrily as though it were mid-day, and above all Wakeley in his +shirt-sleeves, in charge of the whole of that gigantic organisation, +now and then opened the sluice-gates of a vocabulary unprintable in the +_Herald_. + +There were assuredly no drones in that busy hive. The lift was running +as though it were noon, the long corridors of the huge building were +thronged by youths rushing hither and thither, and even the usually +quiet library--that big room filled to overflowing with books of +reference of all sorts, and in all languages--was now occupied by one +or two subordinates, busily looking up dates, or verifying facts. + +Whitlock had never seen the _Herald_ going to press, and was astounded +when, on passing along one of the corridors, he was nearly knocked over +by a boy who dashed headlong out of a room, and sped downstairs with a +sheet of "copy" in his hand. + +Together we passed to another and somewhat quieter part of the +building, where we entered a small room in which sat four telegraph +clerks at their ever-clicking instruments. One of them, Knight by name, +a young, fair-haired man, who sat in the corner receiving messages +over the Post Office wire, was, I knew, due to go off duty. Therefore, +approaching him, I introduced my companion, explaining that we wanted +the messages read. + +Five minutes later he glanced at the clock, tapped his key for the +last time, and, placing the small wooden cover over the instrument to +protect it from dust or injury, rose and stretched himself. + +"We'll go into the next room, Mr Keene," he said. "It's quieter there." + +So all three of us entered a room which, by day, was one of the offices +of the circulation department, and Whitlock, undoing the bundle of +tape, placed the tangle before him. + +"This is a Post Office wire," Knight remarked, as soon as he saw it. +"The London-Plymouth Trunk Line;" and seated at a table he began deftly +to unravel the mass of narrow paper. + +At last he found the beginning, and read to us rapidly, one after +the other, messages sent by the public to Portsmouth, Bournemouth, +Exeter, Plymouth and other places. Most of them showed the strenuous +life the world leads to-day. The first struck a tragic note. It had +been handed in at Beccles, in Suffolk, at 4.18, and, directed to a man +at an hotel in Plymouth, read: "Your wife dying--asking to see you. +Come immediately." And the next was from a bookmaker to a noble lord, +saying: "Put you twenty on Lallie has won--8 to 1." Diverse, curious, +sometimes humorous, often tragic, the fair-haired young man read +message after message that had been flashed to the West between the +hours of four o'clock on the previous afternoon and one o'clock that +morning. + +We stood listening, as, with monotonous voice, he read out the sharp, +decisive words that had been ticked over the wire. There was nothing +which gave us any insight into the reason for that woman's horrified +scream. And yet she must have either seen or heard something to cause +her alarm. From her manner towards him, as they left the house, it was +quite clear that he had not attacked her, as I had at first supposed. + +The reading of all those messages occupied a long time. Of a sudden, +as we stood leaning against the table, there was a roar beneath the +building, and the whole place began to vibrate as though a miniature +earthquake were occurring. The Western edition of the _Daily Herald_ +had started printing. Those huge and complicated machines in the big, +well-lit rooms in the basement one after another began their deafening +roar as they took mile after mile of paper into their insatiable maws, +and poured forth in a continuous stream bundles of papers ready for the +special express at Paddington waiting to receive and carry them to the +furthermost rural villages of Dorset, Devon, and Cornwall. + +The telegraph clerk instinctively glanced at the electric clock upon +the wall. The time was 2.29. The edition was one minute late, which +would mean inquiry and censure in the morning. + +Continuing, he repeated message after message on a variety of subjects. +Never until that moment did it occur to me how full of curiosity and +interest the work of a telegraph clerk must be. Abuse, endearment, +doubt, fear, courage, good advice and reassurance followed each other, +the senders being of all classes, from men and women of title to the +humble labourer. + +Yards upon yards of the tape were occupied by a long Press message, +the condensed report of a speech by a Cabinet Minister that evening +at Glasgow sent by the P.A. (Press Association) to the most important +morning paper in the West, the _Western Morning News_, at Plymouth. +A glance at the beginning and the end was sufficient to show its +purport. Then followed a mass of Stock Exchange closing prices, the +premium on gold from South America, and the report of a fatal motor +car accident in the North of Ireland. Foreign intelligence of Reuter's +"special service," a Laffan or two, and several interesting items +from the Central News correspondent in St Petersburg followed each +other closely, for in the evening, between seven and midnight, when +the public messages are few, the Press practically monopolise the +telegraphs at their reduced rate of a hundred words for one shilling. + +We were nearing the end of the tangled ribbon, when suddenly both +Whitlock and I pricked up our ears at Knight's monotonous words, which +were as follows-- + +"To _Western Morning News_, Plymouth, from P.A., London.--Barnes +Mystery. Though the police are naturally very reticent in regard +to their discoveries at the house in Barnes, where an unknown girl +was discovered murdered the other night, and where her companion, +after arrest, committed suicide in the police-cell, nevertheless a +representative of the Press Association has been able to gather certain +additional facts. It appears that Inspector Whitlock, of the Criminal +Investigation Department, who is assisted by Inspector Kennedy and +other officers, has to-day been making inquiries in the neighbourhood +of Feltham, Middlesex, the result being that a clue has been obtained +to the perpetrator of the deed, and in the course of a few hours his +arrest will undoubtedly take place. + +"Facts now established by the police show the matter to contain +some very astounding and puzzling features. This morning the London +_Evening Herald_ published what purported to be the portrait discovered +by Inspector Whitlock in the empty house, but this picture was +recognised by a relative of the man in question, and was withdrawn from +publication immediately the editor discovered that he had been imposed +upon. The police are in active search of a man named Francis Douglas +Drayton, but information reaching the Press Association shows that the +person in question went to Lima in the early part of last year and died +there in May last. At the resumed inquest the evidence will no doubt +reveal a very remarkable and sensational story; for the identity of the +murdered girl was to-day established by the police, but it is believed +that they will endeavour to keep it a secret for some unknown, but +undoubtedly very good, reason. The Home Office have been communicated +with, and the secrecy is to be preserved at their instigation. + +"The case will, in the course of a few days, be found to be full of +sensational developments. The police are in possession of the story of +the unfortunate girl, which is most romantic, tragic, and mysterious; +but it is doubtful whether public curiosity will be satisfied either +at the adjourned inquest or at the trial of the alleged assassin. The +actual reason of the suicide of the second woman is still a mystery, +but from certain papers discovered at a house in Woburn Square, +Bloomsbury, the truth has been surmised. + +"We may add with all reserve that the person whose arrest is only a +matter of a few hours is a certain clever young London journalist, +well known in Fleet Street, who, it is alleged, was the lover of the +murdered girl." + +"Great heavens!" I gasped breathlessly, turning to Whitlock. "Why, that +means myself!" + +"Apparently so," he replied in a dry, mechanical tone. + +"But this is scandalous--libellous!" I cried, furiously. "Wait a +moment; I'll see if Wakeley has it in the _Herald_." And I dashed along +to the news editor's room. + +"No. Nothing has come in to-night from the P.A. about the Barnes +affair," was his reply, after he had asked his assistants, who were +still busy with further "copy" for the late edition of the paper, which +would go to press in an hour's time. + +Then the telegram had not been sent round to the London Press! In a +few moments I was on the 'phone, speaking with the night editor of the +Press Association, who after a pause while he inquired, answered-- + +"No, we've sent out nothing for the last twelve hours about that case." + +I met Whitlock in the corridor and told him. + +"Then that message emanates from the same hand as the previous one to +Plymouth," he said. "But why Plymouth, and why connect you with the +affair?" + +I made no reply; I was too dumbfounded. + +I now recognised the reason of Daisy's scream. Her companion, who +evidently knew the telegraphic signs, had read to her the latter +portion of the message, in which I was not only charged with the crime, +but with being the lover of the murdered girl! + +Whitlock stood before me, thoughtful and hesitating. + +"There's some truth in those details," he remarked; "that's why the +affair is so mysterious. The statement that Drayton went to Lima, for +instance, is true, but that he is dead is not yet established. If there +is one grain of truth in the message there may be another. I must +search in Woburn Square. That fact is, no doubt, given in order to +place us upon the track of the identity of the woman who took her own +life. But with what motive are you denounced, Keene?" he added, looking +me straight in the face. + +"How can I tell?" I asked. "The mystery becomes greater every hour!" + + + + + CHAPTER XVII + + CONTAINS MRS DAVIS'S STORY + + +The mystery was increasing. + +Whitlock decided that no further action could be taken at that hour of +the morning, and that we must wait for daylight. + +By this time the whole of the gigantic machinery in the basement of +the _Daily Herald_ building was roaring, while the street outside was +blocked by carts and waggons being rapidly loaded up with great bundles +of papers and driven rapidly away to Paddington. Shouting men and boys +ran hither and thither, packing away the bundles into vans, and thus +the morning paper for the West of England was being despatched from +Fleet Street to far-off breakfast-tables in rural Devon and Cornwall. + +Wakeley, in his shirt-sleeves, came hurrying along the corridor with a +late and important tape telegram in his hand. "Good-night, Keene," he +cried. "I suppose you'll be off abroad soon? I'd quite forgotten that +you'd been transferred to us. I'll give you something to do near home +before very long." + +Even while we were speaking the roar of machinery had suddenly stopped. +Before he had left his chair he had telephoned the order to the +machine-room to stop the presses, and the men on the "plates" were +making ready for a "stop-press"--the few lines of type set in a box in +the curved stereotype-plate. + +"Anything startling?" I asked him. + +"Only sudden death of an M.P.--vacancy in a Lancashire borough," was +his quick reply, and he hurried on, again wishing us "good-night." + +For a few moments I looked in at the quiet reference library, now +deserted, and then, as we descended in the lift, the machines suddenly +began to roar again, pouring out their great bundles of papers +containing the very latest "stop-press" intelligence. + +Soon after three o'clock I entered my silent chambers and switched on +the light. At that hour, not even a cat was stirring in Gray's Inn. I +was not sleepy, for all the excitement of the night had kept me wide +awake. Therefore, I flung myself into my pet armchair, and took a +cigarette from the box. + +As I lit it my eyes caught sight of an unusual brand upon it, and next +second I recognised that it was Greek--identical with the remains of +that cigarette which we had found in the empty grate at Barnes! It was +evidently one of Julian Little's, which, perhaps found by the old woman +who "did" for us, had been placed in my own box. + +I extinguished it, and, holding it between my fingers, pondered deeply. + +I remembered quite well how Julian, at half an hour's notice, had left +for Athens to interview the Greek Minister of Foreign Affairs upon the +question of the Greek bands in Macedonia, and his attitude towards the +Sublime Porte, and I also recollected his remark about having brought +back some very special cigarettes which were made only in Patras. But +he was a great connoisseur of cigarettes, and was always bringing back +weird brands from out-of-the-way places on the Continent. Therefore, at +the time, I had not thought of trying one. + +But this discovery now caused me much suspicion, especially as he +had, at his own request, left so suddenly for Servia, yet Whitlock's +energies seemed to be directed in quite another direction--towards that +mysterious man who had accompanied Daisy to the empty house at Barnes, +the man whose identity he had expressed confidence of establishing in a +few hours. + +Like many another mystery of the giant heart of London, the public +were only aware of a few of the facts. The remainder--the details of +the tantalising puzzle--were withheld from them by the police for +obvious reasons. The public often read in the newspapers the three or +four lines of dry, matter-of-fact evidence given by a detective at +the Old Bailey or the Sessions, but are in total ignorance of all the +excitement, all the patient inquiry, and all the romance that lies +behind that bald but convicting statement. + +Until the grey dawn showed between the window-sash and the blind I sat +there, calmly reviewing the amazing situation, and reflecting upon the +attitude of my beloved towards the man suspected to be Francis Drayton. + +Was that man her lover? + +That was the great and all-important question which occupied my whole +soul. I loved Daisy Marvin--yes, loved her with that whole-hearted and +devoted affection which constitutes a passion. True, we were latter-day +Bohemians, both of us--she an actress and I a journalist. Both her +mother and father, actress and journalist themselves, were Bohemians. +They had indulged Daisy ever since she had been a child, and though +they allowed her to follow her inborn penchant for the stage, they did +not altogether view it with satisfaction. + +Mrs Marvin had once openly condemned it before me. She knew the +disappointments, the pitfalls, and temptations of professional life too +well, she had said. The variety stage was an over-crowded profession, +too, and yet huge salaries were paid to those with real talent, many +popular comedians earning as much as Cabinet Ministers. Managers +were ever in search of something fresh, but, alas! seldom found it. +When they did, however, they paid well. Daisy, because of her dainty +_chic_, her refined voice and her graceful dancing, was already a +popular favourite, earning a very respectable income, which her father +regularly banked for her. So quickly had she sprung into notoriety, +and so high already was her standing in the profession, that "Joyful +Jimmy's" suggestion that she should retire from the stage had been met +with a negative by his wife. Yet, truth to tell, both were secretly +delighted with Daisy's success--the mother that she should have a +daughter so popular in her own profession, and the father because he +foresaw the possibility of her marrying some wealthy young aristocrat. + +Other girls had done so, he argued; why should not she? + +Therefore every man who cast eyes upon the dainty Daisy was promptly +warned off by old Annie, and my love and I in secret had smiled at +"Joyful Jimmy's" complete ignorance of the situation. + +But there were many facts which now puzzled me beyond measure. + +How was it possible that Daisy could be out till three o'clock in the +morning without inquiry on the part of her parents? Where was the +faithful Annie? Was it possible that she was enabled to take the woman +into her confidence when she wished to meet her secret lover? If so, +why did she not meet me? I saw that I had been all along deceived by +her soft kisses and whispered declarations of affection--that, while +she had declared it impossible to meet me, she had nevertheless been +constantly in the company of that man whom Whitlock had so openly +condemned. + +Her confidential manner towards him was, in itself, sufficient to +convince me of the bitter truth. + +And why, too, had she gone willingly to that house of tragedy in +Barnes, if she were not in some way or other implicated or connected +with it? + +Again, why, on reading that curious message on the tape, should she +have uttered that scream of dismay? Yes, the whole affair had now +assumed proportions that were hourly growing more extraordinary and +more inscrutable. + +Already it was dawn--a chilly, grey, dispiriting morning. Beside myself +with grief at the discovery of the perfidy of the woman I loved so +dearly and devotedly, I had risen, and was pacing the sitting-room, +when for the first time my eyes caught sight of a note addressed to me, +lying on my blotting-pad. + +Old Mrs Davis must have come in after I had gone out on the previous +evening, and, finding it lying on the floor of our tiny hall, placed it +there for me. + +The envelope was a pale-blue one, and the superscription in Daisy's +handwriting. + +Tearing it open, I found a few lines hurriedly scribbled in pencil, +telling me that on the morrow she would be at four o'clock at a certain +seat in Kensington Gardens where we had met secretly on several +previous occasions. + + "Do not fail to come," she urged, "as I wish to see you very + particularly. I shall be rehearsing my new dance at Allen's until + half-past three, and can remain with you till six.--Love from your + own DAISY." + +Were those final words meant in earnest, or were they merely feigned? +Again and again I read them in wonder and disbelief, recollecting how +deeply in earnest she had spoken to her companion, and how on one +occasion, as they bent to each other over that table in the Gambrinus, +he had held her slim gloved wrist with all the tenderness of a lover. + +And she had looked straight into the fellow's eyes and smiled! + +Was she "my own"? That was the question. + +I placed her note in my pocket, with the satisfaction that very soon I +should be afforded an opportunity of ascertaining the truth. + +As money is nowadays a form of religious worship, so a saint is a man +with a past, and a sinner a gentleman with a future. Daisy's companion +was, I felt convinced, one of the last-named fraternity. I longed for +afternoon to come, so that I could see and speak with her, without, of +course, betraying the fact that I had watched them. + +Old Mrs Davis entered at seven by means of her latchkey, and was +surprised to find that I had not been to bed. + +"May I come in, sir?" inquired her rasping voice from the hall, and on +permission being given she entered, a short, grey-haired old body in +a shawl once black, but now green with age, and a mourning bonnet in +the same stage of decay. For eighteen years she had "done for" several +gentlemen in chambers in the same building, and was a clean, homely old +person who was everlastingly talking of her Emmie, who, "thank God! +had married well--one of the best and kindest-hearted gentlemen in the +world. 'E lived in these 'ere rooms for two years, an' now they have a +beautiful place over in Ireland." + +I fully expected her to impart to me the latest news concerning the +immaculate Emmie, whom I had never seen, but to my surprise she said-- + +"Oh, sir, I 'ad such a orful fright 'ere larst night." + +"A fright?" I laughed. "Well, I expect it takes a bit to frighten you, +Mrs Davis! They say the staircase is haunted, don't they?" + +"Yes, sir; that's just it," she replied. "As the story goes, there wor +a young gentleman down below about a 'underd years ago, a-studyin' the +law. 'E'd come up from Norfolk, where 'e'd fallen in love with the +daughter of a squire. She, devoted to 'im, followed 'im up to town, +and was one evening in 'is rooms when an old man, who was jealous of +'er, shot 'er. She died in 'er lover's arms--like they do in the plays +wot used to be on at the Adelphi. An' ever since then, they say, 'er +ghost 'ornts these 'ere stairs. It seems she wor comin' out o' the door +o' the chambers when the murderer, standin' up in the dark, shot 'er. +'E was 'ung, an' serve 'im right, says I. The young lady was devoted +to 'er lover, or she wouldn't ha' come up to London and forsaken 'er +friends." + +"But you've never seen this interesting young lady?" I suggested. + +"Never. I fancy it's all a fairy tale, like those you reads of in the +papers. They calls 'em serial stories. I always read it in my Sunday +paper, but it usually leaves off just in an interestin' part, and +then I 'ave to wait a week for the next. But, as I was sayin', I 'ad +a fright last night. It gave me such a turn that I 'ad to go out into +'Oborn an' 'ave a nip of gin afterwards--a thing I never do, sir, as +you know." + +The old lady liked her little drop as well as anyone--a fact proved +by our whisky mysteriously disappearing. Yet, like all her class, she +usually made declamatory protest that she was a total abstainer. + +"Yes, sir, an' do you know what it was?" she went on. "Well, I came +up 'ere about nine o'clock to shut the windows because there was a +shower. I 'ad my old 'ouse boots on, wot don't make any noise, an' when +I turned the corner o' the staircase I saw, to my astonishment, two +gentlemen bent down to this 'ere door a-tryin' to open it. They were +burglars, sir!" + +"Burglars!" I echoed. "What did you do?" + +"I screamed out, of course, but before you could say 'knife' they'd +both bolted down the stairs an' out quicker than they'd come. They +left this 'ere in the lock," and from beneath her shawl she produced a +skeleton key, which she handed to me. + +"I thought, sir," she went on, "as 'ow you'd like to tell the perlice +about it. If I 'adn't 'a' come up in the very nick o' time they'd +certainly 'ave been in 'ere." + +"What kind of men were they?" I inquired. + +"One was a low-lookin' fellow, an' the other was a gentleman--in an +evenin' 'at--one o' those crush-up ones like yours. 'E 'ad on a black +overcoat an' a white muffler round 'is neck. Quite the gentleman, I can +tell you." + +I was silent. + +"Had he a little dark moustache?" I inquired. + +"Yes; 'e 'ad, sir. 'E was about twenty-five to thirty, I should say." + +Her curious story caused me to reflect and wonder. + +The description was exactly that of Daisy's mysterious companion! + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + + IN WHICH WE MAKE A DISCOVERY + + +I had had my breakfast and a tub, and was just glancing through the +_Daily Herald_ when Whitlock entered, looking as fresh and rosy as +though he had had an excellent night's rest. + +"Do you know, Keene," he said, standing upon the hearthrug and facing +me, "the puzzle has grown even more complicated." + +"How?" I gasped. + +"Well, you'll remember in that extraordinary telegram, alleged to +emanate from the Press Association and addressed to the _Western +Morning News_, at Plymouth last night, it was stated that we had +discovered some papers in a house in Woburn Square? Well, Kennedy +reports that that little old hunchback, after calling at several places +last night, went to a certain house in Woburn Square, the door of which +he opened with a latchkey. He remained there till 5.30, when he left +Euston for Birmingham." + +"I wonder whether the object of that mysterious telegram is to put us +on the scent, as the first one undoubtedly was?" I suggested. + +"Well," he said hesitatingly, "there was some mention in it of a young +London journalist--eh?" and he looked at me curiously. + +"I know--I know!" I answered. "I believe, Whitlock, that the anonymous +author of those Press messages owes me a grudge." + +"So it seems; yet he is certainly in possession of the secret history +of the crime. I've put a watch upon the house in question, and I'm just +going up there. You can come, too, if you like." + +I required no second invitation. Over the 'phone I told old Marvin at +the _Evening Herald_ that I was still on the Barnes affair, and we both +went forth together along Theobald's Road up Southampton Row and across +Russell Square. At the corner of Upper Montague Street, a plain-clothes +officer, a youngish man dressed as a mechanic, approached my companion, +saying-- + +"All quiet, sir. Nobody's been to the place. It's furnished, but +untenanted, I hear. My information, from the milkman and others, shows +that a lady and gentleman took the place furnished about four months +ago, but the other day they both suddenly left, owing a lot of small +accounts to tradesmen around. The milkman is particularly sore about a +debt of four and threepence." + +"Any more?" asked Whitlock, in that sharp tone habitual to him. + +"Only that the tenant of the house was not a hunchback, as Mr Kennedy +believed, but quite a young man. The woman, too, was also young." + +"And nobody knows where they are gone? What about letters?" + +"The postman says that their name was Elkington. They had only one +or two letters, and since their departure there have been none. The +landlord lives in Ireland, and, as far as I can gather, has no agent in +London." + +"But the little old fellow had a key." + +"Probably left with him by Mr Elkington. He may have left some pets +there--cats or canaries--that want feeding," suggested the detective. + +"Which is the house?" asked Whitlock. + +"Just along on the left, sir. The one with the light green railings. +It's been recently done up." + +"Very well. Remain on duty, but don't attract attention. I'll arrange +for your relief. I shall try and get in with a key, so just keep an +open eye and let us know if there are any too curious neighbours about." + +"Very well, sir," the man responded; and as we parted he crossed the +road, affecting to be going in the opposite direction. + +The house differed but little from the general run of those +old-fashioned residences in the squares about Bloomsbury; three +storeys, a deep basement, with railings in front, and a big hall door, +newly painted dark green, with brass knocker-handle and letter-box. + +The state of the front steps betrayed that the house was tenantless, +for upon them lay wisps of straw and bits of paper, blown there by the +wind. From his pocket Whitlock produced a bunch of skeleton-keys, and +having carefully examined the lock he inserted one after another in an +endeavour to raise the wards. + +"It's fortunate it isn't a very complicated latch," he remarked to me. +Nor did it prove so, for at the fourth attempt the door opened easily, +and we found ourselves within a wide, old-fashioned hall, well and +solidly furnished. + +From without, save perhaps the state of the steps, there was nothing to +show that the place was unoccupied. The blinds were not down, though +lace curtains covered the windows of both the dining-room, on a level +with the street, and the drawing-room above. + +"This is, no doubt, the place mentioned in the anonymous telegram," +Whitlock remarked, looking around. Then, as we entered the dining-room, +and saw the several fine paintings on the walls, the bronzes upon the +high marble mantelshelf, and the plate--a trifle tarnished--on the +sideboard, he added: "And it seems to belong to somebody who's very +well off." + +"Yes. But the Elkingtons only rented it, remember," I remarked, adding, +as the matter flashed across my mind, "have you yet established whether +the man whom we followed to Barnes last night was actually Drayton?" + +"No, not yet. I hope, however, to know for certain this afternoon. Let +us now take a look round the place." + +From room to room we passed. Behind the dining-room was a small +and rather cosy little study, the book-shelves of which I noticed +were filled mostly with works of science and travel, evidently +the collection of a cultured man. Set in the window was a big +writing-table, while upon the floor was a thick Turkey carpet. + +Upstairs were two drawing-rooms thrown into one, solidly and +comfortably furnished. In the cabinets I noted some rare old china +and one or two pieces of antique silver of considerable value. Some +of the furniture, too, was genuine Louis XIV., yet about the room was +something chilly and repellent. The windows being closed, the place +bore a musty odour. + +There was a smaller sitting-room--a boudoir, evidently--on the same +floor, while above the apartments were all bedrooms, each being +furnished with taste combined with comfort. There was nothing cheap +or common about the place. The beds were all comparatively new, the +linen of the very finest quality, the carpets soft and new, and the +decorations of each apartment very tasteful. + +"Well," remarked Whitlock, with a laugh, as we stood in the dining-room +again, "I wonder where those papers are which we are supposed to have +found?" + +"I wonder," I echoed. "But doesn't it strike you that the person who +sent that telegram last night would, expecting you to come here, also +watch the house?" + +"By Jove, Keene, I never thought of that!" he cried. "It seems very +possible that he would. I wonder whether he's watching now--whether he +saw us come in here?" + +"He most likely has, I believe," was my reply. + +Whitlock went carefully to the window and looked up and down. Only the +plain-clothes man, together with a nursemaid wheeling a perambulator +were in sight. + +"In any case," my companion remarked, "he'd keep out of the way. But we +must search this place at once." + +The keen eye of the detective outside had caught sight of Whitlock at +the window. My companion beckoned him, and he came across and entered +the door, which the inspector opened. + +"We're going to look through this house, Snow," Whitlock remarked. +"There may be certain papers hidden away here." + +"If the little old hunchback hasn't taken them away," said the +subordinate officer. + +"He may have done that, of course," Whitlock remarked, "but we must +satisfy ourselves. We'll start with the dining-room." + +With a thoroughness acquired by long practice in the art of searching, +the two officers, whom I also assisted, opened every drawer and +examined every nook and corner of the room. Even the edges of the +square of carpet they turned up, but our search was futile. We found +nothing. + +The study behind seemed a more likely place. Entering there, Whitlock +and I turned our attention at once to the drawers of the writing-table, +while Snow commenced to rout out the cupboards beneath the bookcases. + +The drawers, which we took separately and investigated, had evidently +been cleared by the landlord prior to letting the house, for all we +found were letters and papers which showed the occupant, Mr Edward +Elkington, to have had rather extensive dealings in American and +Canadian railway bonds and stocks, such as Grand Trunk First and Second +Preference and Atchison Adjustment Mortgage Bonds, as well as Mexican +Government Five per Cents, and Japanese Four per Cents, 1921. + +My limited knowledge of the Money Market told me that his investments +were not ill-advised ones, while Whitlock, as he read the letters, +noted on a slip of paper the name and address of the broker who was his +correspondent. + +There were also quantities of letters relating to betting transactions +with firms in Holland, as well as big bunches of newspaper-cuttings +relating to new inventions, new mines, and new industrial enterprises. +To me, it seemed as though the absent Elkington was a speculator on a +pretty large scale. + +"From these letters, this man Elkington seems to have had his fingers +in a good many financial pies," remarked Whitlock, as, seated at the +table, he read letter after letter. Now and again Snow brought forth +the various objects he discovered, but nothing threw any light upon +the mystery, though the correspondence of Mr Edward Elkington was, in +parts, highly interesting and threw considerable light upon his present +occupation, if not upon his past. + +Some of the letters were addressed to the Hôtel Beau Site at Cannes, +showing that he and his wife had spent the previous winter on the +Riviera. + +We turned the library practically inside out, but found no papers +as reported in the mysterious message to Plymouth. One letter was +curious--a letter in a woman's handwriting, and dated from the Birnam +Hotel, at Dunkeld, in the Highlands. It had reference to some debt of +honour of the writer, and begging time in which to pay. Both Whitlock +and myself were of opinion that it was in reference to a gambling debt, +probably at bridge. + +Of letters to Mrs Elkington there were but few, mostly from tradesmen +asking for settlement of their accounts. + +Upstairs in the boudoir we found a few odd letters of hers, but they +told us very little beyond the fact that she possessed an intimate lady +friend who signed herself Amy, and who wrote from Bailey's Hotel. One +or two of these letters, which my friend handed to me for my opinion, +were curiously vague, and evidently possessed a meaning which was not +that shown upon the face of them. + +One had reference to a supper at the Savoy at which somebody named +"Charlie" was present. "I have an idea," wrote the lady, "that Charlie +suspects something. If he does, then it would be best to throw up the +whole affair, at least for another year. We cannot afford to risk +failure, as you know, my dear. So I leave it to you to ascertain how +much the man really knows." + +"That's rather curious," I remarked, handing it back to Whitlock. "I +wonder who the lady is? The letter is dated, as you see, about a month +ago." + +"Yes, it's a little suspicious, certainly," replied the inspector. "I +can't see to what it refers." + +"Neither do I. But we might discover if any lady is staying at Bailey's +whose Christian name is Amy--eh?" + +"Ah!" remarked Whitlock, doubtfully. "I daresay during the past month +there have been lots of Amys. Besides, married women seldom register +their Christian names at hotels." + +"But she may be unmarried." + +"No," he replied decisively; "that isn't the letter of a girl." + +Snow was foraging about the room, taking an eager delight in examining +everything, when, addressing his superior, he suddenly exclaimed-- + +"Is this anything, sir?" + +I looked up quickly in his direction. + +He had something in his hand--something the sight of which held us both +rigid in amazement. + +I stood aghast. Whitlock and I looked at each other in blank silence. + +Neither of us uttered a word. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX + + IN WHICH ANOTHER DISCOVERY IS MADE + + +The man Snow held up before our eyes a cabinet photograph which he had +found in the drawer of an old-fashioned oak bureau. + +No second glance was required by either Whitlock or myself to recognise +it as a portrait of a person we had both seen. + +It was the picture of a beautiful girl in a slightly _dêcolleté_ dinner +bodice--the unknown girl who had been so brutally murdered at Barnes! + +Whitlock took it and examined it intently. Gazing upon it, I saw that +it had been taken by a well-known photographer in Bond Street--a sepia +print mounted upon a large grey card. There was a number pencilled upon +the back which would, no doubt, result in the name of the unknown girl +being discovered. + +Had the object of the sender of that forged Press message been to +direct our attention to that portrait? + +The face was one with merry, laughing eyes, quite charming, but, alas! +different, indeed, to the cold, grey, expressionless countenance I +had seen when the attendant of the mortuary-chamber had reverently +displaced the white shroud that covered it. + +"You recognise her?" asked Whitlock, looking at me curiously. + +"Of course," I said. "To mistake is impossible." + +"We shall now discover something," he said in a tone of confidence. +"At least we shall know her name--which will be something towards the +solution of the problem." + +"Yes; but does it not strike you as curious that our identification of +the victim is predicted in the mysterious Press message?" I remarked. + +"That message was sent with an ulterior motive, depend upon it," +my friend replied. "Remember that there was an imputation against +yourself. By whom?" + +"Ah! that's a point we have yet to clear up," I said. "As far as I +know, I have no enemy capable of placing upon me suspicion of having +murdered a woman." + +"And an uncommonly pretty woman into the bargain," Whitlock added, +his eyes still upon the photograph. "We must lose no time in making +inquiries of the photographer." + +"I suppose she could not have been Mrs Elkington?" I suggested. +"Remember, husband and wife only left this house quite a short time +ago." + +"About a fortnight, I think," said Snow. "Nobody seems to know exactly +when they went." + +"I don't think that," Whitlock remarked. "She hadn't any wedding-ring +when found. She may be a friend of these Elkingtons. If so, they +probably know something about the affair. At anyrate, we'll see." Then, +turning to Snow, he added: "You'd better turn out the whole of that +bureau. There may be something further there." + +The man continued his work of investigation quietly and methodically, +while we both stood aside watching. + +"The whole thing is utterly amazing," Whitlock declared. "One would +almost think that it is the murderer himself who, putting us upon the +right scent, is at the same time cleverly implicating persons who've +had nothing to do with the matter." + +"Well, my dear fellow," I exclaimed, "I hope you don't think that I've +had anything to do with it!" + +"Of course not," he replied frankly. "But what I can't discern is +the motive why you should be condemned. There are points which are +conclusive against yourself, you know." + +"Which points? You mean what was stated in the message last night?" + +"That--and others." + +"What others?" + +"Well--we needn't go into them, need we, Keene?" he said. "You have an +enemy--a bitter enemy--that's very certain." + +"Yes; and, what's more, he's a secret enemy," I declared angrily. "If I +knew who it was I could fight him with his own weapons. As it is, I'm +in the dark--completely in the dark!" + +"You won't always be so," he said encouragingly. "This photograph will +shed some light upon the affair, without a doubt." + +Whitlock was in ignorance of my love for Daisy--the woman we had +watched on the previous night. Surely she could not be my secret enemy. + +Day by day the mystery was now increasing. From the first moment I had +gone down to Barnes to investigate, until the present, not a glimmer +of light had been shed upon the astounding affair. We certainly had +made several very curious discoveries, but where had they led us? Into +a _cul-de-sac_ always! Whoever had engineered those two Press messages +had done so with great tact and cleverness. Besides, he was aware of +much more of the truth than we were. We were groping in a maze of +mystery, and he, secure in his anonymity, seemed to hold us in the +hollow of his unscrupulous hand. + +For over an hour we searched that house high and low, rummaging in all +likely corners where any papers might be concealed, but found nothing. +The mention of papers in that mysterious Press message had evidently +been made in order to induce us to search and find the portrait of the +victim. + +That the recent tenants of that house were well-off was patent on every +hand. Some of the correspondence we found was couched in a language +that, no doubt, had a double meaning, but whether it concerned some +great plot or not we could not determine. + +Snow hunted about like a fox-terrier. Some of the things he had brought +to light were of interest and also puzzling, but there was nothing save +the portrait which really led us further towards a solution of the +problem. + +"I wonder why the Elkingtons have suddenly left?" I queried. + +"We shall perhaps discover that later on," Whitlock said, after giving +some directions to Snow. "The chief point which puzzles me at the +moment is the reason why the little old hunchback comes here in secret. +There is some object in it. But what? He certainly does not come here +to see anyone." + +"To see after the place, I suppose," was my remark. + +"But isn't it a rather unusual hour to come?" my companion queried. "It +seems as though he has no wish that the neighbours should be aware of +his visits, so he comes when all is quiet and goes away before people +are awake." + +"One bed has been recently slept in, sir," Snow said. "Second-floor +back." + +"Not by our deformed friend, I think," answered his superior. + +Upon the mantelshelf between two bronzes was one of those clocks which, +beneath glass shades, go for a year with once winding. Its pendulum was +still revolving, and its face showed that it was near eleven. I was in +time to catch the first edition of the _Evening Herald_. + +"Look here, Whitlock," I said, a moment later. "I'd very much like to +publish the fact that the photograph has been found." + +"You can if you like, Keene," he surprised me by replying. "Only no +word must be said of how or where it has been discovered. You can +merely say that exclusive information reaching the _Herald_ makes it +plain that the police are in possession of a photograph of the dead +woman which will lead to her identification." + +"And may I not add that the portrait came into the hands of the +police in a mysterious manner? Such a statement adds a flavour to the +information, you know," I laughed. "The _Herald_ public love a spice of +mystery." + +"I know they do," he said, also smiling. "Well, if you like, say what +you suggest. Only, no more, remember--not a word more without first +consulting me. Perhaps the publication of this bare fact will induce +our unknown friend who telegraphs news to the west of England to let +out a little more." + +"Right!" I exclaimed. "There's a telephone, I noticed, in the study. +Excuse me a moment." + +From the study table I took up the receiver, and in a few moments was +talking with "Joyful Jimmy." + +"Where are you, Keene? I've been ringing up your chambers for an hour +and got no answer. I want you to go down to Beckton Gasworks at once--a +strike on there," he snapped in his querulous voice. + +"I can't. I'm on the Barnes mystery," was my reply. + +"Oh, hang the Barnes mystery! What's the use of pottering about it any +further? It's quite dead now." + +"No, it isn't. I've got some good stuff this morning. Will you take it +down?" + +"Hold the line. I'll get one of the subs." + +"But I can't go to Beckton. You really must send somebody else," I +protested. + +The response was a grunt of dissatisfaction. The Marvin grunt was well +known in the office of the _Evening Herald_. Then a moment later the +voice of one of the sub-editors was heard, and to him I dictated what +was to appear in the next edition of the paper--a message very similar +to the one Whitlock had suggested. + +"There seems something very extraordinary about that case," remarked +the sub-editor, after I had finished. "The P.A. have just sent out a +warning on their tape not to accept any of their messages regarding the +affair without first making inquiry. It seems that somebody has been +forging Press messages into the country. At least, that's what we hear." + +"Yes," I said, "I know all about it. Somebody sent a sensational yarn +down to Plymouth and signed it 'P.A.'" + +"A joke--eh?" + +"Yes, I suppose so," was my careless answer. "Good-bye." + +And I rang off. + +Half an hour later we all three left the house quietly, without +attracting attention. Snow turned sharply to the left, having orders to +continue to keep watch upon the place while I walked with Whitlock into +Russell Square. + +At the corner by the railings stood an old newsman with a bundle +of _Evening Heralds_ under his arm; while attached to the railings +themselves was a contents-bill, bearing in big letters, "Barnes +Mystery: Extraordinary Discovery!" + +"They haven't been long about it," my friend remarked, as he passed. +"But there--you people down at the _Herald_ are the greatest hustlers +in London. We believe in smartness of action at Scotland Yard, but I +must confess we can't hold a candle to you." + +"Not when the Press report things before they've actually happened," I +remarked, laughing. + +"No; you're right. Those telegrams are really most weird and +extraordinary. I confess I can't make them out at all." + +"Nor anybody else," I said. "If we could only publish that in the +_Herald_ we should create a first-class sensation." + +"Ah! you journalists are for ever looking out for opportunities to +give the public spasms," he laughed. "But our object is always to do +things as quietly and unobtrusively as ever we can. We don't believe in +sensation, Keene." + +"But we do. The _Evening Herald_ wouldn't have any circulation at all +if it were not that it gave the day's stories picturesquely." + +"With embroidery," he added. + +"Well--sometimes," I admitted. + +"Ah!" he said, "we can't afford to deal in fictions, as you can. A +contradiction next day does you no harm. With us a contradiction might +mean an action against us for damages for false arrest. Let's take that +cab down to the photographer and hear what he has to say." + + + + + CHAPTER XX + + THE PHOTOGRAPHER TELLS HIS STORY + + +A quarter of an hour later we alighted in Bond Street and entered the +photographer's in question. The young lady called down the manager--a +tall, slim young man, with fuzzy hair trimmed to look artistic, and a +big black flowing cravat. + +Whitlock briefly explained that he was an officer of the Criminal +Investigation Department and was engaged upon an important case, though +he did not refer to its nature. + +"I have here," he went on, "a photograph which has been discovered. I +would be glad if you will kindly let me know under what circumstances +it was taken by you, and, further--what is perhaps more important--the +name of the original." + +The young man in frock-coat looked at the pencilled reference number, +and answered-- + +"I don't think that will be very difficult. If you don't mind waiting a +few minutes I'll look it up." + +So while he disappeared to consult his books we made a tour of the +place, inspecting the various specimens of poses, styles, enlargements +and miniatures displayed for the attraction of the women who come there +in their best frocks to have their counterfeit presentments transferred +to paper. + +A photographer's shop is always amusing. The various expressions +upon the faces of the sitters--the straight, demure look upon the +countenance of the _débutante_, the saucy laugh of the professional +actress, the self-satisfied smirk upon the matronly mother, and the +seductive grin upon the hag of sixty trying to look sixteen--always +afford the philosopher food for reflection. Many women, indeed, owe +much to their photographer. A first-class artist can "flatter" an ugly +woman till she peers out at you a perfect beauty. Actresses know that, +and never fail to take advantage of it. + +The young man in frock-coat returned in about five minutes, carrying a +big and rather shabby ledger, saying-- + +"I see from the entry that the picture was taken in September last +year. The sitter came with a gentleman who apparently gave the name +of Frederick Stonor, and his address Kazan House, South Cliff, +Scarborough. The dozen sepia prints were paid for at the time, and were +sent by post to Scarborough seven days later." + +"Then the lady's name was not given?" Whitlock remarked disappointedly. + +"No. Sometimes when a gentleman pays for the prints the lady's name is +not given," the young man said, smiling. "It was so in this case." + +He was, no doubt, wondering why Scotland Yard was taking such an +unusual interest in the lady in question. + +"Who took the picture?" + +"I did myself," was the reply. "I recollect the lady quite well." + +"And the man?" + +"He was stout and middle-aged. I quite remember remarking within myself +that the pair did not seem to be on very good terms." + +At this Whitlock pricked up his ears. + +"What caused you to suspect this?" + +"From her inert, careless manner she seemed as though she were entirely +under his influence, and did his bidding under compulsion. I was much +struck by this, because when I posed her before the camera she moved +mechanically, and sighed as though there rested upon her a great weight +of sorrow." + +"She struck you as a lady or--or a business girl?" + +"A lady--most decidedly. She spoke as one." + +"And the man Stonor?" + +"He was in a lower station, evidently, than herself. Rather +overdressed, I thought. He wore a silk hat and frock-coat, but was not +at all at home in them." + +"You could recognise him again?" + +"Anywhere. He had coarse features and fat hands." + +"She had no wedding ring?" asked the inspector. + +"She wore gloves." + +"Then you have no idea of her name?" + +"He called her some pet name, but it was a foreign one, which I could +not distinctly catch. What, however, riveted the sitting in question +upon my mind was her utter disregard for everything--the state of +her hair, her dress, pose, style of portrait--everything. It seemed +as though he had compelled her to come and have her picture taken. +Besides, there was another fact which was curious." + +"And what was that?" inquired my friend, eagerly. + +"Well, about a month ago a tall, consumptive-looking man, rather +shabbily dressed, brought in the number of this same photograph and +asked me to make a print, saying that he was prepared to pay for it. I, +of course, refused. We never sell copies of ladies' portraits without +the sitter's permission, or unless it is our copyright." + +"Did he say why he wanted one?" + +"He explained that the lady had died, and that he wished for a +photograph as souvenir." + +"And that was a month ago?" my companion exclaimed. + +"Yes." + +Whitlock and I exchanged glances. Again was an event declared to have +taken place before it had really happened! + +"What kind of person was he--young or old?" + +"About thirty, sandy-haired and cadaverous-looking. When he entered +here I took him to be a cadger, so shabby were his clothes; yet he +offered me half a guinea for a print." + +"Curious." + +"Yes; I thought so at the time. His appearance recalled the incident of +the taking of the portrait to my memory. And now, when you come from +Scotland Yard, it makes the affair quite mysterious. Do you suspect +her? Has she done anything wrong?" he inquired, itching to know the +real reason of the inquiries. + +"Oh, no, not in the least," Whitlock declared. "I am simply making some +inquiries into the friends of certain persons--confidential inquiries. +You well understand. I would willingly tell you the whole matter, but, +at present, any mention of it might defeat the ends of justice." + +"Of course," said the young man, nodding his head slowly, "I quite +understand. I would help you further if it lay in my power. But I, +unfortunately, have no knowledge of the young lady's name. And now, I +suppose, she is dead. Is that so?" + +"Yes, she is dead," answered Whitlock, telling the truth. + +"If you found the man at Scarborough, then you might learn her name." + +"Yes. I think that must be the direction of our next inquiries," my +companion said, and, thanking the photographer's manager, we went out +together into the life and movement of Bond Street. + +"It's a pity we can't establish the poor girl's identity," he said, +when we were outside. Then, glancing at his watch, he remarked that he +was due at Scotland Yard. + +"And what about Scarborough?" I inquired. "If you are going down I'd +like to come with you." + +"With pleasure. I shall go to-night. There's a train from King's Cross +a little after six which would land us down there before midnight. +There's a restaurant-car. Look up the exact time in the 'A B C,' and +meet me at the station. Good-bye for the present." + +And next moment he was in a hansom going towards Piccadilly. + +I ran down to the office, lunched at the Savage, and punctually at the +hour appointed by Daisy approached the well-known seat in Kensington +Gardens which had so often been our trysting-place. + +Entering from Kensington Gore by Queen's Gate, I turned to the right +and afterwards to the left, behind the Albert Memorial. There is a +narrow and unfrequented path which leads out into the wider way towards +the Serpentine, and as I walked, for it yet wanted five minutes to +four, the sky was grey and the chill wind caused a faint rustle in the +leaves above, precursory of rain. The afternoon was a dull, dispiriting +one, in keeping with my own feeling of insecurity and mystery. + +There was no one in the vicinity, therefore I cast myself upon the +seat, lit a cigarette, and waited. Behind me sounded the distant whirr +of the motor 'buses and the warning horns of private cars. Before +me, away beyond the limits of the gardens, arose the low roar of the +traffic in Bayswater. + +A dilatory, grey-cloaked nursemaid wheeling a perambulator passed me +by, but there was no other sign of life upon that quiet, unfrequented +path so near the fevered heart of London. In these vibrating days of +noise, hustle, and the motor 'bus, the quiet spots in our Metropolis +are indeed few; but, fortunately, Kensington Gardens still retains its +old-world rural charm, the ancient trees still bud and blossom and +spread their shade, and the early spring flowers still put forth their +carpet of colour and fade again ere they become soiled by the smuts of +the myriad chimneys. + +Around me, as I sat beneath the huge beech, the leaves, were already +beginning to flutter lightly to the ground as each windy gust caused +the great boughs to wave. The murky sky was slowly darkening, and all +around seemed sad and gloomy--that dull greyness that is, alas! too +often apparent at the close of the London day. + +Reflecting deeply as I sat there, I suddenly saw my well-beloved +appear round the bend in the path, and rose quickly to meet her. She +looked neat in a pale brown gown trimmed with white, a black hat, and +a veil which only served to heighten her sweet beauty. Her attire +never possessed that note of loudness usually inseparable from the +variety artiste, but, on the contrary, there was an air of modesty and +a display of taste which made her own natural refinement apparent. +Though on the stage she possessed all the wild abandon of the French +_chanteuse_, yet in private life she was quiet and retiring and +unassuming. + +"Daisy!" I cried, gladly taking her little, white gloved hand. + +"Victor! I'm so glad you were able to meet me," she said. Her voice +seemed unusual. In an instant I recollected all those extraordinary +events of the past night. + +In her dark eyes was a look which puzzled me, a hard glance which I had +never seen there before. What could it mean? + +"You know, dearest," I said, "that when in London I always put +everything aside in order to be with you for a few moments--don't you?" + +"Yes; I suppose you do," was her rather inert response, as we walked to +the seat. + +As we sat together I took her hand and raised it reverently to my lips. +Our eyes met in silence. Neither of us spoke. + +Why did she take the precaution to meet me in secret when she went with +that young, well-dressed clubman openly to the Gambrinus, and travelled +about with him in cabs after midnight? + +I was the first to speak. + +"I'm sorry, dearest, I couldn't come to see you do your turn last +night, but I was busy. I had to be down at the office." + +"Perhaps it was as well," she said. "Annie may grow suspicious if she +sees you about too often." Her reply was certainly a cold one. She, of +course, never dreamed that I had been watching all her movements. + +"But why should we fear Annie?" I protested. "My love for you, my +darling, is surely an honourable one. Your father knows me well, +and----" + +"And he would never let us marry, I'm afraid, Victor," she interrupted. + +"Why?" + +"Because----" and then she hesitated. It seemed to be on the tip of +her tongue to tell me something, but on reflection she appeared to be +resolved to remain silent. + +"Because--well, for what reason?" I asked, looking straight into her +beautiful eyes through the veil. + +But her perfect countenance was sphinx-like. + +"I--I don't exactly know," she faltered, in a voice which told me that +she was not speaking the truth. + +"He has said something about me--something to my detriment--eh? Come, +tell me the truth, Daisy," I urged in all seriousness. + +"He admires you in your profession, Victor, but I have reason for +anticipating that he would never consent to my marriage with you." + +"Why?" + +"Because he is always declaring that journalism is a profession far +too precarious. A doctor or a barrister gains experience by age and +progresses in prosperity; but a journalist, he says, as he grows older +goes down the ladder. Only young men are wanted nowadays, and the elder +Pressmen are cast aside as sucked oranges." + +"By some papers only. There are, happily, other honourable journals +which still retain the men who have been faithful in a life-long +service," I said. + +"Yes, the old-fashioned and therefore decaying papers," was her answer. +"No. Your profession is like my own. When we are young we are popular, +but with the first sign of age we are no longer wanted. In both Press +and Stage life youth and energy are required." + +"And your father has been saying these things--eh?" I asked. "Then he +suspects, perhaps?" + +"I don't know. Sometimes I believe he does," she replied, glancing +again into my eyes. "Do you remember when you came to our house the +other Sunday evening?" + +"Yes. But I am sure I took no undue notice of you," I declared. + +"It was injudicious," she said. "You should have declined his +invitation, for how could we be in the same room without unconsciously +betraying our affection? As it was, my father chaffed me after you had +left." + +"What did he say?" I asked anxiously. + +"He told me that he was certain you were fond of me, and warned me to +have nothing whatever to do with you." + +"Why?" + +"He pointed out that with my popularity and my talent, as he calls it, +I could make a rich marriage." + +"Rich marriage!" I cried. "Do you think, my darling, that wealth will +buy you domestic happiness? Have you not, among your own friends, girls +who have married for money--and have soon repented very bitterly? I +have." + +"I know! I know!" she exclaimed quickly. "But--well--I ought not to +have told you what I have, Victor. It will cause you to be bad friends +with my father." + +"Not at all. I'm no longer on the _Evening Herald_, and shall in future +see but little of him. Besides, if I know that you still love me, +Daisy, why need I care for his attempt to prejudice me in your eyes?" + +Her eyes were downcast. She was thoughtfully tracing a line upon the +gravel with the ferrule of her umbrella. + +She made no response. + +"Speak!" I said, taking her hand in mine. "Tell me, darling, whether +you really do love me still, or--or whether----" + +I could not conclude the sentence, for the hateful vision of that +man in black overcoat and crush-hat--the man suspected to be Francis +Drayton!--arose before my eyes. + +I felt her hand trembling in mine. She dare not raise her eyes. + +For some moments I remained, still holding her hand in mine, and +trying to fathom her thoughts. I loved her with a pure and passionate +affection; my heart, my very soul, was hers. And yet the discovery of +the previous night had frozen my very being. + +Slowly, yet firmly, she withdrew her hand from mine, her breast heaving +and falling. I saw in her attitude an intention to evade my question. + +"Will you not tell me the truth, Daisy?" I asked in a low, earnest +voice. "If you love another, why not acknowledge it?" + +At last she found tongue, and, turning to me as she braced herself for +an effort, she said-- + +"Before I answer your questions, Victor, first answer one which I have +come here to-day to put to you. Answer 'Yes' or 'No.'" + +"Well," I said, amazed at the extraordinary demeanour of the woman +to whom I was so utterly devoted; "I am all attention. What is your +question?" + +Again there was silence. + +At last she spoke, very slowly and distinctly. + +And her words revealed to me a ghastly truth. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI + + REVEALS THE GULF + + +As I did not reply she repeated her question. + +"Do you know the reason Mr Little has left London, Victor?" she asked. + +Her eyes were fixed upon me calmly and seriously. Her glance was one +of strange suspicion. In her beautiful countenance was a look which I +had never seen before. She had bent and, through her veil, was gazing +straight into my eyes. + +"The reason?" I faltered. "How should I know? He goes and comes so +often without explaining any reason." + +"H'm!" + +It was all she responded, but it signified much doubt and suspicion. +What story, I wondered, had that young fop in dress-clothes been +telling her? + +"And what can Julian Little's absence from London concern your love for +me?" I asked, again taking her hand. But once more she withdrew it, +slowly but very firmly. + +"You are changed, Daisy," I said in a low tone of reproach. "Why?" + +"Changed!" she cried, suddenly awakened to the fact that I had noticed +her unusual demeanour. "Changed! Why, I'm sure I'm not! How?" + +"Because I ask you a simple little question, and you refuse to reply." + +"You silly boy," she exclaimed. But her laugh was hollow and unreal. I +saw that her mind was overshadowed; that she held some secret which she +intended to withhold from me. + +It was upon the tip of my tongue to mention the man who had accompanied +her on the previous night, but I refrained. I did not wish that she +should know that I had spied upon her. Hitherto I had trusted her +implicitly, never dreaming that she would play me false; that she +denied me the pleasure of meeting her at night in order to accept the +companionship of another man. + +"Why am I silly?" I asked earnestly. "I love you, Daisy. You surely +know that?" + +"Of course I do," she replied. "You have told me so." + +"And do you not believe it?" I cried, opening my eyes widely at her +strange inertness. + +She paused before replying. + +"Well--I suppose I must," she said, with a slight sigh. + +"I don't follow you at all," I said quite frankly. "I love you, Daisy, +truly and devotedly; while you have yourself many times told me that +you reciprocate my affection. Yet when I ask you to repeat those words +that are so reassuring to me, those words of love from your own lips, +you first ask me the reason Julian has left London. You know quite well +that Julian, as special correspondent, comes and goes at a moment's +notice. Sometimes, even at his dinner, he is interrupted by Wakeley on +the 'phone, receives orders, and a quarter of an hour afterwards he is +in a cab on his way to the railway station. Because we have chambers +together it is no reason why he should share with me his confidences. +Indeed, I know very little, I can assure you. He's by nature very close +about his own affairs." + +Daisy again fixed her fine eyes straight upon mine. Her look was one of +disbelief and suspicion. + +"Then you tell me you are unaware why Julian has gone to Servia?" + +"Nothing more than that he received some information predicting a +disturbance in Belgrade," I replied. + +"No; I mean his private reason?" + +"Certainly not." + +"You are quite certain that his journey has nothing to do with +yourself? I mean that it does not concern your own future?" she said +slowly, still looking at me fixedly. + +"I really don't understand you, darling," I said. + +She smiled and nodded her head slightly, expressive of disbelief. + +"You appear to think, dearest, that I'm trying to deceive you about +something," I cried. "But I swear I am not. I cannot see why you are +asking these extraordinary questions. What have they to do with our +mutual love?" + +"Much," she replied in a low voice--and I saw how changed was her +manner. + +"But, Daisy," I exclaimed, bending to her, "tell me what has happened! +Why are you like this? It is surely not like you?" + +All the mysterious details of that extraordinary tragedy flashed +through my mind in an instant. Was it possible that the well-dressed +young club-lounger was her lover after all? Was it possible that there +was some foul plot against me and my own happiness? Fortunately, +Whitlock disbelieved the amazing and anonymous allegation that a young +journalist--myself, it was plainly hinted--was guilty of the crime. But +did it not seem more than possible that the plot, whatever it was, had +for its object my separation from this sweet-faced, dainty girl to whom +I was so deeply devoted? + +I looked into her beautiful countenance in silence. What could I +say? Pause for a moment and reflect what you would have said in such +curiously delicate circumstances. + +"You affect not to understand me, Victor," she said in a low, cold +voice. + +"All I can understand," I said in a tone of reproach, "is that you are +tired of me; that, perhaps, you have found someone whom you can love +better than myself--someone who has taken my place in your heart," I +added pointedly, watching her face the while. I saw that she bit her +lip, while her cheeks went a trifle paler, and I felt that I had spoken +the truth. + +She gave vent to a hollow laugh. + +"How ridiculous!" she cried. "Then you accuse me, Victor, of deceiving +you?" + +"I accuse you of nothing, dearest," was my quick response. "I am only +expressing surprise at your extraordinary attitude." Would that I could +speak to her openly, but I dare not, for it would have betrayed the +fact of my watchfulness upon her on the previous night. + +Was it possible that the man who had accompanied her was really +Drayton? If so, what connection had he with that house of grim shadow +in Barnes? + +"It is of your attitude I complain," Daisy said reproachfully. "I ask +you a simple question to which you will not reply." + +"No," I protested. "I asked you whether your love for me was the same, +but you refuse to answer. You ask me a question regarding Julian +Little instead. Come," I said, taking her hand again, "don't let us +quarrel, darling. You know how very sincere is my affection for you; +that without you my life is a perfect blank. Thoughts of you and of our +future happiness stir me to do my best in my profession. They call me a +rising man--but why? Because I struggle and strive for your dear sake. +Will you not tell me once again that you are the same to me as ever?" I +whispered, bending earnestly to her. + +I felt a slight shudder run through her. Her little hand trembled +within my own. Her lips quivered. She tried to speak, but it seemed +as though, in that great struggle going on within her, she wished to +explain to me something, and yet could not bring herself to do so. + +She was silent. + +Never before had she failed to respond to my declaration of love, and +until the past night I had reposed every confidence in her. Though +living in that wild, restless world of the variety song and dance, a +world full of temptations and pitfalls for the unwary, yet she was +sweet, innocent, and pure, a womanly woman possessing all the grace, +modesty, and tenderness of her sex. But her adventure of that night +had caused me a storm of indignation, and a dark cloud of suspicion +overshadowed my whole being. + +Was she playing me false? + +I repeated my words, but she made no response. Her face was pale to +the lips; her whole attitude was that of a woman seeking to control +herself, determined not to speak out the truth. + +"If you refuse to reply, Daisy, what am I to think?" I asked in a tone +of deep regret. + +She was sitting rigid and motionless. For nearly five minutes she did +not utter a word, but sat staring straight before her. + +"Why were you so deeply interested in my friend Little?" I asked. +"Come, do tell me, dearest, and let us end all this." + +"I--I want to know the truth," she stammered. + +"About what?" + +"About Mr Little's sudden journey to Servia." + +"But I've told you everything I know," I declared. "He left a note for +me saying that he had gone." + +"Why?" + +"The secret reason of his journey--if there be any secret one, +dearest--is known to himself alone. I had no idea of his intention to +leave. Indeed, only on the previous night I heard him speaking over the +'phone to the Chief regarding a journey to Canada, to 'do' a conference +in Quebec." + +"Tell me the truth, Victor," she said, turning again to me. "Are you in +utter ignorance of the real motive of his sudden departure?" + +"Of course!" I exclaimed in surprise. "I've already told you everything +I know about it." + +"But you've not referred to the--the mystery," she said, in a low, hard +voice. + +"Mystery! What mystery?" + +"You know well enough to what I refer," she said, her face changing. +"And you know well enough that Julian Little has gone to Belgrade in +your interests. And--and yet you dare to repeat your love for me!" + +I half rose from the seat, then sank back again, utterly staggered by +her words. Julian gone to Servia in my interests! What could she mean? + +"I really don't understand you, Daisy," was all I could reply. + +"Because you do not wish to do so," was her cold response. + +Well did I recollect Whitlock's attitude towards my friend on the +night of his call at Gray's Inn. Had not that fact been puzzling me to +distraction? Why had Julian left so suddenly, and why was Whitlock so +very anxious daily for news of him if there was not some suspicion upon +him? + +No. That man suspected to be Drayton had made some false accusation +against me, without a doubt. Had those forged Press messages actually +emanated from him? At anyrate, his identity with Francis Drayton would, +ere long, be established or negatived, and it was equally certain that +neither he nor Daisy dreamed that they had been watched and followed on +the previous night. + +"You mistake me, Daisy," I said at last, when I had sufficiently +recovered from my surprise. "To my knowledge Julian Little has no +interests to serve on my behalf in his sudden journey. I can therefore +only surmise that you have been given information which is false and +baseless. You appear to be making some mysterious allegation against +myself and Little. Why not be frank and tell me what it is, so that, if +false, I can refute it? This," I went on, "is surely not like your old +self, dearest. Put yourself for a moment in my place, charged with some +mysterious misdemeanour by the very woman whom I love better than my +own life, and----" + +"Let us leave love out of the question at present, Victor," she said, +interrupting. "We are dealing with facts." + +"And is not my strong affection for you a fact, Daisy?" I protested. +"Have we not been happy in each other's love all these months? Have we +not often sat upon this very seat, careless of all other things in the +world; have we not lived for each other alone, heedless of all around; +and yet," I added with deep reproach, "you call me here this afternoon +to tell me that we need not mention our affection." + +"Because you refuse to clear up the mystery which has surrounded you." + +"But as far as I know there is no mystery! I love no other woman, and +my movements are all open and well known." + +She smiled with a slight cynicism. Was it possible that she had grown +jealous. If so, of whom? Of late I had not been out in society much, +and had hardly spoken to any other woman. Her whole attitude was +sphinx-like. + +Slowly she rose, saying, "There is no use for me to remain. Let us +part." + +"Part! You mean to leave me, Daisy!" I cried, in dismay, "because +of this--because----Well, I suppose," I added, half choked with +emotion--"I suppose you have found another love--you, my own dearest +love! This is heartless, cruel. I never dreamed that you, my own dear +heart, would treat me thus." + +"Good-bye," she said, very coldly, putting forth her hand. "I can never +trust a man farther who attempts to deceive me as you have done." + +"Deceive you!" I cried. "Why, before Heaven! I've never attempted +to do such a thing! Who has cast this veil of mystery about me? An +enemy--perhaps a man who loves you and has become my rival. But if he +has stolen your love he shall reckon with me," I added in anger. + +"Good-bye, Victor," was all she said, for next instant she turned, and +I stood watching her receding figure in the falling dusk, too astounded +to follow; so utterly astonished that I was powerless. + +The sudden blow had stunned me. A mystery had fallen upon me--me! +But what was it? Why did she refuse to tell me, and thus allow me no +opportunity of clearing myself of any suspicion? + +But she had turned the bend in the path, and the sun of my life had set +for ever. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII + + THE DOUBLE LIFE + + +How long I stood there I cannot tell. + +Once I was on the point of rushing after her and demanding to know the +truth concerning that young stranger of the previous night: the man who +had apparently brought some false charge against me. But I restrained +myself, for I saw that the meeting had been arranged purposely to break +off our secret engagement. + +Such an issue as this I had never dreamed. So implicitly had I trusted +her that it had never, for one moment, crossed my mind that she could +play me false. But now, as I stood there in the falling London dusk, +the distant roar of traffic sounding away behind the trees, a feeling +of utter loneliness fell upon me; that soul-killing loneliness that the +broken-hearted can feel even in the midst of the hurry and bustle of +our great Metropolis. + +She was a stage-woman--a variety artiste. All that I had read regarding +such people crowded up in my mind; how their enemies said, for a woman +to make sufficient to live upon was an utter impossibility if she still +wished to retain her self-respect. I remembered the denunciation of my +late brother-journalist, Clement Scott, whom I so often used to meet, +and who said, "No woman can succeed on the stage without sacrificing +her honour." I recollected what a storm of abuse was hurled upon him +because he had dared to state this opinion, and it now became forced +upon me how the public--the respectable suburban audiences who go to +the theatres and music-halls--close their eyes to what is so palpably +placed before them. Until that moment of my bitter awakening, I, like +all the others, had closed my eyes and endeavoured to believe the stage +an eminently respectable profession. Yet the truth did not admit of +argument. To-day, with the decadence of the legitimate drama, and the +rapid advancement of variety shows and so-called musical comedy, our +stages are not trodden by actresses or singers, but in many cases by +women who flaunt their meretricious charms with impunity and parade +the stage for the advancement of their own ends. Perhaps my views were +embittered by the thought of my beloved's conduct to me. + +Had not Daisy deceived me all along? Had I not been fooled by her +pretty speeches and her feigned modesty? Was it possible for a young +girl like her, with beautiful countenance, pretty hair, and good +figure, to have made such rapid strides legitimately in a profession +already over-crowded? Before my eyes arose a vision of her as I so +often saw her, a vision of neat silk stocking, dainty lingerie, low-cut +black bodice trimmed with carnations and glittering with silver +spangles, as she danced and sang before her hundreds of admirers. Her +illuminated number appearing always caused an outburst of applause, for +she was already a popular favourite, whose face laughed at you from the +big boards outside the hall whereat she was appearing, and whose song, +"The Motor Maid," was being whistled by every errand-boy and being +played by every barrel-organ in the suburbs. + +Yet, recollecting all that I had seen, heard, and read regarding the +stage, of which, as a journalist, I possessed inside knowledge, how +could I help in the present circumstances regarding her with suspicion? + +I had been fooled. She had carried the joke to a point where it +could not be carried further. The well-dressed young club-lounger of +the previous night--the man with whom she had sat in the Gambrinus, +laughing and talking so merrily--was, I felt convinced, her lover. + +I clenched my hands, and an angry imprecation escaped my lips. I hated +that man, for he was my most bitter enemy. He had stolen her from me. + +"No!" I cried aloud, still standing at the spot where my love had left +me. "No! I will not think ill of her. I have no proof. I love her, and +while I love her I will not allow this horrible suspicion to enter my +heart. I have believed her to be pure and honourable, believed that +she was the exception to all other women, and I will still retain my +good opinion of her. These thoughts shall not cause me to prejudge +her. It would be cruel and unjust to thus condemn the woman I love so +devotedly. All this to-day is a misunderstanding--a misunderstanding +caused by some infernal plot formed by my secret enemy. She did +love me, I am confident of that. And she shall return to me when I +have discovered the truth of this extraordinary conspiracy to place +suspicion upon me of that mysterious crime." + +I paused, glancing in the direction she had taken. I was alone; no one +had passed. + +"No, Daisy!" I cried bitterly, aloud. "Though to-day you have forsaken +me in favour of that man, you little dream who or what he is. You are +his victim, like myself, and it is my duty, not to denounce you as +worthless, but to save you--yes, my own love, to save you!" + +And, fully resolved, I turned upon my heel and walked back to +Knightsbridge. + +Recollecting my appointment with Whitlock, I hailed a hansom and drove +straight to King's Cross, where, upon the departure platform, I found +him walking up and down with Inspector Kennedy, giving him certain +instructions. The latter was dressed in a smart suit of grey tweed, +while my friend wore a dark brown overcoat and bowler hat. + +"Halloa, Keene!" he cried, when he saw me. "Coming up with me, as you +promised? I'm going to Scarborough by this train," indicating the one +standing at the platform. + +"Well----" I hesitated, for I had brought nothing. + +"Oh, do come up. I've got a seat in the diner for you. We shall change +into the back of the train at Doncaster." + +I again hesitated. + +"Hurry up and get a ticket. Look! there's only three minutes," he said, +glancing at the clock. + +And so, almost before I knew where I was, I found myself in the +dining-car, with the train slowly moving out of the station on its +journey North. + +We had a small table to ourselves, therefore we could talk. + +"Have you discovered whether the man last night was really Drayton?" I +asked in eagerness. + +He smiled, and placing his hand in his breast-pocket produced several +letters and papers. + +One of them was a large white printed form upon which were impressed +ten finger-marks; the identification paper of a criminal from among the +many thousand records kept at Scotland Yard. A second paper, smaller +and something like a large-sized photograph, he placed beside it. + +"Well?" I asked, looking at them both. + +"The four fingers and thumb of the right hand are identical," he said +triumphantly. "I was right, you see, after all." + +"Then he is actually Francis Drayton!" I gasped, feeling that my +revenge was near at hand. + +"The finger-prints never lie, Keene." + +"But how did you get these?" I inquired, indicating the photograph. + +"Quite easily," he laughed. "Last night the man drank at a West End +bar, you'll remember. I simply gave orders that the glass was to be +taken away carefully and left untouched until I sent for it. Three +hours later at the Yard they dusted it over with some of our green +chalk which they find useful, and out came the tell-tale marks which +are photographed there!" + +"By Jove!" I exclaimed; "then there's even a danger of identification +in going to get a drink?" + +"Yes," he laughed. "Men who want to avoid recognition should wear +gloves. Had Drayton worn his gloves we should have been puzzled. But, +as it is, all is plain sailing." + +"All plain sailing!" I echoed. "Then you have a clue?" + +"Well--not exactly," was his rather dubious answer. "We must first +establish the identity of the murdered woman." + +"And of the suicide." + +"The second will be easy when we discover the first. I'm hoping to get +at something to-morrow morning in Scarborough. We shan't be there till +half-past eleven. We'll stay at the Grand. Ever been there before?" + +"Once," I answered, longing to take him into my confidence and tell +him of the interview I had had that afternoon. "But how does the +identification of Drayton affect the affair? Who is he?" + +"The establishment of Drayton's identity puts an altogether new phase +on the affair," he said. "Until this afternoon I believed that certain +surmises I held were correct, but now I find them entirely wrong. We +were following an entirely different line." + +"And the present is the correct one?" + +"I believe it to be. If we meet with success up in Scarborough, we +ought by this time to-morrow to know the names of both women and the +reason for the assassination." + +"And also why the girl lived there alone with the telegraph +instrument?" I added. + +"Yes. That's one of the most mysterious points in the whole case. +But we ought, if we persevere, to be able to clear it up." And as he +replaced the papers he had shown me, I saw that he had with him the +photograph we had discovered in Woburn Square. + +"But tell me about Drayton. He interests me very much," I said. "Of +what offence was he convicted?" + +"His last was a sentence for forgery. He is, it seems, clever with his +pen." + +"He looks a very gentlemanly young man," I remarked. + +"Quite the swell, I admit. Belongs to a good club in Piccadilly--under +another name," Whitlock remarked. "It would astound and horrify the +members of some good West-End clubs if they only knew how many of their +fellow-members are shady characters who have adopted names which they +did not receive at their baptism. I could point out at least a dozen +men who have 'done time' and who now mix in the most select circles, +their friends never dreaming that they report themselves periodically +at some obscure police-station." + +"Yes, the world of London is a strangely complex one," I admitted. +"There must be many black sheep in even the most select clubs. The +successful criminal can easily afford forty guineas entrance fee, +and there are many men who will stand his sponsors for a monetary +consideration. A good name, can, nowadays, as easily be purchased as +a pound of cheese, and the biggest scandal in the Press to-day is +entirely forgotten next week. But this man Drayton," I added, "tell me +more about him." + +"You seem very much interested in the fellow," was Whitlock's reply, +as he went on eating his dinner. "He was released on licence from +Parkhurst on July 11th last year, and for the past eight months has +failed to report himself until three days ago, when he walked into +the police-station at Staines, and gave his address at a cottage in +Feltham, a few miles away. He stated that he had been abroad, and asked +the inspector on duty to place the matter before the Commissioner of +Police in order that his excuse might be accepted. Otherwise he is +liable to be arrested and sent back to complete his term." + +"And has he really been abroad?" + +"I believe so--to Peru. But of that I'm not absolutely certain." + +"Why to Peru? What has he been doing out there? Didn't you say that it +was believed that Drayton had died in Lima." + +"Yes; that's a fact that is extremely puzzling. He went out there with +some motive, and, judging from his present means--for he has money, no +doubt--his journey turned out a very profitable one. So profitable, +indeed, that he told the inspector at Staines that he had decided to +lead an honest life in future. But," Whitlock went on, "you remember +the girl who was with him last night, don't you?" + +"Yes," I said eagerly. "What about her?" + +"Well," he replied, "I've found out one or two very curious facts +concerning her. She's on the music-halls, it seems. But if all is true +that I have learnt to-day, then I believe she knows more about the +affair at Barnes than anybody else." + +"What!" I gasped. "Do you believe that she committed the crime?" + +"I believe nothing, until I have proof," was the officer's calm reply. +"But the mystery concerning her and the double life she leads is--well, +it is, to put it plainly, one of the most remarkable and extraordinary +stories of duplicity and cunning that I've ever heard." + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII + + IN SEARCH OF THE TRUTH + + +"Double life!" I gasped. "Tell me all about her--all that you know!" + +But next instant I saw how, by my anxiety, I was betraying myself, and +recognised how injudicious were my words. + +"I only know what I've been told," replied Whitlock, glancing with +surprise across at me. "She was Daisy Marvin, the music-hall favourite. +You've surely seen her at the Oxford, Pavilion, and other places?" + +"Yes, of course. But what have you heard about her?" I demanded. "I've +always understood that she was a very quiet, respectable girl." + +"Not very many of them about on the music-hall stage, I fancy," +laughed my companion. "I wouldn't care to have a sister of mine in the +profession. I'd rather see her dead first." + +"But you can't condemn a whole community because there are a few black +sheep in it," I protested. + +"Well, my own profession has taken me a lot into the music-hall crowd, +and shown me a good deal of the undercurrents there, Keene. If you +doubt me go to the corner of York Road, Lambeth, any Monday morning. Go +and speak with any of them there waiting for engagements, and ask them +their opinion of their own women, and----" + +"Yes, yes," I said; "but what is this extraordinary story, regarding +Daisy Marvin?" + +"Well, first and foremost, she's on very good terms with Drayton." + +"You mean that he is her lover?" I remarked, a frenzy of jealousy +convulsing me. + +"How can we say that? We know nothing except what we saw with our own +eyes last night." + +"And from that what did you gather!" + +"That he was very fond of her." + +"And that his love was reciprocated?" + +"Yes." + +"And your informant--what does he allege against her!" I went on, eager +to learn the depths of the perfidy of the woman who had so cruelly +deceived me. + +"Several curious things. The truth we shall probably learn up in +Scarborough to-morrow." + +"But are you of opinion that this variety artiste is in any way +implicated in the tragedy at Barnes?" + +"I repeat, I have no opinion--at present." + +"Then I put it in another way. Are your inquiries directed towards such +a theory?" + +"Well, yes; but, remember, my mind is perfectly open. This curious +story concerning a pretty woman does not prejudice me against her in +the least. She may be the cat's-paw of Drayton, which seems to me most +likely." + +"His victim--eh?" + +"In all probability. All women are more or less weak--especially in the +hands of a good-looking young fellow of Drayton's stamp." + +"But surely this is monstrous!" I cried, at risk of causing him further +surprise. "She is very popular, and extremely good-looking, isn't she?" + +"One of the prettiest girls on the London stage, without a doubt," +he admitted. "But you know as well as I do, that it is frequently +a woman's misfortune to be beautiful. Many a pretty woman has, +before now, wished that Mother Nature had given her a different +shape, for plainness and a poor figure save the fair sex from many +unpleasantnesses." + +"But, if we know the truth, cannot we save her from this man?" I +suggested, bending deeply in earnestness across the narrow table of the +dining-car. + +"We don't know the truth yet," was my companion's reply; "we only +surmise it. Therefore how can we act? What can we do in the girl's +interests at present? Besides, it is evident, from her attitude last +night, that she loves the fellow." + +"You think so?" I asked hoarsely. + +"Think so? Why, of course." + +Little did Whitlock dream how deeply his words sank into my wounded +heart, or what a storm of jealousy was raging within me; the fierce +hatred of this criminal who held my own Daisy as wax between his hands. +He should suffer. I swore within myself that he should. My love had +been stolen, and I would punish him relentlessly for the theft. My +whole life in future I would devote to my revenge. + +"You said something about a double life that she is leading. Tell me +about it." + +"I'm not in possession of the details. It has merely been hinted to +me--hinted in such a manner as to predict that I should discover +something concerning her that would amaze me." + +"Deceit and duplicity were hinted at, I suppose?" + +He nodded. + +"The term 'a double life' was used by my informant. That is all I know. +We may discover something more up in Scarborough," Whitlock went on. +"As far as I can see, there are certain points which we may elucidate +up there." + +"But I can't understand it," I said. + +"Neither can I, Keene." + +"Are you convinced that Drayton is the girl's lover? Has anyone told +you so, I mean?" + +"Well, not exactly in plain words." + +"It's been hinted at?" + +He nodded; a mysterious smile playing about his lips. + +"Yes," he answered, after a brief pause, "a good deal has been hinted +at--a good deal that is mysterious and unaccountable. The lady is, I +admit, very pretty, but if all that is whispered is true, the pair are +pretty well matched." + +"What?" I cried, amazed. "Then she is not his victim?" + +"To a certain degree I think she is. But what I mean is that she is not +the very modest and unassuming little person she pretends to be." + +"Yes; but tell me how, Whitlock. You make all sorts of veiled hints, +but give me no real facts." + +"Because I don't know any more facts than you yourself. But," he added, +"you seem uncommonly interested in her. Smitten by her pretty face, eh, +Keene?" he laughed. + +"I am interested in her, and for a very good reason," was my bold +reply. "If she is really Daisy Marvin, then she's the daughter of my +late chief, the news editor of the _Evening Herald_." + +"The dickens she is!" cried Whitlock, opening his eyes widely. "I +didn't know that. Then, if she's his daughter, she would, of course, +know some of the technique of journalism." + +"I believe she does. I've heard, indeed, that she's reported concerts +and social functions for the _Herald_ sometimes." + +My companion grew thoughtful. I wondered if the current of his +reflections ran in the same course as my own, for at that moment it +suddenly occurred to me whether Daisy herself was not author of those +mysterious Press messages that had placed us in possession of those +curious but enigmatical facts. As the daughter of a journalist she +would know the manner in which to write Press telegrams; the forms to +use; and the language in which to couch them. If so, why had she cast +suspicion upon me--why had she screamed when in that house at Barnes? + +I recollected her strange questions and her evident misgiving when we +had been together that afternoon in Kensington Gardens. And Whitlock's +informant, whoever he was, hinted at her double life, whatever that +meant! + +"To me, Keene," my companion was saying, "it seems very remarkable +that, if the young lady lives at home with her father and mother, as it +appears, she should be able to make nocturnal visits as she did last +night. Her movements entirely bear out what I have been told concerning +her." + +"What have you been told?" I demanded eagerly, anxious to ascertain the +exact allegation. + +"No," was his reply, "I never repeat any criticism of a woman's +reputation before I have proof. Words lightly said can never be +recalled, you know, and when a woman's honour is at stake care should +always be exercised before it is besmirched." + +"Then there is an allegation of dishonour," I said, in a hoarse voice. +Ah! that awakening was to me the cruellest blow in all my life. In +those past few hours all my belief in a woman's love, truth and +honour had been shattered. I had struggled not to prejudge her; I had +tried to regard her as the victim of that well-dressed young man who +was a criminal, as a woman to be shielded and rescued from him. But +Whitlock's declarations had sown further seed of suspicion within my +heart, and had caused a fierce passion of hatred against Drayton to +arise within me. Torn by the agony of jealousy I sat there as the train +rushed northward, listening to my companion, who went on, unaware that +he was discussing the woman whom I had loved better than my life. + +"Yes," he said, "I somehow feel convinced that we shall discover some +very remarkable evidence up in Scarborough, and that we shall find +the young variety artiste not quite so innocent as she feigns to be." +Then, after a pause, he asked, as though a sudden thought had occurred +to him, "Do you happen to know whether she knew your friend, Julian +Little?" + +"Why?" + +"Well--I'd like to know." + +"They may have been acquainted," I replied vaguely. "Of course Little +knows lots of people with whom I'm acquainted." + +Whitlock grunted in dissatisfaction. What, I wondered, what could be +at the back of his mind, for he had lapsed into silence. The cloth was +removed from the table, and he took up the evening paper and became +immersed in it. Huntingdon, Peterborough, and Essendine were passed as +we rushed northward towards Grantham, our first stop. + +My companion had lit a cigar, and appeared to be thoroughly enjoying +it, lolling back in the corner, idly reading the day's news. I +furtively watched his countenance, but saw no look of anxiety upon it. +Yes, Whitlock could be perfectly sphinx-like whenever he chose. To +that very fact he attributed much of his success in the elucidation of +mysterious crimes. + +I, too, took up a paper; but only in pretence of reading. My mind was +too torn by conflicting emotions to be able to centre itself upon +what I read. I was reflecting deeply upon those extraordinary hints +of his regarding what he had described as "the double life" of my +well-beloved. What could that mean? What was the true extent of the +perfidy of the woman whom I had loved to call my own--the woman whose +sweet voice had been as music to my ear; whose soft touch had thrilled +me; whose passionate glance I had mistaken for the true love-light? I +had to imagine what could be the truth; Whitlock had refused to satisfy +my curiosity. I knew well how careful he always was never to say evil +of a woman until he had proof of it, whether she were a lady, or a girl +of the people. + +It was a trait of his character that I had hitherto admired. But now, +when it touched my own future, I felt offended. He ought, I argued +within myself, to tell me outright and frankly all that had been told +him concerning Daisy. + +I looked around the car. Near me sat a man and a woman--both young, +both good-looking. I saw how happy they were. Why was I not the same? + +I watched the girl, saw her smiling across the table at her companion, +and noted how sweet and trusting was her face. Faugh! I turned away. +Women were all the same. They laughed and smiled, and kissed and +whispered, but behind were only deceit, treachery, and--a double life! +My own existence had in those past few hours become soured and warped. +I had loved--loved with all the power of my being; loved with a strong +sense of right and duty; loved as an honest man should love the woman +he intends to make his wife. + +And what had been my repayment? Deceit and cold dismissal. The favours +had been thrown to a man who was a criminal. + +Yes; I would stand and denounce him. I, who now knew the truth, would, +even at the risk of incurring Whitlock's displeasure, face them both +and expose to her the naked, hideous truth. + +The train rushed on, and I tried to analyse calmly and without +prejudice my own mind. Such analysis was difficult. I either believed +in the purity of my lost love, or I did not. + +In the circumstances, what could I believe? + +What would you have believed? + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV + + SOME DISCOVERIES IN SCARBOROUGH + + +We had breakfast next morning in that big room of the Grand Hotel at +Scarborough that overlooks the bay. + +Though I was myself an early riser, Whitlock had been up and out a long +time before me. Most probably he had been to have a chat with the Chief +Constable of the town, in order to learn something of the tenants of +Kazan House. But when he returned he made no remark save-- + +"Tired last night--eh, Keene? I've been for a stroll along the +Esplanade. Quite nice this morning," and he looked out upon the +sunlit sea, the green Castle Hill, and the much-talked-of Marine +Drive. Scarborough, without any exaggeration, can be called the Queen +of English watering-places. Once, in the days when our fathers were +courting, it was the mode to go to Scarborough and parade on its +"Spaw," but, alas! nowadays, when there are so many other attractive +places, and when Cook's take the curious "abroad" cheaper than they can +live at home, even beautiful Scarborough, like so many of our lovely +coast towns, is far too much neglected by the wealthiest of English +holiday-makers. + +Breakfast finished, I walked up Huntriss Row with my companion, who +wanted to send telegrams. One of them was, I noticed, in cipher, and +addressed to Scotland Yard. Then we returned, crossed the Spa Bridge, +and ascended to the South Cliff, the select and aristocratic part of +the town, whence splendid views are afforded of the old town, harbour, +and the ruined stronghold upon the grass-grown promontory. + +The morning was delightful, with bright sun and little wind, and +as we passed along the sea-front, with long terraces of big, +substantially-built houses, our eyes were eagerly in search of Kazan +House. Its discovery did not entail very much difficulty, but we were +both much disappointed to note upon the door a small board in black and +gold, bearing the word "Apartments." + +It was a boarding-house, as were nearly all the others in the same +terrace. Its position was a delightful one, for right before it, +sloping between the Esplanade and the sea, lay the beautiful Belvedere +Gardens, with their pineries and roseries, which every visitor knows as +one of the finest shore-gardens in all the kingdom, private property, +and therefore closed to the public, save in the rose season, when +their benevolent owner threw them open in aid of various charities. +On such occasions thousands upon thousands availed themselves of the +opportunity of wandering in those cleverly-devised walks, and admiring +the glorious views of sea and cliff that show through the canopies of +foliage, in the direction of Filey. + +"It's a boarding-house, as I expected," remarked Whitlock, +disappointedly, as we strolled past. "Mr Frederick Stonor may have been +only a visitor to this place, after all. At any rate, let's see," and +he suddenly turned back again, entered the gate, went up the short walk +of the tiny strip of front garden and touched the electric bell. + +A maid with dark, fluffy hair appeared, whereupon my friend inquired if +there were any rooms to let. + +"If you step in, sir," replied the girl, with a Yorkshire accent, "I'll +call my mistress." + +So we entered the small hall and waited until there appeared a +middle-aged, rather pleasant-faced woman, who wore a severe black stuff +gown, and whose dark hair, parted in the centre, was brushed down flat. + +We repeated our inquiry, and were shown up to the first floor, where +we found a large, airy sitting-room and two well-furnished bedrooms. +Whitlock, acting as spokesman, expressed himself as perfectly satisfied +with both the accommodation and the terms demanded, while the landlady, +growing chatty, as landladies usually do when they exhibit their best +demeanour towards fresh arrivals, told us that her name was Pennington, +and that she was a widow. + +Whitlock did not press any inquiries, but said that we would take the +rooms, and that our traps were on their way from London and would +arrive on the morrow. We would return to the Grand, pay our bill, and +come back there in an hour's time. + +And so we became tenants of furnished rooms in Kazan House, South +Cliff, Scarborough. + +"We shall have to remain here at least one day, if not two," my friend +remarked, as we walked back in the direction of the town. + +"Then, if I must stay, I'll be compelled to wire to the office," I said. + +"Better wire now. I have an idea that we shall learn something here," +he answered. "I was half inclined to make inquiries of the man Stonor; +but, after all, it's better to let the questions come naturally, +otherwise Mrs Pennington may not be communicative." + +At noon, therefore, we were installed in our new abode, and standing +together at the sitting-room window we obtained a wide view of the +charming garden of the Belvedere. Two young ladies in white dresses +were wandering in the rosery, plucking bunches of flowers, while the +owner, a well-preserved, elderly gentleman, was giving directions +to his gardeners. Beyond the gardens lay the sunlit sea, blue and +unruffled. + +Luncheon was served very shortly afterwards, and following it +reappeared Mrs Pennington to express, in her fussy manner, a hope that +we were satisfied. + +This gave Whitlock his opportunity. He began by hinting that if we were +comfortable we should probably spend the winter with her--knowing well +what winter lodgers mean to the keepers of seaside boarding-houses. By +such remarks as these he ingratiated himself with her, and then began +to remark about the beauties of the private garden opposite. + +"Yes," she replied. "They belong to the landlord of this house. He's +a most courtly and charming gentleman, and allows his tenants to go +in and walk about on Sundays. I hear, however, that some people have +abused the privilege and have actually carried away great bunches of +his roses." + +"Such privileges are always abused," I remarked. + +"You're quite right, sir," declared Mrs Pennington. "It's a shame, and +it makes it bad for others." + +"The two young ladies I saw just now are his daughters, I suppose?" + +"No, sir. His granddaughters. Both very charming girls. They have a +German lady as companion. Has she been out there this morning? She's +generally out very early, getting flowers for the table--often before +I'm up." + +"I shall see her presently, I expect," was my reply. + +Then she fell to gossiping about her neighbours and referring to the +kindheartedness and generosity of the gentleman to whom the terrace +belonged, and who lived in the big stone house at the end, whence a +subterranean passage running beneath the Esplanade gave communication +with the extensive cliff gardens. + +At last Whitlock seized his opportunity and remarked in a casual way-- + +"I met a little time ago a man named Stonor, who lived somewhere along +here. He told me what a charming view could be obtained from the +Esplanade." + +"Stonor, sir!" Mrs Pennington echoed. "Was it Frederick Stonor?" + +"Yes. His name was Frederick--a rather stout, middle-aged man." + +"Well, funnily enough, sir, he's my brother." + +"Your brother!" exclaimed Whitlock, as we both pricked up our ears. + +"Yes, sir. He's been away in York for a week, but he returns to-morrow. +So you know him. Only fancy! He will be pleased to find you are our +guests." + +"Then he rents this house in conjunction with you?" my companion asked. + +"Yes, sir." + +"He didn't tell me whether he was married or not." + +"No, he isn't. In fact," she laughed, "he is a most confirmed bachelor." + +"It was about last September, I think, when I met him in London." + +"Yes. He went to town last September--so he did." + +"There was a young lady with him--if I remember aright." + +"A young lady?" replied Stonor's sister, with some surprise. "That's +news to me. He went up to see about realising some property which my +father left to us three years ago. Are you not mistaken? Fred said +nothing to me about any young lady." + +"No; I remember quite distinctly. On the second occasion we met--in +Piccadilly one afternoon--he had a very pretty young lady with him." + +"Then I must ask him when he returns to-morrow," she laughed, +good-humouredly. "He has few secrets from me." + +"He's been with you here a long time, I suppose?" Whitlock remarked, +cleverly changing the topic of conversation. + +"Ever since my husband died, five years ago. But," she added, rather +thoughtfully, "what you've just told me regarding him being about with +a young lady rather worries me." + +"Perhaps he's thinking of marrying at last," I laughed. + +"I should hope he won't be such a fool!" she declared. + +"Well, Mrs Pennington, of course, all I have said you will regard as +confidential," Whitlock said. "Had I not believed that you were aware +of the young lady's existence I should never have mentioned her. As it +is, I think it would be better if you said nothing when he returns. He +would only be annoyed with me." + +"Of course, sir, if you wish it, I will say nothing," she replied. "But +when he returns perhaps you can find out for me who the lady was. I'm +very anxious, you know; for if he marries he will most certainly leave +here, and I should then lose his help and support, which means very +much to me. You can well understand my anxiety." + +"I do. Say nothing about the matter, Mrs Pennington, and leave all to +me." + +When she had closed the door and descended the stairs, my friend turned +to me and said hastily-- + +"I've made an infernal blunder--one that can't be recalled. I'm a fool!" + +"Why?" + +"Because I said that Stonor knew me. We can't meet him now, or our game +will be given away. We must leave early to-morrow morning, but before +we go we'll try and learn, if possible, something more. Now that we've +promised to help her to fathom her brother's secret she'll tell us all +she knows." + +"Yes," I said, admitting his remarkable tact and cunning. "You've acted +splendidly." + +"I got through all right--except that short-sighted statement that I +can't now wriggle out of. The moment her brother returns she'll tell +him that a friend of his is upstairs. He'll come up, and, finding a +perfect stranger, will at once become suspicious. No, Keene; we shall +have to leave suddenly early to-morrow morning. There's a train to York +a little after nine." + +"But before that we ought to have another chat with Mrs Pennington," I +suggested. "It's very evident that she don't want her brother to marry." + +"We'll go out for a stroll, and try and have a chat with her after +tea," he decided. + +So, taking our hats, we went out, wandering along the cliffs to Cayton +Bay, meeting hardly a soul. Then, on our return, about half-past five, +we had tea and sat at the open window, lazily smoking and discussing +the curious events of the past few days. + +About half-past six we told the fluffy-haired maid to ask Mrs +Pennington to kindly step up, and when she entered Whitlock pretended +to give her orders regarding what we preferred for breakfast. + +She at once began to gossip about all kinds of topics, until with +subtle cleverness my companion turned the conversation again to her +brother. + +"No. He's not often up in London," she said. "But he frequently goes +away for two or three days at a time, and he never tells me where he's +been to. In fact, this last couple of years he has been very erratic in +his movements. He has a good many friends in various parts of Yorkshire +and Lincolnshire, and often goes to visit them. But he's always very +close regarding his movements--so much so that I've often wondered +whether there wasn't some attraction somewhere of which he was keeping +me in ignorance." + +"Ah! I see," Whitlock laughed. "Then his habit was to go away to +unknown destinations?" + +"Yes. Once he told me he'd been in Darlington, staying with his cousin +for three days, but I afterwards found out that he hadn't been there at +all. When I told him he became very much annoyed, and told me in future +to mind my own business." + +Whitlock shot a meaning glance in my direction. + +"And I suppose you didn't make any further remarks?" + +"No. But I've been pondering a good deal of late." + +"Well, Mrs Pennington," Whitlock said, "I wonder whether, in these +circumstances, you can keep a secret? Remember, I am his friend, and I +don't wish anything repeated to him." + +"I certainly won't repeat anything," the woman assured him. "I'd very +much like to know who the lady was with whom you say he was walking +about London." + +"Then this is her photograph," Whitlock said, producing it suddenly +from his breast-pocket. "Do you recognise her?" + +Mrs Pennington's countenance went deathly pale as her eager eyes fell +upon the picture we had discovered in Woburn Square. I saw that she +held her breath, utterly dumbfounded. + +That she recognised the portrait was in an instant evident. + +But next moment she had recovered herself. + +"It's a lie!" she cried, glaring at my friend. "He was never with her! +Impossible!" + + + + + CHAPTER XXV + + ONE FACT IS MADE CLEAR + + +Mrs Pennington's emphatic declaration was, to say the least, curious. + +Whitlock looked calmly into her face and smiled. + +The woman had, without a doubt, recognised the portrait of the victim +at Barnes. Her sudden resentment at the suggestion that her brother had +been in her company in London was, in itself, very suspicious that she +knew some ugly fact which she intended to conceal. + +Was she privy to the cruel assassination of that defenceless girl whose +dead face ever haunted me? + +"What makes you so positive that your brother, Mr Stonor, was never in +her company?" Whitlock asked, thrusting his hands into his trousers +pockets unconcernedly. + +"Positive! Well, I am positive that he'd never walk about with that +woman," she declared, with an air of extraordinary resentment. Those +last words showed us plainly that she was the dead woman's bitter enemy. + +"Why not with her as well as any other woman?" he queried. "Besides, +it's an uncommonly pretty face!" + +"There are reasons, sir, why my brother Fred would never meet her," she +replied in a quiet, changed voice. + +"But he was with her, Mrs Pennington. He took her to the photographer's +and paid for that very portrait you have in your hand." + +"How do you know that?" + +"The photographer told me so himself. The copies were sent here, to +this house." + +"And who are you, that you appear to know so much?" she asked, frowning +slightly. + +"As I have already told you, I'm a friend of your brother's--and I hope +a very sincere friend." + +"Well," she declared, "I don't believe he was ever with that girl in +London. There's some mistake, evidently. The photographer has misled +you." + +"I think not. He described your brother--rather stout and middle-aged." + +"I can't believe it--no! I won't believe it!" + +What my friend had told her certainly seemed to have wrought a great +change in her. I watched her face. It was that of a woman filled with +a deadly fear. Though struggling to conceal the misgivings that had +arisen within her, she could not refrain from those emphatic denials +which in themselves had, I saw, aroused Whitlock's interest. + +"I have merely told you the truth," my companion said. "This morning +you expressed a wish to ascertain the identity of the lady with whom +he was in London, and for that reason I have ventured to show you her +portrait." + +"But when I happen to know that that woman is the last in the world +whom he would meet--and more especially in secret--it is not surprising +that I refuse to believe you." + +"And why is he so antagonistic towards her? Why should they not meet?" + +"There are strong reasons--private reasons," was her answer, her eyes +cast upon the ground. + +"Ah! I see--I understand," Whitlock remarked tactfully. "They +quarrelled--eh?" + +"Er--well--I--I really don't know," was Mrs Pennington's lame answer. +"I only know that, for certain private reasons, he would never +willingly meet Louise Lorimer." + +Whitlock smiled in gratification. The woman had unwittingly told us +exactly what we wanted to know--the name of the unfortunate girl who +had been found murdered in the empty house at Barnes. + +"You seem to possess some secret knowledge regarding this Miss +Lorimer," he suggested, hoping that her hatred of the girl would lead +her to tell us something more. + +"I only know what I've been told." + +"Then you don't know her personally?" + +"No. But why are you so inquisitive regarding her?" she asked. By her +manner I saw that she was lying. Her denial of all knowledge of the +dead girl was certainly not the truth. Her attitude was that of a +sister shielding her brother. + +"I'm not unduly inquisitive, am I?" asked Whitlock. "This morning you +practically took me into your confidence because I am a friend of your +brother's. If your brother secretly meets Miss Lorimer in London, +then----" + +"But he does not. He'd never do that," she declared, interrupting. + +"But I repeat what I have already said," my companion remarked quietly. + +"I, too, happen to know that Miss Lorimer is acquainted with your +brother, Mrs Pennington," I remarked. + +"He was acquainted with her, I admit--but not now." + +Her reply struck me as somewhat peculiar. Was she admitting secret +knowledge of the girl's death? + +"Because they quarrelled," laughed Whitlock, carelessly. "Many men and +women quarrel and make it up again." + +"Their quarrel could never be made up." + +"How long ago, then, did the difference arise?" asked Whitlock, for in +this he scented a distinct clue. + +"About two years." + +"Well, it seems as though their differences were settled, and they have +become good friends again without telling you about it," he said. "Your +suspicions of him contemplating marriage were evidently well founded." + +"Marriage!--with that hussy?--absurd!" she exclaimed. "Let's talk of +something else," and we could both see that she was very eager to +change the topic of conversation. + +Whitlock's object, however, was to obtain some further facts concerning +the dead woman. That Mrs Pennington could furnish some very valuable +information was undoubted, but it was equally certain that she would +say nothing for fear of implicating her brother. Of what? Ah! that was +the problem. + +"Well," Whitlock said, after we had been chatting for some time upon +other topics, "I'm sorry, Mrs Pennington, if I've caused you any +unpleasant thoughts by referring to your brother's knowledge of Miss +Lorimer; but, of course, when I mentioned it, I was quite unaware of +the state of affairs." + +"Oh, sir, no apology is needed, I'm sure," the woman declared. "I--I'm +only thinking what a curious coincidence it is that you should come +here and then turn out to be one of Fred's friends." + +"Yes; it is curious. What time do you expect him to-morrow? I'm longing +to see him." + +"At four-thirty, I think." + +"Ah, and then we'll have a good long chat. You'll find him a +first-class fellow," Whitlock added, addressing me. Then turning again +to Mrs Pennington, he said, with a laugh, "I suppose it isn't likely +he's gone to see Miss Lorimer now--eh?" + +"Certainly not," she replied promptly. "He never goes to London now--or +at least very seldom." + +"Then he isn't up in town?" + +"No. He's been staying with some friends near Burton-on-Trent, and +to-day he's at Darlington." + +By no manner of ingenious questioning could he induce her to say +anything further regarding Louise Lorimer. But we knew we were at last +upon the right trail. We had established the identity of the dead +woman, and, what was more, we knew who was her enemy--two facts of the +very utmost importance. + +After Mrs Pennington had gone Whitlock raised his finger, commanding +silence. He was suspicious that she might be listening outside on the +landing. So he walked to the window and remarked upon the beautiful +evening. + +"I must write a letter or two," he added. "Afterwards we'll go for a +stroll." + +Then he lit a cigar and sat in thoughtful silence, while I took up a +paper and glanced through it. + +Suddenly we heard a slight creaking of the boards outside the door. +Whitlock was not mistaken. An eavesdropper was creeping away! + +We were undecided how to act. Whitlock seemed inclined to leave early +in the morning, so as not to meet the man Stonor, although, of course, +surveillance would be kept upon him. + +For half an hour he fidgeted about the room; then, suddenly saying that +he must go out and find a telephone, asked me to remain there till his +return. + +When he had gone, and I sat alone in silence, I again thought I heard +someone moving very stealthily outside the door. A floor-board creaked, +just as it had done half an hour before. + +This Mrs Pennington and her brother were mysterious. Of that there +was no doubt. They were aware of something concerning the fate of the +pretty Louise Lorimer. Her denials in themselves condemned her. Still, +while we had been in Scarborough we had made important progress. We +had, at least, learnt the name of the victim. Why, I wondered, had the +second woman committed suicide? Was she the actual murderess? Whitlock +was convinced that she was not. + +Evening had crept on, the blinds had been lowered, and the gas lit +by the fluffy-haired housemaid. But I still sat there, smoking +and thinking of Daisy. Every hard, cruel word of hers rang in my +ears--those words of dismissal--because of what? Because of the seeds +of suspicion that had been sown within her heart. + +What was that "double life" of hers at which Whitlock had hinted? What +could it possibly be? Again, who had been his informant against her? + +As a journalist I had vainly believed myself well acquainted +with life's seamy side, but here was I the victim of a plot, the +ramifications of which seemed spread on every hand. + +What could I do? How could I act? Daisy had returned to the arms of her +lover--the criminal Drayton. She believed in him and doubted me. I had +been as wax in her hands ever since the first time I had known her, for +I loved her with a great, all-sacrificing devotion. Surely she had not +been deceiving me from the very first? No. I could never believe that; +I refused to believe it. Those love glances of hers were not feigned. +She had loved me until this man with the shady past--this man who was +my deadliest enemy--had come between us. + +The little clock upon the mantelshelf chimed the hour, and the maid +entered to lay the cloth for dinner. The meal was subsequently brought +up, but Whitlock did not return. He was probably awaiting an answer to +a telephonic message to Scotland Yard, perhaps, for assistance, as we +should no doubt want to leave somebody to keep a watchful eye upon the +movements of the man Stonor. + +Another half hour went by, and being hungry I ate my dinner alone. +Then, having finished and lit a cigar, I became anxious regarding my +friend. What, I wondered, had happened? He had particularly asked me +to await him there, so I could not go in search of him. He might, I +reflected, have had an object in keeping me there, for he was one of +those men who are full of tactful forethought in any emergency. + +I pulled up the blind and looked out upon the moonlit bay. The night +was glorious, but the Esplanade was deserted save for a few loving +couples strolling upon the promenade before the house. From the +left, below the cliff, came up the distant strains of the band at +the Spa, while a prominent feature in the night landscape was the +many illuminated windows of the Grand Hotel standing boldly forth and +dominating the town. + +I must have remained there fully half an hour, watching for his coming, +when of a sudden I espied his figure moving swiftly on the opposite +side of the road. When level with the house, he crossed straight over, +let himself in with the latchkey Mrs Pennington had given him, and +ascended to where I stood. + +As he entered he lifted a warning finger. + +"So sorry I'm late," he began; "but I couldn't get what I wanted in the +town. I tried a dozen shops." + +Then, when the door was closed, he looked straight at me, and said in a +low voice, scarce above a whisper-- + +"This woman has warned him." + +"How?" + +"She's sent him a wire. I expected she would, so I went to the +post-office and waited for it." + +"Then you've read her telegram?" + +"Of course, and stopped it going through for an hour. I had some +difficulty with the postmaster, who refused at first to be convinced +of my identity till I showed him my card. She took the wire down to +Huntriss Row herself. Afraid to trust it to the servant. Besides, she's +lied to us. He's at the Hotel Russell." + +"The Russell! Why, that's close to the house in Woburn Square!" + +"Exactly. I've 'phoned to Kennedy to keep him under observation." + +"What has she said in her wire?" + +"Told him that we've been making awkward inquiries, that his +acquaintance with Louise is known, and urging him not to return here. +He'll bolt, most probably, but not far without Kennedy after him." + +"And are we now on the right track?" + +"Yes, Keene. I really believe we are," was his answer as he selected a +cigar and bit off the end. "We'll tell them to clear these things away. +I don't want any dinner." + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI + + THE MYSTERIOUS MR STONOR + + +About half-past ten o'clock Whitlock, who appeared uncommonly restless, +announced his intention of going out for another stroll along the +promenade. The night was bright and glorious, therefore I accompanied +him, and we turned our faces towards the myriad lights of the town +lying in its valley. + +Crossing the Spa Bridge we were quickly in the vicinity of the Grand +Hotel, when he suddenly said he wished to call at the post-office again. + +In Huntriss Row he left me for a few moments. + +"We've had bad luck," he said, on rejoining me. "The telegram has been +returned not delivered, as the addressee has left the hotel." + +"And we don't know where he may have gone to." + +"He's probably on his way here," my friend said. "And now we have to +decide whether to leave, or whether to wait and face him." + +"In either case his sister will tell him of her suspicions," I remarked. + +"That's the dickens of it. I was a confounded fool to say that I knew +him. I ought to have started the matter in another way," he declared, +as we strolled slowly along together by the way we had come. At that +hour there were very few people about, for Scarborough retires to bed +early. + +"Suppose we remain till he comes home--what will happen?" I queried. + +"Both of them are in deadly fear, and he'll clear out again as soon as +ever she warns him." + +"In fear of what?" + +"Ah, that's the question!" he laughed. "That's what we must find out in +the course of the next few days." + +"Well, if he bolts you can have him watched. He would have bolted just +the same had he got his sister's telegram." + +"Certainly; but it isn't wise that he should see me yet. I may have to +watch him myself," Whitlock pointed out. "If I only had a man here I'd +disappear to-night, and leave him to meet Stonor and watch where he +bolts to. At all hazards he must not know me yet. I've blundered badly, +and must try and recover lost ground." + +"In that case why shouldn't you leave Kazan House, and I'll remain?" +I suggested. "You can keep watch at the railway station for our +appearance." + +"No. If you'll wait here I'll disappear until you follow him and +ascertain his hiding-place. Then I can appear on the scene and you can +return to London. I'll go and see your people at the office to-morrow +and explain your absence, if you like." + +"Very well," I agreed. + +"Then I shan't come into that house any more. Here's the key of my bag. +You can abandon it when you go away, for you'll be off so suddenly you +won't be able to pay Mrs Pennington her bill. Make an excuse for me +to-morrow morning. Tell what lie you like. You've always said you'd +like to do a bit of inquiry work, Keene, and now's your chance." + +"I'm delighted," I said, not without some excitement. "Rest assured +that I'll act with promptness and discretion, and wire to you as soon +as I have anything to report." + +He gave me certain injunctions, and then, at the foot of the Valley +Bridge, we parted, and he turned back into the town, leaving me in +charge of the inquiry into one of the most sensational and important +London mysteries of the past half-century. + +I walked back along the deserted Esplanade to Kazan House, wondering +whether the man Stonor was already on his way from London. He had +left the Hotel Russell, which seemed as though he had started on the +homeward journey. Whitlock had told me that there was a train due in +from London about half-past eleven. + +He might come by that. + +So, entering the house, I sat alone listening for an arrival. Midnight +struck, and I heard Mrs Pennington turning out the gas in the hall and +bolting the front door. It was evident that she did not expect her +brother that night. + +Before I could get to sleep I lay for hours deeply reflecting. It was +nearly a year ago since Louise Lorimer had had her photograph taken in +Bond Street. But with what object did Mrs Pennington persist in those +denials? + +Was this man, whose existence we had discovered in such curious +circumstances, the actual assassin? Somehow, notwithstanding all the +varied suspicions of the past few days, I became convinced that it was +actually Stonor who had killed the woman. Had not his sister declared +to us that the pair were enemies? Had she not asserted that they would +never, in the future, be upon friendly terms? Without doubt, that man +had evidently an object in getting rid of the girl. + +But who was his enemy? Whose hand had written that curious Press +message which had caused us to go to Woburn Square and find the dead +woman's portrait? That it had been done by an enemy was certain. Yet +how could the person in question have surmised that we should discover +Stonor's existence? Mrs Pennington was filled with fear regarding her +brother's safety, and had secretly warned him. Therefore she must be in +possession of knowledge of his guilt. + +The telegraph notice of non-delivery had not been sent to her. Whitlock +had delayed it until the morning, therefore the woman had gone to her +room in the full belief that her brother, having received word from +her, would disappear. + +A thousand regrets concerning Daisy arose within me. Her last words +rang ever in my ears. Loving her as fondly as I did, I somehow refused +to believe those allegations against her. The world is cruel to every +woman, and the pure and virtuous are for ever suffering equally with +their erring sisters. Women are the bitterest enemies towards their own +sex, for gossip, lightly said, easily ruins the reputation of the most +honest and upright, and whispers about defenceless women pass swiftly +from mouth to mouth. A man will always seek to conceal a woman's +shortcomings, while a woman invariably endeavours to expose them. + +It was a woman who was Daisy's enemy, and who had told Whitlock that +extraordinary story of what he had referred to as a "double life." Of +that I was convinced. Some woman, jealous, perhaps, of my love's good +looks, was seeking to ruin her. Who was she? I wondered. I resolved to +discover her identity and learn the truth with my own ears. It was the +only way. + +Before my eyes, as I lay with the gas turned low and my ears strained +to catch every sound, arose a hateful vision--the face of the young man +I had first seen in the Gambrinus, Francis Drayton. They said he was +her lover. What proof had I of that? A very plain one, surely. She had +forsaken me. + +I clenched my hands in anger as I realised the ghastly truth. I was +the victim of that man. But he should, I determined, answer to me for +any wrong that he might have done to her. Daisy had been mine, and she +still should be. I loved her, and I still believed as I had always +believed--that she was pure and good. + +How long I slept I do not know. I dozed many times, until at last I +found the sun shining in from across the sea, and rose. When I sat +down to my breakfast alone it was just nine. Five minutes previously +Mrs Pennington had entered the room fussily, and I had explained my +friend's absence. He had gone to York on urgent business, and would be +back in the evening. He was a civil engineer, I casually explained, +and had gone to York concerning the plans for a new bridge which the +corporation were proposing to build. + +In this she became much interested. It puzzled her, for she no doubt +entertained some suspicion of my friend's real calling. Then, when I +had ordered luncheon, she left the room. + +For an hour I idled over the paper, sitting near the window, whence I +had a view along the Esplanade in the direction of the town. Every cab +that passed caused my heart to beat quickly. A number of people were +taking their morning stroll along the cliff, for the day was perfect +and the sea unusually blue for the Yorkshire coast. I longed to be able +to go for a stroll myself, but was prevented by the fact that Stonor +might return at any moment. + +In ignorance that her warning had not reached her brother, Mrs +Pennington, believing him safe, had grown quite calm again. But it was +a waiting game. I had, of course, no certainty that he would come, +beyond the woman's expectation expressed on the previous night. That +expectation was that he would arrive in the evening, while it was as +yet the forenoon. + +Impatient to be active, I waited in all the morning, seated nearly the +whole time at the same point of vantage, whence I could see without +being seen. + +The day wore on. I had lunched, and was seated in the armchair with +a cigarette when I heard the clip-clap of a horse's hoofs upon the +asphalt outside, and springing up I saw a station-fly stop before the +door. From it descended a man whom I saw in a moment was the person I +expected. + +A trifle stout, aged about forty-five, with small moustache turning +grey, round-faced, and with ruddy cheeks, he wore a well-cut blue serge +suit and a felt hat. The cabman carried his kit-bag inside the hall, +and receiving his fare drove away. + +All this happened within a few moments, and in the brief few seconds +from the instant of alighting until he entered the house I was able to +obtain a good look at his rather bloated features. + +His reappearance had, no doubt, entirely upset his sister. My first +object was not to be seen. As soon as she told him her suspicions +he would endeavour to get sight of me. Therefore, I saw that if the +surveillance was to be conducted successfully I must make myself scarce +before he had time to see me. With that object I placed one or two of +my possessions in my pockets, slipped on my coat, took my hat, and went +down the stairs as noiselessly as I could until I gained the front +door, out of which I walked straight, taking great care that anyone who +might be at the lower windows would not be able to get a glimpse of my +features. + +I walked straight along the Esplanade, crossed by the Spa Bridge, and +went up through the town to the station. There I left my overcoat, and +going forth again to an outfitter's shop in Westborough, I purchased a +light grey coat and a brown hat, which I assumed, telling the shopman +to send my own coat to London. Therefore, save for my dark tweed +trousers, my appearance was changed from what it was when I had left +Kazan House. + +Then I went back to the station, feeling convinced that sooner or later +Stonor would return there in order to get away at once. As he had not +seen my face I would be able to watch and learn his destination. + +There was no train to York for another hour and a half, so, feeling +sure that he would make for York, as from there he could get rapidly +anywhere, I idled in the refreshment-bar. Indeed, I hung about the +place for hours, spending a very weary time. The longer Stonor remained +at his sister's house the more remarkable would my absence be regarded. +Though I might have to wait there many hours, I nevertheless had the +satisfaction of knowing that the fugitive must leave that station +sooner or later. + +The sunset faded and evening was creeping on, when, soon after half +past five, I saw a porter come upon the platform carrying a bag I +recognised, and behind him Stonor himself. At the moment I was looking +at some books upon the stall, but I saw that the man glanced furtively +up and down, as though in fear lest he might be followed. But he walked +to the York train, where his bag was put into a first-class smoker, he +afterwards purchasing a paper and entering the compartment. Presently +I saw a ticket inspector commence the work of examination at the rear +of the train, and half a crown in his palm resulted in his statement a +few minutes later that the destination of "the gentleman in the first +smoker" was King's Cross. + +He was returning to London. + +Therefore, I got a ticket myself and entered a third-class compartment +near the engine. Up to the present he was, I saw, entirely unsuspicious +of me. + +But had I only known what the result of my boldness was to be, I don't +think I should ever have dared to face the risk. + +That moment proved to be the opening of a series of very strange, very +remarkable, and withal exciting adventures, which, if you will bear +with me, I will chronicle as briefly as possible. + +They will, I am confident, amaze you, as much as they amazed myself. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVII + + THE STEPS OF THE STRANGER + + +We alighted at York, with just sufficient time to spare to allow us to +catch the up dining-car express from Edinburgh to London. + +As he got out of the compartment Stonor glanced at his watch and looked +up and down the platform as though in search of someone. The passengers +for London, urged on by the porters, rushed up to the further end of +the platform. There the London express was waiting; but not so Stonor, +for he turned into the Station Hotel quite leisurely after leaving his +bag in charge of a porter. + +To follow him there was too risky. Therefore I left the station by +passing through the booking-office, and entered the hotel from the +street a few minutes later. + +I found him seated at one of the small tables in the hall, ordering a +whisky and soda. It was evident that on the way from Scarborough he +had changed his mind as regards his destination, and was now awaiting +another train going in an opposite direction. + +For half an hour he idled, smoking many cigarettes; then at last he +rose and went out again upon the platform and bought another ticket. + +Passing across the bridge to the other side of the huge station he +entered a train, where the collector quickly clipped the ticket. From +the official I learned the destination to be Manchester, and instantly +rushed and bought a third-class ticket for that city. + +Hardly had I entered the train when it moved slowly out of the station, +and from that time till eleven o'clock that night, when I alighted +again, the hours passed uneventfully. + +As soon as I fixed his destination I intended to wire to Whitlock, but +up to the present he appeared to be endeavouring to cover his tracks. + +He went to the Midland Grand Hotel, that place which is always so full +of bustle and movement, but did not engage a room. On the contrary +he had some supper, smoked for an hour in the lounge, chatted to two +men with whom he was apparently well acquainted, and at three o'clock +next morning left Manchester again, with a ticket for Peterborough. +Soon after seven we were at the latter station and he got out, still +in entire ignorance that he was being followed. His appearance was +now considerably altered, I noticed, for during the journey down from +Manchester he had shaved off his moustache, and appeared to have deep +lines upon his countenance that I had not hitherto noticed. + +That he was an adept in effacing himself was shown by this. Indeed, +he had changed his clothes during the journey, and when he stepped +from his first-class compartment I confess that, at first, I did not +recognise him, for he presented the appearance of being at least twenty +years older. + +In the booking-office he purchased still another ticket, and from the +telegraph-office despatched a wire. As regards the latter, not being a +detective, I could not ascertain its address, but the ticket I found +was to Cromer, on the Norfolk coast. + +There was nearly an hour to wait for the train; therefore he sauntered +across to the Great Northern Hotel for breakfast, while I took mine at +the refreshment-bar of the station. + +My one great fear was lest he might see and recognise me. Up to the +present I had succeeded in passing unnoticed. Indeed, I had not shown +myself more than absolutely necessary, and flattered myself that my +efforts at surveillance had, up to the present, been crowned with +success. Why was this man going to Cromer? I wondered. It was certainly +not a port from which he might get away to the Continent. Had he been +going to Yarmouth or Lowestoft I should have suspected his intention +was to get away on board a fishing smack to the Dutch coast. + +Again, what object had he in taking that flying visit to Manchester? It +was true that in the Winter Garden he had met two well-dressed men with +whom he had held a long conversation, evidently upon some matter of +importance, for all three had spoken very seriously together. + +But I was not at all sure that he had gone to Manchester to meet those +men, for he seemed to discover them quite casually. The fact of taking +a ticket to King's Cross from Scarborough showed his intention to +mislead anyone watching or making inquiries regarding him, and he was +now bound for Cromer, where, perhaps, he intended to lie low for the +present. + +The journey from Peterborough to Cromer is a rather slow and tiresome +one, but by noon Stonor was comfortably settled in the Hôtel de Paris, +which, standing on the cliff above the pier, commands a good view of +the town and the country in the vicinity. The hotel was not large, +therefore I decided not to risk anything by putting up there. So I took +a room in another and less pretentious hotel behind the church, but +still kept a vigilant watch upon all the man's actions. + +At the Paris I found later that afternoon that he had given the name +of Ridgman and his address at Stockton-on-Tees. He evidently meant to +remain there at least for another day; therefore I succeeded, after an +hour of patient trial, in getting on to Whitlock by telephone to his +own house. + +When I told my friend where I was he gave vent to an ejaculation of +surprise, and when I explained where Stonor was, and the name under +which he was living, he said-- + +"You remain where you are, Keene. I've made it all right at the +_Herald_ office. I'll leave by the seven o'clock from King's Cross, and +bring down a man with me. I expect I'll be with you by midnight. What's +your address?" + +I told him, and he wrote it down. + +"Right you are. Be watchful. He's a wary bird, so mind you're not +spotted. We've found out a bit more. Kennedy's been busy." + +"What further do you know?" + +"I'll tell you when we meet. I never care about telling tales over the +'phone," he laughed. "Good-bye," and he rang off. + +I idled about quaint, old-world Cromer the whole afternoon, but saw +nothing further of the fugitive. In the square around the church, which +is the natural centre of the place, I whiled away the time looking into +the several shop-windows, not daring to pass either the front or the +back of the Hôtel de Paris lest I should attract his attention unduly. + +With the blaze of the sundown landward, a bright, blood-red glare +shedding over the grey North Sea, I descended the cliff to the +esplanade and sat for a long time near the pier lost in my own bitter +reflections. One thought, one sad memory arose within me always: that +of my sweet-faced love now lost to me. + +Kennedy had discovered some further facts! What could they be? I was +impatient for Whitlock's return, to learn the latest phase of this +complicated and astounding affair. So many people seemed to be in +some way or other implicated in that midnight tragedy at Barnes that +I failed to grasp any other clue than the one we were now so actively +following. + +Whitlock, however, seemed to be directing inquiries in various other +directions, and also appeared to entertain a strong suspicion of the +girl I loved. He was prejudiced against her--prejudiced by something +that had been told him. His very words betrayed what was at the back +of his active mind. The whole problem was an incomprehensible one, yet +our visit to Scarborough had certainly been fruitful. We at least now +knew the name of the dead girl, Louise Lorimer, and it was her past +that Kennedy and Whitlock were now engaged in tracing. The past of a +murdered person will generally show the motive of the crime, and point +to the identity of the assassin. + +The grey waves, tipped with the crimson light of the dying day, slowly +lapped the shingly beach. What, I wondered, would be the end of it all? +What had Kennedy discovered? + +Dozens of times I reflected whether it would be judicious to reveal to +Whitlock the secret of my love for Daisy--whether knowledge of it would +further our inquiries. But I always decided against such a course. +She had, because of that man Drayton, forsaken me. Therefore I would +conceal my own heavy burden of sorrow. + +I did not blame her entirely. My enemy was the man who had uttered some +vile lies concerning me. + +Why was she so antagonistic towards Julian Little? Why, indeed, had +Whitlock's attitude been so curious on that evening when he had called +at Gray's Inn and I had introduced them? I often reflected upon that +incident, and the more I did so the more puzzling it became. + +Daisy's hard words at parting rang ever in my ears. Should I ever see +her again save behind the footlights, in that environment of tinsel +and pasteboard which seemed always so ill-suited to her sweet and +modest demeanour? Daisy Marvin, the idol of audiences at the Oxford, +the Pavilion, the Holborn Empire, and many of the outlying "halls," +became gay and reckless when the curtain rang up for her "turn," but +the instant she came off she was the same quiet-mannered, sweet-faced, +charming girl that I knew so intimately, and who I had vainly believed +would be mine for ever. + +Her pretty face, smart figure, musical voice, and reckless dancing had +already endeared her to half London, and she had only recently had +tempting offers to go to New York and Chicago. But Mrs Marvin would not +hear of it, therefore a three-year contract with the Tivoli had been +entered into instead, and by that she could with justification call +herself a "star" of her profession. + +Most variety artistes, as well as the ladies in musical comedy who call +themselves actresses, have a male admirer lurking somewhere. As far as +Daisy Marvin was concerned I had foolishly imagined myself alone, until +the discovery of that man with whom she had visited the Gambrinus and +afterwards gone to Barnes--the man Francis Drayton. + +The last rays of the blazing afterglow had faded and the sea had grown +cold, grey, and mysterious. A chill wind had sprung up with the close +of the day, therefore I rose and walked slowly to the end of the +promenade, and afterwards reascended the cliff to the town. + +Few people were about, for it was the dinner-hour of the visitors. +Indeed, from where I had been walking I had heard the gong of the +Hôtel de Paris just above, and it reminded me that I myself had hardly +touched food that day. I had existed in such a whirl of excitement that +I had forgotten all about luncheon. + +While walking to my hotel across the square, in which stands the old +square-towered church--a prominent landmark to mariners in the North +Sea--I saw before me a familiar figure in a dark tweed suit. It was +Stonor. He had changed both clothes and hat. Instead of a black bowler +he wore a dark-brown soft felt, and carried in his hand a light cane. +During my absence on the promenade below he seemed to have purchased a +new wardrobe and had got into it. + +Undetected by him, I followed and saw him cross to the post-office. +Peering within, as I passed, I saw that he was writing a telegram. I +looked at my watch and noted that the hour was 7.11. When Whitlock came +I would report this, and no doubt he would go to the postmaster and +obtain sight of the message. + +After despatching it, he posted two letters which he took from his +pocket, and then retraced his steps leisurely to the hotel. It was +evident that he was not yet contemplating another such a journey as he +had just accomplished; therefore, I went at once to my dinner, having +first ascertained that Whitlock was due to arrive at 11.39. + +And I awaited that hour with all impatience. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVIII + + REVEALS A CROOKED CIRCUMSTANCE + + +At midnight Whitlock arrived, and I took him up to my bedroom where we +might talk without an eavesdropper. + +He sat on the edge of my bed, listening to my report upon the movements +of Stonor from the moment he had left Scarborough, without uttering a +word. + +"Suspicious!--very suspicious," he remarked at last. "To me, it seems +as though he feared to be followed, but is now confident that he has +escaped us." + +"Yes. That is exactly my opinion. He is quite unaware of our presence +here." + +"Good. Then I'm half inclined to take a room at the Paris to-morrow. I +should have better opportunities of keeping in touch with him," was my +friend's reply. + +"But what is your opinion of the affair in its present aspect?" I asked +eagerly. + +"Well, it's the most difficult problem I've ever had to solve during +all the years I've been in the police," he declared. "The further +Kennedy probes, the more extraordinary become the features of the case." + +"But you told me on the telephone that Kennedy had made some further +discoveries." + +"And so he has. He's found out one or two things that add both +interest and mystery to the matter. He's been making inquiries about +Drayton--and also about that girl, Daisy Marvin." + +"About Daisy Marvin!" I gasped. "What about her?" + +"Oh, well--as I suspected," was his careless reply. "You recollect what +I told you in the train coming North--eh?" + +"About her double life--as you called it?" + +"Exactly." + +"Well, what about it?" + +"Oh, nothing which really concerns this case. She's only one of a +thousand others on the stage. You know, Keene, in what contempt I hold +the whole world of the variety stage." + +"Ah! you're prejudiced," I declared. "Because there are a few black +sheep you condemn the whole flock!" + +"You're young," he laughed, "and a devotee of the music-hall, of +course. I was the same once." + +"No," I cried resentfully. "Many men and women on the variety stage are +honest and hard-working, and some are, you'll admit, clever in dancing, +juggling, riding cycles, performing acrobatic tricks, and the like. Why +entertain such a strong prejudice! You should leave that to others." + +He laughed, saying-- + +"Well, Keene, there's a lot of truth in what you say, of course. But in +the case of Miss Daisy Marvin I don't think Kennedy is mistaken. He's +been very active these past two days." + +"And he's found out, of course, that she has a lover," I remarked +bitterly, "and that his name is Francis Drayton." + +"There's no doubt that a very strong friendship exists between the +pair," he said. "That was surely apparent when we watched them the +other night." + +"But are they lovers?" + +"You seem very interested in the young lady's love-affairs," he +remarked. + +"Well, I've often seen her on the stage, and greatly admire her. I +think she's charming in some of her songs." + +"Take my advice, Keene, and never have anything to do with a +stage-woman." + +"Why?" + +"Because they're all the same--deceit and heartlessness. When I was a +young man I loved a girl in the chorus at Drury Lane--in Gus Harris's +time. We used to meet every night at the stage door, and on Sundays I +took her to Hampton Court, Richmond, and other places--six months of +this and then a rude awakening. No, you take my tip and keep away from +the stage if ever you're in search of a wife." + +"And Drayton?" I asked, eager to change the subject. + +"His identity is established without a doubt," Whitlock responded +quickly. "The result of Kennedy's inquiries go to show that the +girl is, by some unaccountable means, entirely beneath the fellow's +influence. Miss Marvin has a confidential maid who accompanies her +everywhere and who dresses her at the theatre. Last night Drayton and +this maid, known as Annie, met in the Horse-shoe in Tottenham Court +Road, unknown to Miss Marvin. The latter was on the stage at the +Oxford waiting for Annie's return. The maid and the man held a long +consultation in private, after which Drayton showed her a letter. The +maid appeared very much perturbed on reading it, and commenced to +upbraid her mistress's lover." + +"Then Drayton is her lover? You admit that," I cried. + +"Well, knowing what we now do, we can only surmise--eh?" + +"Go on," I said hoarsely. I had tried to believe in my love's honesty, +but how could I continue in that belief in face of all that was now +being revealed? + +"The woman quarrelled with the man and appeared to threaten him. They +were sitting in a corner of the private bar, conversing in undertones, +so Kennedy, unfortunately, could not get sufficiently near to them to +overhear what was said. The man, however, was evidently frightened of +her reprisals. She openly threatened him, and when he heard her words +his face fell. Kennedy says that across his countenance spread an +evil look--the glance of a man who had a terrible revenge within his +heart. Yet at the same time he held the woman Annie in terror, for he +presently took from his pocket-book a bank-note and tried to press it +into her palm. But she refused to accept it and pushed it away from +her. Drayton appeared surprised. He had not expected that her attitude +would be so antagonistic. + +"He argued with her, but she merely laughed in his face. He +surreptitiously took out a second bank-note and added it to the first, +but she refused point-blank. + +"'No!' she said, loud enough for Kennedy to hear. 'You've gone too far. +I wish to have nothing further to do with you.' + +"'But you shall,' he cried. 'It's all very well for you to be defiant, +but remember what I can tell if I choose--recollect that you have +already accepted monetary consideration for certain services.' + +"The woman rose as though to go. + +"'No. Wait and hear me!' he commanded. 'I give you till to-morrow at +this hour to decide. I shall meet you here, and then hear your answer. +Consider well, for your decision means whether we shall still continue +to be friends--or whether in future we are to be enemies. Now you may +go.' And she left him without uttering a word. His threat of exposure +had, it seemed, caused a sudden change in her manner. She was now +rather crestfallen than defiant. + +"Kennedy waited and afterwards followed Drayton out. The old servant +had evidently gone to rejoin her young mistress on the stage of the +Oxford. That some conspiracy is in progress was evident." + +"Does Kennedy suspect some plot against Miss Marvin?" I asked anxiously. + +"Well, it almost seems so," was my friend's reply. "After leaving the +Horse-shoe, Drayton went across to Frascati's, and there met two men +who were apparently awaiting him. They were foreigners--Spaniards +evidently." + +"You said that Drayton had been in Peru," I remarked. + +"Yes. They were evidently friends he had known abroad. Kennedy says +that, from their appearance and their ignorance of the life about +them, it was certain they had not been in London very long. Well, they +remained in earnest conversation for half an hour or so, and then +he rose and left them, taking a cab down to the Gambrinus in Regent +Street." + +"That seems to be a favourite resort of his," I remarked. + +"Yes. And curiously enough, after waiting there a few minutes he was +joined by the girl against whom he had evidently been conspiring." + +"Daisy Marvin!" I gasped. "And she met him there by appointment?" + +"Yes. It's distinctly curious," Whitlock said. "How she gets rid of the +old woman Annie, we don't know. But it's very evident that she's over +head and ears in love with the fellow Drayton. It's a pity, for he's +such an infernal blackguard." + +"A pity!" I cried. "Yes; but, by Heaven, we'll be even with him. He +little dreams of how much we know, does he?"--and I chuckled within +myself as I contemplated my bitter revenge. Daisy had cast me aside in +favour of this good-looking criminal--this man who, though young in +years, was already an adept in crime. My love was in ignorance of the +fellow's past, but ere long I would unmask him, and then she should +choose between us. + +"Well," I said, "and what else?" + +"Very little. They remained chatting together for about twenty +minutes, and then he put her into a cab and told the man where to +drive--her father's house on the Surrey side. After that, Kennedy left +him, resolving to go to-night to the Horse-shoe again at the same +hour and witness the meeting between Annie and the man we have under +surveillance. What has occurred to-night I, of course, don't yet know." + +"The man is her lover evidently," I declared bitterly. "She's +infatuated with him." + +"All girls of her age suffer from an infatuation. It's an infantile +disease--like the measles or whooping-cough--and is seldom fatal," +laughed Whitlock, philosophically. "Every girl begins her womanhood +with an infatuation of some man older than herself, and very soon +learns to dislike him just as much as she once admired him. There is +no harsher critic of a man than a girl still in her teens. This pretty +dancer is in the infatuation stage, but in a month or so you'll see +that the ecstasy will gradually wear itself out, and----" + +"But you believe there is a conspiracy against her," I said. "Ought she +not to be warned?" + +"Yes. When we know the truth--not before. Otherwise we may betray +ourselves to Drayton." + +"But in the meantime, if Annie is compelled to act with Drayton, she +may fall a victim." + +"We must chance that," was his reply, ignorant of my love for the girl +we were discussing. + +"Chance it!" I cried, "and allow her to run such a risk?" + +"The risk is not so very great, Keene. Remember what she is--an +actress. She's well able to take care of herself, depend upon it." + +"Not when she is helpless in her infatuation of that scoundrel," I +declared quickly. + +But to this he made no reply. He changed the subject, asking-- + +"Has Stonor met any friend here?" + +"Not to my knowledge," I answered. "Of course some friend may be +staying at the Hôtel de Paris. The place seems full of golfers. It's a +pity I dare not go there." + +"I think I shall make a move there in the morning. I'm at a +disadvantage here." + +"And I suppose the best thing for me to do is to return to town--eh?" + +"No; not yet. I've seen your people at the office and they quite +understand. They told me to tell you to send them some good copy," and +he smiled. + +"Copy!" I cried. "If you'd only let me publish all I know, Whitlock, +regarding this affair, it would make a first-class sensation." + +"Yes. But at present we must keep our own counsel," he answered. +"I know quite well that you view the mystery from a journalistic +standpoint--as a feature, as you call it--in the _Herald_. I admit that +it is one of the strangest and most complex mysteries that has ever +been given to Scotland Yard to unravel. At present we have a clue, +but whither it will lead us we cannot tell. To be wary and silent is +our present course. While pretending to know nothing, we must be ever +watchful." + +"And Stonor? What do you think of him?" + +"This time to-morrow I may be able to express an opinion. At present I +have not yet seen him." + +I saw by my friend's manner that he was in possession of some +further fact which, though it puzzled him, caused him considerable +satisfaction. He took a cigarette from my case and smoked with such an +air of contentment that I knew he had at last discovered a clue--either +in Stonor and his sister or in Drayton and Daisy Marvin. + +Until the bells of the parish church chimed two o'clock, we sat +chatting in low tones, so as not to be overheard by our neighbours. +Then we parted, to meet again at eight the following morning. + +Shortly before ten Whitlock, with an excuse to the landlord of our +hotel that a golfing friend of his was staying at the Hôtel de Paris, +took his bag and left. Then that day I spent in loneliness, as before, +ever on the lookout for my friend, but never once catching sight of him. + +At six I received a scribbled note telling me to watch the promenade +and see who went upon the pier from seven till eight-thirty. "Be +careful not to be seen," was Whitlock's injunction, "and be in your +hotel to-night at ten-thirty." + +Accordingly, just before seven I descended the steps from the cliff +to the seashore and idled up and down, watching narrowly those who +went upon the pier. Quite a goodly number of persons were taking their +evening airing for the sunset was a glorious one of green, crimson and +gold. + +Suddenly--walking behind two ladies in tweed Norfolk costumes, golfers +evidently--came two men, walking leisurely, enjoying their cigars. Both +were in dark flannels and both possessed the easy gait of gentlemen. + +The first I recognised as Stonor, but when I glanced at the second +I stared and rubbed my eyes. Was I dreaming? Was this a hard, solid +reality? I drew back next instant, fearing lest he should recognise me. + +The discovery was a startling one--more amazing, indeed, than any we +had hitherto made in the whole course of that difficult and searching +inquiry. I stood bewildered. + +Sight of that man--the very last person I had expected to +meet--revealed to me a startling and astounding truth. + +Whitlock was correct. We had found a clue to the assassin of Louise +Lorimer, if not to the motive of the suicide of her friend--the unknown +woman who had killed herself rather than reveal her secret! + + + + + CHAPTER XXIX + + IS DISTINCTLY CURIOUS + + +The man with whom Stonor was walking on the pier was none other than +Julian Little! + +He was wearing a suit that I had never seen before, and with his hat +slightly drawn down over his eyes there seemed an effort at disguise. +I had imagined him to be in Belgrade, but, on the contrary, he seemed +to be in hiding at the Hôtel de Paris at Cromer. That he had actually +travelled to Servia was proved by the fact that Wakeley had received a +telegram from King Peter's capital announcing his arrival there. But it +seemed most probable that he had, after despatching the message, taken +the Orient Express back again to Ostend, and thence straight to Cromer. + +I looked about, but saw nothing of Whitlock. He had not dared to +follow, lest Little should recognise him. + +Two queries arose within my mind. First, the object of Julian's +subterfuge, and secondly, the reason of his intimate friendship with +the man who had taken the unfortunate girl, Louise Lorimer, to the +photographer's. That the pair were in guilty co-operation seemed more +than possible. If Julian was in hiding, then only to his best friend +could he betray his hiding-place. That was certain. Then, why was this +fugitive his best friend? Surely there must be some guilty bond between +them! + +Whitlock had suspected Little from the very first. The detective's +visit to our chambers in Gray's Inn was the cause of Julian's sudden +flight--an escape apparently well known to Daisy, who had, in other +words, alleged that I was in possession of his secret. The skein was +becoming more and more tangled, and yet had we not returned again to +the Whitlock starting-point--the suspicion of Julian Little? + +I recollected that half-smoked Greek cigarette that we had found in +the empty grate at Barnes--the cigarette of that brand which he alone +had brought from Patras. Again, the story of old Mrs Davis about the +two men endeavouring to enter our chambers. Could one of them have +been Julian? I remembered that he had left his own latchkey upon the +mantelshelf when he had left so hurriedly for Belgrade. There might be +something in his writing-table which he wished to obtain possession of +or to destroy. + +And yet, as I watched the receding figures of the pair as they walked +to the pier-head, I could not bring myself to believe that Julian was +guilty of a crime. He was my friend--my best friend. Old Sir Halliday +Little, of Winholt Hall, had been a life-long friend of my father's, +even while he was still in the Diplomatic Service. My father had been +his guest on more than one occasion at the Embassy in Madrid, where Sir +Halliday had been British Ambassador for seven years, and prior to that +at Athens, where he was Chargé d'Affaires for three years. + +The son took after the father, inasmuch as he was a thorough-going +cosmopolitan--honourable, upright, and with all the pride of honour +characteristic of an English gentleman. No. As I could not believe in +Daisy's wilful deceit, so I could not credit that Julian Little was +implicated in the assassination of a lonely and defenceless woman. + +He and Stonor turned as I watched, and faced me, causing me to quickly +turn away and seek concealment. They were in earnest conversation, +Julian emphasising his words with his index finger, a habit of his when +he wished to impress a fact. Stonor was wholly a listener; he heard +what his friend had to say without offering any comment whatsoever. It +was now quite evident to me that Stonor, alarmed by our presence at +Kazan House, had fled across England and back again in order to evade +anyone that might follow. That he should have failed to discover me was +most fortunate. I, of course, had exercised every precaution, yet I +regarded my first attempt at shadowing with pardonable pride. The man +Stonor flew from Scarborough to confer with Julian! + +Why had the latter been so antagonistic towards Daisy? That she was +equally an enemy of Julian's was proved by those words she had uttered +in Kensington Gardens. True it is that life is a variety entertainment +and things are not what they really seem. Woman has become a term of +endearment, and marriage is a perpetual armistice. The Speaker is one +who seldom speaks, and Parliament is but a popular delusion. Have +these and many other incongruities of our national life never occurred +to you? Have you not seen the honest man "go under" because of his +scrupulous probity, and have you not likewise seen the unscrupulous +swindler in business with his flaring offices, shining brass-plates +and rows of clerks, rise to become a millionaire, give a substantial +donation to "the Party funds," and blossom forth a titled personage +with a suddenly superior air, and a cockade in his coachman's hat? +Truly this England of ours to-day is the world of make-believe. + +I walked back to my hotel puzzled and perplexed. I had never dreamed +that Julian was in England. I knew that he passed from city to city +with a rapidity that often astounded me, but that he should be living +quietly in a seaside hotel had never occurred to me. + +Whitlock must certainly have had some good ground for suspicion from +the very first. But what was it, I wondered? + +Fearing to stroll about the town lest I might come face to face with +my fellow-occupant of the chambers in Gray's Inn, I idled in the hotel +until half-past ten, when, quite punctually, Whitlock was shown up to +my bedroom for greater privacy. + +"Well," he exclaimed, when the door was shut. "You saw them--eh?" + +"Yes. It is amazing!" + +"I agree with you, Keene. It is a staggerer," he said. "What is your +friend Little doing here? I thought you said he was in Servia?" + +"I believed him to be in Belgrade," I replied. "Indeed, he wired from +there to the office announcing his arrival, as he always does." + +"And evidently he returned here immediately. Depend upon it, he went to +Servia for some ulterior reason." + +"Nothing connected with the affair we are investigating, surely!" I +remarked. "What connection can he possibly have with the mystery at +Barnes?" + +"Well--he's an intimate friend of Stonor, isn't he? Otherwise the man +from Scarborough would not desire to consult him. You've done well, +Keene, to track Stonor here. I congratulate you upon a very clever bit +of observation." + +"But what are we to do now?" I inquired. + +"Remain patient and watch. They'll probably live here for some time, +believing themselves quite safe. I've got Sergeant Beale staying at the +Crown. I've left the Paris and my bag is already at the station. Beale +will go to the Paris to-morrow and learn what he can. Little knows us +both, therefore we cannot be too careful." + +"And do you propose to remain here!" + +"No. We leave by the first train in the morning. The adjourned inquest +is fixed for three to-morrow afternoon and I have to be present. After +that we may return here--or we may not. All depends upon Beale's +report." + +I got my companion a room and we remained smoking until nearly +midnight, when we parted and turned in. Next morning, at eight, we left +Cromer and duly arrived at King's Cross. Snatching a hasty lunch at a +small Italian restaurant opposite the station, we took a cab to Gray's +Inn, where we had a wash and brush-up, and afterwards went by the +"tube" from Holborn to Hammersmith. + +Across Hammersmith Bridge we walked into Barnes, past the empty house +that had been the scene of the mysterious tragedy, and on to the Red +Lion, where the coroner was about to open his adjourned inquiry. + +The public crowded the court, the jury were expectant, and the +reporters and "liners" had pencils ready sharpened to take down some +startling evidence which would form the "feature" of that night's +papers. + +But Whitlock had already arranged privately with the coroner that the +evidence should be vague, and contain nothing which should put the +assassin on his guard. + +The jury having been sworn, the coroner briefly addressed them, +referring to the curious circumstances of the death of the young woman +and the suicide of the other woman, who apparently came to visit her +in secret. It was a nocturnal tragedy, full of mysterious features. He +recalled to the minds of the jury the evidence they had already heard, +and then proceeded to read it over from the sheets of blue foolscap +upon which he had written it. + +This ended, there was a stir in court, and then a tension of excitement +as Inspector Whitlock came forward and kissed the Testament. + +"You are Inspector Whitlock, Criminal Investigation Department?" asked +the coroner, in those businesslike tones he used when dealing with a +professional witness. "Well?" + +"It is not our intention, sir, to offer much additional evidence," my +friend said. "We are still making investigations." + +"Have you established the identity of the deceased woman?" + +"Yes, sir. Her name was Louise Lorimer." + +"And address?" + +"She had several. She at one time lived in Scarborough." + +"And the woman who committed suicide?" + +"Her identity is not yet established." + +"I need not ask you if you have any suspicion of any person who was the +enemy of this Louise Lorimer, and who would be capable of taking her +life. That is your own affair. All I would like to know is whether you +propose to offer any further evidence to-day?" + +"No, sir. We do not!" + +"Any question of the witness?" asked the coroner of the foreman of the +jury. + +"We would like to know whether Inspector Whitlock has any clue +to--well, to the assassin?" + +"I'm afraid, sir, that is not a question you can ask," interrupted the +coroner. "Scotland Yard is doing its best, but such a question is, at +this stage, indiscreet, and, if answered, might defeat the ends of +justice." + +"Then I don't see why we should be brought here any more," grumbled the +foreman. "The affair is a mystery, and it isn't yet cleared up." + +"Except in one important particular--the identification of the woman +found shot," remarked the coroner. Then, after a pause, he went on. +"Of course, gentlemen, it rests entirely with you if you return your +verdict to-day, or not. I am quite willing to adjourn, say, for another +seven days, but honestly, I do not myself see the use of it. You are +here to state by what means, in your opinion, these two women came +by their deaths. You have heard the whole of the evidence, and if +you believe that they died from natural causes, you must return your +verdict to that effect. If, on the contrary, you believe they died by +their own hand or by violence, it is your duty to record that fact. It +is not for me to influence you in any way whatsoever. I merely place +the facts before you as I have them here--the evidence of the police +and of the doctors. You see what the post-mortem has shown, and I ask +you to carefully consider whether you would like to conclude the case, +as far as this court is concerned, to-day, or adjourn again?" + +The jury, after a brief consultation, announced their decision to +return their verdict that day. + +"In those circumstances, then," the coroner went on, "it is my duty +to briefly review the whole case as it appears in evidence," and, +clearly and succinctly, he laid the facts, as far as had been given in +evidence, before the twelve local tradesmen who had been empanelled as +a jury. + +The public in the body of the court were very disappointed. They had +anticipated a sensation, but there was none forthcoming. + +For a quarter of an hour the coroner continued to describe the +mysterious circumstances, until, in conclusion, he said-- + +"And it now remains with you, gentlemen, to record your verdict. If you +wish to retire you are perfectly at liberty to do so." + +The foreman announced that his brother-jurors wished to consult in +private. Therefore they all filed out into an adjoining room, where for +ten minutes or so they remained with locked door. + +Then, on their return, they reseated themselves, and the foreman, +bending forward, said-- + +"We are agreed, sir, that the younger woman, Louise Lorimer, was +wilfully murdered by some person unknown, and that the woman +unidentified committed suicide." + +"What? A verdict of _felo-de-se_!" exclaimed the coroner, in surprise. + +"No, sir--suicide we mean--while in an unsound state of mind." + +"Very well, gentlemen," replied the coroner. "Then I record that as +your verdict." He wrote it down upon his blue paper, then read it over. +The foreman signed it, and the remainder of the investigation was left +in the able hands of my friend Whitlock. + +That night, the _Evening Herald_ and other papers made a feature of the +verdict, but as I glanced down the column I reflected what a sensation +the real facts, as I knew them, would cause if I only dared to publish +them. + +The verdict had been given, but we were, alas! no nearer the truth. + + + + + CHAPTER XXX + + A NIGHT AT THE SAVAGE + + +It was Saturday evening, and Whitlock decided to return to Cromer. At +the conclusion of the inquest, in consequence of a telegram he received +from Beale, he made a sudden resolve. I ventured to suggest that to +return might mean detection by Julian Little. But he only smiled, +saying-- + +"I shall take good care we do not meet." + +I wished to accompany him, but he would not allow it. One of us was +sufficient, he declared; therefore, about eight o'clock I saw him off +from King's Cross, and walked back to Gray's Inn--lonely and puzzled. + +Old Mrs Davis had nothing fresh to report; but among my letters I found +an urgent note from Wakeley, the news editor of the _Daily Herald_, +stating that Tewfik Pasha, the Foreign Minister of the Sultan, had +consented to be interviewed regarding the proposal of international +disarmament; that he had appointed a day at the end of next week; +and that "the Chief" had suggested that I should be sent on my first +foreign mission to Constantinople. + +In ordinary circumstances such an order would delight any journalist. +Not only was I to be sent so far, on my first engagement abroad, but +I was to be entrusted with a very delicate and important interview, +which I was to sign, and which would, I knew, be quoted in the Press +of the whole world. Any pronouncement of policy by Tewfik Pasha is of +international importance, and he must be a very wooden journalist who +would not be filled with delight at such an opportunity of earning +distinction. + +With me, however, it was different. I had no desire to leave London, +and yet there were Wakeley's words-- + +"I shall be at the office on Sunday night and will have cash ready +for you, also your passport, which I've sent to the Turkish Consulate +for _visé_ for Constantinople. You must leave Charing Cross at nine +on Monday morning at latest, and catch the Orient Express from Ostend +_viâ_ Constanza. I have heard nothing of Little. A wire to the Grand at +Belgrade has been returned. Have you any news of him?" + +I read and re-read my travelling orders. At that moment I would have +given anything to remain in England and watch the course of events. +But it was quite out of the question. I could not possibly disobey +the Chief's wishes in this respect. He trusted me and believed in me, +otherwise he would never have entrusted me with such an important +mission. Besides, I was a Bohemian in spirit--a wanderer who desired to +travel and see the world beyond the stifling four-mile radius and the +smug, self-satisfied civilisation enjoyed by our modern England. + +True, I had "done" one or two of the Continental capitals as a summer +tourist, and had been driven in Cook's chars-a-bancs to the battlefield +of Waterloo and suchlike historic spots, but it had always been the +dream of my life to see the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn, to visit +St Sophia and the Great Bazaar. The capital of His Majesty the Sultan +is, to the majority of Europeans, a closed book. Its beauties are well +known, but few have seen them. Here was surely an opportunity not to be +missed. + +And yet when I reflected upon the urgent necessity of my presence in +England just at that moment, and how it might affect my future life, I +felt sorely tempted to write direct to Sir Henry Neave, and ask him to +relieve me of my engagement. On the other hand, however, I reflected +how all my chances of advancement in my profession depended upon the +success of that mission, and how the Chief might view my disinclination +to travel to the Near East. It was he himself who had given me +advancement, and surely I ought to keep faith with him! + +It was this reflection that decided me. I was hipped and soured by +Daisy's heartlessness, and a change, perhaps, would do me good. I would +be absent at least a fortnight, and would return refreshed in mind and +body. + +So I sent a wire to Whitlock to get on the telephone at ten o'clock +next morning, and then went down to the Savage Club for an hour. + +Saturday night is always merry at that smoke-begrimed home of London's +Bohemia--or, at least, the little that is left of Bohemia. In my own +student days in Paris, Bohemia still existed, and across the Seine we +were a merry, careless crowd, who assisted each other and who never +judged a man by his coat. But the Bohemia of Mürger and of Du Maurier +has long ago departed, and in its place there is in London, as also in +Paris, the little coterie of successful men who assemble weekly and +endeavour to sustain its old traditions and unwritten laws. + +Save in the case of one or two members of the Savage, the real, +thorough-going, felt-hatted Bohemian does not exist nowadays. Even +the last of the race of original Savages--a charming old gentleman in +broad-brimmed hat and flowing cloak--has become changed, indeed, in +these decadent days of "tubes" and motor 'buses. + +Even if one sighs for the free, merry life that is no more--the +life where the successful helped the struggling, and where the +good-fellowship was as genuine to the penniless artist as to the +influential editor--nevertheless Saturday night at the Savage is +still one of the institutions of London, and invitations are eagerly +coveted by some of the highest in the land. The guests at the weekly +house-dinner have ranged from Royal princes down to recently-made +birthday knights, including scientists, explorers, soldiers, lord +mayors, politicians, literary men, doctors--in fact, representative men +in all professions. After the ordinary, plain English dinner the tables +are cleared and a smoking concert is given, the chairman of the evening +keeping order with a huge African club--the Savage club. + +On entering, I found the stairs crowded by men who had come out of the +room "to get a breath of air." Within, the tobacco smoke was thick and +the assembled company were laughing hugely at a humorous recitation +given by Mr O'Neil, an actor of the old school, who for many years had +made the Savage his home, and was in consequence one of its best-known +members. The recitation ended, a loud encore compelled him to sing a +song with a rousing chorus, the final lines of which were-- + + "We'll drink strong beer + To welcome the harvest ho-o-o-ome, + To welcome the harvest home." + +Men I knew waved their hands to me, journalists, artists, sculptors, +most of them, all smoking furiously and consuming whisky and soda. + +The guest was one of the greatest scientists of the day, a +white-headed, sedate-looking man, who blinked upon the company through +his gold spectacles and who rarely laughed, while the chairman was an +alderman who during the preceding year had been Lord Mayor of London. +The Savages have a partiality for ex-Lord Mayors, and no really +representative gathering is complete without one. + +Mr O'Neil was followed by a great naturalist of world-wide fame in +a brief and very humorous lecture upon the common or garden snail, +illustrated by diagrams on the blackboard, which caused great hilarity. +Then came a lightning artist, another recitation, several songs, and +afterwards a selection from a popular play given by an actor who had +recently received a knighthood, and who, in consequence, now considered +the club rather bad form. He patronised it merely because he met +critics there who were of use to him. The whole club were well aware +of this, and despised both him and his conduct, treating him with the +contempt he deserved. + +Presently, as I sat at the end of one of the long, crowded tables, +smoking and chatting with Garnett, the news editor of the _Pall Mall_, +Wakeley entered and, greeting me, managed to squeeze himself in at my +side. + +"Thought you were in the country, Keene!" he exclaimed. "Got my +letter--eh? When shall you leave?" + +"Well, on Monday morning, I suppose." + +"Right! I'll wire to-morrow to our man in Constantinople telling him +you are coming. I've never met him, but I believe you'll find him a +decent fellow," he added, lighting his big briar pipe. "He'll put you +up to all the ropes. I only wish I were going out. What a chance!" + +"Where are you off to, Keene?" inquired Garnett. + +"To see Tewfik Pasha in Constantinople," I replied. + +"What, have you given up crime?" he laughed. + +"Yes," I answered. "I've become a special." + +"Then good luck to you, my dear chap," he said, raising his glass +to me. "That was always my ambition, as it is of every man in Fleet +Street. But it comes to few of us. I'm getting a bit too old, now, and +shall stick in the news-room for ever, I suppose." + +"And I, too," admitted Wakeley, who was undoubtedly the smartest +journalist in all London. "I tried to become a special a dozen times +before I went to the _Herald_, but nobody would have me!" + +"By Jove! It requires a smart man nowadays to be a special +correspondent!" our colleague of the _Pall Mall_ remarked. "But you, +Keene, are just the fellow." + +"You're very kind indeed to say so," I laughed. "I love travelling." + +"You'll follow in the footsteps of Julian Little, I suppose--his +assistant in fact--eh?" + +"I suppose so," I said, for mention of my friend's name brought before +me all the tangled skein of events which, amid that smoky scene of +good-fellowship and _bonhomie_ I had, for the moment, forgotten. + +A well-known variety artiste had at that moment seated himself at the +piano and commenced to play and sing a popular song with a catchy +refrain that had recently taken all London. Therefore, the chairman +brought down the big club heavily, and called us to order in a fierce +voice. And so for the next few moments we were compelled to remain +silent. + +The door was closed, and an associate of the Royal Academy had his +back against it, for no Savage enters or leaves the room while a song +or recitation is in progress. Saturday night is the one night in the +week when all are equal, and when the chairman rules. Guests sit meekly +by in wonder at the nicknames bandied about by men whose names are as +household words in the homes of England. + +"Oh! by the way," exclaimed Wakeley, turning to me suddenly--when the +song was ended in a thunder of applause and cries of "Give us another, +old man!"--"have you heard from Little? We haven't the slightest notion +where he is. He went to Belgrade, and hasn't been heard of since. I +know he writes to you often when he's away." + +"No," I replied. "He hasn't written to me." + +"Why, Little's in Cromer," remarked Garnett, who had overheard our +words. + +"In Cromer!" cried Wakeley, in a tone of incredibility. "Cromer--here +in Norfolk?" + +"Yes. Certainly." + +"But he's out somewhere in Servia--went out there because of a crisis +he anticipated. He has a free hand--as you know." + +"I don't care for that," Garnett replied. "He was in Cromer three days +ago--I happen to know that as a fact. And a rather curious fact, I +think, when everything is considered." + +"Everything!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean?" + + + + + CHAPTER XXXI + + A SERVANT OF THE PUBLIC + + +Wakeley and I exchanged glances. That Julian Little was actually living +in secret in Cromer he refused to believe. I did not, of course, betray +my own knowledge, but repeated my question to Garnett. + +"My dear fellow," he said, "there are sometimes things better left +unsaid--where a woman is concerned, you know," he added, with a meaning +laugh. + +"Ah!" exclaimed Wakeley. "A woman at the bottom of it--eh? It's always +so. But I did not believe Little to be at all a ladies' man. He's +essentially a traveller, and travellers never dangle at a woman's +skirts." + +"Well," exclaimed Garnett, "if you wait a bit you'll see." + +"What--you surely don't mean a divorce case?" + +"Oh, no, no, not that!" cried our colleague of the _Pall Mall_. "But +there, that's enough. He's in Cromer, and not in Servia. That's all." + +Wakeley sat puzzled. I knew that he was reflecting deeply by the +deliberate way he knocked the ashes from his pipe. A newly-discovered +entertainer, who had made a hit at the Hippodrome, was giving an +exhibition of thought-reading so wonderful that the whole room sat +silent in amazement. Then, when it had concluded and the door was +opened again, I rose and, wishing my two companions good-night, went +out into the purer air of Adelphi Terrace, where the moon shone +brightly and the rows of lights lined the dark and silent Thames. The +theatres were over, and the Strand was crowded with homeward-bound +pleasure-seekers, of people rushing to the restaurants to snap up their +supper before midnight--the closing hour. + +Obsessed by my own gloomy thoughts I elbowed my way through the crowd +towards Chancery Lane, and duly arrived home at my silent chambers. + +Why was Little in Cromer? At what woman had Garnett hinted? Did he +refer to Daisy Marvin, the woman I had so devotedly loved? + +On the following evening I was down at the _Daily Herald_ office, and +from Wakeley, in his shirt-sleeves and pipe in mouth, I received my +instructions and the draft for money for my journey to the Ottoman +capital. + +He told me what questions to put to His Excellency and the general +lines of the interview, and urged me to obtain, if possible, some +definite expression of opinion regarding the probability of war with +Bulgaria. + +"And remain in Constantinople till I send you word to come home, +Keene," he added. "I may want you to go somewhere else in that quarter. +There seems some little trouble brewing in Roumania." + +"Then I may be away some time?" I exclaimed, dismayed. + +"Yes. I didn't know about Roumania till this afternoon. We've had a +message from our Vienna man. So you'd better take kit for a month. If +you're away longer we can send some more out to you. The Orient Express +takes parcels nowadays." + +And so next morning at nine I left Charing Cross without a soul to wish +me _bon voyage_ on my first trip as special correspondent of, perhaps, +the most influential journal in the world. + +At Ostend I entered the train of wagons-lits which two days a week +links West with East, and, travelling for several days by Brussels, +Nuremberg, Vienna, Budapest, and Bucharest, at last reached at night +the port of Constanza, on the Black Sea. Here a fine steamer conveyed +the half-dozen or so of my fellow-passengers and the many bags of +mail to the entrance of the Bosphorus, and then commenced a slow and +delightful steam up a channel which is acknowledged to be one of the +most picturesque and beautiful in all the world. Were this a book of +travel I could describe the many beauties of that journey up past +white Therapia and the tiny Turkish villages at the edge of the calm +blue waters, until on the left in the misty haze rose the tall, thin +minarets and white domes of Stamboul, of Galata, and Pera, which, piled +tier upon tier and looking fairylike from the sea, make up the Sultan's +capital--Constantinople the Unchanging. + +From the steamer the whole scene was indescribably delightful. The West +had been entirely left behind, and here was the gateway of the glowing +East, the baggy-trousered, befezzed Turk, in a hundred varying garbs, +and of a hundred different races. + +Ashore at Galata, I admit, was a disenchantment, of mud, +scavenger-dogs, corrupt Customs officers, greasy passport officers, and +spies at every turn. But once within the Pera Palace Hotel, high above +the beautiful Golden Horn, all was artistic and full of quaint Eastern +charm. + +The Pera Palace is the centre of Western life in Constantinople. Here +in the midst of Oriental life one has an American bar and one can get +a grill. Travellers, diplomats, concession-hunters, and financiers +are constantly beneath its roof, and all Europeans in Constantinople +naturally drift there, to lounge in its Eastern smoking-room or sip +cocktails in the American bar below. + +In writing this record of curious circumstances and man's cunning it +is unnecessary for me to describe my life in the Sultan's capital, +save to say that Tewfik Pasha--the white-bearded old gentleman in fez +and frock-coat, who is His Imperial Majesty's right hand--received me +very graciously, and with the inborn courtesy of the Turk answered the +questions I put to him. Noury Bey, the Secrétaire-Général and head of +Oriental diplomacy--a fair-bearded and very charming diplomat--was also +present, and both of them did all they could to render my stay in the +Turkish capital as agreeable as possible. + +Previously I had entertained a marked antipathy towards the Turk. I had +viewed him through Western spectacles and adjudged him upon the basis +of the Armenians I had met. But now that I had seen the real educated +Turk at home I could not fail to be fascinated with him, and was +compelled to admit within myself that all my prejudices were absurd. On +every hand I received little kindnesses without thought of reward. The +real Turk is a gentleman of honour, but the Armenian was, I found, the +most unscrupulous blackguard on the face of the globe--notwithstanding +the periodical screeches of our Nonconformist friends at home. Let +those who cry shame upon what they choose to dub "the Sick Man of +Europe" for his treatment of the Armenians in recent years go to Turkey +and see for themselves, as I saw, and they will very soon alter their +opinion. Certainly those who defend the Armenians are not travellers. + +I wrote my interview with Tewfik, and it was duly published in the +_Daily Herald_ and quoted up and down Europe by almost every paper of +note. In the Reichstag and in the House of Commons questions were asked +about it, and the great Turkish statesman, the man who directed the +external policy of the great Ottoman Empire, laughed merrily when we +discussed its effect one afternoon at the Sublime Porte--as the Foreign +Office is called. + +It is the privilege of a special correspondent to mix with all +sorts and conditions of men, and to know the trend of the political +undercurrent. Many a correspondent is, therefore, of great service to +his Government in furnishing confidential information to the proper +quarter--information which he carefully withholds from the public. +In fact, the foreign telegrams one often reads in one's daily paper +are the exact opposite to the truth, and have been sent with one +object--namely, the misleading of the opponent and the furtherance of +British diplomacy in that particular country. Ambassador and journalist +are always good friends, and many has been the day when the former has +scribbled a fictitious despatch and asked his journalistic friend to +telegraph it to London as the truth! + +A whole month went by. + +October was creeping on, and the Bosphorus was, I found, delightful +in the autumn. Across at Scutari I frequently went and spent pleasant +afternoons with "Our Own Correspondent," who was resident in Stamboul, +and who often took me to see the sights--the great mosques, the +Imperial Treasury, the Selamlik and the Sweet Waters of the Bosphorus. + +I had written to Wakeley twice, asking that I might return, but in +reply I had received the one telegraphed word, "Remain." And so +I remained on from day to day, wondering when I might be sent to +investigate the Roumanian troubles. + +Whitlock, in reply to mine, had written me several letters. There was +nothing fresh to report, he declared. All the inquiries we had made had +led him into a _cul-de-sac_. He was still watching, but rather hopeless. + +Little had reappeared. His excuse to Wakeley, when taunted with having +been in Cromer, was that he had a very dear friend living there who was +lying ill, and that he had been to visit him. + +With the coroner's open verdict the public sensation regarding the +Barnes mystery had now died down. It is amazing what a short memory the +British public possess in these times of the daily "sensations" of the +evening Press. Personally, I was anxious to return home to seek the +solution of the mystery, with which I felt convinced that my lost love +was in some unaccountable way connected. The delights of Constantinople +were all very well and very entertaining, but I was daily longing to +return in order to glean the truth. From Daisy I had had no word. I had +written to her the night before my departure, telling her my address in +the Turkish capital, but her silence showed me only too plainly that +she had given me my _congé_. Ah! in those warm autumn days beside the +blue Bosphorus, how often I walked along the heights, gazing over to +the Asiatic shore and wondering what the future held in store for me. +Broken-hearted as I was, and, held there in exile because of the duty +imposed upon me, I was powerless. I had ceased to take any interest +in the life about me. My one desire now was to get back to London. In +the European papers reaching me I could discover nothing regarding any +rising in Roumania. As far as I gathered, all was quiet. Therefore, why +was I held there and bidden not to move? Was Wakeley himself conspiring +against my happiness? + +I wrote again to Daisy, but, alas! without result. All was over +between us. I tried not to prejudge her, but I admit that in the +circumstances it was very hard not to do so. Memory of her sweet, +innocent countenance haunted me everywhere. Sleeping or waking, that +unforgettable face was ever with me, ever taunting me with the past +that had been so full of perfect bliss and of a love that I had, alas! +vainly believed would last always. + +And so I lived on in my lonesome exile, fettered, puzzled, unable to +act. Constantly I wrote to Whitlock, asking for news of Stonor, of +Drayton, and of Miss Marvin. But the replies were ever vague, and I saw +plainly that Scotland Yard were gradually disregarding the inquiry, and +relegating the Barnes mystery to the long list of London's unelucidated +mysteries. + +I was helpless, with the present a blank and the future hopeless. + +I loved Daisy Marvin, but she was now lost to me for ever. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXII + + THE MYSTERIOUS M'SIEUR SMITH + + +Weeks dragged by. + +From Constantinople I was suddenly ordered to Berlin, thence to Warsaw +and St Petersburg, where I was kept busy describing the reign of +terror, and had little time for reflection. At Moscow I was eye-witness +of a terrible bomb outrage, in which the chief of police and half a +dozen other persons were blown to atoms, and very quickly I found that +as special correspondent on the Continent my life was to be as full of +adventure as it had been when I was the "Murder-Monger" of the evening +edition of the _Herald_. + +No word had come to me from Daisy, or indeed from anyone at home +except my father, who constantly wrote to me from our dear old home in +Suffolk, kindly encouraging and giving me good advice. Now and then a +brief telegram of instruction came from Wakeley, and one day in our +embassy in St Petersburg, I chanced to pick up a copy of the _Daily +Herald_, and there saw a signed telegram of Julian Little's, dated from +Chicago. He had, therefore, emerged from his retreat, and was again on +one of his erratic journeys. + +It was nearly seven weeks since I had left Charing Cross, and I +was already tired of the strenuous work in towns with which I was +unacquainted and amid people who spoke a tongue which I could not +understand. True, my knowledge of French and the smattering of German +I knew stood me in good stead, but there was nevertheless always a +difficulty in getting at the root of a matter, and I was always liable +to be misled by any unscrupulous informant who might wish to make the +_Daily Herald_ the laughing-stock of Europe. + +A special correspondent abroad experiences far more difficulties +than the public even suppose. Every influential journal has its +enemies as well as its partisans, and the former are ever scheming to +bring it into ridicule by furnishing false intelligence. It is the +correspondent's first qualification to be able to sift the truth from +the fiction, and be ever wary not to be "had" for purposes of the +Bourse. + +Full of change and excitement as my life was, I had, nevertheless, +already grown homesick because of the woman I so fondly loved. I used +to sit in my hotel in the evening, smoking, reflecting, and trying to +discern the reason why Scotland Yard, having discovered a clue to the +strange affair at Barnes, had suddenly dropped it. What could be the +reason of Whitlock's evasive responses? + +The last letter I had received from him was dated from the Adelphi, at +Liverpool, where, he told me, he was inquiring into a big jewel robbery +on the American Boat Express between Euston and that port. A well-known +woman in New York society had lost nearly forty thousand pounds' worth, +and it had been taken, it was believed, by certain American "crooks." +He made no mention of the Barnes affair, and merely concluded his +letter with an expression of belief that I must be having a better time +in Russia than in London. + +By that same post came something which caused me the greatest +gratification--three scribbled lines from the Chief, and +initialled--lines of satisfaction at the work I was doing. At anyrate, +I was not disappointing them at home, even though I had been thrown so +suddenly upon my own resources without any old hand to guide me. + +Yet, nevertheless, I was anxious to continue that inquiry in London, +and to search out the truth regarding Daisy and the life she led. The +man Drayton--the well-dressed idler who had stolen her heart--had +aroused within me a perfect volcano of jealousy. I was anxious to +follow him and to see with my own eyes the depth of his perfidy. + +Ah! when I thought of my lost love I was beside myself. In all the +faith my innocence could give me, and with all the duty of my soul, +I had served her. And now in my bitterness it became impressed upon +me that to doubt is safer than to be secure. Friendship is but a word +after all; in this life of ours love is everything. Happy the man who +is a stranger to love's enemy, jealousy. Yet fortune rules everything, +and as far as my affection was concerned, she had jilted me. Was it not +Massinger who wrote _Nil ultra_ to his proudest hopes? + +There is no venom like that of the tongue, and it was certain that +to advance his own interests Drayton had lied to her concerning me. +What had he said? I knew that she suspected me to be implicated in +the affair at Barnes, and yet was it not curious that she should also +suspect Julian Little? Did it not appear as though some portion of what +had been told her was the truth? + +From St Petersburg I was sent to Berlin and thence to Hanover, hoping +soon to be recalled to London. Unfortunately, however, a political +crisis arose in Germany and I was compelled to return to the Kaiserhof +Hotel in Berlin, and remain day after day reporting the progress of +events, at that moment of great interest to England. + +Just two months after leaving London I found myself in Paris, at the +Grand Hotel. An automobile show was about to open, and I had been +sent to do a special column of descriptive. I had dined, and upon the +telephone I had just talked to Wakeley and extracted a promise that I +should return to London as soon as the show in question had opened. + +I was passing through the big winter garden, intending to go down to +the Paris office of the _Herald_, where an old friend of mine named +Dunn was in charge, when, amid the smart, chattering crowd sipping +their coffee at the little tables, I caught sight of a familiar figure +in a plain black evening dress, with a pretty hat of the latest mode, +and a dark wrap about her shoulders. + +She was leaning back in her chair, laughing merrily. + +It was Daisy Marvin! + +And the man with her--the good-looking idler in dinner jacket and black +tie--was Francis Drayton! + +I halted in amazement. Then, in fear lest they should detect my +presence, I turned upon my heel and managed to conceal myself at a +table behind one of the pillars, where I could watch unseen. + +She was dressed with her characteristic neatness, except that her hat +was of striking design and betrayed the hand of the Parisian _modiste_. +That they were both on pleasure bent was apparent. They had evidently +dined in the restaurant, and were now taking their coffee prior to +going forth to some place of entertainment. The winter garden of the +Grand is always crowded just after the dinner-hour, and is perhaps the +most cosmopolitan spot in all Paris. The _monde_ and the _demi-monde_ +rub shoulders, and the scene is usually full of gaiety and brilliance. + +Daisy was chatting with her cavalier vivaciously, and appeared loth +to go forth from the pleasant surroundings. Therefore I rose, and, +slipping out to the hall, made some inquiries. + +A Mlle. Marvin was certainly among the guests, but the name of Drayton +did not appear on the list. He was not staying there. + +So it seemed as though the fellow was a visitor. She had invited him to +dine. + +I wondered whether Daisy had an engagement at the Jardin de Paris, the +Marigny, Olympian, the Folies Bergère, or one of the other variety +theatres; but although I searched the lists I could not discover her +name. + +Returning to the table, where they were unable to see me, I took a +newspaper and, pretending to read, still watched them. The expression +in her eyes when they met his was sufficient to reveal to me how +entirely and completely the fellow had fascinated her. He was "wanted" +by the police, therefore I would, at the earliest moment, wire to +Whitlock and tell him of the whereabouts of the man who was believed to +have died in Peru. + +That she was beneath his influence was undoubted. Her whole attitude +was that of a woman devoted to her secret lover, hanging upon his every +word; while he, blowing the cigarette-smoke from his lips, basked in +her smiles. + +And this was the woman in whom I had so foolishly believed, the woman +whom I had known as so sweet, modest, and unassuming. + +The steel of a poignant bitterness pierced my soul. I could have risen, +gone over to them, and denounced the man before her. Sorely was I +tempted to do that, yet after all, I reflected, it would be sheer folly +to create a scene. The onlookers would only jeer at me as a jealous +idiot. + +No, I could only watch as I had watched before. That Drayton was +possessed of a guilty knowledge regarding the mystery at Barnes +I had all along been convinced. Was it possible that he--the man +whose existence we had discovered by means of that anonymous Press +message--was the actual assassin of poor Louise Lorimer? + +For fully half an hour they remained there, still laughing and +chatting. In those well-remembered eyes of hers was a love-look +unmistakable. Her companion, with his airy graces, held her enthralled. + +She was bending across to him, speaking very earnestly, laying her +white-gloved fingers upon his arm in order to emphasise her words, but +he on his part treated her with coolest unconcern. He merely smiled +with veiled sarcasm and utterly disregarded what was, most evidently, +an appeal. + +What would I not have given at that moment to have overheard her words? +Though she had forsaken me in favour of this man, whom Whitlock himself +had denounced as a criminal, I, nevertheless, still regarded her as +mine--mine by right of my intense and all-consuming love. I was still +her champion, and he that harmed her would have to answer to me. + +From my place of concealment I watched the superior airs the fellow had +assumed towards the woman who had so unfortunately fallen beneath his +influence, and surely if ever the thought of murder entered my heart it +was at that moment. All the savage instincts of my wild ancestry were +aroused within me, and I felt as though I could rise and strike him +dead where he sat. + +Yet I remained watchful, chuckling within myself at the thought of +their utter ignorance of my presence, and determined to ascertain the +reason of their meeting in Paris. She was staying alone in the hotel; +therefore, if I wished, I might on the morrow meet her accidentally and +demand of her the truth. Yet was such a course judicious? Would it not +frighten Drayton into flight? I had no desire to do this until I knew +what action Whitlock intended to take. + +Indeed, it occurred to me that, as I had been on the telephone to +Wakeley, I could speak to Scotland Yard and leave an urgent message for +him, which he would receive in the morning. + +At last Drayton drained his liqueur glass and put his cigarette-end in +the ash-tray. By this I saw their intention to depart, therefore I rose +and went out to the main entrance, where at a point where I should be +unobserved, I awaited their exit. + +In a few moments they came and, entering a motor-cab, drove away. + +Inquiry of a porter, and a five-franc tip, elicited the fact that they +had gone to Rue Pierre Charron, No. 105, in the Champs Elysées quarter. + +I had believed, by their dress, that they were about to go to a variety +theatre, for Daisy was ever anxious to witness the "turns" of other +artistes, but it seemed that they had gone to a private house--to pay a +call upon some mutual friend, no doubt. + +My duty was to discover that friend's identity; therefore I took +another motor-cab, and told the man to put me down at the corner of +the rather aristocratic thoroughfare in question. No. 105 differed in +no way from dozens of other high houses in the same wide thoroughfare, +and a difficulty arose from the fact that the whole house was a series +of flats, and that it was impossible to discover into which the pair +had entered. The _concierge_, whom I found in his little den, was, +after the application of a little palm oil, quite communicative. The +English young lady and gentleman had ascended to the second floor--the +right-hand door--the apartment of an eccentric Englishman who had only +taken it furnished a week before, and who seemed a very eccentric +person. + +He was, according to the _concierge_, a certain "Meester Sme-eth." + +Without a moment's hesitation I resolved to ascertain more of that +interesting tenant, but such resolve was destined to cause me more +adventures than I ever contemplated--adventures which were, to say the +least, most exciting and extraordinary. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIII + + THOSE WHO KNEW + + +I ascended to the second floor, to the door of the small apartment +occupied by the eccentric "Monsieur Smith." + +As I stood on the landing outside I could hear men's voices raised in +altercation. + +"I don't believe you!" I heard one man exclaim in English. + +"Then you call me a liar!" cried the other, in anger. + +"It isn't the first time that you've lied to me," was the response. + +"And you come here, to Paris, to tell me this--eh?" + +"I've come to tell you that I'm sick of the whole affair, and the game +wasn't worth the candle. What have I got out of it? Nothing!" + +"Well, and I can say the same." + +"Except that you've tried to mislead me." + +"Mislead you! How?" + +"You've tried to run me into the trap which you and your friends have +so cunningly baited!" shouted the other, in fury. "See here! Here is +the bait. Take her!" + +And I knew that voice was Drayton's! + +A woman screamed. It was Daisy! + +"Bait!" shrieked the other. "You're mad! You're----" + +"I mean what I say!" Drayton declared. "I've brought back the pretty +hostage, and here she is," he laughed. "Take her, and don't try to play +any more of your tricks upon me. I'm quite as fly as you are." + +"Oh, Douglas!" cried the girl, for they were apparently standing in the +small entrance-hall. "What are you saying?" + +"He's insulting both you and me!" replied the mysterious Monsieur +Smith, "and, by Heavens! he shall pay for it!" + +Drayton laughed loudly. Their conversation was, to say the least, +intensely interesting. + +"Those are bold words of yours, my dear sir," he answered airily, in +a lower tone. "But recollect that two can play the good old game of +retaliation. So reflect well before you act." + +"Cease this quarrel, both of you!" cried Daisy, in a frightened voice, +apparently knowing well the desperate character of the pair. "If I am +the bait, as you call it, I can well take care of myself." + +"Don't believe him, Miss Marvin," Smith urged. "This fellow could not +obtain the money he wanted, and now rounds upon his friends." + +"But you are surely not his friend," she protested. + +"My friend!" Drayton cried. "A pretty fine friend, when, if he were not +afraid of his own skin, he'd give me away to that bloodhound Whitlock +to-morrow." + +"Give you away? What for?" asked Daisy, in all innocence. + +There was an awkward pause. + +"Never mind what for," he answered lamely. "That's my own affair and +nobody else's. You've been used as a decoy, my dear girl, and one day +you'll thank me for daring to make this exposure of the blackguardly +tactics of a man who poses as a gentleman!" + +"What do you mean?" asked Smith. + +"What I say," replied Drayton, in an impudent, defiant tone. + +"Be careful what you say." + +"I repeat my words--that you are a blackguard and a liar who baited +your infernal trap with this woman!" shouted Drayton, in anger. + +"Oh, this is infamous!" Daisy shrieked. "I won't remain here." + +"Yes," said her companion, "you shall remain, for I will be your +protection against this evil genius of yours--this man who sought to +make me the scapegrace." + +"No!" she cried. "I will not remain. You are cruel to me, both of you!" +and she burst into tears. "Let me go!" + +"No, not yet," responded Drayton. "Please remain calm," and he +apparently barred her passage. + +"Let me pass," she commanded, while I, in fear lest she should emerge, +drew back into a recess upon the dark landing, where I hoped I should +escape notice. + +"First hear me," cried the man who had dined with her at the Grand +Hotel. "To-night, Daisy, we shall part, never, perhaps, to meet +again. But I tell you before this man's face that he is a liar and +unscrupulous. He would have sacrificed your good name, your future, and +the man you love, in order to serve his own ends." + +"Please do not bring Mr Keene's name into this affair," she protested. + +Was this because she had no further confidence in me, or was it because +she still loved me? + +This quarrel had surely opened her eyes to the truth that Drayton did +not care a single straw for her. The mask had fallen from the fellow's +face. + +I was eager to see this eccentric Englishman who, passing in Paris as +Monsieur Smith, had been so openly denounced by Francis Drayton. + +My love's reference to myself held me in suspense, and caused me to +wonder whether, after all, I had not allowed myself to wrongly judge +her. Drayton himself had exposed the manner in which she had been +tricked into becoming the tool of the scoundrel, and the bait of some +ingenious trap which had for its object the betrayal of himself into +the hands of the police. + +To me it seemed as though I were on the verge of a discovery--that at +last the veil of mystery was to be lifted and the real truth revealed. +I stood there breathless, my ears strained to catch every sound. + +From the spot where I had drawn back I could not catch the +conversation, which was still heated. The two men were again in fierce +altercation, while the voice of my well-beloved was raised in protest. +Therefore I risked the sudden opening of the door and stole back into +my previous position. + +"Then I defy you!" I heard Drayton cry. "And, moreover, if you do not +apologise for those words, I'll go straight to the Prefect of Police, +who will be glad of certain information." + +"You dare not do that!" was Smith's defiant reply. + +"Wait and see. I have nothing to lose; you have." + +"You may lose your liberty." + +"Not if I turn King's evidence. That is very easy, you know," Drayton +said. "The affair has blown over now, but it can quickly be re-opened. +Even up to now not a soul suspects why Hetty committed suicide." + +Hetty! Who was she? Could that be the Christian name of the woman +who killed herself in the police-cell rather than reveal the truth +concerning poor Louise Lorimer? + +"And they will never know." + +"Unless I reveal it." + +"Which you will never do, my dear sir," Smith replied. "You are not the +man to incriminate yourself." + +"No; but the object of my revelation will be to retaliate for what you +have told this girl regarding myself." + +"I don't believe it--I don't believe anything he's said," Daisy +interrupted, as though eager to end the quarrel. "Come, let us go!" + +"I shall go. You will never, I hope, see me again, Miss Marvin. You +know the truth now." + +"But is it the truth?" she queried, bewildered. + +"I swear it is. Beware of this man. He threw you into my company, and +he intended that you should share the fate of poor Louise--death!" + +"It's a lie!" shouted Monsieur Smith, whose face I longed to see. + +"It is the truth, and I repeat it," was Drayton's reply. + +"Then I see it all," Daisy cried in deep distress, "I see how I have +been made the victim of a foul, despicable plot--how I have been forced +by you to sever myself from the man who loves me dearly, and whom I +love." + +"You mean Keene," Drayton said, referring to myself. "Yes, he loves +you, without a doubt." + +"And he's been prying about with Whitlock," added Smith. "He knows too +much about things already." + +"He will know more when next I meet him," declared Daisy, openly. "I +shall tell him the whole story." + +"No," urged Drayton, "don't. For all our sakes, keep the truth from +him. We should all be misjudged--all of us. Keep your own counsel, but +beware of this man here, who is your bitterest enemy!" + +Would she adhere to her resolve, I wondered. Would she, when I sought +her at the hotel, tell me all that she knew--all that Drayton had +revealed? This man whom I hated was actually turning out to be my +friend! + +The trio retired into a room still altercating, but I could not +distinguish a single word uttered. + +Mine was a tantalising position. Upon the stairs I heard the old +_concierge_ ascending, and was obliged to descend a flight in order +to meet him and give a whispered explanation. In common with all +_concierges_ he was thirsting for information regarding his new English +tenant, so I promised to afterwards satisfy his curiosity. + +Then I again crept upward to the door and listened for words from the +mouth of my sweet-faced well-beloved. + +She was the victim of a plot. That had been most conclusively proved. +She had been fascinated by this good-looking idler, who was also a +criminal, but he on his part had resolved to reveal to her the hideous +truth of how she had been duped. + +My sole hope now was that when I approached her at the Grand, in +pretence of a chance meeting, she would place me in possession of the +true facts. Who was this man Smith--this eccentric _Anglais_ who had +only arrived a week before, and taken furnished the apartments of a +young Spanish diplomat? + +At least I should have an intensely interesting story to relate to +Whitlock! + +Each minute seemed to me an hour, as I waited there, my ears strained +behind the door, listening to the hum of voices, but unable to catch a +single intelligible sentence of the conversation. + +I think a quarter of an hour must have passed. Now the voices were +raised in angry discussion, as accusations were hurled at each other +by the men, and then the altercation fell to a low hum, in which my +well-beloved would join. My position was surely tantalising. Ah! if +I could only catch the whole of those bitter accusations and defiant +retorts! Would they not lead me to a direct knowledge of the truth +concerning poor Louise Lorimer and brand the actual assassin? + +I was so near the truth, and yet, at the same time, so far from it. I +would have given worlds if Whitlock had been with me now, for, by the +exercise of his ingenuity and daring, we might probably learn more than +what I had already gathered. + +The _concierge_ below must have held me in suspicion, for I heard him +moving, probably half inclined to believe that I was a thief, or that I +had ascended there and was lying in ambush with evil intent. + +I heard a telephone bell ringing within the flat of "Mee-ster +Smee-eth," and he himself went to answer it. + +He spoke French excellently, even though he might be an Englishman. + +"Eh--what?" I heard him ask, in a quick, excited voice. "Eh--are you +sure? He's over here--and----" + +There was a pause. He was listening intently with the receiver at his +ear. + +"Thanks for the tip. I won't go near the place. Do you think it would +be wise to leave Paris?" he asked, still speaking in French. + +"Very well. I'll leave the Gare du Nord to-morrow at nine-fifty. Keep +your eyes and ears open, and if you think it safe see me at the train. +_Bon soir!_" + +I wondered whether either Drayton or Daisy knew French. But the +question was quickly solved by Daisy, who asked in English-- + +"Who was that?" + +"Oh, only a man who wants me to go with him to-morrow night to a +reception. Nothing. He's a dreadful bore, so I've refused." + +It was therefore evident that neither she nor her companion understood +French, or were aware that he had received a mysterious warning, and +had resolved upon flight. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIV + + FACE TO FACE + + +It was after midnight. + +Daisy had just entered her room on the third floor of what is known as +the "Opera quarter" of the colossal Grand Hotel. I had followed her +back, and had seen Drayton take leave of her at the entrance. + +The leave-taking was not exactly cordial, while she seemed depressed +and full of anxiety. Her last words to him were an appeal, but of what +nature I was in ignorance. + +Hardly had she closed the door of her room when, with my mind made up, +I walked swiftly along and tapped loudly. When, a moment later, she +opened it and found herself face to face with me, she drew back with a +startled cry, and her countenance went pale as death. + +"You, Victor! I--I did not know you were in Paris!" + +"I've not been here long," was my reply. "But I'm staying in this +hotel, and seeing you enter a moment ago I could not resist the +temptation, Daisy, of coming to talk to you." + +"At this hour!" she exclaimed in a strangely cold voice. "Why not +to-morrow?" + +She had not invited me in, therefore I suggested we should go +downstairs to one of the public rooms. + +"No," I urged; "to-night, dearest. Do you not still recollect our +parting--and your hard words to me?" + +"Well," she said, "we cannot discuss our private affairs here in the +corridor. You had better come inside, at risk of a breach of _les +convenances_," and she smiled in her old sweet way. + +"Now, look here, Daisy!" I said, when she had closed the door behind +me, and I stood with her near the big dressing-table set in the window. +"I've come to know what you meant by your strange words when we met in +Kensington Gardens--I mean about Julian Little going to Servia in my +interests?" + +She stood before me the same dainty little figure, the same sweet-faced +girl with the well-dressed chestnut hair and great dark eyes that had +fascinated all London, and that had been in secret my own trustful +well-beloved. + +"Why should we discuss that any further, Victor?" she queried, standing +with her hand upon the back of a chair. She had removed her hat before +I entered, and she looked strikingly beautiful in the black dinner-gown +with a bunch of pink carnations in the corsage. She was fond of pink +in combination with black, and had adopted it in several of her +stage-dresses. "You have been abroad quite a long time," she went on. +"Dad told me of your success in Constantinople, and how you had been +sent on to Russia." + +"So you sometimes think of me, Daisy, even though you have treated +me--well, let us say, without consideration--eh?" + +She hesitated, her dark eyes fixed upon me. She seemed at a loss what +to reply to my indictment. + +"Why could you not have waited until the morning?" she asked. "It is so +late, and your presence here is scarcely judicious, is it?" + +"I care nothing for what people may say, dearest," I cried, taking her +hand, and holding it firmly in mine as I looked into those wonderful +eyes of hers. "Surely you know that my whole future, my whole life, +depends upon you? That without your love I am as one lost? Ah! dearest +heart, you cannot know how much I have suffered ever since that moment +when you left me in London, how every hour I have thought of you, how +every day I have longed to return to you and ask you for the plain, +straight-forward truth." + +"But, Victor----" she exclaimed, trying to withdraw her hand. I could +see that she was terrified and unnerved by the quarrel of those two men +which she had witnessed that night, and now my sudden reappearance had +completed her anxiety. She was concealing something. What had she to +conceal? What was this strange secret of her heart? + +"There are no buts, dearest," I interrupted. "I am here because I love +you--because I have never for one moment wavered in my affection for +you," and before she was aware of it I had raised her hand to my hot, +passionate lips. "An enemy has come between us and has poisoned your +mind against me. I am full well aware of that. But why, I beg of you, +do you allow a stranger to break the bond of love which binds your own +dear heart to mine? Is it wise, Daisy? Is it just, either to you or to +me? We were happy--ah! so happy--in each other's peaceful affection +until of a sudden you changed--you doubted me!" + +Her eyes were fixed immovably upon mine. Never before had I noticed +such a strange look upon her countenance--a look that told of the +fierce struggle taking place within her heart. That fellow Drayton held +her fascinated. I knew she had forsaken me on that account. But how +could I tell her so without revealing what I knew? + +"Victor!" she said at last, her voice trembling with emotion. "Will you +not have pity on me?" + +"Pity?" I echoed. "If you are in distress, tell me. Let me assist you, +my darling! You are still mine--or at least I still regard you as +such--even though you somehow appear to have forsaken me in favour of +somebody else." + +To this last remark of mine she raised no protest. + +"You cannot, alas! assist me, Victor," she said simply, her eyes +downcast, her hand trembling slightly in mine. + +"But something is troubling you, my darling," I said. "Tell me what it +is--do!" + +She only shook her head. I could see that her emotion prevented her +from replying. That violent quarrel between Drayton and the mysterious +Monsieur Smith had utterly upset her. Her countenance was still pale +and drawn. Hers was the face of a woman upon whose conscience rested +some great and terrible secret. Was it possible that over her young +life hung the shadow of that dastardly crime at Barnes? + +From the very first she had in some mysterious way been associated with +the mystery. Little, the man at first suspected by Whitlock, had openly +declared himself as her enemy. + +What she was doing at that moment in Paris I did not seek to inquire. I +did not wish to complicate matters further, being myself aware of all +her movements that night. + +Failing to get a word from her in reply to my question, I asked the +reason of her sudden change towards me, adding-- + +"You know, Daisy, how all this has driven me to distraction, loving +you as devotedly as I do, and in ignorance of the real reason why you +rose from that seat in Kensington Gardens and left me in that manner. +I can only surmise that there must be some burden of suspicion upon +your mind. Why not reveal it to me, and allow me a chance to make my +defence? Surely," I said, "it is not fair to condemn a man unheard?" + +"No," was her reply, for she had suddenly grown quite calm. "I have not +condemned you, Victor. I--well, I don't know how to put it to you. I'm +puzzled. I have been told something which I cannot really believe. Yet +I have had proof in a certain way that what has been said is the actual +truth." + +"About myself?" + +"Yes, about you," she said, looking me in the face unflinchingly. + +"And will you not tell me what this charge is against me?" + +"I have given a promise not to speak to you upon the matter." + +"To whom?" + +"To a friend." + +"But I put it to you, dearest, is this justice? Ought not I to be given +an opportunity of refuting this allegation, and of proving my innocence +of this mysterious charge against me?" + +"You undoubtedly ought," was her reply. "But I, unfortunately, cannot +break my promise." + +"Not when your own future happiness is at stake?" + +"Future happiness!" she echoed wildly. "There is none for me now +that----" + +But she broke off short in the middle of her sentence, and her cheeks +flushed slightly as she realised how nearly she had been to betraying +herself. + +Was it of Drayton's desertion that she had been about to speak when she +suddenly arrested her words? I became convinced that it was, and that +her emotion was more upon his account than in consequence of our sudden +meeting. + +She loved that good-looking fellow, who would, ere long, be again in +the dock. For one thing, however, I entertained an admiration for +him--namely, that he had that night had the courage to denounce the +mysterious Englishman of the Rue Pierre Charron, and reveal to Daisy +how she had been made the cat's-paw of unscrupulous persons. + +I had expected that this latter fact would, in itself, cause her to +return to me. But I was mistaken. Those allegations against myself, +whatever they were, had so impressed themselves upon her that she was +unable to repose further trust in me. I knew, of course, what they +were--that I was implicated in the assassination of Louise Lorimer. + +"Daisy!" I said, very quietly, placing my hand upon her shoulder as I +stood before her and looking straight into those dear eyes, "there is +still happiness for you, the happiness of life and of love, if you will +continue to trust me. Surely you must see that my heart is entirely +yours? In the past our love was perfect, our confidence mutual, and +our hearts were as one. You have hundreds of admirers. You, with your +beauty and grace, cannot avoid it. In your profession your success in +a measure depends in your captivating those of my sex who are patrons +of the variety stage. They believe you to be gay and giddy like most +of the others, and you do not undeceive them. Only I myself know your +true character, that of a sweet, refined, and honest woman, who casts +off her stage manners with her dresses, and who would make a good +wife to the man who honestly loved her. I love you--with all my soul. +Dear heart, forgive me if I have in any way offended you. Kiss me +forgiveness, and let us be as we were before--lovers in secret." + +I bent slowly to kiss her soft red lips, but with a frightened +cry--almost of repulsion--she put me away from her, saying-- + +"No! No! I cannot! Leave me, Victor. Leave me! I beg of you never to +approach me like this again." + +"But why, dearest? Surely by right of long friendship, I, on finding +you alone in Paris, may come and pay my respects to you? I don't +understand." + +"No; that's just it. You don't understand." + +"Then, tell me--tell me, darling, I beg of you. Do you doubt my great +love for you?" + +"No. Certainly not. I know you love me--better than any other man could +ever love me," she faltered, her eyes fixed upon the carpet. + +My hand was again upon her shoulder, but I felt a shudder run through +her as I touched her. + +"Then why discard my love?" I urged. "Why not accept it?" + +For a full minute no response came from her lips, but when it did it +held me appalled. + +"Why not?" she echoed, in a hoarse, agonised whisper, covering her face +with her hands and bursting into tears. "Because--ah! you do not know +all, Victor!--because--ah! yes, I--I confess--I must confess to you," +she sobbed--"because--cannot you guess?--I--I am unworthy of your love!" + + + + + CHAPTER XXXV + + DESCRIBES AN EXCITING CHASE + + +Soon after nine o'clock on the following morning I strolled through +the big booking-office of the Gare du Nord, in Paris, and out upon the +platform. + +The long green-painted restaurant car express for Calais--the morning +mail to England--was already in waiting, and homeward-bound British +tourists--some of the men in knickers and stockings and the womenkind +in the usual tweed skirt and blouse--began to dribble in and seek +the best places. The _maître d'hôtel_ of the restaurant was busy +distributing his tickets for the first _déjeuner_, and blue-capped +attendants were conducting passengers to seats previously reserved for +them. + +Perhaps the departure of no train in the world presents such a +changeful picture of life as the Paris-London mail. I have travelled by +it a great many times, both before and since, yet the scenes witnessed +there always fascinate me. One sees the elegant Frenchwoman going _en +voyage_ for the first time in her life, and dreading the fifty minutes +of sea passage; the home-coming tourist, who believes he has had a +holiday because he has put on nailed boots and attempted the fagging +ascent of a Swiss mountain, or who has accomplished a tour of Italy, +including Rome, in eight days; the youth who has just had his first +taste of the much overrated pleasures of "Gay Paree," as he terms it; +the uninterested business man; the home-going schoolgirl, personally +conducted after the completion of her education; and the hardened +traveller who knows which is the best seat in the train and has it, +and who lifts his finger to the chief of the restaurant car and thus +secures a little table to himself. + +And amid the increasing bustle I was seeking for a man I had never +seen--the mysterious Monsieur Smith. + +A P. and O. boat had come into Marseilles on the previous day, and a +crowd of her overland passengers had just arrived, eager to get a sight +of "home" after perhaps years of exile. Huge quantities of baggage were +being registered, and more than one Anglo-Indian carried his solar +topee in his hand. + +It was within ten minutes of the departure of the train, yet, although +I walked up and down, I saw nobody that I knew. Who, among that crowd, +was the man known in the Rue Pierre Charron as Monsieur Smith? One man, +an elderly, grey-haired Englishman with a very red face, was seated +in the corner of a second-class carriage immersed in the _Gaulois_. I +passed and repassed, wondering if it were he. Among the hundred and +fifty or so departing passengers there were, indeed, several of whom I +entertained suspicion. + +It was tantalising that I had not had an opportunity of getting a +glimpse of him during the previous night. The words of my sweet-faced +well-beloved rang in my ears. "I am unworthy of your love!" she had +cried. Why had she made this confession? Why was she unworthy, if it +were not that Francis Drayton had held, and still held, her fascinated? + +My intention was to endeavour to see her again on my return to the +Grand--to induce her to reveal to me the truth. Who was Louise Lorimer? +Why had she been so cruelly assassinated, and who was the actual +assassin? That she knew all this I was convinced. Behind her public +life as a popular stage-favourite lay a mystery--one that it was her +duty to me, her lover, to confess and to reveal. + +For what purpose was she in Paris? As far as I knew she had no +engagement there. My only conjecture was that she had come to the +French capital to meet in secret the mysterious Mr Smith--the man who +at that moment was, unknown to me, flying back to England. Who had +warned him, I wondered? Whose voice had that been on the telephone? + +My vigilant watch along the train remained unrewarded. No doubt the man +Smith was there, but, not being acquainted with his appearance, I was +unable to identify him. + +My position at that moment was a most annoying and puzzling one. + +The minutes were passing quickly. Most of the passengers had taken +their seats, and people "seeing off" their friends were crowding about +the carriages giving their parting injunctions to write, and wishing +the travellers _bon voyage_. + +I was standing near the luggage-trucks at the front of the train, and +facing the barrier by which travellers gained access to the platform, +when I suddenly saw a figure hurrying along in search of a seat. He +was the usual late passenger, to be noticed at the departure of every +train, and two conductors, seeing him, began to search the first-class +carriages for a vacant place. + +He was a rather stout man, in a light greenish drab overcoat of sack +shape and a grey soft felt hat. He was clean-shaven, keen-faced, and +beneath the overcoat he wore a dark blue suit, while on his nose he +wore gold-rimmed pince-nez. + +No second glance was needed to tell me the truth. I stood staring at +him when I realised his identity. + +The man approaching me was Frederick Stonor. His altered appearance to +that he had presented weeks ago at Cromer gave me no cause to doubt +that he was the Monsieur Smith of the Rue Pierre Charron, who had +received over the telephone the urgent warning to escape. It was he who +had been so openly charged with being a blackguard by Drayton on the +previous night, he who had been so defiant, and so utterly heedless of +his friend's bitter reproaches. + +The fellow, who was Julian Little's secret friend, and whom Drayton had +accused of using Daisy as a decoy in some ingenious but dastardly plot, +was hurrying along the train, breathless and eager to get away from +France. A little bearded man in neat black, and wearing a bowler hat, +eyed him suspiciously. He was the agent of police, I knew, but, not +having monsieur's description as a person "wanted," he allowed him to +enter the train in search of a seat. + +Cries of "En voiture, messieurs," were at that moment being raised by +the porters. Should I mount the train and follow the fugitive? If I did +so I should have no opportunity of further conversation with Daisy. But +on an instant's reflection I began to query whether such attempt to see +her was wise, having in view the fact that Drayton was in Paris. If I +left for England after Stonor I should still have an opportunity of +seeing Daisy on her return to London in a day or two. + +Stonor's attitude told me that he was in fear, and it was this that +decided me, for just as the train moved away I clambered up into one of +the carriages. In the corridor I was at once pounced upon by a ticket +examiner, and not having one, obtained from him a first-class ticket +for London. + +"M'sieur had plenty of time to obtain a ticket," he remarked, as he +handed me the written voucher. + +"I know," I replied; "but I did not decide to go until the last moment." + +Then I wandered along the train, noted the compartment which the +man from Scarborough had selected, and afterwards went along to the +restaurant car, and there found a seat myself. + +As I had anticipated, the fugitive did not come to lunch, and the +journey to Calais was uneventful. Indeed, I saw nothing more of him +until in the afternoon I watched him, his hat crushed down on his +head, pacing the deck of the Dover boat, his countenance dark and +heavy--essentially the face of a man with a secret. + +His actions were those of a person who feared to be followed, and I +was compelled to exercise the greatest caution not to betray in him +any undue interest. At Calais Station, before embarking, I had sent +an urgent telegram to Whitlock at Scotland Yard, but whether he would +receive it in time to meet us at Charing Cross was an open question. +Part of the time on board he spent chatting with one of the sailors, to +whom he appeared to be giving some instructions, the nature of which +was revealed when he landed. + +Without luggage he had passed along the pier to where the Charing Cross +train was in waiting and entered a compartment, when about ten minutes +later the seaman with whom he had been talking upon the steamer came to +the carriage accompanied by a telegraph boy, who handed him a message. + +This he read, knit his brow slightly, and then, handing both the sailor +and the boy each a tip, he got out of the carriage in which he had been +so comfortably ensconced. + +Receipt of that telegraphic message seemed to have altered his plans, +for he sought out the station-master and of him made some inquiries, +after which both men consulted a time-table pasted up near the +refreshment bar. The fugitive, after some discussion with the guard, +walked along the pier to Dover Town Station, and after half an hour's +wait took train to Ashford. To follow was a precarious undertaking, but +I resolved to risk it. It was evident he meant to avoid London, and +keep some appointment. Ashford reached, he took another ticket, and +after an hour's wait arrived in Guildford. + +It was near ten o'clock when he entered the old-fashioned hotel in +the steep, broad High Street. I continued past the place, and after +the lapse of a short space I turned and entered the bar. The house +is a favourite resort of motorists from London, who run down by that +road, ever popular since the early days of cycling, which passes from +Kingston through Ripley. It was therefore not surprising that several +cars should be standing in the yard, or that a particularly fine +Limousin should be awaiting its owner at the door. + +Stonor was not in the bar, therefore I swallowed the drink I ordered +and then explored the place. I had been there on a previous occasion, +when my journalistic duties had taken me to the county town of Surrey, +therefore I knew the quaint old place, with its wooden staircases, +narrow passages, and odd nooks and corners. + +Pushing open the door of the long, low coffee-room, I peered within, +and there to my joy saw the man whom I had followed from Paris, seated +with a clean-shaven man in motoring overcoat and muffler, with whom he +evidently had an appointment. They were sitting opposite each other, +engaged in earnest conversation. Before Stonor was a formidable plate +of cold beef and pickles, which he was devouring with keen appetite, +while his companion calmly smoked a big briar pipe. + +The man, a perfect stranger to me, was rather refined, with the air and +manners of a gentleman. What was the topic of discussion I could not +possibly discover, for they were conversing in an undertone, fearing, +no doubt, lest the rather shabby, splay-footed English waiter should +overhear. + +In silence I gently pulled back the door again and returned to the bar. +My chase had been a close and hard one, and I hoped that, for that +night at least, it was at an end. + +Drayton's open denunciation had evidently alarmed him, in conjunction +with the mysterious warning he had received over the telephone. His +intention had been to escape to London, but he had received information +which had brought him across country to that old-fashioned town wherein +we now were. + +My second telegram to Whitlock must have puzzled him, for a quarter of +an hour after urging him to meet us at Charing Cross I had despatched a +second wire telling him that I had changed my destination. + +From where I stood in the bar I could keep a watchful eye upon anyone +leaving the hotel, and it was not long before my vigilance was +rewarded. Stonor and his motoring friend came forth and went out to the +"forty" Limousin standing at the kerb. + +As I watched I at once realised Stonor's intention, for opening the +door he took from within a heavy frieze motor-coat, cap, and pair of +goggles, which he assumed in place of his own thin overcoat and felt +hat. The instant I saw that flight was intended I passed back through +the hotel into the garage and of several men assembled there asked if +there was a car to be hired for a run to London. + +At first there was some demur, but presently one young chauffeur +remarked that his master had left him there with the car, having been +suddenly recalled by train to Exeter, and that if it would only occupy +a few hours he was ready to take me for a consideration. + +The consideration I fixed at "a fiver," and without further ado he went +up to a fine, big open car, a "sixty" Mercédes to be exact, started the +engine, and lit the headlights. Then, he having put on his overcoat and +cap, I borrowed a coat of his master's, and just as we were seated side +by side I saw the red car, in which was the fugitive, glide past the +end of the yard on its way down the hill. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVI + + MORE MYSTERY! + + +Never, to my dying day, shall I forget that exciting night run. + +Scarcely had we started than it began to pour with rain, and in a few +brief words I told the chauffeur that I was following the red car, the +back-light of which was slowly drawing away from us. + +I no longer feared detection by Stonor, for, muffled up in the big coat +with astrakan collar, and wearing a pair of very disfiguring goggles +with linen flaps, I presented an appearance entirely different to that +I had done a quarter of an hour before. + +"It's that Limousin, sir," remarked the man as we slipped down the hill +almost in silence. + +"What--do you know it?" I asked eagerly. + +"No. Never seen it before, to my knowledge. Half an hour ago, however, +I had a look round it and found that everything was ready for a long +run. I asked them in the garage whose the car was, but nobody knew. It +came in here this morning, and the owner's driving. It has a London +identification plate." + +"And from that I could discover the owner, I suppose?" I suggested. + +"You might, and you might not," was the man's dubious reply. "If +they're on any crooked bit of business, as from what you say they seem +to be, then depend upon it that their plates are false ones, in order +to mislead the police, providing they're stopped for exceeding the +limit." + +Suddenly we saw the car before us turn off to the right, then again to +the right and up the hill, showing that they had either mistaken the +road or had preferred to go by a roundabout route to turning the car on +the steep incline of the main street. + +"They're making for the Ripley road, after all!" said the young man at +my side. "We'll let them get on a bit, so as not to appear that we're +following them. And they've got an open exhaust, too. What an infernal +row it makes!" he remarked. + +True, the noise of the car before us awakened the echoes of the night +as it ran through the streets of Guildford, at that hour dark and +deserted. + +As my chauffeur had predicted, they took the left-hand road, and ten +minutes later we were tearing along the level, well-kept highway that +runs by Woodlands and Sandhurst to Ripley. The red car, upon which was +a whistle as well as a horn, went at a fearful speed. Rounding the +corner on entering Ripley village it narrowly escaped collision with a +farmer's cart which, without a light and with a sleeping driver, was on +its wrong side of the road. But through Ripley we went like a flash, +and every attempt to gain upon them was futile. + +Shortly afterwards we passed along the edge of the lake opposite the +motorists' hotel called The Hut, and then up the hill and across Ockham +Common, in the direction of Cobham. + +Two cars we passed coming from London, but in the pelting rain all was +blurred. Along the dark, wet road the small red back-lamp remained +ever before us, slowly drawing away from us sometimes, and at others +growing nearer as now and then the chauffeur at my side let her "rip." +The car I was on was a splendid one, and owned by a baronet whose name +was well-known in the political world. Many a time I had, in years gone +by, reported his speeches on platforms and in the House itself. But +I had never dreamed that I should experience a night ride in his car +following a fugitive criminal. + +The chauffeur, whose name was Mills, had thoroughly entered into the +spirit of the chase, and was delighted to find that up to the present +the pair on the Limousin, by reason of the big body hiding out the view +behind, were unaware that another car was behind. While the steady +splutter of their open exhaust rendered hearing impossible, we were +running smoothly--almost, indeed, noiselessly. At half a mile only the +white radiance of our powerful head-lamps betrayed us. With these we +could see our road far ahead of us, and so bright were they--some new +French invention--that more than one person we met shaded their eyes +with their hands, so dazzled were they by the glare. + +Half-way between Fairmile and Esher the tiny red light suddenly +stopped. The keen eye of the man Mills instantly detected it, and +pulling up short, he sprang from the car, and extinguished both our +lights. And not an instant too quickly, for in another moment, though +we were nearly half a mile behind, our presence there would certainly +have been detected. It was a prompt action and one upon which I +heartily congratulated the driver. He was a man of resource without a +doubt. + +The red back-lamp remained stationary; therefore, leaving Mills with +the car, I went forward on foot to get closer and reconnoitre. It was +as we had surmised. A tyre trouble had occurred, and both men with +their overcoats off and one of the headlights set in the muddy roadway, +were at work upon the wheel in frenzied haste. + +Fearing to approach too near, I retraced my footsteps and reseated +myself at Mills' side, watching for the moving of the tiny red light in +the distance. It was at a lonely part of the road, half-way across a +common, where we had halted, and as we sat there I began to experience +the pangs of hunger, remembering that I had had nothing to eat for more +than twelve hours. + +The period of waiting there in the rain seemed interminable, but at +last the car moved forward again, gathering great speed, and quickly +we were through Esher and on towards Surbiton. On such a drenching +night the police had relaxed their vigilance, otherwise we both would +have been trapped for exceeding the limit, for often we must have been +travelling over forty miles an hour. Fortunately the road was too wet +for skidding, or we might have come to grief on the slippery pavement +of Esher. + +"It's evident they're going to London," Mills remarked, as we flashed +through Surbiton. "We shall have to get up nearer presently." + +His surmise proved correct, for presently we passed through Kingston, +and afterwards through Richmond and along to Kew. Outside the Star and +Garter, beyond Kew Bridge--closed at that hour--Stonor first discovered +us, though it was evident that he had no idea that we had followed him +from Guildford. The red car, ascending the short hill from the bridge +leading to the main road through Chiswick to Hammersmith, was pulled +up suddenly, and, next moment, a man in a drab mackintosh emerged from +a doorway, where he had evidently been awaiting the pair, and went up +to Stonor with some hurried information. What the man said we had, of +course, no idea. My first impulse was to pull up at the foot of the +bridge, but next moment I told Mills to pass them and go on towards +Chiswick, which he did. + +As we passed, Stonor--in conversation with the man in the +mackintosh--glanced across at us, but in complete ignorance that we +were following. Surely his had been a roundabout route from Paris to +London. Had he undertaken it in order to evade Whitlock's vigilance at +Charing Cross? Did he expect arrest? + +The man in the mackintosh had raised his finger in emphasis of his +words. He appeared very excited, and all three spoke together quickly. +Just as we passed, Stonor was bending down to the clock upon the +splash-board in an endeavour to see the time. + +"There's some crooked business in progress, I should think, sir," Mills +remarked, after we had passed. + +"Yes. That man is giving them some important information, it would +appear," I said. "Let's go on a bit farther, and then pretend to have a +breakdown. They're sure to come up here if they are going to London." + +"And if they're not? Why, they'll just turn to the left through +Brentford and Hounslow, where they've got the Bath or the Staines road +before them--both main roads to the West." + +"We must take the risk," I decided. "It will not do for them to suspect +that we've followed." + +I saw that Mills believed me to be a detective. His own excitement, and +the sporting way in which he had kept up the chase, told me how keenly +interested he was in its motive. + +Then, about a quarter of a mile further up the broad high road, which +is paved, and along which run those irritating tram-lines, I said +suddenly-- + +"Let's run to this kerb and break down here." + +The man obeyed, drew the waterproof sheet from his knees, and in order +to mislead any who suspected us got down and took off the bonnet from +the engine--an action always indicative of trouble. + +We were beneath a gas-lamp and so completely in view. Mills pretended +to potter about with the cylinders, and so realistically did he act +that the driver of a car coming from the direction of Hammersmith +slowed up and inquired if he could be of any assistance. + +"No, thanks," I cried. "Only a broken sparking-plug. Good-night!" + +"Good-night!" cried a cheery voice, and the friendly car drew away +again, and was soon lost to sight. + +For a full ten minutes we had been there, when, of a sudden, we heard +the rhythmic roar of an open exhaust, and the red car flashed past us. +Our trouble was noted by Stonor and his companion, but we furthermore +saw that in the Limousin sat the man in the drab mackintosh. + +When they had passed Mills at once readjusted the bonnet, and after the +lapse of several minutes we sped on over the wood-paving as fast as he +dared go without skidding. + +Not before we had passed Young's Corner did we get another sight of the +car of the fugitive, and then we followed it up through Kensington, +past Hyde Park Corner, up Piccadilly and Shaftesbury Avenue, until +I found that we were in a neighbourhood I had already good cause to +remember. + +We were entering Russell Square. At my orders Mills slowed down. The +car we had been following pulled up suddenly at a short distance +from the house in Woburn Square, which had once been tenanted by the +mysterious Elkington and his wife. + +Stonor and the man in the mackintosh descended and hurriedly bade the +owner of the Limousin adieu. The red car moved off, and the two men +immediately parted. + +The man in the mackintosh walked on towards Euston Road, while Stonor, +not dreaming that he was being watched, so far off were we, out in +Russell Square, crossed quickly to the tenantless house, the door of +which opened noiselessly to receive him, and closed again without a +sound. + +The mysterious Monsieur Smith had sought what he believed to be a safe +asylum. + +For a few minutes I sat upon the car, my eyes strained towards the +abode of the missing pair, the Elkingtons, wondering what I had best do +next. I had tracked Stonor to his hiding-place. What was now to be done? + +Even while I sat pondering a strange thing happened. + +A man ran swiftly down the steps of the house upon which my eyes were +fixed, and, evidently escaping from the place, hurried in our direction. + +As he approached he passed beneath the light of a street lamp--and I +saw his face! + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVII + + THE PALACE THEATRE, HAMMERSMITH + + +The man who fled from that house was Julian Little! He had escaped in +secret because of the return of his friend Stonor. I had no doubt about +that, because he had not closed the front door after him. + +My motor clothes were sufficient disguise, and as he passed the car he +did not recognise me. + +He disappeared round the corner of the Hotel Russell, leaving me +puzzled and uncertain. Would he return to our chambers? Should I go +there and wait? + +After a few minutes I took the car along to Theobald's Road, and, +descending, paid the man the sum agreed upon, together with a tip, and +dismissed him. Utterly fagged out, I ascended the stairs in Gray's Inn, +entered with my latchkey, and switched on the light. + +At a single glance I could see that Little had not been there in +my absence. All was untouched, even to his latchkey still upon the +mantelshelf. Where, I wondered, were his headquarters in London? Why +had he fled from Woburn Square on the arrival of the man who was so +entirely in his confidence? + +I longed to obtain a peep within that house which, on that +well-remembered night, I had searched with Whitlock--the house wherein +we found the first clue to the truth. During my absence on the +Bosphorus my mind had ever been full of the strange nocturnal tragedy +at Barnes, and now, at the first moment of my return on English soil, I +found myself again watching the progress of an amazing drama. + +Utterly done up I snatched a few hours' sleep, and next morning rang +up Whitlock on the telephone. At eleven o'clock I sat with him at his +office at Scotland Yard relating my adventure in Paris, but, of course, +omitting the fact that I had spoken with Daisy Marvin. + +My friend was sorely puzzled. What I told him did not, it seemed, tally +with the result of his secret inquiries during my absence in Turkey. + +Later that day I went down to the office, and from Wakeley gathered +that Little had suddenly turned up about a fortnight ago and asked +"the Chief" for a month's leave. Things being unusually quiet, he was +at once granted it, and had given an address in county Galway where a +telegram would reach him in case of necessity. Then he had walked out +of the news-room and had not since been seen. + +Through several corridors I walked, and up two flights of stairs until +I gained the news-room of the _Evening Herald_, where old Marvin was +seated at his table in his shirt-sleeves. + +"Halloa, Murder-Monger! Back again! Well, how did you get on in the +Land of Turkish Delight?" he grunted, without taking his eyes off the +pile of "flimsy" before him. + +I briefly related some of my experiences, whereupon he said-- + +"I wish you'd been back again with us the other day, Keene. That Barnes +affair is a devilish good story, and has never been sufficiently worked +up." + +"I'm off crime now," I answered, though rather surprised at his sudden +reference to the matter that was so near my heart. + +"Ah! I know! As special you haven't any further interest in +murder mysteries and domestic tragedies. We've got to get another +Murder-Monger, I suppose? One thing, however, is quite certain: we +shan't get as good a man as you were." + +"You're jolly flattering," I said. "But I've had enough of crime to +last me my lifetime. By the way, how's your daughter getting on? Any +fresh engagements?" + +"Well, yes. Let's see. She starts at the Holborn Empire and the +Hammersmith Palace on Monday next. Two shows at the first house and one +at the second." + +"'The Motor-Maid,' I suppose?" + +"Oh, of course. It's her most popular song. The week after next she's +at the Pavilion for four weeks, and then starts on a provincial +tour--Manchester, Glasgow, Newcastle--the Moss Empires." + +The Palace of Varieties at Hammersmith! I happened to know all +connected with that very popular place of entertainment--the pleasant +and very gentlemanly proprietor, the genial manager, and the tall, +thin and active, if sharp-tongued, stage-manager behind. It had been +my habit to go there often, for at no suburban hall was there such an +excellent entertainment provided. Mr Rowe, the proprietor, believed +in giving a thoroughly amusing but thoroughly sound programme. He +spared no expense, and consequently the house was crowded nightly by an +orderly and interested audience. + +It was my intention to again see Daisy and speak with her. Therefore +I waited until Monday night, and then took the "tube" to Hammersmith. +By reason of the fact that I sometimes wrote notices of the variety +performances for the _Evening Herald_ I had free _entrée_ to more than +one music-hall in London, including the one in question. Therefore, +after being warmly welcomed by Mr Rowe and his smartly-dressed, +clean-shaven manager, Mr Lewis--who, by the way, was one of the +shrewdest and most genial among music-hall managers in all London--I +went round to "the back" and, passing the fireman at the stage-door, +found myself shaking hands with Mr Dickinson, the stage-manager. He +had just shouted "Lights up!" for a popular female artiste was on the +stage, singing a song with a swinging chorus--a song about love, money, +and green fields--and one or two people were idling in the wings. In +a suit of blue serge, and wearing a yachting cap, he bade me as warm +a welcome as his principals "in front" had done. Tall, thin-faced, +with a slight black moustache, he was at heart a refined, generous, +sympathetic man, with a penchant for photography, but close and nightly +contact with the variety world and its vulgar tastes had rendered him +somewhat callous and hard towards the artistes who came there to fulfil +their engagements. + +He was scrupulously just to the very letter. Once he had confided to me +that "these artistes would simply wipe their shoes on you if you were +not master. So I have very often to be a bit hard on them." But, be it +said, I have never heard a single complaint by an artiste against any +injustice practised by the management of the Hammersmith Palace. + +To those unaccustomed to the little world behind the stage at a London +music-hall, all would appear strange. Nobody is allowed there except +those actually engaged, and, in rare cases, representatives of the +Press, of which I was one. Mr Rowe, the proprietor, was most strict in +this respect, and in every part of the house the most strict decorum +was always displayed. Indeed, the house in all its appointments, in its +entertainment, and its general management, was quite equal to any in +the West End, for Mr Rowe knew what the public wanted and he gave it to +them. + +Though they were in Hammersmith he tolerated no vulgarity upon the +stage, and woe betide the artiste who attempted it. "Behind" was as +decorous as any West End drawing-room, and, perhaps, more so; and the +whole theatre was, indeed, a credit to its merry, round-faced, and +prosperous proprietor, who always had a cheery word for all of his +friends who gathered nightly about him. + +I walked along the stage with my friend Dickinson, to where, against +the corner of the proscenium, was the clock dial which worked the +curtain and the electric numbers corresponding with the programme. The +stage-manager had a seat there, at that moment occupied by a rather +pretty dancing girl, who in her gay skirts and spangled bodice was +awaiting her turn. + +"I saw in the _Herald_ that you've been in Turkey lately, Mr Keene," +my friend was saying, as we stood together watching the girl at that +moment occupying the stage. + +I explained that I was only just back, and wanting an evening's +entertainment I had come down to look him up. Beside him upon a desk +was a ledger, where, in an almost microscopically neat caligraphy, he +booked the time of each artiste, "on" and "off." + +"You've Daisy Marvin this week," I remarked. "What time is she on?" + +He consulted the programme tacked upon the wall, and replied-- + +"Oh, about 10.18. She has to come from the Holborn. An excellent turn, +isn't she? By Jove! she's making a lot of money nowadays, and a jolly +good girl into the bargain. Know her?" + +"Oh, yes. Quite well. Her father's at our office, you know." + +"Of course. I quite forgot. You'll stay and see her--eh?" And, unable +to wait for my reply, he dashed away, shouting some orders to the +scene-shifters, whom his keen eye had detected setting the next scene +wrongly. It was the scene for a sketch, and not being properly done he +gave vent to some forcible language, threw his coat aside, and, nipping +about nimbly, set it himself to show how it should be done. + +A young man with a waxed moustache--his assistant--came to ask a +question about the "limes," and received a quick, decisive answer; and +then came the female dresser, a short, rather thin girl with a merry +face, with a message from one of the artistes who had that moment +arrived and was in her dressing-room. + +By this time the curtain had fallen and "the house" was thundering +applause. Dickinson was shouting and running about, giving an order +here and bestowing condemnation there. Not an instant did he lose, +until at last a young woman in evening dress took up her place upon a +couch in the drawing-room that had been so rapidly built up. + +Then, with a swift glance to see all was right, Dickinson shouted up +to the flies, "Lights up." And next instant the curtain rose, the +orchestra ceased, and the great house was silent in expectation as the +tall, fair girl in the pale blue dinner-gown spoke her opening lines. + +"We can go out now," Dickinson remarked to me with a sigh of relief, +wiping the perspiration off his brow and putting on his coat. "This +plays for twenty minutes." + +And so we emerged from the stage-door and walked up the by-road into +King Street, where, at the private bar at the corner, we had a friendly +glass together, as was our habit whenever I visited the theatre. + +I was standing on the stage with Dickinson watching a pair of humorous +acrobats who were making the audience laugh heartily by their antics +when the musical voice I knew so well exclaimed, "Good-evening, Mr +Dickinson!" and, turning, I found myself face to face with Daisy, +dressed ready to go on. Indeed, she had come along in the brougham from +Holborn just as she was in her short, spangled skirt of pansy velvet, +shaded from the palest tint to the darkest, and its bodice glittering +with golden sequins. + +She started back at discovering me there, but next moment recovered +herself, saying-- + +"Only fancy, Victor--you here! I thought you were still in Paris." + +"No," I laughed. "I'm back home again," and together we strolled to the +farther end of the stage, where no one could overhear. "Is Annie here?" +I asked quickly. + +"No. She's not well, so I'm alone to-night." + +"And we can have a chat after you've finished your business--eh?" I +suggested. + +She hesitated, but only for a second. + +"If you wish. Will you wait till I've dressed? Excuse me a moment," she +added, "I've left my fan in the brougham." And she bustled away to send +the stage-door keeper for it. + +I saw that she evinced but little pleasure at meeting me. Six months +ago her face would have been illuminated by real pleasure had we met +unexpectedly like that. To-night, however, there seemed just a slight +shadow of annoyance upon her countenance. And yet how fondly I loved +her--and how I hated that fellow Drayton with all my heart! + +Where was he, I wondered? Was it because of him that she had hesitated +to spend an hour with me after the show? + +How neat and dainty she looked as she tripped back towards me, fan in +hand! I preferred her in her ordinary clothes and without the make-up +which, against her will, she was compelled to use. Yet from the +auditorium, with the white lights upon her, she looked very charming to +the public, who applauded her dancing so vociferously. + +Would I ever be able to take her from that life of glitter and +artificiality and make her my wife? Would she, used as she had now +become to the nightly excitement and the plaudits of the crowd, ever +be able to live without it? Aye, that was the question which often +occurred to me. + +The curtain fell, and the acrobats, perspiring and panting, brushed +past us, one of them asking Dickinson: "How's that, boss? Got a double +encore, you see!" + +"A very good act," responded the stage-manager, laughing. "You're +improving." + +"Thanks," replied the man with the powdered face, red nose, and a +smashed silk hat. "Good-night, old chap," and he passed away into the +dressing-room. + +"Miss Marvin--ready?" shouted Dickinson, touching one electric button +to give the orchestra the cue, and another which caused the heavy +velvet curtains to part, and draw up on either side of the proscenium. + +And next second, Daisy, waiting until the orchestra had played the +opening bars of the song, tripped lightly on to the stage. + +A perfect thunder of applause greeted her from "stalls" to "gods." She +was one of the popular favourites whose portraits looked out upon you +from the window of every post-card shop, and whose catchy songs were +played upon every street-piano. + +With a piquant air and a merry, devil-may-care manner, she sang a +new and somewhat sarcastic song that I had not before heard, called +"Love--Love--Latter-day Love." In it, face-fakers and medicated sleeps +at ten guineas each were referred to, while it was declared that love +was slowly dying--dying of popularity. A tuneful song, with many +references to the humorous side of affection, and yet it somehow jarred +upon me, owing, most probably, to my frame of mind at that juncture. + +But it received a loud and enthusiastic encore, and she dressed swiftly +and went on again to sing "The Motor-Maid," that song which had secured +for her popularity throughout the whole country. + +The gods clapped again and again when she appeared a second time, and +the band struck up the overture. They shouted their rough but hearty +salutations to her, and she, in return, smiled up to them and waved her +hand merrily. + +The song went with a swing and the whole house joined in the chorus, +as it always did, whether at the Oxford, the Tivoli, the Holborn, or +elsewhere. It was the song the words of which had been written by Tommy +Newton of the Savage, and had taken all London. "Tuck up your veil! +Tuck up your veil!" was one of the lines in the second verse, and this +had become a popular saying. "Now, tuck up your veil!" one heard on +every side, the advice being generally given by men to the opposite sex. + +At last she sang the final verse, there was a thunder of applause, and +the great velvet curtains swung to. But the clapping did not cease, +and she was bound to go to the centre of the stage again and bow her +acknowledgments from between the parted curtains. + +Yes. The wild plaudits she received for that song were surely +sufficient to turn the head of any girl. + +She skipped away to the dressing-room, hot and excited after the strain +of singing and dancing, but a quarter of an hour later rejoined me, +neat in a black skirt, close-fitting tailor-made jacket, and black +toque--modist, sweet-faced, and devoid of every artificiality of the +stage. That fifteen minutes had transformed her into an entirely +different being. + +She was the modest, soft-voiced, soft-haired girl I loved so well--the +girl whose bright eyes held me beneath the spell of her wondrous +beauty, and whose voice filled me with enchantment. + +"Well?" she asked, as she came up to me, looking straight into my face. +"Are you angry, Victor? You don't seem yourself to-night!" + +"Let's get away from here," I whispered. "I want to speak to you;" +and together we wished Dickinson--who was busy "booking-in" another +turn--"Good-night." + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVIII + + MY LOVE'S CONFESSION + + +The big dress-basket had been placed upon the hired brougham, and +we were within the vehicle going at a jog-trot past the West London +Hospital in the direction of Kensington. + +She had repeated her question why I was not myself that evening, but +I had evaded it. Then we sat silent for a long time. I was holding +her soft, ungloved hand in mine, for even though I was distracted by +the enigma that had, through all those weeks, become more and more +complicated, yet it surely gave me happiness to be once more beside the +woman I so dearly loved. + +You all of you, do love, or have once loved. Therefore you know the +sweet and silent ecstasy of the first moments of being alone together +after a long and bitter parting. + +I did not know what to say, so full was my heart. Whitlock, the famous +police agent, had failed utterly to unravel the mystery which grew +daily more inscrutable and more impossible of solution. Only the +sweet-faced, soft-voiced woman at my side knew the truth. + +"Dearest," I said at last, drawing her closer to me until her face was +near my own, "I have come to ask you what you meant the other night in +Paris when you made that strange assertion that--that you were unworthy +of my love--you, who are all the world to me!" + +She tried to release herself quickly, and I felt her trembling. + +"No! Victor, you are cruel! Why refer to it? Why have you come to me +like this to-night? Ah! my God! you do not know--you don't know how I +suffer!" + +"For what?" I asked in a low whisper. "Why not, dearest, confide in +me?" I urged persuasively. + +She was silent for a few moments. + +"Did I not tell you in Paris? We are best apart in future." + +"Because you doubt me--eh?" + +"And because I have no right longer to your love," she said in a voice +of mystery. + +"I can't make it out," I declared, still holding her hand. "Why have +you so suddenly taken up this extraordinary attitude, Daisy?" + +She only sighed. By the ray of light from a shop-window I saw that her +countenance was now deathly pale. The sudden change it had undergone +was remarkable and startling. + +I repeated my question clearly, perhaps even a trifle harshly. The +existence of Drayton flashed across my mind. Had he actually supplanted +me in my well-beloved's affection? + +"I have already confessed to you, Victor," she faltered at last in a +low voice. "I told you the truth in Paris." + +"But why--why do you tell me this? Why are you unworthy of my love?" + +"One day you will, perhaps, discover for yourself," she responded +hoarsely, sitting bolt upright, her face turned from me. + +"I confess I cannot understand this self-condemnation of yours. Surely +you should give me some reason!" I cried, dismayed. "You know full well +how dearly and sincerely I love you, darling." + +"Yes," she answered in a mechanical voice. "Unfortunately, I do. +But----" + +"But what?" I asked, pressing her hand and trying to draw her nearer to +me. + +"But love and happiness can never come to us again, Victor," she said +in a sad voice full of emotion. "Our dream has ended." + +"No, it has not!" I cried decisively. "I love you, and you are mine, +even--even if, as you tell me, you are unworthy. Daisy--you shall be +mine," I said in a hard, fierce tone. "I will not allow you to pass +from me like this. I care nothing for your self-condemnations, nothing +for your declarations of unworthiness. You have been my love, and you +still are, and still shall be." + +She started at my words, and, turning, peered into my face. + +"And if I refuse?" she asked in an unusual tone. "What then?" + +"It makes no difference. You have told me, long ago, that you loved no +other man but myself, and I believe your words." + +"Ah! that was long ago," she answered. "A woman changes her mind +sometimes, you know." + +"And you have changed yours!" I gasped, staring at her. "Do you mean to +tell me that you have discarded me, the man who loves you better than +his life, in favour of that fellow?" + +"Of what fellow?" she asked quickly. + +"Of Drayton," I said, boldly. "I do not forget your attitude in +Kensington Gardens." + +"Of him!" she gasped, staring at me, as though she suddenly realised +a truth that she had not dreamed before. "Ah! I see. You believe +that--that I have deceived you, Victor!" she exclaimed quickly. + +"I only believe what I have seen with my own eyes," I said vaguely, for +I had no intention of explaining to her how with Whitlock I had watched +her movements. She, of course, believed that I referred to Drayton's +visit to Paris. + +"My confession of unworthiness had no connection with that man," she +said in a low, intense voice. + +"Come," I said, after a long pause, "let us end all this, Daisy. I love +you, and I refuse to accept your self-condemnation. You have assured me +that the fellow Drayton is not your lover." + +"I swear he is not, Victor," she cried hastily. "I--I love no one else +but you." + +I drew her closely to me, as, with a sigh, her head fell upon my +shoulder, and I kissed the cold lips again and again, while at the same +moment a slight shudder ran through her frame. + +"No, no!" she cried, putting me away from her a moment later. "Why +have you come--to torture me--to recall all the past? My life is--God +knows--bitter enough." + +"Why should it be?" I asked in surprise. "Why are you not frank with +me? You have taken a great burden from my mind, dearest, in telling me +that I have misconstrued your regard for Drayton; and you have gone +farther--you have admitted that you still love me. Ah! you cannot tell +what peace your words have brought to me, or how deeply and devotedly I +love you!" + +"And yet," she said in a strange voice, turning to look me full in the +face as a gleam of light illuminated the interior of the brougham--"and +yet you still refuse to tell me the truth regarding Julian Little!" + +"The truth regarding Julian!" I echoed. "What do you mean?" + +"You surely know," she said. + +"Ah! you mean the motive which took him to Servia," I remarked. + +"I mean the real reason why he has been so long in hiding." + +"That, dearest, is as great a mystery to me as it is to you," I +declared. "He has not entered our chambers in Gray's Inn since the +strange affair down at Barnes. But, tell me, why are you so greatly +interested in that occurrence?" + +"I have a very strong reason to be, Victor," was all the reply she +would vouchsafe. "You have made many inquiries, I know. Have you yet +established the identity of the assassin?" + +"No. Unfortunately I have not," I replied. "But, truth to tell, I have +always had a suspicion that you know more of the secret history of the +affair than anyone else." + +She started visibly. + +"I? Why, whatever makes you think that?" she laughed, uneasily. + +"Because your actions somehow convinced me that you knew more than +either Scotland Yard or myself," I responded quite frankly. "I began +to investigate the affair in order to obtain sensational 'copy' for +the _Evening Herald_, but my connection with the affair has apparently +caused you to suspect me of complicity. Why, is a complete mystery." + +"You have refused to answer my questions, remember, Victor," she said +in a rather hard tone. "I have been investigating, just as you have +been." + +"And you apparently suspect Julian?" + +"I have made no allegation," she answered. "I have merely asked you to +tell me what you knew, and you refused." + +"As I have before told you, dearest," I said, "I have no knowledge of +Julian's connection with the affair, save that Whitlock held suspicion +of him from the very first." + +"Exactly. Who, I ask, could have sent those bogus Press messages, +except a man who had intimate knowledge of the ways of correspondents? +Why did he escape to Servia, and then return to Cromer and live in +hiding?" + +"You knew he was at Cromer, then?" + +"Yes; and he is now here, in London, in secret. I caught sight of him +last night." + +"Then you have not yet given up your inquiries?" + +"No, I shall never give them up until I have fully established his +guilt," she cried furiously, and I saw, in the faint glimmer from a +street lamp, that upon her white countenance was a look of desperate +vengeance. Why, I wondered, was she so bent upon bringing the assassin +to justice? Was it possible that the two unfortunate women were her +friends? Why, indeed, had she gone to Paris to see the mysterious +Monsieur Smith? + +Suddenly she said-- + +"You repeat, then, that you are entirely in ignorance of Little's +motives?" + +"Entirely. I have heard nothing from him since the day following the +tragedy." + +She gave vent to a long-drawn sigh, and sat back in the carriage +without uttering a word. Her self-condemnation puzzled me. Why did she +declare her unworthiness? Was it merely because she had doubted me, and +now saw that I had spoken the truth? + +My love for her was boundless. True, I had more than once found myself +doubting her, and had suspected her of double-dealing. But now that she +had denied it I had become reassured, and found myself more than ever +filled with affection for her sweet self. + +"Why should this mysterious affair be allowed to interfere with the +love we bear each other, darling?" I asked, placing my hand upon her +shoulder and kissing her soft cheek. She made no protest, but merely +sighed again. + +"Will you allow it?" I asked. "Surely your interest is also my own! And +have you not only a few minutes ago admitted that you are still mine as +completely as you ever were?" + +"I know! I know!" she exclaimed, hoarsely. "But--Victor--you do not +know----" + +"Know what?" + +"Know all that this means to me," she cried, bursting suddenly into +tears. "You say that you love me; but--but when you know the truth you +will hate me!" + +And she sobbed aloud, giving way to a fit of deep remorse. + +I sat beside her entirely mystified, and unable to utter a single +sentence. + +She seemed as though she was condemning herself for the actual crime! + +"Hate you!" I exclaimed at last. "Why, Daisy--why should I hate the +woman I love?" + +"Because--because--ah! no, I can't tell you. I can't! You love me, and +I cannot in one moment turn all your love to hatred. Ah! no--no"--and +throwing her arms wildly about my neck, she clung to me, sobbing +bitterly and saying: "let me drink the cup of my happiness to the +dregs. And--and," she sobbed, "you will think of me sometimes, Victor; +think of me as a woman who loved you fondly--who dared to love you, +notwithstanding her guilt----" + +"Guilt!" I gasped, taking both her soft hands and looking straight into +her haggard face. "Guilt! Speak! What do you mean?" + +"What--I--say," she answered in a hollow voice of despair. + +What could I answer? I sat dumbfounded, in silence, listening to her +broken breathing and her low sobs. + +Of what was she guilty? Of one thing only--of a crime I dare not +recall. Why was she so antagonistic towards Julian Little? Was it +because he alone knew her secret and, perhaps, had actually been one of +the conspirators who caused the tragic death of Louise Lorimer and her +unidentified friend? + +While I sat there pondering, with my well-beloved at my side, the +brougham suddenly pulled up. I had not heard Daisy give any order to +the coachman, so I presume he drove to the address where he had been in +the habit of taking her each evening after the show. + +She suddenly realised where we were, and gave vent to a low scream. + +"No, no!" she cried wildly to the coachman. "Not here! I--I +forgot--I----" + +"Yes, Daisy," I said in as quiet a tone as I could command, "let us +alight here. You evidently know this house. Come." + +I got out and helped her to descend. And like one in a dream I followed +her up the short flight of steps, where the front door fell back to +receive her. + +We were entering together the dark, silent house in Woburn Square--the +grim house of doom. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIX + + TO THE UNKNOWN + + +Behind her I passed into the dark hall. The door of the dining-room +was closed, but from within I heard voices--voices raised in high +altercation. + +The man who had apparently been watching for the arrival of my +companion, and who had opened the door, was tall and bearded--a perfect +stranger to me. + +He threw back the door of the dining-room, where a curious scene +presented itself. + +My companion, uttering a cry, drew back in alarm, while I stood upon +the threshold, scarcely knowing where I was. All was so sudden, so +entirely inexplicable. The room, with its old-fashioned furniture, was +well lit, and within stood two men. I could hardly believe my own eyes, +for before me stood Stonor--the mysterious M'sieur Smith of the Rue +Pierre Charron--and standing near him was my friend Whitlock. + +My friend, the police officer, was quite as surprised as myself. He +looked from me to my companion, and then exclaimed-- + +"This is certainly a surprise, Mr Keene. I had no idea that you would +come here, especially with Miss Marvin." + +"Nor I. But," I asked, "why are you here?" + +"To perform a duty," he answered. "I have just placed this man, +Frederick Stonor, _alias_ Elkington, under arrest for the murder of +Louise Lorimer at Barnes." + +"Arrest!" I gasped, staring at Stonor, and yet not without surprise, +while Daisy was too confounded to speak. + +"Yes. Didn't you recognise the sergeant who admitted you?" + +"It's a lie!" declared Stonor, defiantly. "I never killed the girl. You +have arrested me wrongfully." + +"Then let us say 'on suspicion,'" remarked Whitlock, a sarcastic smile +overspreading his ruddy features. "And recollect that all you've told +me already may be given in evidence against you on your trial." + +"I do not fear any evidence," he said. "I am innocent, perfectly +innocent. I know quite well that you came to Scarborough, that you +watched me. My movements may have been suspicious, but I shall be +interested to see what proofs you have against me." + +"You knew the poor girl well," I said, looking him straight in the +face. "You took her to have her photograph taken." + +"I quite admit that, but I had no knowledge of her assassination until +afterwards." + +"Until after your wife, Hetty Stonor, had committed suicide," +interposed Daisy. + +"What!" exclaimed Whitlock, turning to my well-beloved. "Was the woman +who took her own life the wife of this man?" + +"Yes. But--but I know that he is innocent," she declared. "Are you a +police officer?" + +"This is Inspector Whitlock, of Scotland Yard," I said. + +"Then he has no right to arrest Mr Stonor," she said. "The man who +killed poor Louise is your friend, Julian Little." + +"He did not, any more than myself," cried Stonor, whom we, however, +knew to be his friend in secret. + +"We shall inquire into that all in due course, Miss Marvin," Whitlock +said. "But it seems that you know something of this case. Perhaps you +will kindly give us some information, and we will see if it tallies +with the results of our investigations." + +"I have told you the truth," she said in a harsh, strained voice. "Mr +Little is the guilty person." + +"I do not differ from you," said Whitlock; "but I go farther, and say +that this man here is equally guilty." + +"We shall see," laughed Stonor, in defiance. "Do your worst; but +remember that if you arrest me I shall hold you responsible for illegal +detention." + +"On suspicion, remember," Whitlock said, with a smile. It was evident +that some further information had reached him during the past day +or so, and he had resolved to take the bull by the horns and make +the arrest. It had been quite obvious from the first that Stonor was +implicated in the tragic affair, but we had never dreamed that the +woman hitherto unidentified was actually his wife. Besides, Little, who +had been suspected from the first by Whitlock, had acted in a manner +which betrayed fear of arrest. + +Yet why, after that scene in Paris, where Drayton had openly denounced +Stonor, should Daisy seek to secure his liberty? Why was she so sure of +Julian's guilt? + +I shall ever remember the startling scene that night--the man under +arrest, standing defiant, the inspector cool and somewhat sarcastic, +and my well-beloved, with countenance pale as death and trembling +hands, seeking to shield that man whose wife had taken her own life +under such extraordinary circumstances, and of whose guilt there could, +after all, be no doubt! + +"Mr Little returned to his chambers this evening," Whitlock said. "He +is under observation and we will go to him later." + +"You need not trouble. He will be here at midnight. I have an +appointment with him," Stonor said. + +"Then you admit an intimate friendship--eh?" remarked the detective. + +"Certainly. We are friends." + +"And he is the assassin!" declared Daisy. "He killed poor Louise!" + +"You will have to prove your allegation, Miss Marvin," Stonor said in a +quiet voice. "I have not forgotten your words in Paris the other night." + +"Nor have I forgotten the exposure which Mr Drayton made concerning +yourself," she cried. "It was you who endeavoured to part me from the +man who is to be my husband--the man who is here beside me." + +Whitlock started and stared at me. + +"Is this true, Keene?" he asked in surprise. + +I admitted that it was, and that a secret engagement had long existed +between the popular artiste and myself. + +At this he seemed puzzled, for he reflected for a full five minutes. +Then, turning to her, he asked-- + +"What causes you to suspect Mr Little?" + +"I need not say," was her answer. "I know that he killed Louise--that +is all." + +"I believe you know Mr Francis Douglas Drayton?" + +"Intimately," was her prompt reply. "He is my half-brother. My mother +married again." + +"Your half-brother!" I gasped. "Why, Daisy, you never told me that, and +I have all along been jealous of him." + +"I had no idea of that until to-night, when I saw how foolishly I had +acted. But, now that you know the truth, dismiss him from your mind. In +this affair he has acted openly and honestly, and he has saved me from +becoming the victim of that man who now stands before us." + +A look of anger crossed Stonor's face. Had she been a man he would, I +am certain, have knocked her down. But as it was he only said, with a +bitter smile playing about his mouth-- + +"You will regret one day, Daisy, the scandalous allegations you are +making against me." + +"Allegations! Have I not told them that you are innocent of the blood +of Louise Lorimer, although you cannot deny that you loved her." + +"I do not deny it. I did love her, and I have been searching to +discover the poor girl's secret assassin." + +"You have long ago found him in Julian Little," she said. "He played +you false." + +"As you have played this gentleman here--whose name I don't know," he +responded, indicating myself. + +Was he referring to the mysterious guilt which she had asserted +prevented her from accepting my affection to the full. I watched her +face, and saw that she had gone white to the very lips. + +"Yes," Stonor went on. "You and your half-brother Drayton may denounce +Little and myself, but one day the truth will be out and our innocence +established." + +"One moment," interposed Whitlock. "Am I correct in believing that this +Mr Drayton has been abroad for some years--in Peru and other places?" + +"Certainly he has been in Peru. He made, I believe, quite a comfortable +sum there by fortunate speculations." + +I exchanged glances with Whitlock. There were some closed chapters of +the life of her half-brother of which she was, no doubt, in complete +ignorance. And certainly she would not know that he was at that moment +wanted by the police. + +A detective-sergeant, whom I recognised as one of Whitlock's men, +entered the room and whispered something, but what he said I could not +hear. It was evident that my friend had called there unexpectedly, +while several of his men had surrounded the house where, before his +wife's tragic death, Stonor had lived under the name of Elkington. +The information that the Elkingtons had been young people--obtained +originally, I believe, from a milkman--had rather misled us, for, +later, we discovered that Elkington--or Stonor, as he was known to +us--had let the house furnished after the strange death of his wife, +and that the tenants were the young people who had gone away suddenly +and to whom the milkman had referred. + +A cab, sent for by Whitlock, was at the door, it appeared, ready to +take Stonor to the police-station. + +"I regret," said the man whose suspicious movements I had watched both +in Scarborough and Cromer, addressing Whitlock, "that you should think +fit to act like this. You apparently do not wish me to give you any +information." + +"On the contrary. I merely said that any denial or any statement you +may make will be used in evidence against you. It is the law, you +know," replied my friend, politely, while the sergeant stood awaiting +the orders of his superior. + +"At least allow me to remain until Little's arrival," urged the +prisoner. "He must be here in a moment, and he will perhaps convince +you that I am not the culprit." + +"But he is," declared my well-beloved. + +"How do you know?" inquired Whitlock. "What evidence have you?" + +"I can bring forward a person who knows the truth," she said. "Arrest +Julian Little, the murderer of poor Louise, my schoolfellow and friend, +and I will furnish ample evidence of his guilt." + +"Then, in your opinion, Miss Marvin, this gentleman here is not the +actual assassin?" Whitlock remarked. + +"I express no opinion except that, knowing what I do, I think you are +defeating the ends of justice by arresting him. I do not say he is an +upright or an honest man--far from it. Indeed, if I cared, I could +reveal certain things concerning him which would probably bring about +his arrest upon an entirely different charge, but, mark me, he is not +the secret assassin of Louise Lorimer. It was to his interest that the +girl should live." + +"But who was the girl?" I asked the woman I loved so dearly. "What was +the secret of that house at Barnes?" + +"Ask the man before you," she replied, indicating Whitlock's prisoner, +whose face fell at her direct accusation. "Or, if he will not tell, ask +Julian Little." + +"I am well aware that Mr Little was at the house at Barnes on the +evening preceding the tragic affair," Whitlock said. "He was identified +as having entered the house supposed to be tenantless, and therefore, +from the first moment when the inquiry was placed in my hands, I have +entertained a good deal of suspicion concerning him." + +"Exactly. And you will discover that what I have told you is correct," +Daisy said. Then, turning to me, she added, "Forgive me for saying +this, Victor, of a man who is your friend." + +"I cannot yet discover why you are so bitter against him," I remarked. +"What harm has he ever done to you?" + +"He killed Louise, my friend." + +"Tell us the reason of the girl's presence in that tenantless house," +urged Whitlock, addressing Stonor, "and why she was engaged at that +secret telegraph instrument!" + +"I am now under arrest," was his reply. "Ask Little. If he chooses to +tell you he can do so." + +"And if he does not?" + +"Then I shall say nothing," he replied briefly. + +"You still assert your innocence?" Whitlock asked, rather surprised at +the man's demeanour. + +"I do. Take me to the station if you wish, but not before you have +questioned Julian Little." + +"You imply that he is implicated in the affair with you," said the +inspector, drily. When dealing with a prisoner he always spoke abruptly +and to the point. + +"I imply nothing, and I refuse to make any further statement," Stonor +said, with an attempt at carelessness. "Miss Marvin has told you that I +am not guilty." + +"That has yet to be established," remarked the inspector, quietly. + +"And I will establish it," Daisy said, standing bolt upright and facing +Whitlock boldly. Her attitude was most extraordinary, having regard to +what had taken place in Paris. + +I did not know what to think. + + + + + CHAPTER XL + + CONTAINS A GRAVE CHARGE + + +There was a movement at the door and Little entered. + +His face was full of blank surprise when, on looking around, he +recognised Whitlock, Daisy, and myself. + +He wore a shabby grey tweed suit, was unshaven, and his appearance was +entirely unlike his usual dapper self. Like most constant travellers +and thorough-going cosmopolitans, he always--even if he had only just +come off a long journey--was well-shaven, clean, and the pink of +tidiness. Long journeys, or constant vigilance, induce in most people +habits of personal untidiness. But not so in the hardened traveller. +He can do a sixty-hour journey and look as fresh and clean at the +end of it as if he had only run down to Brighton. Therefore Julian's +haggard, neglected look took me by surprise. Certainly the expression +of apprehension upon his face was sufficient to cause the gravest +suspicion to arise within the mind of myself, his very best friend. + +"Ah!" cried the girl I loved so dearly. "Ask this man the truth. Compel +him to tell it to you." + +"The truth of what?" he gasped, looking round at us each in turn. "What +does this mean?" + +Stonor spoke. + +"It means, Little, that I am arrested for the assassination of Louise +Lorimer at Barnes!" + +"You!" laughed his friend. "How absurd!" Turning to Whitlock, he +said, "Perhaps the movements of Mr Stonor and myself have appeared +suspicious, but the truth is we have been investigating the affair on +our own account. I know you've watched us. I saw both you and Keene +in Cromer, and I feared that you might believe we were the guilty +parties, acting in co-operation. But I think I can point out to you +facts that will probably astonish you. I'm a journalist, as you +know--correspondent of a paper which has the reputation of printing +a picture of the real life of to-day. The hypercritical call it +sensationalism, but it is really the human interest of our everyday +life, omitting the dry-as-dust mock literature which papers like _The +Globe_ still put forward. Keene and I believe in being alive and giving +the public facts up to date. He has investigated this case on behalf of +the paper, while I started out entirely on my own accord. And, I may +add, I have made certain discoveries." + +"Have you discovered the actual assassin?" I asked, fixing my eyes upon +his. + +"Yes, Victor," he said, in a low, distinct voice; "I have." + +"And who is he?" I demanded. + +"The truth regarding the affair is a long story," was Julian's reply. +"Stonor can tell you better than myself." + +Daisy laughed sarcastically. Her air was that of one acquainted with +the truth; and yet Julian's words had caused her to listen with +interest, and to wonder. I knew that Julian was antagonistic towards +her, but I little dreamed the truth. The scene at that moment was full +of tension, a dramatic episode the recollection of which I shall surely +carry with me to the grave. + +My well-beloved had alleged the crime of murder against the man who was +my dearest and best friend! What could I do? What could I say? + +"I am under arrest," Stonor said. "Therefore I will say nothing." + +There was a pause. + +"Look here, Mr Whitlock," said Julian, facing my friend boldly; "this +situation is absurd. I tell you frankly that Stonor never harmed the +girl. His wife committed suicide after the murder, and it was in his +own interest to elucidate the truth. He and I have been engaged in +making inquiries ever since the day following the tragedy." + +Whitlock looked at him for several moments. Then he said-- + +"This statement of yours is interesting. And all the more so for one +single reason." + +"And what's that?" + +"Because there is an allegation against you that you are the actual +assassin!" + +Little burst into laughter. + +"Come, Whitlock," he said, "let us speak seriously. Are you actually in +earnest?" + +"Ask Miss Marvin." + +He turned to Daisy. Their eyes met, and I saw in his a strange look of +quick inquiry. + +"I have said all I have to say," she exclaimed, perfectly cool and +perfectly frankly. + +"And that," explained Whitlock, "is that you, Mr Little, killed Louise +Lorimer." + +Julian pursed his lips. It needed no second glance to show him that his +position was one of danger and of difficulty. The girl, against whom he +had, for the past couple of years, been so antagonistic, had apparently +had her revenge, for she had alleged against him the crime of murder. + +"So you have said this?" he asked her at last. "You!" + +"I have," was her bold reply, "and I repeat it. Mr Stonor is innocent. +It is you who are guilty." + +"And I suppose both you, Mr Whitlock, and you, Keene, suspect me--eh?" +he said, with a bitter smile. "Well, I admit that my movements have +been extremely suspicious. But our actions were imperative, and at +least we now have one satisfaction." + +"And what, pray, is that?" I inquired. + +"That we have solved the mystery--Stonor and I. We know how the whole +extraordinary affair was conducted, and who actually killed poor +Louise!" + +"Who is the guilty person?" Whitlock asked. + +Little glanced across at Daisy, who stood at my side, and said in a +mysterious manner-- + +"When we are alone I will answer your question. It was neither Stonor +nor myself." + +"Then you know the whole story of the crime," I said anxiously. +"Explain it to us." + +"I know a good deal," he replied, "even though I may not know every +detail--not having been present myself." + +"Yes. Tell us," urged Whitlock. + +"With Stonor's permission," he said, glancing inquiringly at his friend. + +"I have no objection," the other answered. "For the sooner the affair +is cleared up and the real criminal arrested the better. This arrest of +myself is absurd. Better be frank and explain the whole affair." + +"Very well," said Julian Little, "I will." Then, turning to us, he +said: "There are very many curious features of the case, I admit; +but, Stonor's mouth being closed, I will explain briefly all I know +concerning the tragedy. Some few months ago, while in Constantinople as +special correspondent of the _Herald_, I discovered Stonor living there +with his wife--the woman who afterwards committed suicide at Barnes. He +had been there for nearly a year, endeavouring to obtain a concession +for a monopoly to supply the Sultan's capital with electric light, and +had already got hold of one or two good things which he had sold in +London. He placed an ingenious project before me--a project whereby we +might both make a big fortune at one _coup_. Briefly explained, it was +this. Germany is now making a railway towards the Persian Gulf. Of this +line a very long section is completed, but, as the line is a menace to +our interests in the East, our Embassy had put pressure upon the Sultan +and induced him to withdraw his _irade_, so that the line could not be +extended farther than the point it had already reached. In consequence +of this the shares in what had been a most prosperous company with a +huge future before it had gone down to nothing, for the stopping of the +line half-way across a desert had put an end to all hope of financial +success. Now, from one of his friends at the Yildiz--a son of the Grand +Vizier, I believe--Stonor knew that Germany was trying to secretly +influence the Sultan to revoke his decision. Therefore he suggested +that if we obtained early knowledge of the Sultan's reply we might, +with the assistance of a capitalist whom we knew in Berlin, buy up the +majority of the shares in the company before the truth leaked out, and +thus make a huge _coup_." + +"By Jove!" I exclaimed in surprise. "Go on." + +"Well, there was only one way in which we could obtain premature news +of His Majesty's decision, and that was by intercepting and reading the +secret despatch sent from the German Ambassador to the Porte to Prince +von Bülow. The latter was in England, staying for some weeks with some +friends near Portsmouth. From the secret police in Constantinople +Stonor obtained a copy of the telegraphic cipher of the German Foreign +Office, which had been abstracted from the German Embassy a year +before, copied, and returned to its place. With this in our possession +we proceeded to complete our plans; first, in Berlin, with our +financial friend--who, at a given signal, could place his hands on the +majority of the shares--and then in London, where we took possession +of the empty house at Barnes, close to the trunk telegraph lines to +Portsmouth, which, with the aid of a telegraph engineer, whom we paid +well, we successfully tapped, so that we could read every message +before it reached the German Chancellor." + +"But what of Louise Lorimer?" Daisy asked, still full of suspicion. + +"I was about to tell you of her," Julian went on. "We wanted a female +telegraph-clerk, and Stonor, fortunately, knew Louise Lorimer, who was +at that time engaged at the post-office at Sydenham. She came to us, +and for six weeks, night and day, that wire was watched to see if the +despatch from Constantinople, which would mean fortune for us all, +came over it. I went to the house, it was true. Indeed, I often went +surreptitiously, for I chanced to be in England a good deal at that +time. Stonor's wife had been a telegraph-clerk before her marriage, +therefore she and Louise took it in turns to watch and sleep. It was +a weird business--that constant alertness in the empty house--I can +assure you. And then," he added, pausing--"and then came the astounding +news of poor Louise's death, and the unaccountable suicide of Mrs +Stonor. Only Stonor himself and I knew the identity of the lady who had +taken her own life, and it was to our interests to keep the affair a +mystery. Instead of a huge fortune, as we anticipated, our ingenious +plot had only resulted in a tragedy! And ever since that day Stonor and +I have been seeking to elucidate the mystery of who killed poor Louise." + +"The movements of both of you were highly suspicious, to say the +least," Whitlock remarked, surprised at the story. + +"I quite admit that. Indeed, when we knew that you had found us at +Cromer, Stonor anticipated arrest." + +"And I was not mistaken," laughed the man who had hit upon that +ingenious method of making a fortune. + +"You will recollect several curious Press messages during your +investigations," Little said, addressing me. "They were sent by me, so +as to put you off the scent of ourselves, and at the same time to lead +you to a knowledge of the actual assassin." + +"By you!" I gasped, recollecting that I had at the time judged them to +be the work of a professional journalist. + +"Yes. The box in the garden of the house at Barnes Stonor had buried +himself, while the pointing out of the house wherein he had lived as +Elkington was done in order to give you a clue to the young girl's +identity. We had already established, without a shadow of doubt, who +had committed the murder." + +"And whom, pray, do you allege committed the crime?" asked Whitlock, +deeply in earnest. + +"My friend and whilom partner, Stonor, is under arrest," answered +Little, with a smile. "Until he is free I shall not speak." + +"Then, in that case, I release him," said Whitlock, utterly amazed at +the extraordinary narrative. + +"And I hope, Inspector Whitlock, you will arrest the guilty man, who +stands there before you!" Daisy exclaimed, pointing straight at Little, +who merely shrugged his shoulders unconcernedly. + +"Come," said Whitlock, "explain all you know, and give me the names of +any witnesses you may have." + +"If I may see you for one moment alone, outside in the hall, I will +tell you something," he said. + +Acting upon his suggestion Whitlock went out at once with him, and for +a few moments they conversed together in an undertone. + +When the inspector returned I saw that his countenance had altered. +There was a look of self-satisfaction upon his face, for he at last +knew the truth. + +At that moment we heard the front door close, as some one left the +house, and then Whitlock said-- + +"I think, gentlemen, that for the next half hour we may postpone the +discussion of the matter. I have sent a sergeant for an important +witness, whose presence here will greatly assist us," whereupon the +tension grew less, and Stonor, producing a box of cigars and some +whisky and soda, offered us generous hospitality. + +As if by general consent not a word was spoken regarding the tragedy. +Only Daisy was silent and thoughtful. She still seemed full of +suspicion of the man who was my friend. + +The moments seemed as hours as we waited for the arrival of the person +whose name Whitlock would not tell us. He evidently intended to spring +some surprise upon one or other of us. It was a habit of his to proceed +quickly, coolly, and then suddenly produce his trump-card. And this +trump-card had apparently been furnished by Julian Little. + + + + + CHAPTER XLI + + WHICH REVEALS THE TRUTH + + +The door of the dining-room, wherein we were still assembled, re-opened +to admit a young man in evening clothes, the man of whom I had +entertained a groundless jealousy--Drayton. + +Stonor had, a few moments before, left the room in order to obtain some +more soda-water. Otherwise, we were all present. + +As Drayton entered, greeting us with some surprise, and inquiring of +Whitlock why he had been sent for, Little suddenly and abruptly stepped +forward and, raising his hand, said-- + +"I charge that man with being the assassin of Louise Lorimer!" + +"You're a liar!" the young fellow cried. "What do you mean?" + +"I mean that we are here to-night to end this mystery, and to deliver +the assassin to justice," exclaimed Julian, facing him boldly. "You +have acted cleverly--very cleverly--in establishing my guilt to your +half-sister. But to-night it must end. The truth must out." + +"Oh, must it?" cried Drayton. "Very well, then--it shall. Let us assume +for a moment that I am guilty. How, pray, do you prove my alleged +offence?" + +"You were her secret lover." + +"I don't deny that. It is true that I was in love with Louise; and, +by heaven! ever since the poor girl's death I've been seeking her +assassin!" + +"You admit that you were the lover of Louise Lorimer?" asked Whitlock, +in surprise. + +"Of course I do. Daisy knows that quite well," he answered. "I +frequently went to see her at that lonely house in Barnes where she +spent so many dismal weeks. After the murder I took Daisy there to show +her the place, as she wished to see it." + +"My allegation is that you wished to get rid of her, and went there +that night intending to do so," Julian said determinedly. + +"Scandalous!" cried Daisy, in defence of her half-brother. + +"My dear sir," he said, "you are at liberty to allege exactly whatever +you like against me. But you will have to establish it, recollect. As a +matter of fact, I was not in London on that night." + +"Ah, so you intend to prove an alibi!" remarked Whitlock, quickly. + +"You're a liar!" Little declared openly. "It will be proved that you +were not only in London, but you were with Miss Marvin earlier in the +evening." + +"She will be able to tell you that, no doubt," responded the man whose +finger-marks upon his glass at the Gambrinus had betrayed him. "You +are endeavouring to make this allegation against me in order to shield +yourself. You were, as you know, Daisy's admirer, and because she +refused to have anything whatever to do with you, you have been her +bitterest enemy." + +"Is this true?" I asked breathlessly, turning to my well-beloved, +beside whom stood Stonor, who had just re-entered. + +"I have forgiven everything long ago, Victor," she said, in her soft, +sweet voice. "But what I can never forgive is the foul assassination +of my helpless friend. What Douglas has told me is sufficient proof of +that man's guilt." + +"And what has he told you?" I asked. + +"Facts which he cannot substantiate," interposed Little, with a dry, +but uneasy, laugh. The revelation that he had been an admirer of +Daisy's had apparently upset him. It was strange how each man was +now accusing the other, and all apparently without any satisfactory +evidence to support their charges. + +Drayton had admitted, however, that he had been the poor girl's lover +in secret, and his manner when charged with the crime was distinctly +that of a guilty man. I had not liked him from the first moment when +I had seen him in the Gambrinus, and I did not like him now. Upon his +countenance "Adventurer" was plainly written, yet he seemed to wield +over Daisy some strong but occult power. She humoured his every whim, +and what he told her she believed implicitly. + +That there had been suspicion against Julian Little could not be +denied, but in face of what I had just heard, I began now to discard +the theory I had once formed, and I believed every word that my friend +uttered. + +Drayton, though shielded by Daisy, was no doubt guilty. He had been +the secret lover of poor Louise, had been in the habit of visiting +the deserted house at night--as it was impossible to go there in the +daytime--and had, on the fatal night, rid himself of what he feared +was becoming an incubus upon him. The whole affair was now plain as +daylight; yet, unfortunately, it was merely based upon circumstantial +evidence. There was no witness; no actual proof. + +Whitlock apparently viewed the situation from exactly the same +standpoint as myself. He saw in Drayton's allegations against Little +an attempt to shield himself. The admission he had made of being the +girl's lover was in itself a damaging one. + +"Well," said the inspector, who certainly had a difficult task in these +conflicting allegations, "I think, Mr Drayton, that I shall have to ask +you to consider yourself my prisoner." + +"What!" gasped the young man, all the colour fading from his face. +"You--you mean you arrest me!" + +"Yes--on suspicion of being the assassin of Louise Lorimer," responded +Whitlock, in hard, businesslike tones. + +Daisy gave vent to a low scream, realising that her half-brother, in +whose honesty she had such firm belief, was now under arrest. + +"No!" she cried. "This is infamous! He is innocent. I know he is!" + +"Mr Drayton's innocence will be proved in due course," the detective +said coldly. "Meanwhile I must detain him on suspicion." + +"I can prove my innocence at once," cried the young man. "Give me a +piece of paper--I want to write a note." + +Whitlock pointed to a small escritoire, and, bending to it, Drayton +scribbled a few hasty lines, which he placed in an envelope upon which +he wrote an address. + +"Will you please send someone with that and ask for an answer," he +said, handing the note to Whitlock. "It isn't far--only in Marylebone +Road." + +My friend despatched it, ordering the sergeant to take a cab. + + * * * * * + +Twenty minutes or so later the sergeant returned, ushering in a +pale-faced, ill-dressed youth with longish hair and broken boots--a +youth who, by his appearance, picked up a precarious living on the +streets. + +"Good-evenin', Mr Drayton!" he exclaimed, on encountering the young man +who had sent for him. "I've come, yer see. I said I would, when yer +sent for me." + +"Yes; I'm glad you're here, Monro," Drayton said. "I want you to tell +this gentleman"--and he indicated Whitlock--"what you saw in that house +at Barnes on the night when the young woman was murdered." + +"Well, sir," he answered without hesitation, "I wor down on my luck, +an' 'avin' no place to go for the night I saw, as I wor goin' along +Castelnau, in Barnes, wot I takes to be a hempty 'ouse. I climbs over +the gate, an' findin' a window at the back 'arf open, gets inside, +when on a sudden I 'ears voices--a man and a woman, an' I also 'ears a +little bell a-ringin'. I listens, an' I 'ears another footstep outside +in the garden, an' I sees the figure of a man a-hidin' hisself in the +bushes. I creeps up to the room where the voices come from, an' I +sees a fellow an' a girl a-quarrellin'. An' then--an' then I saw the +fellow deliberately kill the girl. An' after 'e'd done it 'e steals out +quick, an' 'e nearly 'it up agin me in the dark passage where I wor +a-standin'. An' 'e does a bunk, quick." + +"You actually saw his face?" Whitlock asked eagerly. "Now, think of +what you're saying." + +"'Course I did." + +"Is he in this room?" + +"No. 'E ain't 'ere." + +Drayton stared at the youth in abject wonder, for he expected that he +would identify Little. "It was myself who hid in the bushes, for I had +gone there to see Louise," he explained. + +"What was he like?" Whitlock asked. "Describe him to us." + +"Well, 'e was stout, with a rather crooked nose an' a reddish face. I +saw 'im quite plainly," answered the youth Monro. + +"But you never told me this before," Drayton said. + +"I pointed out a bloke close to 'Ammersmith bridge wot from 'is back I +thought was the man." + +"And he was this gentleman--Mr Little," Drayton said. + +"Well, the chap who did it was much fatter, an' 'ad a red face--a +reg'lar clock on 'im," the youth declared. + +"Where is Stonor?" I asked, looking round, for on Monro's entry there +he had left the room again and had not returned. + +Stonor! the description of the assassin fitted him exactly! I stood +breathless. + +In an instant his absence aroused strong suspicion, and Whitlock, +stepping out into the hall, inquired of the sergeant if anyone had +passed out. + +"No, sir. And the area door is locked. I have the key." + +Whitlock shouted up the stairs, "Mr Stonor! Mr Stonor!" but there was +no response. + +Frantic search resulted in the discovery of the door of a small +bedroom on the second floor being locked. In a few moments it was +unceremoniously forced, and there upon the floor, with a small empty +phial upon the dressing-table, lay the body of the scoundrel who had +so completely deceived the man who had entered into the ingenious +partnership. He had, it seemed, seen the youth as he had left the rooms +at Barnes on the night of his crime, and, again recognising him, saw +that the game was up. + +Later inquiries, made by Little, Drayton and myself, showed that +Stonor was at first much attached to Louise, and had completely misled +his sister at Scarborough. A very shady business transaction of his, +amounting to a serious crime, in which he had swindled Little, had +been discovered by the girl, and he feared to discharge her lest she +should have her revenge by exposing his methods to Julian. Therefore +he resolved to kill her, and cast suspicion upon Drayton with Little's +aid. The concealment of the birth-certificate and other things showed +how carefully he had prepared the evidence against Drayton, whom he +knew as an adventurer, and how ingeniously he had carried the mystery +forward until the police were so utterly puzzled that the problem had +been placed beyond solution. Every detail had been marvellously thought +out--all except the tragic suicide of his poor wife--which had utterly +unnerved even him. + +Inquiries made it quite plain that she was well aware of her husband's +clever tactics, and had assisted him in several business transactions +which were the reverse of honest. Drayton had, through Louise, +obtained knowledge of all this, and the day previous to the tragedy +demanded blackmail of her. She had not told her husband, as they were +not on very good terms because of his undue admiration of the pretty +telegraph-girl. When on the night in question she entered there to +relieve Louise and watch the wire while she slept, and encountered +the constable, and saw the body of the girl of whom she was jealous, +she naturally concluded that Drayton had carried out his threat of +exposure, especially as she found herself under arrest. She, therefore, +in a frenzy of terror and despair, committed suicide in the police-cell. + + * * * * * + +More than a year has now passed since the dramatic incidents of that +well-remembered night when the truth was crystallised. + +Daisy--my own sweet-faced Daisy--is now my wife. We love each other. +Need I tell you more? + +An hour after the establishment of Stonor's guilt we mutually +apologised for daring to doubt each other, and since that moment our +lives have been full of blissful happiness. + +She retired from the stage a week before our marriage, preferring my +love to the life of limelight and tinsel in which she had hitherto been +such a prominent figure. We have a pretty, old-fashioned house down at +Wimbledon, overlooking the common; but we are very seldom there, for +she is already becoming a hardened traveller, and is mostly away with +me on the Continent, journeying hither and thither, and assisting me in +my work as special correspondent of the _Daily Herald_. Indeed, many of +the telegrams you read in your morning paper signed by myself have been +penned by her hand. + +Drayton, owing to certain information I gave him regarding the probable +activity of the police, again left England suddenly, and when last +heard of was in Mexico. Julian Little is now our best friend, and +a confirmed bachelor. He is, like myself, ever travelling, and we +sometimes come across each other in odd out-of-the-way places on the +Continent, while at the office off Fleet Street the staff are just the +same, except that in certain quarters there is, I believe, considerable +envy at my good fortune. + +But Daisy and I laugh the whole world in the face. We love each other +with a passionate, perfect, and all-absorbing affection, and no cloud +mars our peace and contentment. Her self-accusation was, I discovered, +relative to the days long past, when Little had admired her, and when +she in her girlish ecstasy had given him a declaration of what she +believed then to be love. Though our marriage was really the outcome +of a great and mysterious crime, yet we both feel, and we have both +more than once declared, that if we could peep for an instant into the +Book of Fate we should find our present existence of sweet content +and our future just exactly as desired by you, my reader.--"THE +LOOKER-ON." + + + THE END + + EDINBURGH + COLSTON AND CO. LIMITED + PRINTERS + + * * * * * + + + [Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation left as printed.] + + * * * * * + + WILLIAM LE QUEUX'S NOVELS + + _OPINIONS IN 1908_ + + +"Mr William Le Queux is the master of the sensational novel. He never +lets us pause for an instant to draw breath."--_Daily Mail._ + +"Our most gifted and popular writer of sensational fiction."--_M.A.P._ + +"Mr Le Queux, instead of becoming stale, seems by practice to have +become more ingenious and subtle in his plots and defter in developing +them."--_British Weekly._ + +"No living novelist can beat Mr Le Queux in contriving an ingenious, +sensational and absorbing mystery."--_The Reader._ + +"Certainly the age of the mystery novel does not seem likely to pass +away so long as William Le Queux lives and writes."--_Northern Whig._ + +"There is no defter hand at the compounding of a thoroughly +satisfactory mystery than Mr Le Queux. He holds the reader in +breathless suspense throughout."--_Literary World._ + +"It is useless to recommend Mr Le Queux. He has an audience always +ready for more."--_Queen._ + +"The last page ('The Count's Chauffeur') indicates that we have not +finished with George Ewart, and his tales are so exciting that we feel +we could stand any amount more."--_Daily Telegraph._ + +"Mr William Le Queux is the favourite novelist of at least four crowned +heads. They are Queen Alexandra, the King of Italy, King Peter of +Servia, and Prince Ferdinand of Bulgaria."--_Pall Mall Gazette._ + +"Mr Le Queux is the most widely-read novelist; and deservedly so, for +his books hold one from the first page to the very last."--_Illustrated +Mail._ + +"Wherever the English language is spoken, the thrilling stories of Mr +Le Queux are known."--_Ideas._ + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78884 *** diff --git a/78884-h/78884-h.htm b/78884-h/78884-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf7ff0c --- /dev/null +++ b/78884-h/78884-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11755 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The Looker-on | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } +hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +x-ebookmaker-drop {display: none;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap { font-variant:small-caps; } + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +div.titlepage { + text-align: center; + page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; +} + +div.titlepage p { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.5; + margin-top: 3em; +} + +.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph1 { font-size: x-large; margin: .83em auto; } + +.ph2 { text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph2 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } + +.ph3 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph3 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} + + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78884 ***</div> + + +<div class="titlepage"> + +<h1>The Looker-On</h1> + +<p>A Romance of Journalistic London</p> + +<p>BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX</p> + +<p>AUTHOR OF<br> +"THE SECRET OF THE SQUARE," "WHATSOEVER A<br> +MAN SOWETH," "SINS OF THE CITY,"<br> +ETC. ETC.</p> + +<p>LONDON</p> + +<p>F. V. White & Co., Limited<br> +14 Bedford Street, Strand, W.C.</p> + +<p>1908</p> + +<p><i>Copyright in the United States of America by<br> +William Le Queux, 1907</i></p> + + +</div> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table> +<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">"OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CONCERNS THE CURIOUS AFFAIR AT BARNES</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">IN THE GLARE OF PUBLICITY</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CONTAINS SOME SURPRISES</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">REPEATS A MESSAGE TO PLYMOUTH</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">AROUSES SOME SUSPICIONS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">IS MAINLY ABOUT DAISY MARVIN</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">SHOWS THE PULSE OF THE WORLD</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">BEHIND THE SCENES OF THE <i>HERALD</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">SHOWS A TIGHT CORNER</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">THE PRESS AND THE PUBLIC</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">IS EVEN MORE MYSTERIOUS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">IS A REVELATION</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XIV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CONCERNS THE STRANGER</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">THE HOUSE OF SHADOWS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XVI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">WHAT THE TAPE REVEALED</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XVII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CONTAINS MRS DAVIS'S STORY</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">IN WHICH WE MAKE A DISCOVERY</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XIX.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">IN WHICH ANOTHER DISCOVERY IS MADE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XX.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">THE PHOTOGRAPHER TELLS HIS STORY</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">REVEALS THE GULF</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">THE DOUBLE LIFE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">IN SEARCH OF THE TRUTH</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXIV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">SOME DISCOVERIES IN SCARBOROUGH</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">ONE FACT IS MADE CLEAR</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXVI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">THE MYSTERIOUS MR STONOR</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXVII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">THE STEPS OF THE STRANGER</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXVIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">REVEALS A CROOKED CIRCUMSTANCE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXIX.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">IS DISTINCTLY CURIOUS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXX.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">A NIGHT AT THE SAVAGE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">A SERVANT OF THE PUBLIC</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">THE MYSTERIOUS M'SIEUR SMITH</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">THOSE WHO KNEW</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXIV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">FACE TO FACE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">DESCRIBES AN EXCITING CHASE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXVI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">MORE MYSTERY!</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXVII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">THE PALACE THEATRE, HAMMERSMITH</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXVIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">MY LOVE'S CONFESSION</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXIX.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">TO THE UNKNOWN</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XL.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CONTAINS A GRAVE CHARGE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XLI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">WHICH REVEALS THE TRUTH</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<h2>THE LOOKER-ON</h2> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</h2> +</div> + +<h3>"OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT"</h3> + + +<p>"And what about the girl?"</p> + +<p>"It's a most mysterious affair—a complete mystery!" I answered.</p> + +<p>"And I suppose you'll keep it so for a couple of days longer, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. I've worked it up for all it's worth in to-night's +'special.' Seen it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. A first-class story. What's the real truth?"</p> + +<p>"Mystery—with a capital M, my dear fellow. Even Whitlock, at Scotland +Yard, is utterly in the dark."</p> + +<p>"He tells you so."</p> + +<p>"He is. He and I are pals. He often tells me the truth first, and then +tells me the picturesque lie for the paper."</p> + +<p>"You're frank, Keene, if nothing else."</p> + +<p>"Frank! Well, it's the truth," I declared, lighting a fresh cigarette. +"You recollect the Pimlico mystery? Well, Whitlock told me the truth +from the first, but we kept up the sensation for four days—until the +arrest."</p> + +<p>"And you will do the same in this case, I suppose?" remarked my friend +Julian Little, with a light laugh. "By Jove! you, the Murder-Monger, +have a much better chance of doing good work than I have."</p> + +<p>"But you are special correspondent, travelling the world over, and +sending startling telegrams that are signed; while I'm a mere reporter, +whose special duty it is to work up any likely story of mystery or +crime," I protested.</p> + +<p>"Your work is a lot more interesting than mine," replied the great +special correspondent, the man whose name was known the world over, +and who had been through every campaign of recent years, from the +bombardment of Alexandria to the fall of Port Arthur. "Wherever I +am—even when on a political inquiry—I have a hidden ogre in the shape +of a censor who strikes out all the best sentences from my telegrams +and turns the sense of a message to just the opposite to what I +intended. Very often I don't recognise my own stuff in the <i>Herald</i>. +You, however, are a freelance, living here in the civilisation and +luxury of London life and——"</p> + +<p>"And at the beck and call of old Marvin day and night on that +confounded telephone," I interrupted. "He hawked me out of bed at +half-past three this morning, the snappy old fossil!"</p> + +<p>Little laughed.</p> + +<p>"You should just have a taste of my life for six months," he said. +"You fellows fancy it's a grand thing to be a 'special,' travelling +all over the world and hobnobbing with all sorts of well-known people. +That's the side of it which people know. But there's the reverse of +the picture, in long, tiresome journeys to out-of-the-way holes where +there are no hotels and no telegraphs, hostile authorities who hate +the Press, suppress every message, or mislead one by putting forward +official lies. Besides, there's always an element of personal danger in +wars, or even in revolts. Take the Russian rising, for instance. I had +a jolly narrow squeak one afternoon at a barricade in Warsaw. No, I'd +rather be the 'Murder-Monger,' as old Marvin calls you."</p> + +<p>"Well," I said, "I'd be quite content to try your life for a year, old +chap. But that will never be. I can't do such vivid descriptive work as +you can. I'm a mere reporter, and shall, I suppose, always remain so."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked the rather thin man reclining in the armchair before the +fire. "How old are you?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-seven."</p> + +<p>"And if I remember right, you were with Hogg up in Manchester and in +Glasgow, weren't you?"</p> + +<p>I nodded.</p> + +<p>"And you know as well as I do, Victor," he went on, "that at the office +the chief acknowledges you to be the smartest man on the staff. That's +why they put you on special work. Old Marvin was only talking of you +the other day."</p> + +<p>"Blackguarding me, I suppose? All sub-editors jeer at their reporters. +And a sub-editor's sarcasm can be a very bitter one."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. He was praising your work highly."</p> + +<p>"H'm! That's funny," I said thoughtfully. "He probably wouldn't, if he +knew the truth."</p> + +<p>"Of your love for his daughter Daisy, eh?" Little said. "Do you know, +Victor, I've been thinking about you a lot lately."</p> + +<p>"Because you've been at home a whole fortnight at a stretch. The first +long stay you've done in London for quite a couple of years."</p> + +<p>"True. I don't see much of town—or of this happy home of ours," +he exclaimed, smiling, and glancing round the large, old-fashioned +sitting-room of the chambers in Gray's Inn which we jointly occupied. +"But it wasn't that. To tell you the truth, I've been thinking about +Daisy Marvin."</p> + +<p>"Well—what about her! You've heard, I suppose, that she's getting +on in her profession famously? Last week she was at the Holborn, and +yesterday she signed an engagement at the Tivoli. Her new song, 'The +Motor Maid,' is really very catchy."</p> + +<p>"Catchy! Yes, my dear boy; that's the very word. She'll catch you—if +she hasn't caught you already."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know!" I exclaimed, impatiently, for Little was for ever +warning me against the undesirability of marrying the daughter of +James Marvin—News Editor of the <i>Evening Herald</i>—who, having gone on +the variety stage, was already well on her way to becoming a "star." +"You're not fond of Daisy."</p> + +<p>"She's very clever, I admit. I saw her at the Palace six weeks ago, +just before I went up to Norway. But you know my motto, Victor: 'Don't +marry.'"</p> + +<p>"You're such a confirmed bachelor, my dear Little," I declared, +laughing. "Yet it isn't quite fair to the other sex, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, look at me; What could I do with a wife?" he asked, stretching +out his long legs towards the fire. "I shouldn't see her half a dozen +times in a twelvemonth. And certainly she couldn't travel with me at +the pace I'm often compelled to move."</p> + +<p>"But all men are not like you," I argued.</p> + +<p>"Nor like you, Keene. You are young. You have your way to make in the +profession, therefore take the advice of an old hand—a man who has +seen more of the world than most men—and don't let the dainty Daisy +fascinate you, as she does her music-hall audiences."</p> + +<p>"Oh, hang it, Julian!" I cried. "Let's talk of something else."</p> + +<p>"We were talking of something else," he said. "Of this curious affair +over at Barnes that you've worked up so well that you've set all London +talking. It is, as you say, a first-class story."</p> + +<p>And the renowned special correspondent of the great newspaper, the +London <i>Daily Herald</i>, carefully selected a fresh cigar, cut off the +end, and contemplated it with the eye of a connoisseur.</p> + +<p>Julian Little was one of the world's famous men; famous on account +of his vivid descriptions of every sort of public function and of +every sort of fighting. Long years of travel, of hardship, and of +knocking about in odd remote corners of the earth had rendered him +a cosmopolitan to the very backbone. Besides being a newspaper +correspondent he had written a couple of novels which had achieved +success, while his pleasant personality had rendered him popular at the +British Embassies and Legations in the various capitals.</p> + +<p>"Little of the <i>Herald</i>" was known to every Consul from Stockholm to +Constantinople, while he was an especial favourite with Ambassadors and +Ministers because it was known that, unlike so many correspondents, he +never betrayed a confidence, and he often wired a lie to London when +the exigencies of British diplomacy required it. Many an Ambassador had +"inspired" his messages, and with more than one crowned head he was +<i>persona grata</i>.</p> + +<p>About forty-five, tall, rather thin, with fair hair, and moustache just +turning grey, his was a pleasant face, though hard and weather-beaten, +with wrinkled brow and lines which showed plainly the hard life he +so often led. His blue eyes betrayed the merry twinkle of genuine +<i>bonhomie</i>, his features were somewhat aquiline and shrewd, while in +his cravat he wore a pin in the form of a Royal crown and cipher—a +present from a reigning emperor. Merry and easy-going, he sat there +in dark-blue clothes—for he had been down to the office, and had +therefore not dressed for dinner—he was the picture of the perfect +cosmopolitan man of the world, whose range of acquaintances in various +countries was, perhaps, unequalled.</p> + +<p>Yet, like most other men, he had his skeleton in his cupboard. From +his careless manner, his apparent recklessness, and his irresponsible +good-humour no one would even suspect that, though he had risen to the +very head of his profession and his income was an ambassadorial one, he +was world-weary and heartsick. In the days long ago, when he had been +a reporter like myself, there had been an unfortunate incident which +had ever since clouded his life. I knew his secret vaguely, but not the +exact facts. Like so many other men who are famous, he was embittered +against the world, and his popularity was but a hollow mockery.</p> + +<p>Julian was exclusively on the staff of the morning edition of the +<i>Herald</i>, that newspaper of great power and enormous circulation, while +I was employed upon the evening edition. Both journals emanated from +the same palatial offices, just off Fleet Street, and both had been +founded by the same journalistic genius, who had built up an enormous +fortune out of his newspaper enterprises.</p> + +<p>On the <i>Daily Herald</i> expense was never considered where it became a +question of obtaining authentic and interesting news. Little often +travelled half round the world on an errand which proved quite +fruitless, and was his own master to go hither and thither in search of +intelligence to interest the British public at home.</p> + +<p>Readers of the paper were often astonished at the rapidity with which +he seemed to move. One day a telegram, signed by him, would be dated +from St Petersburg, two days later from Budapest, and still two days +later from some outlandish place in Asia Minor or Greece. Or, again, he +would suddenly start a series of articles from Tokio or San Francisco, +or commence to describe doings on the Rand.</p> + +<p>Because of this I envied him. Since I had left Cheltenham College—for +a University man is of but little use on the Press nowadays—I had +graduated, step by step, upon provincial papers, commencing by +reporting country benches and ending by a seat in the gallery of the +House of Commons. But I hated mere speech-taking, so I commenced to +specialise, and my position on the <i>Evening Herald</i>—at a very decent +salary, I might add—was to keep my eye upon and investigate the +various London mysteries that cropped up from time to time.</p> + +<p>Thus, in the great office with its enormous staff of specialists and +its private barrister to advise upon legal points, and more especially +the law of libel, I had earned the nickname of "The Murder-Monger."</p> + +<p>I had known Julian Little from childhood. He was the son of old Sir +Halliday Little, K.C.B., a retired Ambassador, who had served the +country at half a dozen European Courts, and whose family seat was +Winholt Hall, in Suffolk, my father being vicar of that parish.</p> + +<p>It was, therefore, not surprising that when at last I had the good +fortune to receive an appointment on the <i>Herald</i> by Julian's +influence, I should share his rooms in Gray's Inn. He was away so much, +he declared, that if I lived there I would prevent them from becoming +musty.</p> + +<p>They were quaint, old-fashioned apartments overlooking the green +square and the long black trees where the rooks cawed, rooms that +he had modernised and furnished with taste combined with comfort. +The room in which we were sitting that chilly autumn night was +carpeted with moss-green and filled with Chippendale furniture well +in keeping with the old Adams ceiling and mantelpiece. Around were +well-filled bookcases—two of which were my own—and upon the side +table a number of Julian's souvenirs, big autographed portraits of +reigning Sovereigns, Cabinet Ministers, and men and women of note +in various parts of the world, who were his personal friends. Many +of those photographs bore inscriptions penned by Royal and Imperial +hands—inscriptions which showed in what esteem the great correspondent +was held.</p> + +<p>On a nail beside the fireplace hung a well-worn leather revolver-belt, +with the weapon buttoned in its case, his constant companion on his +many campaigns, while in the big glass case on the wall opposite +were a quantity of odds and ends of old jewellery he had picked up +in his travels. The Pirot hearthrug of beautiful Oriental colouring +he had brought from Servia, the heavy curtains before the window he +had purchased in the bazaar in Bagdad, the pearl inlaid coffee-table +whereon stood our drinks had been given him by his friend Tewfik Pasha, +the Ottoman Minister of Foreign Affairs, and the fine diamond ring upon +his finger was a souvenir from an Imperial Princess.</p> + +<p>Position such as this would have turned the head of many a man. But +he was good-natured, unassuming and modest to a degree, always ready +to lend a helping hand to a youngster in the same profession, while +his hand was constantly in his pocket to assist those elderly Pressmen +who, in these modern days when competition is so keen, find themselves +crowded out. Fleet Street, alas! contains many human wrecks and +pitiable tragedies—men who are still brilliant and active yet who, +merely because they are getting on in years, have been forced to resign +in favour of beardless youths.</p> + +<p>Time was when experience was a necessary qualification, but to-day +smartness is required even at the risk of irresponsibility, and elderly +men are cast forth to become "liners," and to end their days in the +bars of the back alleys of Fleet Street. The people who run great +newspapers are not philanthropists; their motto is, "Get on, or get +out," and in some offices so precarious are men's positions that he who +is an editor to-day may find himself next week at the bottom rung of +the ladder.</p> + +<p>Ah yes! the world of modern journalism is a queer and turbulent world +indeed—one that is a closed book to the public, but one that contains +much romance. The public buys its morning or evening paper, reads +it, and casts it aside without a thought of the strange and often +adventurous lives led by the men who have written what they read. They +know Julian Little because he is a great man and always signs what he +writes. But a man like myself, who whets their appetite for mystery, +and whom they only know as "an <i>Evening Herald</i> representative," is +unknown and remains ever so, their faithful but anonymous servant.</p> + +<p>And yet I suppose I have nothing to grumble at. In my own line I am +acknowledged to be a master. In more than one mysterious case my own +personal inquiries have resulted in information which I have, in +confidence, imparted to Scotland Yard, and in one celebrated affair +the culprit was arrested upon my information, tried, found guilty and +hanged at Gloucester Jail.</p> + +<p>No man, however, is contented with his lot, and I was comparing his +life with my own as we smoked together, prior to turning in.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear Victor," my friend laughed, "there isn't much +difference, after all. You look after sensations at home, while I look +after them abroad."</p> + +<p>"You deal with wars and political conspiracies while my sphere lies +among thieves or jealous husbands."</p> + +<p>"But your work is surely much more interesting than mine!" he declared. +"This Barnes affair for instance. I didn't read all the facts. What is +the problem?"</p> + +<p>"Well—in a few words it's this," I said. "Beyond Hammersmith Bridge, +going towards Barnes, is a wide main thoroughfare called Bridge Road. +The houses are all large, old-fashioned ones, each standing in its own +garden. Once, before the advent of the motor 'bus, the road was a very +pleasant suburban thoroughfare within easy distance of the City, but +during the past year or two, owing to the vibration caused by passing +motors, a great many of these houses have been untenanted.</p> + +<p>"One of them, larger than most of the others, standing back some +distance from the road with a gravelled drive in front, has been empty +for about twelve months. It belongs, it appears, to an eccentric old +lady who, rather than accept a lower rent, preferred to allow the place +to remain empty. The day before yesterday, at four o'clock in the +morning, a police-constable named Horton, on the beat, saw that the +rusty padlock on the front gates had been unlocked, and that the latter +were slightly ajar.</p> + +<p>"This aroused his curiosity, for he had noticed that the lock was +upon the gate when he had gone on duty a few hours previously. So he +entered and tried the doors front and back. Both were, however, locked. +All seemed secure and he was about to leave the neglected garden when +he thought he detected a faint glimmer of light through the closed +venetian blinds in one of the back rooms. This surprised him, for +he knew that the house had been empty for a full year. He tried the +door again, but without avail. The conservatory door was also locked. +He then tried the windows and discovered one on the ground floor +unlatched; so, opening it, he entered."</p> + +<p>"And what did he find?" asked Little, much interested, as he knocked +the ash from his cigar.</p> + +<p>"He found—well, something that forms one of the most complete and most +astonishing mysteries that ever puzzled the London police," I replied. +"Listen, and I'll explain the affair, which is certainly more peculiar +than any I've ever before investigated."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h2> +</div> + +<h3>CONCERNS THE CURIOUS AFFAIR AT BARNES</h3> + + +<p>"Was it still dark?" asked Little, whose interest in the affair +seemed rather unusual, for he always set his face against sensational +journalism, and often raised his voice against my too lurid +descriptions in the evening edition of the <i>Herald</i>.</p> + +<p>"Day was just breaking," I went on. "The constable opened the window +and, entering the empty house, walked along a short passage to where +he saw a light shining beneath the door. He pushed it open, and a +sight met his eyes which astonished him. The room, a small one, was +comfortably furnished. The only illumination, however, was a child's +night-light burning under a little yellow glass dome upon the table, +and this was scarcely sufficient to reveal the farther corners of the +room. Along one side was an old horsehair couch with a sheet, blanket, +and eider-down quilt upon it, showing that the usurping occupant made +it both living and sleeping room, while opposite was an easy-chair, and +a small table upon which were a quantity of new books and the remains +of some food. To first appearances it was the room of a caretaker, and +the constable was about to retire, grumbling to himself that he had not +been informed that the place was inhabited, when he was startled to +hear, in a corner of the room, a sharp intermittent clicking. Opening +his bull's-eye he threw the light upon the dark corner, where there +was revealed something that was certainly unusual—a small deal table +with a telegraph instrument screwed down to it. And as he looked the +instrument clicked away some message which he, of course, could not +understand."</p> + +<p>"A telegraph instrument!" cried Julian, in quick surprise. "That +doesn't appear in to-night's 'special.'"</p> + +<p>"No," I replied, smiling. "I'm keeping a few facts over till to-morrow. +There were reasons why the presence of the instrument should not at +present be mentioned. Whitlock asked me to say nothing about it. I got +the whole story exclusive."</p> + +<p>"A real first-class 'scoop,'" declared Little, in journalistic slang.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Not bad, was it? Whitlock rang me up on the 'phone at nine +yesterday morning, and I went at once to Barnes and saw the house."</p> + +<p>"But the girl?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! that's just it. Horton, the constable, was standing watching the +clicking instrument, ticking some mysterious message to that lonely, +unoccupied house, when of a sudden his eyes caught sight of something +on the floor, close by the table. He turned his lantern upon it, +and saw that it was a young girl about twenty, fully dressed, lying +prostrate where she had fallen. The face was very beautiful, but very +pale. He bent and touched it. It was icy cold. She was stone-dead! +Horrified at the discovery, he turned to go out for assistance, when +he saw, standing in the doorway, pale and startled, another woman, +very good-looking, and about two years older than her dead companion. +She——"</p> + +<p>"That isn't in the 'special,' either," Little remarked.</p> + +<p>"No; I held it all back until to-day, and the remainder I shall +give to-morrow," I answered. "The whole affair is so absolutely +extraordinary in every detail. Let me finish. Well, Horton, face to +face with the woman, asked how it was that the girl was dead. The +new-comer started, looked at the body, then at the constable, but made +no response. Trembling from head to foot she stood there, her face +livid, her jaws set, her eyes glaring at the officer, as though staring +into eternity. Twice the constable repeated his question. 'I—I know +nothing!' she stammered at last. 'Then I shall be compelled to trouble +you to come to the station with me,' was Horton's reply, for the whole +circumstances warranted, in his opinion, the detention of this woman, +whose attitude showed guilt."</p> + +<p>"But he had not ascertained that the girl had died by foul means," +interrupted the special correspondent.</p> + +<p>"He surmised it. For an ordinary constable Horton was above the average +intelligence," I asserted. "He put many inquiries to the woman, but +she would vouchsafe no reply. He is convinced, however, from the fact +that she had her hat on, that she followed him into the house—probably +through the same window as that by which he had entered."</p> + +<p>"In that case, why did he arrest her?"</p> + +<p>"Because of her guilty attitude," I answered. "Wait until you hear +all, and then judge whether or not the constable was justified in his +action. They stood together in the room, beside the prostrate body of +the girl, the instrument still clicking on, the woman staring at the +lifeless form, her countenance white to the lips. 'Who is this girl?' +he demanded of her again. 'I—I don't know,' was the woman's reply. +Therefore, finding that he could obtain no information, he compelled +her to accompany him to the door, unlocked it, and brought her out +into Bridge Road, where, after calling assistance with his whistle, +he took her to the police-station. There the inspector endeavoured to +obtain from her her name and address and the name of the dead woman, +but without avail. She steadily declined to utter one single word, +even though he threatened to detain her. Therefore he had her placed +in the cells, while he himself went round to the empty house with the +divisional surgeon to examine the body. When he returned he went to the +cell to further question the woman."</p> + +<p>"And what statement did she make?"</p> + +<p>"None. She was dead—committed suicide."</p> + +<p>"Suicide!" he gasped, staring at me. "What? She's dead! Dead?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She had swallowed prussic acid, and so carried her secret to the +grave."</p> + +<p>"By Jove! Extraordinary—most extraordinary!" exclaimed Julian, tossing +his cigar away and rising to stretch his long legs. "Then the theory +is—what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there are a good many," I replied. "When the doctor came to +examine the poor girl they found she'd been shot through the heart. She +had no hat or jacket on, and the inference—because a pair of woman's +boots, a pink chiffon scarf, and a cycling skirt were found in a +cupboard in another room—is that she had lived all alone in that house +for some considerable time and with some mysterious purpose."</p> + +<p>"Connected with that telegraph instrument, I should think," remarked +Little, who now seemed to evince the utmost interest in the affair.</p> + +<p>"Yes. That instrument is a very mysterious factor," I said. "I was with +Whitlock and three other men from Scotland Yard when they searched +the premises. They had with them a telegraph inspector from the Post +Office, and he traced a wire cunningly concealed, passing out of the +window, along the wall of the back garden, and up an adjoining house to +where run overhead several of the trunk lines from London to the south +of England. One of these—the Portsmouth line—was tapped by that wire +by a very ingenious contrivance, so arranged that it would escape the +eye of any linesman on the lookout for 'faults,' and in a manner that +it might be disconnected at will. Whitlock is pretty cute. He wouldn't +let me publish anything about this, and he's put on a Post Office +telegraphist night and day, in the hope that some message will come +through that may give a clue to the motive of the strange affair."</p> + +<p>"Then the theory is that the girl herself was a telegraph clerk?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; or, at anyrate, she could read all messages which passed between +Portsmouth and London whenever she switched on her communication."</p> + +<p>"Did you see the dead girl?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—at the mortuary. She was very beautiful, with long fair hair +and a perfect complexion. Myself, I don't think she was a clerk, but +a lady. She's refined, with soft white hands, and her dress, though a +plain blouse and skirt, was expensive and well made."</p> + +<p>"Anything which may lead to identification?" asked Julian Little, in a +changed voice, turning from me. It struck me that since he had risen +from his chair he had grown strangely uneasy.</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Her only ornament is a ring with two small diamonds and an +emerald—one of quite an ordinary pattern—while none of her clothes +bear either laundry-marks or initials."</p> + +<p>"And the woman who committed suicide rather than answer questions?" he +asked, his face still turned from me. "What of her?"</p> + +<p>"The same—only from her clothing the laundry-marks have been +recently cut; and there are other things—such as the cutting away +of a waistbelt from her bodice, which no doubt bore the dressmaker's +name—which show that she intended to conceal her identity if arrested."</p> + +<p>Little gave vent to a sigh of relief, I thought. Yet next instant I +laughed at my foolishness. It was mere fanciful suspicion. Before +he had turned, his face, usually so full of careless merriment, had +undergone a change, and was white and drawn and haggard. Now, as he +faced me again, it had resumed its normal appearance.</p> + +<p>"Then both women are complete mysteries?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. They lie side by side at the mortuary, their lips sealed by +death."</p> + +<p>"And what's Whitlock's opinion?" he asked, with an eagerness he +endeavoured in vain to suppress.</p> + +<p>"He has none. He's utterly confounded."</p> + +<p>"The tapping of the wire is, I take it, the chief point. When the +motive for that is discovered, the truth of the affair will possibly be +exposed."</p> + +<p>I shook my head.</p> + +<p>"The message which Horton watched has been discovered, from the +duplicates in the Central Telegraph Office, to be one of no +importance—a mere commercial message from the Southampton office of +one of the steam-ship companies regarding the sailing of a ship and +her number of passengers. Indeed, all day yesterday one of Whitlock's +assistants was engaged in examining the duplicates of messages over +that particular line, but he has, up to the present, discovered nothing +suspicious. That is why he thinks it is yet to come."</p> + +<p>"And as you've published a portion of the affair in the 'special' +to-night the sender of that expected message will probably not give +himself away—eh?"</p> + +<p>"It may have been a conspiracy against someone entirely unconscious of +the tapped wire at Barnes," I argued.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said thoughtfully. "But do you anticipate the truth ever +being discovered?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" I exclaimed. "Certainly the features of the affair are +most extraordinary. Whitlock, Gunton, Meyer, and a whole crowd from +Scotland Yard have been investigating to-day. I spent the day down +there with them, and we lunched all together at the Red Lion. By all +it's regarded as an absolute and complete enigma. The motive must have +been a very strong one to induce a girl to live in an empty house all +alone, watching that telegraph instrument."</p> + +<p>"But did nobody enter the house?"</p> + +<p>"A clerk of the landlady's agent was there about nine months ago," I +answered. "After that the eccentric old lady refused to let the place +and was travelling abroad, so the agent did not bother further. For +fully nine months it has not been entered, so far as is known, except +by the girl now found dead. Another feature is that the lock on the +chain around the gates—which had always been found in its place by +the police—had been so arranged that it opened by pressure at the +side, not requiring any key, and could be locked by simply closing +it. The interior mechanism of the lock had been taken out and another +substituted."</p> + +<p>"And how long is the girl supposed to have lived there?"</p> + +<p>"At least for four months is the general opinion."</p> + +<p>"She must have had a pretty dismal time of it," he remarked +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"That's just what Whitlock says. How did she get food? No neighbours +ever saw her go in or out, therefore she must have done so at night. +But the shops would then be all closed, therefore someone must have +brought her supplies. That she lived there is proved by the cheap +enamelled cooking utensils in the kitchen. The gas was not cut off, so +she used the gas stove."</p> + +<p>"Well, the other papers will be on it pretty busily in the morning, no +doubt," he remarked somewhat uneasily. His sudden nervousness seemed +quite unaccountable.</p> + +<p>"The 'mornings' are on it now, of course. But they'll learn nothing. +I've taken jolly good care to keep the story all to myself," I +declared, with a journalist's pardonable pride of exclusive information.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had the words fallen from my lips when there was a loud double +knock at our outer door, and on opening it I found my friend John +Whitlock, inspector of the Criminal Investigation Department, standing +upon the mat.</p> + +<p>"Come in, old chap!" I cried, greeting him warmly, and ushering him +into our sitting-room. He had, no doubt, some fresh information for me.</p> + +<p>As Whitlock entered Julian Little rose, and the pair faced each other +as I introduced them.</p> + +<p>Upon Whitlock's ruddy countenance was an expression of keen inquiry, +while Little's face instantly blanched to the lips as he learned the +identity of the modestly-dressed man in the dark blue overcoat with +velvet collar, who had called upon us so unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>He turned quickly away to the writing-table, in order to hide his +confusion and gain time to recover himself, while Whitlock, fixing his +dark eyes upon mine with meaning glance, took a cigar from the box I +handed him.</p> + +<p>"I expect you'll want to talk, so I'll leave you together," Little +said, in a hard, changed voice, when, a few moments later, holding his +breath and turning, he again faced the famous detective.</p> + +<p>"No, Mr Little," responded our visitor, in clear, distinct tones. +"Please don't leave us, I beg of you. What I have to say may be said +openly, before you."</p> + +<p>The man addressed, glancing for an instant into Whitlock's hard, +serious face, sank into his armchair, inert, staring, breathless.</p> + +<p>Then, for the first time, I became convinced that Julian, my closest +friend, knew more than he chose to admit concerning that amazing affair +at Barnes, where a woman had calmly and deliberately gone to her death +rather than reveal her identity.</p> + +<p>Never was guilt more plainly written upon a man's face than upon his.</p> + +<p>I held my breath, amazed and wondering.</p> + +<p>What was the truth?</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h2> +</div> + +<h3>IN THE GLARE OF PUBLICITY</h3> + + +<p>"I was passing this way and thought I'd accept your kind invitation, Mr +Keene," Whitlock said. "You've so often asked me to look in."</p> + +<p>And I saw that his gaze was fixed upon the man seated in the armchair.</p> + +<p>"Delighted, I'm sure," I said, pouring out a drink and pulling forward +a chair for him. He would not take off his overcoat, for he declared +that he must be going in a few minutes.</p> + +<p>He was about forty-eight, dark-haired, with a mobile, pock-marked face, +broad-shouldered and muscular—a man who had risen from the rank of +constable in the T Division of the Metropolitan Police, to be one of +the most renowned officers of the Criminal Investigation Department.</p> + +<p>We had been friendly for several years, and he had on one occasion told +me the story of his career; how when he was a constable he one night +entered a coal-cellar beneath the pavement in Chiswick and captured +an armed burglar, who fired at him twice with a revolver, and how, by +dint of his watchfulness and ingenuity, he had received promotion and +transfer to Scotland Yard.</p> + +<p>The public know John Whitlock well by repute. His name figures in the +papers in connection with most murder mysteries that occur in London. +A dozen or so assassins have received their well-merited punishment +on the scaffold as the result of his energy, untiring inquiries, and +tenacious ingenuity. There were many men at "the Yard" in higher +positions, but not one was a better officer than he. For three years or +so I had known him intimately, and often met him in that cosy little +bar in Parliament Street, where he and his fellow-officers congregate +every evening about seven to have a friendly drink before setting forth +upon nocturnal vigils in various parts of the Metropolis. Sometimes I +had been his guest at his modest little flat at Battersea, where he +lived so happily with his wife, but he had never before honoured me +with a visit, though I had often invited him.</p> + +<p>In many of the celebrated cases of modern times he had figured. It +was he who followed Charles Spencer, the well-known promoter of bogus +companies, half over the world and arrested him in Vancouver; he +who solved the mystery of the Leytonstone murder and the remarkable +Greatorex forgery, recovering the greater part of the proceeds from a +house out at Harlesden. Readers of the newspapers will recollect the +recent Parsons case, where a woman's body was found in a trunk in the +cloak-room at Paddington Station, and how the culprit was cleverly +detected and arrested by him. They will also remember the seizure of +bombs at a house off Tottenham Court Road, and how the maker of them, +a Russian revolutionist, took one of them in his hand and threatened +him that, if arrested, he would dash it down and blow the whole place +to atoms. Yet, in face of death, he had rushed forward and secured his +man, whose extradition had been applied for by the Government of the +Czar. For his personal bravery the emperor had sent him a fine gold +watch with an inscription, and this he carried always, but without a +chain. He one day told me, with a grim smile, that if he wore an albert +he would probably not have the watch another week, such queer company +did he often keep.</p> + +<p>Such, then, was the man who flung himself into my chair, lit his cigar, +and smiled across at the world-famous correspondent, who sat pale and +nervous in his presence.</p> + +<p>"I've seen the <i>Herald</i> to-night," he said to me, when he had got his +cigar well under way. "You haven't given them too much, eh? I suppose +you'll publish the rest to-morrow? And when you do, by Jove! it'll +cause a sensation, won't it?"</p> + +<p>"No doubt," I said. "I've just been explaining the facts to Mr Little. +We were talking of it when you came in."</p> + +<p>"Extraordinary, isn't it?" remarked Whitlock, turning to Julian with +affected carelessness.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely amazing," he declared. "Have you discovered anything +further?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing of real importance," was the response.</p> + +<p>"Then it is still a complete mystery?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely."</p> + +<p>Julian Little was palpably relieved at Whitlock's confession of +ignorance; while the latter was, I could see, equally astute in placing +him off his guard. He had not failed to notice his nervousness when +introduced.</p> + +<p>"Keene has been telling me the details which he has not yet +published—the telegraph instrument, and the woman who committed +suicide after arrest," remarked the famous correspondent. "It certainly +looks as though there has been some gigantic conspiracy in progress."</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Whitlock, rubbing his smooth chin with his hand and +raising his glass to his lips, his keen eyes on the other's face. "We +hope to discover it. But, with both women dead, it will be a difficult +matter, I fear."</p> + +<p>"But there must have been others connected with the affair," argued +Little.</p> + +<p>"Of course. That's what we shall discover later on," he answered. "A +woman never tapped that wire, depend upon it."</p> + +<p>"But the two women must have quarrelled, and the one shot the other," +Little suggested.</p> + +<p>Whitlock was silent. He advanced no theory upon that point.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that your opinion?" Julian went on.</p> + +<p>"Well, to tell the truth, I haven't formed any opinion yet," answered +the man from Scotland Yard, who, turning to me, said: "The real reason +why I called, Mr Keene, was because I thought you'd like to be down +at the house to-morrow. I shall be there at nine-thirty to make some +further investigations, if you'd care to come."</p> + +<p>"I'd be delighted," I said eagerly. "I'll meet you at the house."</p> + +<p>"All right. But," he added, "I think it would be as well not to publish +anything further—until I see you. Publicity may negative all our +efforts in this affair."</p> + +<p>"Then I'd better hold back all the additional facts, you really +think?" I said, somewhat disappointed, and fearing lest one of the +rival journals might, by bribing an indiscreet constable, get hold of +intelligence which, up to the present, was entirely my own.</p> + +<p>"Yes; it will be best."</p> + +<p>"Inquiries are still being made?" asked Julian, rather anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Of course. In such a case as this we don't let the grass grow beneath +our feet," Whitlock said. "And if my suspicions are realised the truth +will create a profound sensation."</p> + +<p>"In what manner?" asked Little, with a start.</p> + +<p>The other shrugged his shoulders, answering—</p> + +<p>"At present I can say nothing."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" laughed Little, uneasily. "You people are like ambassadors, +always mysterious."</p> + +<p>"Secrecy is highly necessary in my profession," declared the officer, +"just as necessary, indeed, as it is in diplomacy. We are not fond of +making statements to the Press. Our friend here," he added, indicating +me, "is, however, usually in our confidence."</p> + +<p>Then Whitlock expressed pleasure at meeting a man so popular and +famous as my fellow-tenant of those rooms, declaring that he often +read his articles in the <i>Daily Herald</i>, and had long desired to +make his acquaintance. Their conversation then turned upon travel, +adventure, and the Boer Campaign—through the whole of which Julian +had been—until at last the detective rose, shook our hands, and left, +promising to meet me at Barnes at half-past nine in the morning.</p> + +<p>Why he intended to further investigate that dismal empty house, I could +not guess. Yet the fact that he had invited me to be present showed +that he held some fresh theory and anticipated interesting developments.</p> + +<p>"I don't like that man," declared Julian, when I returned to the +sitting-room. "There's something false and egotistical about him that +arouses my instinctive dislike."</p> + +<p>I recollected his surprise and fear when I had introduced him, and, +suspicious at his declaration, said—</p> + +<p>"My dear Julian, he's one of the best fellows in the world. Police +officers are supposed to have neither heart nor conscience, but he has +both. When down the East End together I've seen him myself give money +to known thieves who have been starving."</p> + +<p>"I don't care. I don't like the fellow," Little repeated, causing my +wonder to increase. "He'd play you false if ever he had the chance."</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll agree to differ," I laughed lightly. "He's done me many a +good turn. Why, half the 'scoops' I've made for the past two years are +due to information he's given me in secret."</p> + +<p>"And you've paid him accordingly, I suppose?" he remarked with a covert +sneer.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's received odd cheques now and then from Jennings, the +cashier," I admitted.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's all the same. He wouldn't help you if he were not paid +for it. He knows full well that the <i>Herald</i> scale of payment is higher +than that of any other paper in London."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But he's also my friend," I declared.</p> + +<p>"Friend be hanged!" he cried. "It's past midnight. Let's go to bed, +Keene."</p> + +<p>And so we parted.</p> + +<p>But through that night I slept very little. My mind was full of the +strange and incomprehensible affair. I could not put away from myself +Julian's palpable fear when he met Whitlock, nor the latter's curious +attitude towards him. That the whole situation was one of doubt and +suspicion was apparent. My own opinion was that Whitlock had called +especially to meet Julian Little, and that the appointment for the +morrow was a mere excuse.</p> + +<p>Yet, after all, what connection could my friend possibly have with this +mysterious affair?</p> + +<p>The more I calmly reflected and argued with myself, the more puzzled I +became. I had anticipated launching upon the public the remainder of +the sensational story in the first edition on the morrow, but Whitlock +had prohibited this—prohibited it for some distinct purpose—a purpose +which he had refused to state.</p> + +<p>Hour after hour I lay, listening to the chiming church clocks of +London as they counted the long night, and trying to form some theory +regarding the tragic affair which had so entirely possessed me.</p> + +<p>Before my vision arose those two dead but beautiful faces, as they lay +cold and still, side by side, in the silent chamber of death; the one, +the younger and more beautiful, foully murdered, the other with her +secret safely concealed for ever.</p> + +<p>Upon the white, lifeless countenance of the former was a cold, hard +look, as though she had seen and recognised the assassin whose hand had +fired the fatal shot, while upon the other's face the white curled lip +smiled defiance at all the world.</p> + +<p>In the dull grey of the damp dawn those two dead faces haunted me. If +I tried to sleep I saw them. Sometimes they seemed to open their eyes +and gaze out at me. The murdered girl with the fair, child-like hair +seemed in my imagination to appeal to me mutely for protection, as +though urging me to assist in bringing the assassin to justice. Yet was +not the assassin that black-haired woman with the white face and curled +lip—the woman who, when arrested, had met death without flinching?</p> + +<p>I had assisted the police in investigating dozens of murder mysteries, +and had looked upon many a victim, but never had a dead face held me +in such strange, almost magnetic attraction as that of the unknown +telegraphist; never had the details of a mystery puzzled me to such +a tantalising point, and never had I been filled with such a strange +feeling of suspicion and dread as on that long and memorable night.</p> + +<p>The feeling was as though I had become suddenly overshadowed by some +mysterious evil—some sinister influence which threatened, at any +moment, to bear me down and engulf me in a vortex of disaster.</p> + +<p>An obsession was upon me that was irresistible. The shadow of a great +crime had suddenly darkened my life.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2> +</div> + +<h3>CONTAINS SOME SURPRISES</h3> + + +<p>"You see the ingenuity of the whole affair," Whitlock remarked, +pointing to the plain deal table in the barely-furnished room wherein +we stood together next morning—the room in which the mysterious +tragedy had been enacted. "This instrument was fitted up by one who was +certainly an expert telegraph engineer. The transmitter, which bears a +number, as you see, has been discovered by the Post Office to be one +stolen about twelve months ago from the bag of a linesman while he was +eating his dinner in an inn at Lyndhurst, in the New Forest."</p> + +<p>"Could it have been arranged for the purpose of betting or Stock +Exchange frauds?" I queried, standing beside the dark stain upon the +floor which showed so gruesomely in the morning light.</p> + +<p>"No; certainly not. I've abandoned that theory. Let's go over the house +again."</p> + +<p>Before following him I glanced around the room, every detail of which +was already familiar to me. It was not large, and had probably been +used as a study when the place was tenanted, for along the faded walls +were black marks showing where bookcases had stood. Upon the centre of +the floor was an old bit of ragged Brussels carpet probably to deaden +the sound of footsteps. The chairs were old and rickety; while the old +sofa, which had been used as a bed, was worn and frayed. In the centre +of the couch was a deep cavity, showing that somebody had used it for +months. The blanket was a dark army one and the eider-down quilt, once +covered with dark green satin, was almost brown with age. Everything +had been left as it was found, but during the whole of the previous day +experts from Scotland Yard had been dusting the half-filled tumbler +with a pale greenish chalk and photographing the finger-prints upon it; +also taking prints from the door-plate and other polished surfaces in +various parts of the room and the house.</p> + +<p>The remains of some cold ham and bread—the unfortunate victim's +supper—were still upon the plate, and her half-consumed lager beer +showed that she had been probably interrupted in her meal by a passing +message.</p> + +<p>In the grey light of that autumn morning the room looked a dismal and +mysterious dwelling-place. The door stood open, and as we conversed our +voices echoed weirdly through the untenanted, neglected house.</p> + +<p>Whitlock stood in the centre of the room, gazing thoughtfully around +him. Every nook and corner of the place had been searched, in order +to find some copied message, or something to give a clue to its late +occupant. But all in vain. Discovery was apparently constantly dreaded, +and everything which might lead to identification had been, from time +to time, destroyed in the grate.</p> + +<p>Upon the table were a number of books, new novels of the lighter +kind—which showed the poor girl's taste for fiction—as well as some +weekly papers, and a half-knitted cravat of dark blue silk.</p> + +<p>Who could the beautiful girl be who had passed her days in such +loneliness and secrecy? And with what motive?</p> + +<p>My eye caught that tell-tale stain upon the unwashed floor-boards and I +drew back in horror. I saw her startled face, for it was now haunting +me continually.</p> + +<p>I tried, time after time, to put its memory away from me but without +avail. It appealed to me for vengeance.</p> + +<p>Whitlock's voice roused me to a sense of my surroundings.</p> + +<p>"Come, Mr Keene," he said. "Let's take another look round."</p> + +<p>Together we went out into the big square hall, where the wide, +old-fashioned stairs ran up to the first floor. It was a roomy old +place, built a century ago with old-fashioned comfort and solidity. +On each side of the hall were rooms—drawing-room, dining-room, +morning-room and the study which we had just left. One after the other +we entered.</p> + +<p>The drawing-room, a big apartment with two deep bay windows, had +once been decorated in white and gold, but the white was now grey +and the gilt sadly tarnished. The ceiling showed that it had been +a handsome room in the early Victorian days, but the cheap paper +was now smoke-grimed and faded. The dark sage-green walls of the +dining-room showed square marks where paintings had once hung, and the +morning-room must, when tenanted, have been a pleasant apartment. But +the neighbourhood had, in the last ten years, sadly deteriorated, and +motor traction, with its attendant noise and dust, had rendered those +hitherto comfortable "detached residences" practically uninhabitable by +anyone with nerves.</p> + +<p>Tenants who still remained in that thoroughfare were subjected to a +miniature earthquake every two minutes, and small objects, pictures, +ornaments and the like, were thrown down constantly and broken.</p> + +<p>The rooms were entirely empty. In the drawing-room an old newspaper +had been flung into the fireplace. Whitlock, picking it up, found that +it was dated four months back, this going to prove that the mysterious +tenant had occupied her room for that period, if not longer.</p> + +<p>"But tell me, Whitlock," I asked, as we stood together, bending over +the old news-sheet. "Your inquiries seem to show that you don't believe +the woman who committed suicide was the assassin."</p> + +<p>"No," he responded promptly. "You're quite right, Mr Keene. I have +other suspicions."</p> + +<p>"Of what?" I asked, recollecting Julian Little's strange attitude.</p> + +<p>"Of this strange affair," he replied, with that delightful vagueness +which he was so fond of assuming.</p> + +<p>"Then why did the other woman take her life instead of facing the +magistrate?"</p> + +<p>"Who can tell? Women are mostly strange, hysterical creatures. She had +a motive, of course; but it may have been a most remote one."</p> + +<p>"And it may have been very closely connected with the cause of the +tragedy."</p> + +<p>"It may," he admitted. "But," he went on, "I somehow feel that there +should be some clue to the affair remaining in this place. A man was +connected with it, without a doubt, but he is a mystery and at present +undiscovered."</p> + +<p>As we stood there a loud metallic clicking reached our ears from the +adjoining room. It sounded through the empty house, and next moment we +heard the sound of flying footsteps ascending the kitchen stairs.</p> + +<p>"Hark!" shouted Whitlock, "there's the telegraph!" but the words were +scarcely out of his mouth before the male clerk from the Post Office +was at the little deal table listening to the ticking of the instrument.</p> + +<p>Another moment and we were also at his side.</p> + +<p>He was scribbling the message upon a piece of paper, while we looked +over his shoulder in eagerness.</p> + +<p>But it was nothing. An ordinary message from a husband in Portsmouth to +his wife in Leeds, telling of his safe arrival.</p> + +<p>So we turned away in disappointment, and ascended the stairs to the +first floor, entering a room where, in a cupboard, the victim's skirt, +blouse, hat and other clothing were still hanging.</p> + +<p>"Now," exclaimed Whitlock, taking down the skirt from its peg and +holding it out, "there's an interesting point here. Last night I got +a costumier to examine these things, and he has declared that they +belonged to neither of the two dead women. The measurements are quite +different to the clothes they were wearing. Therefore there arises a +new query: To whom do they belong?"</p> + +<p>I handled the garments myself. This fresh fact was indeed puzzling.</p> + +<p>A dozen Pressmen I knew, having learnt of the tragedy through my +account in the <i>Evening Herald</i> of the previous night, were now +haunting the neighbourhood, but at Whitlock's order all information was +being refused by the police. As I looked from the window of the empty +room I saw two of my journalistic rivals, both of them reporters of +evening papers, standing together on the opposite pavement.</p> + +<p>Passing into the back bedroom, I noticed in the empty grate the +unsmoked half of a cigarette, and picked it up. Eagerly Whitlock +examined it, and after minute scrutiny said—</p> + +<p>"This was smoked not earlier than a week ago, and it proves two things. +First, that a man was in the habit of coming here, and, secondly, that +he had a connoisseur's taste for cigarettes, because—look!—printed in +blue on the paper, don't you see, is the trade-mark of a Greek temple +and some lettering in Greek. Greek cigarettes are not smoked in London, +therefore he is probably a traveller."</p> + +<p>A traveller! I recollected all that had passed in our chambers on the +previous night. Only a month before Julian Little had been in Athens, +interviewing the Greek Minister of Foreign Affairs regarding the +Macedonian troubles! I looked again at the unsmoked portion of the +cigarette, but it was unlike any I had seen before.</p> + +<p>"We may find that this Greek firm have an agent in London, and perhaps +trace the person to whom the cigarettes are supplied," remarked +Whitlock, carefully placing it in an old envelope he took from his +pocket.</p> + +<p>The vague suspicion upon my friend Julian was increasing. But suspicion +of what? Surely not of the murder of the girl with the angel face, now +lying cold and still in the mortuary?</p> + +<p>And yet had not the constable distinctly stated that the girl's face +was cold when he discovered her. Therefore the crime must have been +committed at least an hour, or perhaps longer, before its discovery.</p> + +<p>Of Julian's movements on that night I had no idea. I had been sent down +to Grimsby upon another matter, and had only arrived at King's Cross at +five that morning. At half-past, when I entered our chambers, he was +sleeping soundly in his room.</p> + +<p>Surely he was the very last person to suspect of having any hand in +that mysterious and dastardly crime! Yet had not guilt been written +plainly upon his face?</p> + +<p>Following Whitlock, I passed from room to room. He was in search of any +cupboard or cavity in which other belongings of the illegal occupant +might be concealed. For fully an hour we made diligent investigation, +leaving no hole or corner undisturbed. Suddenly, when in the servants' +quarters at the top of the house, in a room with a sloping ceiling, my +friend the inspector, while tapping the wall with his fist, produced a +hollow sound, and next moment we saw that a door flush with the wall, +being papered over, had escaped detection on the previous day.</p> + +<p>So well had the wall-paper concealed the door that one might enter the +room a hundred times without noticing it. The window was small, and the +place consequently badly lighted, while the door apparently gave access +to a large space beneath the sloping roof.</p> + +<p>But it was locked, and the key was missing. His curiosity aroused, +Whitlock descended to the garden, where he discovered a piece of old +iron—a rusty, bent poker, I think—and, returning quickly, broke the +lock and opened the door.</p> + +<p>Beyond was darkness, and the low roof sloped to the floor as we had +conjectured. Whitlock, striking a match, stepped within.</p> + +<p>"Halloa!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What's this?" And he raised from +the floor a small, cheap, brown leather suit-case, apparently quite +new, and brought it out into the centre of the empty room.</p> + +<p>It was locked, but in a few moments the brass fastening yielded to +the leverage of the piece of iron and the lid flew open, disclosing +a tangled mass of green telegraph-tape bearing messages, which was +evidently being, for some unknown purpose, preserved. Being in the +Morse alphabet neither of us could read it, but Whitlock, after +satisfying himself that nothing else remained in the cupboard, took the +great bundle of paper-tape in his arms to carry it down to the Post +Office clerk below.</p> + +<p>As he lifted it from the suit-case, however, my eye caught an object +which, perhaps fortunately, he did not see—an object which caused +me to hold my breath in sheer amazement, but which, next instant, I +snatched up in my hand and held concealed.</p> + +<p>It was inconceivable, incredible! My brain was awhirl.</p> + +<p>Last night Julian Little had, I recollected, warned me vaguely against +Daisy Marvin, the twenty-year-old daughter of James Marvin, news editor +of the <i>Evening Herald</i>, and my chief. He knew that we loved each +other; that though she had adopted the variety stage as a profession, +I adored her. Her photographs on post-cards were in every shop window, +and great posters of her in her huge stage hat and dancing skirt stared +at Londoners from hoardings everywhere.</p> + +<p>Both her talent and her beauty were acknowledged. Her father being +a journalist and her father's friends being journalists, she always +received favourable "notices" in the Press, and managers knew well that +if she were in their bill their "shows" would not be ignored. A line +of news is worth a good deal as an advertisement, therefore Daisy—my +own sweet-faced Daisy, whom I loved so well—was on her way to become +chief among the "stars," with a salary of from £100 to £200 a week. +There is great affinity between journalism and the stage, yet old +Marvin had always openly expressed himself against Daisy marrying a +Pressman—being ambitious enough to hope that her face and talent might +attract some scion of a noble house. Therefore our love was a secret +one, and I had often to resort to all sorts of ruses in order to meet +her and talk with her alone.</p> + +<p>But the little object I had just discovered, and the secret of which I +kept to myself, caused me an agony of doubt, of wonder, of fear.</p> + +<p>The revelation staggered me.</p> + +<p>What I had found was my own portrait—the one I had given her a year +ago! It was circular, about the size of a penny, enclosed in a small +gold rim and attached to a fine golden chain. She wore it always +beneath her dress, and she had many times told me that it never left +her, save when she was compelled to discard it in her stage <i>décolleté</i>.</p> + +<p>Why was it there, in that empty house of mystery?</p> + +<p>Had both she and Julian Little some connection with the astounding +affair?</p> + +<p>I slipped the little trinket into my jacket pocket, and followed +Whitlock downstairs like a man in a dream.</p> + +<p>"Look!" he exclaimed, holding out the armful of tape to the telegraph +clerk, who was seated near the instrument, idling over the morning +newspaper. "I wish you'd just see what this is all about."</p> + +<p>The man rose, but as he did so the instrument clicked again, and, +quickly reseating himself at the table, he commenced to scribble the +passing message.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" he gasped, glancing up at us in utter surprise an +instant later. "Listen! This is most extraordinary! There's some +mystery here. What can it mean?"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h2> +</div> + +<h3>REPEATS A MESSAGE TO PLYMOUTH</h3> + + +<p>A journalist's life is full of surprises.</p> + +<p>I stood staring at the clicking telegraph instrument, Whitlock at my +side equally eager.</p> + +<p>We both saw that each word ticked out caused the postal clerk increased +surprise.</p> + +<p>The mysterious message held him in amazement.</p> + +<p>It was a long one, but at last ceased with two or three spasmodic +clicks.</p> + +<p>"Well," he remarked, turning to us with the paper whereon he had +hurriedly scribbled the words, "this is curious, to say the least, Mr +Whitlock."</p> + +<p>"What is it? Read it," the inspector urged.</p> + +<p>"It's a Press message—from somebody in London who apparently knows +more than we do of this affair. Listen: 'To <i>Western Evening Express</i>, +Plymouth.—The police, searching the house at Barnes this morning, +where a woman was found mysteriously murdered, made several curious +discoveries. In the room where the dead girl was found was a secret +telegraph instrument, and it further appears that a second woman was +discovered in the house, who, being placed under arrest on suspicion, +shortly afterwards committed suicide in the police cell——'"</p> + +<p>"Why, who's that from?" I exclaimed in amazement, interrupting. "Only +Little and myself know those facts, and I haven't yet published them!"</p> + +<p>Whitlock's ruddy face grew serious and thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"Listen to the remainder of the message," the clerk said. "It runs: +'This morning Inspector Whitlock, on making further examination of the +empty house, found a half-smoked cigarette of unusual brand, which may +lead to a clue, while upstairs in a cupboard, the door of which was +cleverly concealed in the wall, was found a suit-case, containing a +quantity of telegraph tape and the small portrait of a gentleman——'"</p> + +<p>"What can this mean?" gasped Whitlock. "Why, we haven't been outside +the place! How could it be known in London, unless—unless you +telegraphed it?" he added, looking at the telegraphist straight in the +face.</p> + +<p>"Well, I haven't sent a single word over the wire," the clerk replied. +"Besides, the message came through before I knew that you had found +this bunch of tape. Is it also true about the man's portrait?"</p> + +<p>For a moment I hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I replied. "Here it is. I found it at the bottom of the box."</p> + +<p>Whitlock took it eagerly in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr Keene!" he gasped, staring at me. "It's you—you!"</p> + +<p>"I know it is," I said blankly.</p> + +<p>"But how came it here?" he asked. "What do you know about this?" and he +indicated the little trinket.</p> + +<p>"I only know that it's my photograph," I said.</p> + +<p>"Why should it be found here?" he inquired. "You saw the bodies of the +two women yesterday. Did you identify either of them?"</p> + +<p>"I have never seen either of them before in my life."</p> + +<p>"Is it not quite within the range of possibility that some friend—or +enemy—of yours might have placed this little picture in the suit-case +purposely?"</p> + +<p>"And then telegraphed the fact of its discovery to an evening paper," I +added. "Well, I don't know what to think."</p> + +<p>"Mr Keene," he said very seriously, "this mystery is increasing hourly. +It seems to me that somebody, who is your friend, knows a good deal +about the truth."</p> + +<p>Did he allude to Julian Little, I wondered, recollecting all that had +occurred on the previous night.</p> + +<p>"But that isn't all," the telegraph clerk went on. "The message +proceeds as follows: 'On further investigation, the police were led to +search in the old-fashioned garden at the rear of the house, and at +the foot of a big yew tree they unearthed a tin box. This, on being +opened, was found to contain several articles which, it is hoped, may +serve as a clue by which the mystery can be elucidated. The police are +very reticent regarding the affair, but we are in a position to state +that among the objects found in the tin box were a string of child's +beads of pale blue porcelain, a small gold watch, and several papers +of curious character. The inquest upon the two girls will be held this +afternoon.—Central News.'"</p> + +<p>"The Central News!" I gasped. "How could they possibly know these +facts?"</p> + +<p>"That's just it, Mr Keene. There's a big mystery here somewhere," +Whitlock declared. "What about the box at the foot of the yew tree? Is +there a yew tree here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Look yonder," replied the telegraph clerk, pointing out of +the window to a big, spreading tree near the bottom of the great, +old-fashioned, but neglected garden.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, there is!" exclaimed the police officer. "But how the dickens +can the Central News know more than we do? They've actually circulated +a discovery before we've made it."</p> + +<p>"An invention, perhaps?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>"No, that can't be, because all the other facts are absolutely true," +he pointed out. "They even reported the discovery of this little +portrait, which you very naturally concealed."</p> + +<p>"I wonder who sent the message to the C.N.?" I ventured, using the +initials of the telegraph agency as every Pressman does. The P.A. +means, in Press parlance, the Press Association; the C.N., the Central +News, while the "Exchange" is brief for intelligence received through +the medium of the Exchange Telegraph Company.</p> + +<p>"Well, at anyrate, we must make a search at the spot they indicate," +Whitlock said. "It's quite clear to me that somebody knows all about +it, while we are completely in the dark. If it were not that two women +have lost their lives, I should begin to think that the whole thing had +been arranged as a journalistic 'scoop.'"</p> + +<p>I laughed, recollecting many bogus "mysteries" that I had known. One +had been cleverly "brought off" near Sheffield a couple of years +before, when two journalists killed a dog on the railway-line, and, +carrying away the body a long distance, buried it. The police, of +course, believed that a foul murder had been committed, and it was +not until after a week of all sorts of weird theories cleverly worked +up by the enterprising Pressmen and telegraphed broadcast all over +the country, that an analysis of the blood proved it to be of canine +origin. Such journalistic "mysteries" are not at all uncommon.</p> + +<p>"But this isn't a fake!" I cried. "It can't be. The girl was found here +in this room—shot dead."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't for the life of me see, Mr Keene, how your friends of +the Central News can possibly know facts about an affair of which we +are in ignorance. Not a soul has been in the house to-day except our +three selves. But," he added, "we'll go and see what we can find at the +spot in the garden. I wonder if there's a spade about. Let's go and +look."</p> + +<p>"You go. I'll go across to the doctor's opposite, ring up the Central +News, and ask them about their account."</p> + +<p>"Yes, do," he said.</p> + +<p>So I went out to where I saw that a telephone wire ran into a doctor's +house, rang, presented my card, and asked permission to use the +telephone, which was at once accorded to me.</p> + +<p>In a few moments I was on to the news editor of the Central News in New +Bridge Street, Blackfriars.</p> + +<p>He was a man named Burton, whom I knew intimately, often meeting him at +the Savage Club.</p> + +<p>"Halloa! How are you, Keene, old chap?" he asked. "Anything you want?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I want to know about that account of yours of the Barnes +mystery," I said. "Where did you get it from?"</p> + +<p>"Barnes mystery?" he responded. "I haven't seen anything of it +personally. Hold on a moment; I'll ask round."</p> + +<p>For two or three minutes I held the receiver at my ear in expectation, +until at last Burton asked—</p> + +<p>"Halloa! Are you there, Keene?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"We haven't sent anything out this morning about the Barnes mystery. +Nothing fresh has come in. You must have made a mistake. It isn't from +us, old chap."</p> + +<p>"But the message addressed to the <i>Western Evening Express</i> is signed +by your agency," I said. "Are you quite certain?"</p> + +<p>"Hold on again," he urged; "I'll make quite sure."</p> + +<p>Then a few moments later he continued—</p> + +<p>"I've asked the telegraph operator. Nothing whatever concerning the +Barnes affair has gone out from us since 11.58 last night. We've got +two men down at Barnes, but they can't get anything. They report that +the police will not say a word. We shall get something from the inquest +this afternoon. Are you lunching at the Savage?"</p> + +<p>"No; I don't think so to-day," was my reply, and with a word of +farewell I rang off and crossed the road to meet Whitlock in the +garden. He had borrowed a spade and a pick from some men mending the +main road a little distance away, and was half-way down the garden +towards the spot indicated in the mysterious telegram.</p> + +<p>"The message was a forged one," I said. "The Central News has sent out +nothing to-day."</p> + +<p>He halted and looked straight at me.</p> + +<p>"Forged!" he echoed. "In that case let us ask over the wire where the +message was handed in and by whom."</p> + +<p>He turned on his heel, re-entered the house, and gave instructions to +the telegraphist to make the inquiry of the Central Telegraph Office.</p> + +<p>Within a few minutes the answer came back that it had been handed in at +the office in Southampton Street, Strand, and that it was typed upon +the usual forms for Press telegrams. The name of the sender was given +as "Cooper—Central News"—a fictitious name, of course.</p> + +<p>I saw that Whitlock's best energies in the near future were to be +devoted to discovering the sender of the telegram.</p> + +<p>"It's a very funny affair, Mr Keene," he declared. "Evidently the man +who sent the telegram was a journalist."</p> + +<p>I agreed, and my mind wandered at once to the suspicion upon Julian +Little.</p> + +<p>"But what I cannot see is why your portrait should be found here," +he went on, as we walked together down the garden. "Perhaps this +mysterious box which the passing message says we are to find will +explain something."</p> + +<p>The garden was larger than that of the other houses, secluded by high +walls of time-mellowed brick, mostly covered by ivy. Such a garden, +with big trees, level lawn, and quiet walks flanked by high box hedges, +was difficult to find so near London nowadays. But when the house was +built, in the days of George III., ground was not nearly so valuable as +it now is, and the Malls at Hammersmith and Chiswick were fashionable +residential centres.</p> + +<p>Till fifty years ago the garden had been four or five times larger +than it now was, but encroaching builders had purchased parts of it, +until now it was a mere apology for its former self—weedy, overgrown, +its gravelled walks full of rank nettles and grass, and its old stone +fountain moss-grown and broken; yet one or two fine trees remained, +among them the big yew, fully three centuries old, beneath which the +mysterious message declared that we had discovered a tin box.</p> + +<p>We approached it in wonder and excitement. All around the root of the +tree was a tangle of weeds that had not been disturbed for years. Of +late, previous tenants had done nothing to keep up the garden, nobody +caring to spend money upon it. Here everything grew wild and untrained.</p> + +<p>We both searched round the root of the tree, but saw nothing to +indicate the spot where any box had been recently buried.</p> + +<p>"The only way," I suggested, "is to dig a trench right round the root."</p> + +<p>"Yes," my friend assented. "You take the pick and I'll take the shovel. +But, by Jove! it looks as if it might be a long job. I'll get Sergeant +Henson with another spade." And so saying Whitlock went to the front +gate, where the detective was on duty with a colleague, and very soon +he joined us. All three of us took off our coats, and quickly we were +working away in search of the box which the mysterious message had +declared that we had actually discovered.</p> + +<p>While with my pick I dug up the thick layer of turf and weed-roots, +the others dug down into the earth in search of the promised find. A +full hour we worked on in a circle around the huge roots, but without +result. All three of us became uncommonly thirsty over our efforts, +therefore we sent Henson for three bottles of lager beer, and, having +refreshed ourselves, resumed our work of excavation. The huge twisted +roots of the yew puzzled us considerably, for we constantly struck them.</p> + +<p>From eleven o'clock till nearly two we worked hard in eager expectancy, +and had excavated a wide trench about two feet deep when of a sudden, +as I struck my pick into the ground, I brought up a big piece of turf +that had evidently been cut out square and carefully replaced.</p> + +<p>I pointed this out to my companions, who at once worked with a will, +and, digging to the depth of about two feet, Henson suddenly struck +something with his spade.</p> + +<p>"Hark!" he cried. "That's tin!" And he again struck down, producing a +dull, metallic thud.</p> + +<p>Quickly we all worked to clear away the earth, when at last there was +brought to light what was prophesied we should find—a square tin +biscuit-box. The paper covering was nearly all decayed and the whole +thing was badly rusted, but, placing our treasure on the ground, +we quickly prised open the lid, which had apparently been rendered +air-tight by sealing-wax, now nearly wholly perished by the damp.</p> + +<p>And then we eagerly peered within.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h2> +</div> + +<h3>AROUSES SOME SUSPICIONS</h3> + + +<p>Within the rusted tin, lying on top of a piece of old newspaper, was +a lady's small gold watch, of cheap pattern, which had stopped at +half-past seven. The face was gilt, but blackened in one corner by damp +or age. The bevelled glass was cracked across, and as I turned it over +in my hand I saw that the engraving at the edges was nearly worn off.</p> + +<p>Carefully Whitlock drew out the pieces of old newspaper—dated nearly +two years before—and presently discovered a string of pale blue beads +such as children wear—beads of turquoise-blue porcelain just as +described in the mysterious message to the Plymouth newspaper!</p> + +<p>I held them in my hand, and pointed out to Whitlock that they had been +rethreaded upon shoemaker's waxed thread, and that the ring-clasp was +of gold and certainly did not belong to the necklet.</p> + +<p>Whitlock, however, was searching for the papers which the mysterious +telegram declared were there. With care he withdrew the pieces of torn +newspaper with which the box was packed one after the other, examining +each piece to see if any mark were upon it, until, in the bottom of the +box, he came to two folded papers.</p> + +<p>Eagerly he took them out, while Sergeant Henson and I stood peering +over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>The first he unfolded was a single sheet of blue foolscap whereon was +drawn a curious triangular diagram, apparently some plan, but of what +was entirely enigmatical. It seemed to be a rough plan of an estate, in +the top angle of which was a cross marked in red, as though to indicate +a spot. Without explanation, however, it was entirely inexplicable.</p> + +<p>A second paper, a white one, was a half-sheet of note-paper on which +were written several lines in German in a fine feminine hand. The ink +was violet, slightly run by the damp.</p> + +<p>"I can't read this, Mr Keene; can you?" Whitlock asked.</p> + +<p>I took the letter in my hand and found it was written from the Hôtel du +Nord, Cologne, but without a date.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Carl</span>,—I arrived here from Würtzburg yesterday and have +seen Wilhelm. We have arranged everything. The secret will be kept, +therefore you need have no misgivings. He will trouble you no more. I +leave for Brussels to-night.—Yours as ever,</p> + +<p class="ph2"><span class="smcap">Erna</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>"H'm!" ejaculated Whitlock, dubiously. "That's a rather curious letter, +isn't it? I wonder who Carl and Erna are? Germans evidently."</p> + +<p>"A pair of undesirable aliens, no doubt," I remarked with a smile.</p> + +<p>Whitlock took the letter again in his hand and examined the writing +minutely. Then he put his hand into the tin and brought forth a third +document which caused us a thrill of excitement as the detective +unfolded it, for it proved to be nothing else than a birth certificate.</p> + +<p>It was the registrar's record that at Mina Road, Old Kent Road, in +the Parish of St George the Martyr, Southwark, Francis Douglas, son +of Henry Charles Drayton and Caroline, his wife, was born on the 22nd +day of October, 1876, the birth being registered two days later. +The certificate was a copy of the register, given and signed by the +registrar on that day.</p> + +<p>"Now this may really lead us to something," Whitlock said. "We must +discover the gentleman in question—this Mr Francis Drayton, who is now +about thirty years of age. He may be able to identify one or other of +the two dead women."</p> + +<p>"It seems very much as though that mysterious telegram was sent to +Plymouth to be published in order to place us on the scent of this box +and its contents," I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes. But the person who sent the wire and forged the name of the +Central News evidently knows all about it. We must also find him, Mr +Keene."</p> + +<p>The mystery became hourly more tangled. The discovery of this box with +its curious miscellaneous contents was utterly beyond explication. The +fact that a piece of the turf had been cut out to enable the tin to be +concealed was apparent. I examined it carefully, and judged that the +concealment must have taken place several months before. But how could +its presence there be known to the sender of the fictitious telegram if +he himself had not been present, or, at anyrate, had not been told of +its existence?</p> + +<p>The publication in Plymouth of the premature intelligence of the result +of the police search was with some distinct motive without a doubt.</p> + +<p>Whitlock stuck his hands in his trousers pockets and blankly regarded +the empty tin.</p> + +<p>"This is a complete puzzle, Mr Keene," he declared. Then, glancing at +his watch, he added, "By Jove! I'm due at the inquest. Coming?"</p> + +<p>I assented readily, and, leaving Henson to take charge of the rusty +tin and its strange contents, I put on my coat, and together we went +out into Bridge Road, walking along to the Red Lion, that hotel which +stands at the bottom of the long wide road, at the angle where Rock +Lane runs to Barnes Common.</p> + +<p>As we approached, a small crowd of idlers had, we saw, congregated +outside—the public who could not obtain admission to the upstairs +room, where the coroner was holding his inquiry.</p> + +<p>The constable at the foot of the stairs saluted us, and on entering we +found that the twelve jurymen, mostly local tradesmen, had viewed the +bodies of the two women, and the coroner, a short, bald-headed man, was +taking the evidence of P.C. Horton, who caused considerable sensation +when he described the sudden appearance of the living woman in the +doorway, and her subsequent strangeness of manner and refusal to give +any account of herself.</p> + +<p>The Press-table was filled to overflowing by my confrères, Raymond, +one of my fellow-reporters, "covering" the inquest for the <i>Evening +Herald</i>. He saw me and nodded.</p> + +<p>The evidence was then taken of the inspector who detained the second +woman, and who told how he questioned her, then went to the house, and +afterwards discovered the stubborn prisoner dead in her cell.</p> + +<p>Not a word was said about the telegraph instrument, for the police had +resolved to keep that fact a secret.</p> + +<p>Indeed, Whitlock's evidence, after that of the divisional surgeon, was +purposely vague and unconvincing. When called, he said in his quick, +professional way of giving evidence—</p> + +<p>"John Whitlock, inspector, Criminal Investigation Department. The +inquiries in this case are in my hands. The identity of the two +deceased women is not yet proved. The murdered woman had evidently +lived alone in the empty house for some months, but for what reason +is not yet established. To give further evidence at this juncture +might negative my efforts, therefore I would ask that the inquiry be +adjourned."</p> + +<p>"Any question to ask the inspector?" inquired the coroner of the jury.</p> + +<p>The foreman, a fat little grocer, whispered something to his neighbour, +and then exclaimed—</p> + +<p>"I would like to ask the inspector if, in his opinion, the woman who +committed suicide was the assassin?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid, sir," interrupted the coroner, "that is a question which +cannot be put to the police. You—the jury—have to return your own +verdict when you have heard the whole of the evidence. At the present +stage of the inquiry we have only the facts of the tragedy before us. +I propose to adjourn until this day week to allow the police to make +further inquiry."</p> + +<p>This was therefore done, and the Court rose. Then the room, hitherto so +breathlessly silent, became a babel of tongues as everyone discussed +the extraordinary story that had been told. For once, the newspapers +had omitted all the sensational points, but already, Press telegrams +were flashing over the wires to Fleet Street, and in half an hour the +world would be given a report of the inquiry verbatim.</p> + +<p>Only myself, Whitlock and his assistant, however, knew of the +discoveries we had made.</p> + +<p>I accompanied him back to Scotland Yard, and sat in his room while he +methodically proceeded with his inquiries. First he sent a wire to +the Plymouth police ordering inquiry to be made of the editor of the +<i>Evening Express</i> as to the real origin of the telegram sent to him +from London. Secondly he sent out an inquiry regarding the watch, the +number upon which he carefully copied. The small photograph of myself +was lying upon the table.</p> + +<p>"And as for this," he said, looking at me, "what am I to do about it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," I replied. "Please leave that to me."</p> + +<p>"Have you any suspicion? I mean, do you suspect any enemy of yours?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. I am just as puzzled as you are."</p> + +<p>For a moment he did not speak. His eyes were down cast upon his +blotting-pad.</p> + +<p>"Very well, Mr Keene," he answered. "You were frank and produced it; +therefore I leave that point in your hands. Only I beg of you to leave +no stone unturned to clear up the mystery of it being found in that +house."</p> + +<p>I promised him faithfully to do my best.</p> + +<p>The twilight was just creeping on when, letting myself into our +chambers with my latchkey, I walked into the sitting-room, and there +found a note on the table. At a glance I saw it was from Julian Little, +and tore it open.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"I've just got orders to go to Servia, as some fresh trouble seems to +be brewing there," he wrote. "I leave Charing Cross at 2.20. Sorry +I can't wait to say good-bye. When next you see Daisy will you give +her the enclosed? Don't send it to her, but give her it personally. +<i>Au revoir</i>, old chap! I'll be back very soon, I hope. Grand Hotel, +Belgrade, will find me. Key of whisky cupboard is under the corner of +the sofa. Keep up your pecker.</p> + +<p class="ph2"><span class="smcap">Julian.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<p>Enclosed was a letter, sealed with black wax, and addressed, "Miss +Daisy Marvin."</p> + +<p>I stood staring at it in the grey, uncertain light. The wax had been +impressed by the curious old engraved cornelian which he always wore +upon his finger.</p> + +<p>Julian Little had gone! He always went and came suddenly, for it was +part of his profession as special correspondent to move rapidly from +place to place. Yet he generally had a day's notice from the office.</p> + +<p>Switching on the electric light, I crossed to my writing-table and rang +up Wakeley, news editor of the <i>Daily Herald</i>—the shrewd, fair, rather +bald-headed and pleasant man who was accredited as being one of the +smartest journalists in all London, if not the very smartest.</p> + +<p>In a few moments I was talking with him.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said, in answer to my question. "Little seemed so +very anxious to go this morning that I've let him go. For my own part, +I think it's a wild-goose chase. There's been trouble in the Balkans +ever since I wrote in copy-books!"</p> + +<p>"So he's really gone upon his own initiative?"</p> + +<p>"Entirely."</p> + +<p>I wished him good evening and rang off.</p> + +<p>Had Julian Little actually fled? It seemed very much as though he had.</p> + +<p>Just as I turned away from the telephone a ring came at the outer door, +and on opening it I drew back with a cry of welcome surprise, for +standing before me was my dainty little love, Daisy.</p> + +<p>"I didn't expect to find you at home, Victor!" she laughed, entering at +my invitation, with a quick swish of her skirts. "I've just been to the +office to see dad, and he asked me, as I was passing this way, to leave +this note for you."</p> + +<p>And she gave me the letter from my chief.</p> + +<p>As she entered the green-carpeted sitting-room—not without some +trepidation, be it said, for it was only the second time she had been +there—I saw that she wore a well-cut, black tailor-made dress, and +that her chestnut hair, so profuse and universally admired on the +stage, was tightly bound beneath a neat black-and-white toque. Features +and complexion were alike perfect, from the arched, well-marked brows +to the Cupid's bow upon the full red lips, while the great eyes, so +clear and luminous, looked out upon me full of the light of true +affection. Ah, how sweet was our passionate and mutually devoted love!</p> + +<p>She carried none of her stage exaggerations into her every-day life. +Her cheeks were as soft, fresh, and child-like as though rouge had +never been applied to them. Unlike the artistes whom one meets in +Maiden Lane, Strand, or York Road, Lambeth, she was always neat and +unassuming; so quietly dressed, indeed, that no one would believe +she could ever assume that gay abandon of the variety stage, and +sing and dance with that smart up-to-dateness that had rendered her +already—though only just out of her teens—a music-hall favourite.</p> + +<p>She raised her soft, sweet lips to mine, and with my arm pressed +tightly about her slim waist I bent and kissed her fondly; for that +meeting was both unexpected and delightful.</p> + +<p>"Julian has gone to-day to Servia," I explained, noticing that she +glanced apprehensively at the door. "He has left this for you," and, +taking the letter from the table, I gave it to her.</p> + +<p>She tore it open, read eagerly through the scribbled lines, and then, +crushing the note in her gloved hand, stood staring at me, white as +death.</p> + +<p>In an instant her whole attitude had been transformed.</p> + +<p>Pale to the lips, she stood clutching at the edge of the table and +swaying forward, her eyes full of an expression of fear and horror.</p> + +<p>Upon her some mysterious blow had fallen.</p> + +<p>I stood there regarding her—breathless, amazed, confounded.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>IS MAINLY ABOUT DAISY MARVIN</h3> + + +<p>"What's wrong?" I asked my well-beloved.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing—nothing," she hastened to assure me, quickly replacing +Julian's letter in the envelope.</p> + +<p>"But there is," I exclaimed; "I'm sure there is!" Her blanched face +told me plainly that some sudden blow had fallen upon her. She was +staring at me blankly, as though utterly dazed by what she had read.</p> + +<p>"How very foolish of you, Victor!" she cried, bracing herself up with +an effort, and trying to laugh. Her attempt to remain calm was but a +sorry one.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Daisy," I said quite frankly, "why don't you tell me the +truth? Surely I, of all men, ought to be allowed to know?"</p> + +<p>"To know!" she echoed, glancing wildly around the room. "Yes—yes, of +course. You are jealous that Julian should write to me, bidding me +farewell—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Well, his sudden departure certainly seems to have somewhat upset +you," I remarked a trifle coldly, noticing that she had already placed +the crushed letter within the breast of her blouse, for, woman-like, +she had no dress-pocket.</p> + +<p>"It was rather unexpected," she admitted lamely. "But, Victor," she +added, "you surely are not jealous of such a confirmed bachelor as +Julian? Only the other day we were discussing him at home, and dad +declared that he was quite a woman-hater."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered, "I believe he is. Yet is it not strange that he +should write you a letter of farewell?"</p> + +<p>"If there was anything in it that you should not see he would never +have confided it to your keeping, would he?"</p> + +<p>"Then I may read the letter?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly think that is quite a fair request," she exclaimed +resentfully. "You love me, Victor—and surely you can trust me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I replied, with just a slight hesitation. The effect of Little's +letter upon her had sorely puzzled me. He had left London suddenly, and +at his own request. Fled across Europe, in fact.</p> + +<p>Why?</p> + +<p>Was it some startling truth confessed in that hurried note that had +caused her that sudden and breathless surprise? Indeed, the expression +upon her face as she read those lines was more of horror than of mere +amazement.</p> + +<p>"You are not quite certain of me, Victor," she said slowly, looking +straight into my eyes and laying her gloved hand upon mine. "Come, +admit it."</p> + +<p>"I love you, Daisy," I answered. "I repeat every word that I told you +the other Sunday evening when I rowed you up to Hampton. You remember?"</p> + +<p>Her handsome countenance grew serious in an instant, and she nodded at +the recollection of my declaration of passionate affection and of our +mutual pledges.</p> + +<p>"Then why do you ask to see Julian's letter?" she said half +reproachfully. "Remember, he is an old friend of dad's."</p> + +<p>"And of yours."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have known him almost ever since I knew myself. When I was a +little child he used to swing me on Sunday afternoons in our garden at +Dulwich."</p> + +<p>"And he confides in you sometimes?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes—but very rarely. This is one of the occasions."</p> + +<p>"I can't think why he's gone out to Servia. There is no political +trouble apparent there."</p> + +<p>"He's gone, I suppose, because with him, like some other men of genius, +constant travel is part of their existence. They cannot live without +incessant change," she laughed.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are right, darling," I said. Then, after a pause, I drew +her to me, and, kissing her white brow tenderly, added, "Forgive me; I +know I had no right to ask to see that letter. But——"</p> + +<p>"But you are just a trifle jealous—eh, Victor?" she laughed, with +twinkling, mischievous eyes. "Now, confess!"</p> + +<p>"Well, darling," I said, pressing her to me again, and placing my lips +passionately to hers, "I suppose I must."</p> + +<p>"Then it's very wrong of you," she declared, lifting her finger in mock +reproof. "Jealousy leads to anger, and lots of bad things. My own boy +must not be jealous if he means to marry an artiste."</p> + +<p>"Means to marry!" I cried. "Why, of course I do. You are my own—my own +sweet little love—all my own—are you not?" And I placed my arm about +her neck, so that her splendid head fell upon my shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Your own? Of course, dearest," she replied in a soft voice, scarce +above a whisper, while in her eyes showed the love-light—that light +impossible to feign, that tells a man so plainly when he is beloved.</p> + +<p>For a long time we stood together in silence, locked in each other's +arms, our hearts beating in unison. And our love was all the sweeter +because it was in secret. I knew full well that my people would hold +up their hands in pious horror at the bare thought of my love for a +stage-woman; while if old Marvin, my chief, discovered it, my services +on the staff of the <i>Evening Herald</i> would very quickly be dispensed +with. But I loved her fondly—aye, loved her with the whole strength +of my being. And for that very reason I was jealous that she should +receive a letter from another.</p> + +<p>"It must be very dull and lonely for you here, Victor, when Julian is +away," she said at last, crossing to the table whereon stood Little's +collection of autographed photographs of his Royal and diplomatic +friends.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not very. I have my work, as you know, and it keeps me well +occupied."</p> + +<p>"And in the evening you go to the halls to see and applaud me—eh?" +she laughed, holding aside her skirts daintily, and making a tour of +inspection of the room.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you'll say that's Julian's property?" she exclaimed, +pointing to a cabinet photograph of a pretty girl upon the mantelshelf, +and laughing.</p> + +<p>"Well, as it happens, it is his. The portrait of some girl he met in +Vienna—daughter of the Roumanian Minister, I think."</p> + +<p>Then, as a further breach of the <i>convenances</i>, she seated herself, +allowed me to light a cigarette for her, and gazed across at me through +the smoke-clouds from her pretty lips.</p> + +<p>Why, I wondered, had she discarded that little portrait of myself that +she had so constantly worn beneath her dress? I longed to ask her. Yet +to do so would mean explanations which at present I was somewhat averse +to making.</p> + +<p>I recollected Little's uneasiness when introduced to Whitlock, the +detective's curious manner, the discovery of the small portrait, +Little's flight, and the effect produced upon Daisy by his letter. All +was suspicious—distinctly suspicious. Was it possible that my love +possessed any knowledge of the remarkable affair at Barnes—the affair +of which the whole details were in the possession of some person active +but unknown?</p> + +<p>I stood regarding her in wonder. How sweet, almost child-like, was her +face; how clear and bright her eyes! How smart and <i>chic</i> she was, from +the point of her patent-leather shoe to the crown of her neat toque!</p> + +<p>My profession as journalist took me into every phase of life. Sometimes +I was bidden to dinners, bazaars, receptions, and social functions, +where were assembled the prettiest women of that strange little world +where the <i>convenances</i> are set at nought—Society. At others I found +myself hobnobbing with the respectable working classes, or chatting in +obscure bars with touts and thieves.</p> + +<p>Surely no man knows so much of the world, or sees so much of the varied +sides of human nature, as he who writes for the Press. The reporter +obtains the <i>entrée</i> everywhere, often to places from which the public +are strictly excluded; consequently, even when still a young man, he +possesses a knowledge of the world that eclipses that of other men in +their dotage.</p> + +<p>In London I rubbed shoulders with hundreds of pretty women—often with +the women whose portraits appeared in the illustrated Press; but none +were, in my eyes, half so beautiful or possessed half the grace of my +news editor's daughter, Daisy Marvin.</p> + +<p>Mrs Marvin had been an actress of some note in the old Gaiety days, +hence it was but natural that her daughter should develop stage +inclinations. When she was ten she could dance well, and at seventeen +she was already playing in a "combination" on tour, in order to obtain +that perfection of song and dance that was to secure for her the +plaudits of a London audience.</p> + +<p>For my own part, I hated the thought that she should have adopted the +variety stage as a profession, and my secret desire was that when we +married she should at once retire. This, however, I had never told her, +for I knew full well how devoted she was to her art, and how she loved +the excitement of her evening "turn."</p> + +<p>She had many admirers, but what pretty girl on the music-hall stage +has not? They were in all walks of life—from the humble City clerk +with his briar pipe on Saturday nights to the white-waistcoated young +clubman who sent her bouquets and cards. But old Annie Axford, an +elderly woman who had been her nurse and was now a widow, went about +with her everywhere, acted as her dresser always, and kept a very +careful eye upon everything. Mrs Marvin seldom, if ever, accompanied +her daughter. She left her to old "Annie" entirely, and she certainly +could not have been in safer hands.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said at last, as she threw away the end of her cigarette +and leaned back, looking at me through half-closed eyes, "I suppose I +must go. Have you been out all day, as usual?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I replied. "I've been doing that mystery at Barnes."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" she asked, as though quite ignorant of the facts.</p> + +<p>"What, haven't you heard of it! Not seen the paper?"</p> + +<p>"I don't often read the papers, as you know, Victor. Tell me about it. +Is it very mysterious?"</p> + +<p>"Glance at it yourself," I said, handing her a copy of the "special" in +which was a report of the inquest.</p> + +<p>She looked at it, pretending to be interested but, watching her eyes, I +saw that she was not reading. That proved to me that her ignorance of +the affair was feigned. But why?</p> + +<p>What would I not have given to know the contents of Julian's letter?</p> + +<p>I rose and crossed the room in order to get a better view of her +features. Suddenly the expression upon them entirely changed. In +an instant she grew interested, and read eagerly a portion of the +evidence; but which portion I was unable to determine.</p> + +<p>Her mouth was open. She was staring fixedly at the paper. Whatever +she had discovered had evidently caused her the utmost surprise and +consternation.</p> + +<p>It was as though some suspicion she had held had been suddenly +confirmed.</p> + +<p>"It's a curious affair," I said in a careless manner, returning to my +chair; "isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Extraordinary!" she ejaculated, mechanically allowing the paper to +fall upon her lap. "Most extraordinary!" and she fixed her eyes upon me +with a strange look that told me her thoughts were very far away.</p> + +<p>"There are other facts not yet published which will increase the +mystery very considerably," I said. "I have been with Whitlock, of +Scotland Yard, all day, making inquiries. We dug up a box from the +garden."</p> + +<p>"A box! And what did you find?"</p> + +<p>"Several things of interest to the police," I responded. And then I +told her of the existence of the tapped telegraph wire.</p> + +<p>I longed to tell her of the discovery of the little portrait I had +given her, but to refer to it at that juncture was, I saw, unwise.</p> + +<p>She rose and placed the paper upon the table, then, in a hard, strained +voice, said—</p> + +<p>"I must really go, Victor. Annie will be waiting for me at Charing +Cross. We shall go and have something to eat, and then to the +music-hall. I'm on at nine-forty."</p> + +<p>"I may look in for half an hour," I said. "That is, if I'm free. I have +yet to 'phone to your father at home. But you'll let me see you into a +cab."</p> + +<p>She pulled on the glove she had removed in order to smoke, and then I +placed my arm tenderly about her slim waist and kissed her fondly.</p> + +<p>"You are mine, darling," I said earnestly; "truly mine, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course, Victor," she replied, looking up into my face with +frank, wide-open eyes. In her countenance I saw a look of sweet and +devoted affection, and I laughed at my suspicions.</p> + +<p>They were really too absurd, I reassured myself. I loved her, and was, +I suppose, jealous. Every word and every gesture aroused deep suspicion +within me, but how could I doubt her?</p> + +<p>Her red lips met mine with the fierce passion of perfect love. Gladly +would I have driven with her to Charing Cross, where the faithful old +servant awaited her, but to do that might, we both agreed, arouse +Annie's curiosity.</p> + +<p>Her visit to my rooms was not exactly what her parents would have +tolerated, for old Marvin had expressly told her to deliver the letter +to the porter.</p> + +<p>Therefore I descended the stairs behind my dainty little love, walked +out with her into Holborn, and put her into a cab.</p> + +<p>She waved me adieu with her white-gloved hand, and, turning, I retraced +my steps, little dreaming, alas! into what a slough of Mystery and +Despair I had already drifted, or of the black storm that had gathered +ready to burst and overwhelm me.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>SHOWS THE PULSE OF THE WORLD</h3> + + +<p>Jealousy is the hydra of calamities, the seven-fold death; and things +are only worth what one makes them worth.</p> + +<p>Women have always some idea kept in the background. What, I wondered, +was Daisy's?</p> + +<p>I telephoned to Marvin at home, and received instructions to keep +an engagement at Hampstead—a meeting upon a question in which the +<i>Evening Herald</i> had taken great interest. Then I lit a pipe and sat +for a long time pondering, thinking of the man who at that moment was +in the wagon-lit of the Orient Express, speeding eastward across Europe.</p> + +<p>I read the report of the inquest carefully, trying to discover what +it was which had so suddenly caused a change in the manner of my +well-beloved. But I could discern nothing. True, the story of the +mysterious second woman was told for the first time, with the account +of how she had committed suicide. Yet somehow I did not think it was +that which had caused her such consternation and amazement.</p> + +<p>My brain was awhirl. The problem was inscrutable.</p> + +<p>I went down to the Savage Club, and in the big picture-hung, +tobacco-mellowed room, half of which is devoted to smoking and half +to eating, I ate my dinner at a table with two friends, journalists +on rival newspapers. One was Day, a reporter on the <i>Morning Post</i>, +and the other Melville, of the <i>Globe</i>. Both had "done" the inquest at +Barnes that afternoon, and knowing that I had been with Whitlock were +anxious to hear the latest. But I was close and said nothing. Whitlock +knew that I could keep a secret, and for that very reason allowed me to +be present at so many confidential inquiries and investigations.</p> + +<p>From eight till nine I sat in a public hall at Hampstead, and at +nine-thirty took my stall at the Oxford Music Hall, waiting for the +appearance of my well-beloved.</p> + +<p>The place was packed in every part and thick with tobacco smoke. Not +a seat in the house was unoccupied, and had I not obtained a stall by +telephone I should have been compelled to stand in the lounge.</p> + +<p>At last a troupe of clever acrobats concluded their "turn," and Daisy's +number appeared in illuminated figures at the side of the proscenium.</p> + +<p>Then the curtain went up, and, as the slim, sweet-faced girl came +dancing on in her smart white motor-coat, cap, and veil, she was +greeted by a hearty round of applause, which showed in what public +favour she was held.</p> + +<p>Next moment, when the orchestra struck up, she began to sing "The +Motor Maid," the song that had already taken all London by storm, and +which was being whistled, hummed, and played upon the barrel-organs +everywhere. The whole audience quickly took up the tuneful chorus, +which began—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">"This smart little motor maid,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With a dainty kiss she paid."</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The song received a loud encore, and in response she reappeared in +a most becoming dress of black chiffon, the short dancing-skirt and +bodice narrowly edged with pale pink, while the corsage was covered +with silver sequins.</p> + +<p>The orchestra struck up, and she executed a dance so full of wild +abandon that the packed audience applauded over and over again, until +she concluded with a final high kick, made her bow, and disappeared as +the heavy plush curtains fell together again.</p> + +<p>I hung about the stage door to catch sight of her, fearing to approach +her because of old Annie. Then, after seeing her and the faithful old +servant get into a cab and drive off, I returned along Oxford Street to +my chambers.</p> + +<p>James Marvin was, like most news editors and sub-editors in London, +a Scotsman. When I entered the large, well-lighted sub-editors' room +of the <i>Evening Herald</i> next morning he had already been there since +half-past seven, seated at his table, littered with piles of telegraph +tape pasted upon slips of "copy-paper," and "flimsies," or sheets of +oiled paper, carbon duplicates of news that had been sent round to all +the other London evening papers.</p> + +<p>There he was, busily reading, flinging some upon the floor and tossing +others into the basket before him.</p> + +<p>He was a red-moustached, bald-headed man of fifty, rather short, and +when at work always sat in his shirt-sleeves, both summer and winter. +He wore gold pince-nez, and he was acknowledged by every journalist in +London to be—next to Wakeley, of the <i>Daily Herald</i>—the smartest news +editor in the kingdom.</p> + +<p>He had a keen eye for journalistic sensations and "scoops" both day +and night. A perfect demon for work, he kept the noses of the whole +staff to the grindstone, obtaining every ounce of force our bodies and +brains possessed. If a man became slow or even a trifle elderly, out he +went. Only the smartest of men were required on the up-to-date <i>Evening +Herald</i>, with all its American methods and ingenious competitions.</p> + +<p>"Late, Keene!" old Marvin snapped as I entered. "I marked you in the +book for an engagement in the City an hour ago. Oh, you needn't trouble +now. Franks has gone. Well," he went on, without glancing up at me, +his big blue crayon slashing out a lot of penny-a-liners' verbiage +from the piece of "flimsy" before him, "and what about that meeting at +Hampstead? Worth anything?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," I replied.</p> + +<p>"Let's see! You're doing the Barnes mystery? Anything fresh?"</p> + +<p>"There's a bit just come in from the C.N.," remarked Hubbard, a +consumptive-looking, yellow-haired youth, who had recently been +promoted to the rank of an assistant sub-editor, and who was seated at +a table behind which stood a row of seven telegraph tapes, all of which +were clicking together, unrolling yards upon yards of news printed upon +the narrow paper ribbons.</p> + +<p>I crossed to his table to ascertain what fresh intelligence the Central +News had circulated.</p> + +<p>In the room were five other large writing-tables and five other big +waste-paper baskets, besides that of the news editor, Marvin. At each +sat the assistants, all engaged in the same work of rapidly scanning +the various telegrams and reports, and deciding which was of sufficient +interest to publish in the paper. On most newspapers nowadays the +person known to the public as "The Editor" is merely a figure-head who +arranges the subjects of the leading articles and directs the general +policy of the journal. It is the news editor who "gets up" the paper, +and upon whose shoulders the whole burden of responsibility falls.</p> + +<p>Thus the bald-headed Scot, surrounded by his tape instruments, his +telephones, his private wire to the City office—over which come the +Stock Exchange quotations—and his five assistants, held his finger +upon the pulse of the world.</p> + +<p>That office never slept. Those clicking tapes went on night and day. An +occurrence in San Francisco would reach the office within twenty-five +minutes, while the paper with the winner of the University boat-race +had been actually printing twenty seconds after the successful crew +had passed the winning-post at Mortlake. On great occasions, too, an +instrument which, covered by a small wooden box, was screwed to a +little table in the corner would be used—the cable instrument direct +from the New York office.</p> + +<p>In the collection of news for the <i>Evening Herald</i> no expense was ever +spared. It was the unceasing hustle of which the staff complained. Each +reporter was bound to have the telephone in his private house, and +old Marvin—known in the office as "Joyous Jimmy"—would ring them up +constantly in the middle of the night, when some new idea for a "scoop" +or a good story occurred to him.</p> + +<p>The popular legend was that he never slept. One thing is certain—that +long hours never fatigued him, and that he was the first man in the +office in the morning and the last to leave.</p> + +<p>The <i>Daily Herald</i> building was a perfect hive of industry, and, +indeed, one of the sights of London: the big square block of offices, +with its central courtyard whence the bundles of papers from the +machine-rooms poured out into the vans, motor cars, and motor cycles; +the six floors of small rooms housing the editorial staff of twenty +different publications in addition to the morning and evening <i>Herald</i>. +To the staff the place was known as the "rabbit-warren," for it +consisted of hundreds of different departments, the top floor of +which was given over to the <i>Evening Herald</i>. Below were the library, +reference-room, tape-rooms, and news editor's department of one of the +world's greatest and most influential journals, the <i>Daily Herald</i>, but +these rooms being insufficient at night, their staff overflowed into +ours from 9 p.m. till about 4 a.m. Therefore our rooms were never left +and our tapes ticked out their messages year in year out—Sundays and +week-days, incessant and never-ending.</p> + +<p>Into that big square apartment with its large skylight was concentrated +the whole news of the world day by day, hour by hour—nay, moment by +moment.</p> + +<p>The message which the consumptive youth handed to me proved to be a +piece of column tape from the Central News instrument, which stated +that, according to the <i>Western Evening Express</i>, at Plymouth, +Inspector Whitlock had, on the previous day, made certain discoveries +at the empty house in Barnes where the young girl had been found +murdered. The report was practically the forged telegram which Whitlock +and myself had read during its transmission on the previous day. There +was, however, no mention of the source of information, even though +it be so true, and evidently in the first place supplied by one well +acquainted with the truth.</p> + +<p>I wondered whether Whitlock's inquiries as to the sender of the +mysterious message had been fraught with any result.</p> + +<p>"Well," asked Marvin, still without looking up from his blotting-pad, +"anything fresh in that Barnes affair? Shall we make it a feature +to-day?"</p> + +<p>"No," I replied. "I'm looking after it again this morning, but there +won't be anything fresh for a day or two. The police know a lot of +things, but don't want them made public."</p> + +<p>He raised his head and peered forth at me through his gold-rimmed +glasses—looked at me rather curiously, I thought.</p> + +<p>"Do you know any of these things?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Well—some of them," I replied. "Indeed, there's something here which +I suppose the other papers will give," and I handed him the piece of +tape.</p> + +<p>"H'm!" he grunted. "Is this true?"</p> + +<p>I responded in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>"And you knew it yesterday? Why didn't you send it up to us?" he asked, +glaring at me. "We could have made it the feature of the 'special.'"</p> + +<p>"Because—well, because Whitlock wouldn't allow it," I replied, +resolved to keep the secret of the message and its mysterious +authorship to myself.</p> + +<p>"Whitlock be hanged!" he snarled. "When you get hold of a good thing +publish it, and make an excuse afterwards. A Pressman who keeps his +news to himself isn't any good nowadays. The <i>Herald's</i> a live paper, +and doesn't want to get its London news from Plymouth."</p> + +<p>"But I——"</p> + +<p>"What's the good of excuses?" he snapped, in his high-pitched voice. +"You knew a good thing and didn't publish it. If the Chief gets to hear +of it there'll be a row. You're not smart, Keene. I once thought you'd +make a good crime investigator, but in this case—a real first-class +sensation—you've failed miserably. What's the good of pottering about +with Whitlock if you don't let us know what he's discovered?"</p> + +<p>"But I managed to keep everything back from the other papers and +agencies," I protested.</p> + +<p>"And gave us nothing ourselves!" he laughed, with a sneer. "That's what +you call up-to-date journalism? Why, when I was down at Bath thirty +years ago we could do better than that—or we'd have got the sack."</p> + +<p>"The confidence Whitlock reposes in me is based upon the fact that I've +never abused it."</p> + +<p>"Rot! A 'scoop' like that was worth a couple of hundred pounds, or +more, to the paper. And you could easily have put it right with +him afterwards. Good heavens! If you're going to be so infernally +scrupulous about other people's feelings you'd better throw up +journalism and go in for the church. It would suit you better," he +declared, with a dry laugh. "But," he added, "let's see whether you +can't make a bit of 'copy' to-day. You're getting like Julian Little, +and won't write a line unless absolutely necessary."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to give the subs unnecessary work," I replied, laughing, +with an endeavour to treat his grumbling with humour.</p> + +<p>"Well, just give 'em a little bit of exercise to-day," he said. +"What's this about the police finding a small portrait of a gentleman, +for instance? Just go and see Whitlock and induce him—pay him if +you like—to let you have the loan of it, and we'll publish it in +to-night's special."</p> + +<p>"It might negative the efforts of the police."</p> + +<p>"Negative them! Why, my dear Keene, some reader or other may identify +the original and thus greatly assist them. Go along to Scotland Yard +at once, use your best influence with Whitlock, and give him my +compliments. Just get him to lend it to you for half an hour, and take +it along to Park's studio. He'd take a copy of it. That will be a real +good 'scoop' if we publish it to-night."</p> + +<p>And he resumed his work with his blue pencil, while I stood staring at +him without replying.</p> + +<p>The expression upon his countenance as he had spoken had been very +curious, almost as though he was actually aware of the amazing truth +concerning the portrait.</p> + +<p>He wished to publish it in that night's "special"!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h2> +</div> + +<h3>BEHIND THE SCENES OF THE <i>HERALD</i></h3> + + +<p>I was seated on the edge of a table in the reporters' room—a place +wherein were rows of dusty old books and a number of ink-stained +tables, whereat reporters deciphered their "notes" and wrote their +"copy." Upon the begrimed, colour-washed walls were stuck quantities of +newspaper cuttings, dirty and yellow with tobacco-smoke, caricatures +from the illustrated Press, war-maps, and other pictorial memos which +one or other of the reporting staff desired to preserve. Over the +fireplace someone had pasted a religious text.</p> + +<p>In that room men came and went. Some entered without a word, scribbled +half a dozen lines, flung the slip of paper, with his name written at +the top, into the basket—which would later on find its way to the +sub-editors—and left. Others sat busily writing with stubby pencils, +while still others, mostly clean-shaven youths, lit cigarettes, +gossiped, and congratulated themselves that they were "marked" in +the diary for some unimportant function, a society bazaar, a company +meeting, or a foundation-stone, which would set them free before four +in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>With one of these, Boyd by name, a typical Pressman of the modern +school, I was chatting, waiting to see Macdonald, the chief reporter. +The latter came at last, a tall, thin-faced, black-haired, rather +sallow Scotsman of forty-five, in silk hat, frock-coat, and seedy +umbrella, without which he was never known to go forth even on the +brightest day. Besides being chief reporter of the <i>Evening Herald</i>, he +was chief of the staff in the "gallery" of the House of Commons. Then, +after concluding his work for the <i>Herald</i> at 6.30 in the evening, he +remained in the "House," reporting its proceedings for the Exchange +Telegraph Company, supplying that service of news which one reads in +clubs and hotels. In the House he was known as the "tape-worm," because +he supplied the "tape" with news.</p> + +<p>His manner was deliberate, his peculiarities many. A keen politician +and a clever journalist, he possessed a sense of dry humour and a fund +of quotation which rendered him a character in modern journalism. His +mind was a perfect dictionary of popular quotations in all sorts of +languages, and no matter what the occasion or topic of conversation, +"Mac," as we called him, always had a proverb or an apt quotation from +some dead-and-gone writer ready at hand.</p> + +<p>This fount of quotation constantly overflowed into his reports, and the +sub-editors were constantly on the alert with blue pencil to cut out +such portions of what they irreverently termed "old Mac's gas." Some +went as far as to say that he had committed Bartlett's and Benham's +collections of quotations to memory; while among the staff it was +a well-known fact that one of old Mac's idiosyncrasies was to take +a shorthand note of everything he witnessed. Indeed, somebody once +found in the reporters' room a slip of paper on which he had noted in +shorthand every movement and trick of a troupe of acrobats performing +at the Empire.</p> + +<p>"Well, Keene," he exclaimed, with his broad Scotch accent, as he +entered and glanced around at the several tables occupied by the men +under him, "what's the premium on murder this morning—eh?"</p> + +<p>A laugh went round at this, for, as "The Murder-Monger," I was +constantly the butt of Mac's ready wit.</p> + +<p>"Oh, we're dealing in sudden deaths to-day," I retorted. "Three of 'em +have just come up on the tape within ten minutes."</p> + +<p>He had walked to his table, and was looking down the list of +engagements for that day written in the diary.</p> + +<p>"Well," he went on, "we want some good story or other to-day. Things +are uncommonly quiet in London."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Marvin will get a decent Reuter or two later on—an earthquake +in Japan or a scrap in Central America, with a few hundreds killed."</p> + +<p>"Or a railway disaster in the States—train wrecked and burned—English +passengers—and that sort of thing," I added. "Always good enough for +the contents bill."</p> + +<p>"Yes. There's nothing much in London to-day—not even a divorce case +worth half a dozen lines," Mac said, with a sigh, hanging up his silk +hat on the peg.</p> + +<p>"There ought to be something fresh to be got out of that Barnes +affair," a man remarked from the other corner of the room without +looking up from his blotting-pad.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes!" said Mac. "You're doing that, Keene, of course. How's it +going? Any arrest likely?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. Police entirely in the dark."</p> + +<p>"But you'll do half a column of the latest details," Mac said. "Work +the story up for all it's worth. Give a few of your first-class +patent-leather theories as to the crime, or rub up an interview with +somebody."</p> + +<p>"But there's nothing further to say at present," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing further?" he cried. "Why, my dear Keene, the thing's good +enough for another week. It's a real sensation. You must get the +photographs of the murdered girl and of the other woman. Committed +suicide in the police-cell, didn't she! If it were me, I should +work up a story that she committed suicide because her life was +threatened—victim of a secret society. Anything about continental +secret societies always goes down with the public. Hint that she's +a princess, a duchess, or some foreign notability, and that the +government are taking steps to suppress the real facts. Oh, my dear +Keene, there's lots in that. If I were doing it I'd startle London for +the next six days," he added.</p> + +<p>"With lies!" I remarked, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Well, the truth would not be nearly so interesting," old Mac said, for +he was entirely unscrupulous when it came to telling a good "story." +Many a good mystery had he worked up from nothing. A bogus mystery +generally lasts about three days, because rival journals make inquiry +and discredit the exaggerated report.</p> + +<p>In all journalistic "stories" the exhumation report is undoubtedly the +most telling. Unfortunately it cannot be often worked, but when it is +it never fails to attract. Hint at foul play and the exhumation of a +body, and you will have the world on the tenter-hooks of excitement. +Never does a suspicion of poison crop up without its attendant +journalistic prediction that the body of somebody else is to be exhumed.</p> + +<p>I once worked this "wheeze" so entirely successfully that the Home +Office, believing that there was something in my theory, actually +ordered the body of a woman to be exhumed and the stomach analysed +for poison. This was done, but no poison was discovered, and, in +consequence, the <i>Herald</i> very narrowly escaped paying heavy damages +for libel. Indeed, the man whom I had alleged to be a murderer entered +an action, but for some reason, to this day quite unaccountable, +suddenly dropped it.</p> + +<p>While talking with Mac, a boy in an Eton suit entered with a message +from Sir Henry Neave, the founder and proprietor of the <i>Herald</i>, +asking me to go at once to his room, an order which I immediately +obeyed.</p> + +<p>Sir Henry, known to all the staff as "the Chief," was as unapproachable +as the Prime Minister himself.</p> + +<p>Through the office of a smart and handsome lady secretary, thence +through the apartment of the private secretary, admittance was gained +to a large, long, luxurious room with cosy easy-chairs, couches and +writing-tables, which had no semblance to a business office. Big silver +bowls—presents from the staff—were filled with fresh flowers; upon +the thick carpet one's footsteps fell noiselessly, and everywhere was +displayed an artistic taste which was sufficient index to the character +of the man who, above all others, was the most successful journalist +the world had ever known.</p> + +<p>About Sir Henry Neave there was nothing of the blatant millionaire. +Though enormous wealth had come to him since the days, not so long ago, +when he was a humble working journalist in Fleet Street; though he +possessed a fine house in Park Lane, a big place in the country, one at +the seaside, and a pretty villa on the Promenade des Anglais at Nice, +yet his great success had never spoilt him.</p> + +<p>The whole staff loved him. To them he was as one of themselves. He +would shout and condemn in unmeasured terms, and criticise the "get-up" +of one or other of his many journals with unequalled sarcasm. Yet next +moment he would say cheerily, "That's all—that's all I have to say. Go +away, my boy, and do better."</p> + +<p>And the culprit would smile and go away, and do his level best in the +future.</p> + +<p>As I opened the door I saw him lying back in his big saddle-bag chair +near the fireplace, smoking a cigarette and reading some proofs. +Fair-haired, clean-shaven and aged about thirty-five, his was a +countenance full of strong character and determination, a face which +once seen would never be forgotten—undeniably a face of genius.</p> + +<p>In his dress he was nothing of a fop. Devoted to motoring, and one of +its pioneers in England, he spent all his spare time on one or other +of his fine cars, and invariably wore a tweed suit and a soft tennis +collar.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Keene!" he exclaimed, in his quick, impetuous way. "Let me see. +Why did I send for you? Oh, I know!" he went on, looking up at me +and dropping the proofs on the floor at his side. "Of late, Keene, +I've been watching you. You've done a lot of real good work on the +'Evening,' and I've resolved to give you a better chance. Do you know +French?"</p> + +<p>"I was at school in Rouen for three years."</p> + +<p>"Good. Well, I've decided to put you on the <i>Daily Herald</i>, and give +you a chance abroad as special correspondent. I spoke to Wakeley last +night, and he thinks you can begin by doing some of the smaller things +on the Continent. Little will show you your way about at first. You can +consult Wakeley about your salary. Remember, we only want first-class +stories, and where those are concerned you need never spare expense. I +look upon you, Keene, as a coming man. Don't disappoint me. Go, my boy, +and do your best."</p> + +<p>His words had caused my heart to leap. I was to become a special +correspondent and sign my articles in the <i>Daily Herald</i>! The post was +one of the plums of the journalistic profession.</p> + +<p>"I can only promise you, Sir Henry, that I shall always have the +interests of the paper at heart. On the 'Evening' I've always done my +best, and shall certainly spare no effort to perform my duty in my new +post."</p> + +<p>"I know that—I know that! Go to Wakeley, tell him that you are in +future on the staff of special correspondents. Tell him from me to send +you out on the next short trip. That's all," and he ended abruptly with +dismissal, as was his usual habit.</p> + +<p>He was a man of remarkably quick decision. He never hesitated. Without +a moment's reflection he would decide matters involving the expenditure +of thousands, and would order a new paper to appear, or stop a +non-paying one, at a moment's notice.</p> + +<p>The staff within that great building, with its hundreds of different +departments, was the best that had ever been gathered together to run +newspapers and periodicals. The gigantic organisation was unique, while +the huge printing-works, that swallowed up hundreds of miles of paper +daily, were the most up-to-date in all the world. And all was due to +his careful forethought and his knowledge of what the public really +required.</p> + +<p>So many newspapers throughout the country did he control that he +could make or mar a Cabinet, while his political power was courted by +the Prime Minister himself, and his influence was such that he often +privately received "inspired" information from the highest quarters.</p> + +<p>And yet with all this power and wealth Sir Henry Neave was just the +same as when, as Harry Neave, he had been glad enough to report +police-court cases and accept the princely sum of seven-and-sixpence. +Though a bad enemy, he never forgot his friends of old days, and the +life of many a broken-down Pressman was made happier and brighter by +the secret charity that came from his pocket.</p> + +<p>Sir Henry had always been my friend. I had done my best, and the reward +he had given me was the greatest in his power. It would raise me from +mere murder-mongering to the highest rank in journalism—that of +special correspondent.</p> + +<p>In future I was to become the cosmopolitan and constant traveller, and +my signed telegrams would be read the world over.</p> + +<p>And with these thoughts I ascended in the lift to tell old Marvin that +I was no longer connected with the <i>Evening Herald</i>, and to send a line +in secret to Daisy acquainting her with my sudden good fortune.</p> + +<p>A new vista of life spread itself out before me.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</h2> +</div> + +<h3>SHOWS A TIGHT CORNER</h3> + + +<p>Much to Whitlock's annoyance and chagrin, the whole of the "Evenings," +the <i>Herald</i> excepted—reproduced the intelligence received by the +Plymouth paper regarding his discoveries at the empty house at Barnes.</p> + +<p>At half-past five that evening I was seated in his room at Scotland +Yard, listening to his outspoken denunciation of the Press.</p> + +<p>"If we could only discover who was the author of that confounded +telegram!" he exclaimed at last, with a sigh. "Depend upon it that the +man who sent the wire knows all about the tragedy and is implicated in +it. He has given out the details with some ulterior object, but what it +is I can't, for the life of me, make out."</p> + +<p>"Is it with the object of shielding somebody whom you may later on +suspect?" I queried.</p> + +<p>"I think not. Why, for instance, should he put us on the track of that +box?"</p> + +<p>"In order to implicate innocent persons," I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Maybe—maybe," he exclaimed, in his quick, decisive way. "Nothing +can be learned regarding the message down at Plymouth. The editor of +the <i>Evening Express</i> accepted and printed the news, believing it, of +course, to have emanated from the Central News Agency."</p> + +<p>"And the contents of the box?"</p> + +<p>"Well, as regards the birth certificate, we've already discovered +something. It appears that from 1872 to 1881, at the house in Mina +Road, Old Kent Road, there lived a man named Drayton and his wife. +Drayton, who worked at the Bricklayers' Arms goods station, was killed +by a light engine. His widow, with her boy, Francis Douglas, then +about five years of age, took furnished rooms with an old lady in +Albany Road, and lived there until about three years ago. At that time +young Drayton was a smartly-dressed young fellow, whose profession or +business was something of a mystery. His hours were very irregular, and +by the neighbours it was believed that he lived by betting or gambling."</p> + +<p>"And where did they move to? He supported his mother, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But it seems that this Francis fell deeply in love with a pretty +young girl still in her teens. For a year before they moved away he +used to meet her in secret, and it was their habit to stroll together +of an evening about the dark roads of Camberwell and Lewisham. She +never once went to her lover's house, and my informant, the next-door +neighbour, tells me that she was an exceedingly pretty and lady-like +girl. She attracted attention as being about to throw herself away upon +this somewhat erratic and reckless young fellow."</p> + +<p>"And you haven't traced his present whereabouts?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. They left Albany Road quite suddenly about three years ago, +old Mrs Drayton telling the neighbours that her son had business in +America and that she was to accompany him. A few months after their +departure the landlady died and the furniture was sold, so of Francis +Douglas Drayton all traces are lost."</p> + +<p>"But you are still making inquiries?"</p> + +<p>"I've had four men at work hard ever since yesterday. At present we +have found no record of Drayton's marriage," he said. "My idea is, if +possible, to discover his wife's friends—if he has married—and find +out from them where he is at present. But the registers at Somerset +House have been searched in vain."</p> + +<p>I recollected the old gold watch, the string of child's blue beads, +and—ah, yes!—my own picture!</p> + +<p>"And the letter from Erna to Carl?"</p> + +<p>Whitlock pulled a wry face.</p> + +<p>"Difficult—very difficult to discover anything regarding that. No +envelope, no date, and no surnames. Hundreds of Ernas have stayed at +the Nord in Cologne. And I wonder how many thousand Carls there are +in that city! No, my dear Keene. On the German side we shall discover +nothing. It is here, in London, that the clue will be found." Then, +looking me straight in the face with his dark, serious eyes, he added, +"To tell the truth, that little portrait of yourself puzzles me very +much. I never cease thinking about it."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I, Whitlock."</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea how it came there?"</p> + +<p>"None whatsoever."</p> + +<p>"The portrait was originally a love-token, of course," he said. "I +know, Keene, that you will pardon me prying like this into your private +affairs, but, as you see, it is imperative. And we are such good +friends that you know I mean no offence."</p> + +<p>I hesitated for a few moments, not knowing what to reply.</p> + +<p>"It was a love-token, as you surmise."</p> + +<p>"And have you any objection to me knowing the identity of the lady?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Whitlock. I think that is a rather unfair question—at least at +present," I said. "I thought you had left the solution of that point to +me?"</p> + +<p>"So I have. But—well, I confess that my curiosity is much aroused by +this most inexplicable feature of the case," he said, leaning both his +elbows upon the small writing-table whereat he was seated.</p> + +<p>"I have promised to do my utmost to discover by what means, and with +what motive, the portrait was placed where I found it," I declared. +"Therefore, would it not be as well to allow me to continue my inquiry +undisturbed?"</p> + +<p>"Most certainly, Keene. I really meant no insinuations. My curiosity is +but natural, I think you'll admit."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you suspect me?" I laughed.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," he answered, in a hard voice, as he rose from the table +and went to the telephone at the opposite wall. "I suspect somebody +else."</p> + +<p>"Who?" I gasped. Did he, I wondered, refer to Julian Little?</p> + +<p>"At present that must be my own affair," was his answer. "This case +bristles with extraordinary features, each one more curious and more +puzzling than its predecessors. The utter absence of motive all round +affords us nothing tangible to work upon, while the fact that there +is one person in the background aware of the whole circumstances, and +prompting us in our inquiries, makes the affair a—well, an uncanny +one, to say the least."</p> + +<p>"Could it be this man Drayton himself who forged the name of the +Central News?" I hazarded.</p> + +<p>"Hardly. I'm inclined to think that the farther we endeavour to +penetrate this mystery the more complete will become the puzzle. In all +my twenty-five years in the police I've never had a case so chock-full +of riddles as this. If I knew to whom you'd given the little portrait +it would assist me immensely," he added.</p> + +<p>"I could hardly betray a lady and bring suspicion upon her of being +an accessory, especially when it may be a lady for whom I entertain +affection," I said.</p> + +<p>"You must love her, or you wouldn't give her your portrait to wear," he +said, smiling at my rather lame excuse.</p> + +<p>"And for that very reason I refuse to, at present, tell you her name, +my dear Whitlock."</p> + +<p>"Well, all I hope is that at the adjourned inquest they'll return a +verdict," he remarked, for, like all detectives, he disliked the public +inquiry, fearing always lest some fact should be given in evidence +which might put the culprit upon his guard. Many a murderer has escaped +justice through injudicious evidence being given at an inquest. For +that very reason he was now roundly abusing the Press for republishing +that report from Plymouth.</p> + +<p>"Why, in Heaven's name, haven't you editor-people a little more +discretion?" he cried, having answered the telephone. "They surely must +know that to publish such a report will hamper me!"</p> + +<p>"How were they to know?" I asked. "The facts might have been actually +gathered by a reporter of the Central News."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, after a moment's reflection, "you're right. But I +wonder, now that the first forged message has been so successful, +whether this mysterious journalist—evidently no amateur—will venture +another telegram?"</p> + +<p>"I wonder. But certainly he won't dare to send to Plymouth again."</p> + +<p>"I don't know—I rather think he will. But I fancy the Plymouth editor +will not print the intelligence, now that he knows through us that +the other message was not genuine. I have asked him, if he receives +anything, to re-telegraph it to me here at once."</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I said, "I'd dearly love to know who it is who is so fully +aware of everything at that weird empty house over at Barnes."</p> + +<p>"So should I. He could identify both the dead girls, no doubt. Hasn't +it struck you that to send such a message to Plymouth he must be a +professional journalist?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said rather hoarsely, for his words showed me plainly that he +more than ever suspected Julian.</p> + +<p>Little was certainly in London when that message was despatched. He had +been Daisy's friend from girlhood. I recollected her start of surprise +when she had discovered something in the report of the inquest. But +what that something was I could form no idea.</p> + +<p>I told my friend of my good fortune in being transferred to the staff +of special correspondents of the <i>Daily Herald</i>, whereupon he said, in +a tone of regret—</p> + +<p>"Then you'll be deserting us soon, I suppose, and travel incessantly on +the Continent?"</p> + +<p>"I expect so. But though, of course, the advancement is gratifying, my +heart is entirely in my present work."</p> + +<p>"Just as your friend Mr Little's heart is always across the +Channel—eh? By the way, when does he leave again?"</p> + +<p>"He left yesterday—for Servia."</p> + +<p>"Left yesterday?" he echoed, glancing at me sharply. "He went off +suddenly, then?"</p> + +<p>"As he always does. When I got back last night I found a note he had +left for me. He's gone to Belgrade."</p> + +<p>Whitlock took up a pen and twisted it between his fingers.</p> + +<p>"And when will he be back?"</p> + +<p>"That's quite uncertain. He predicts some political trouble, I think."</p> + +<p>Whitlock was thoughtful. His suspicion of Julian was very marked. +Julian was my friend, and I confess that I resented Whitlock's manner. +All my present success as a journalist I owed to Julian Little, and I +felt certain that it was he who had carried out a promise made long ago +and had spoken on my behalf to the Chief.</p> + +<p>I was about to go, when the detective-inspector said—</p> + +<p>"I do urge upon you, Keene, to try at once and solve the mystery of +that little portrait of yourself."</p> + +<p>This I promised him, explaining that, though I was no longer connected +with the <i>Evening Herald</i>, I should continue to "do" the Barnes mystery +for the morning paper while awaiting orders to go abroad. Then I +gripped the great detective's hand, and strolled back to my lonely +chambers in Gray's Inn.</p> + +<p>As I went along the Embankment and up Norfolk Street to Chancery Lane +I reflected that, at any moment, I was now liable to be sent abroad to +any spot between Ostend and Ekaterinburg, or from Archangel to Villa +San Giovanni, and for an indefinite period.</p> + +<p>Wakeley, the brilliant journalist, who, as news editor of the <i>Daily +Herald</i>, had brought that journal up to its present greatness; the +man to whom the public owed all the exclusive intelligence, daily +"scoops," and interesting "stories" with which the paper was filled; +the man whose name had never appeared once in the journal, and who was +therefore unknown, had, when I had seen him that morning, congratulated +me heartily.</p> + +<p>"Now, Keene," he had said, "you have the chance which thousands of +other men will never get. Look at Little! His name is a household word. +Yours will become the same if you are shrewd, exercise forethought, and +give us good, sound stories that can't be contradicted by Reuter. I'll +send you away very soon, so keep your traps ready packed always. But +while you're waiting you might keep on the Barnes affair. Start on that +to-morrow for us. Let's see; what's your telephone number?"</p> + +<p>And he had taken it down in a book at his elbow and dismissed me with a +final, "Well, good luck to your future, Keene."</p> + +<p>My future! What was it to be? Would that I had been able to open the +closed book and see all that was in store for me! Had I been able to do +this, how differently I would have acted! I should have been forearmed +against my enemies and enabled to combat them with their own weapons.</p> + +<p>I entered my chambers and dressed prior to going down to the Savage to +dine among kindred spirits. I intended to afterwards go as usual to the +Oxford and watch my dainty little love do her "turn."</p> + +<p>I had just sat down to write a letter when the telephone rang. It was +old Marvin, who had returned home.</p> + +<p>"I say, Keene," he said, "I suppose you've succeeded in getting the +loan of that portrait from Whitlock? We must publish it to-morrow +morning. Now, even if you are on the 'Daily,' you must let us have +that. Don't give it to Wakeley, remember, because it was I who +suggested the 'scoop.'"</p> + +<p>I reflected for a moment. How could I give my own portrait for +publication in connection with such a tragedy?</p> + +<p>"Are you there?" he continued.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You heard what I said. Have you got the portrait?"</p> + +<p>I hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Then send it along to Jalland, at the office, at once, and say from me +that the block must be ready at 7.30 in the morning. Good-night."</p> + +<p>And next instant he rang off.</p> + +<p>What was I to do? How should I act?</p> + +<p>Marvin wanted a picture to publish.</p> + +<p>I crossed the room to a small chest of drawers in which I kept a +quantity of old papers, newspaper-cuttings, and other odds and ends. +From there I took out a <i>carte-de-visite</i> of a young reporter named +Bingham, who had come to London about a year ago from Birmingham, and +who had soon afterwards died of consumption.</p> + +<p>I held it in my hand. Poor fellow! He and I had been the best of +friends.</p> + +<p>What harm could result if the <i>Evening Herald</i> published it? At any +rate, it would puzzle the man who forged that curious telegram to +Plymouth.</p> + +<p>The mere fact of mystifying him appealed to me and decided me.</p> + +<p>So, with a scribbled note to Jalland, I placed it in an envelope and +despatched it by boy-messenger.</p> + +<p>It was an ingenious fraud upon the public, I admit, but its results +were destined to be stranger indeed than even I had imagined.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE PRESS AND THE PUBLIC</h3> + + +<p>Poor Bingham's portrait appeared in the <i>Evening Herald</i> next day as a +copy of the photograph found under such curious circumstances in the +empty house at Barnes.</p> + +<p>The "scoop" was an exclusive one, and readers of the <i>Herald</i> in every +part of London cudgelled their brains in trying to recollect if they +had ever seen the original.</p> + +<p>Beneath the picture were the words, "The portrait which the police are +endeavouring to identify."</p> + +<p>All that morning I was busy writing in my chambers until, about one +o'clock, the telephone rang, and I found that it was Whitlock, who was +at the public call-office at Feltham, in Middlesex.</p> + +<p>"I say, Keene," he said, "I've just bought the <i>Evening Herald</i> at the +station here. I notice the most excellent portrait!"</p> + +<p>I held my breath. What could I say?</p> + +<p>"I—well—I thought——"</p> + +<p>"Of course," he interrupted. "Quite right. It's just what we want. Its +publication will puzzle the people who are trying to puzzle us."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad if you think so," I said. "Anything fresh?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing particularly—or, at least, nothing tangible. But," he added, +"by the way, have you heard anything of Mr Little?"</p> + +<p>Little! Always Little! He suspected him strongly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," I replied. "He ought to arrive in Belgrade to-morrow, or the +next day."</p> + +<p>"When you hear from him, let me know at once, won't you?"</p> + +<p>I promised.</p> + +<p>"I may be in the Gambrinus, in Regent Street, to-night about nine. +If you're in the vicinity you might, perhaps, look in. It isn't an +appointment, you know."</p> + +<p>"Very well," I said, and he then wished me good-bye and rang off. He +was evidently down at Feltham, in pursuance of his inquiries.</p> + +<p>Hardly had I settled down to my writing when the 'phone rang again, +and a message came from Marvin that he wished to see me at the office +immediately. In obedience to the summons I presently entered the big +news editor's room of the <i>Evening Herald</i>, where the tapes were +whirring and clicking, and the five grave-faced "subs"—as they are +called in Press parlance—were busy reading and preparing the piles +of telegrams and flimsies arriving every moment from all parts of the +world. Two of them were so busy that they had their chops and glasses +of ale at their side, lunching and working at the same time. The most +busy time on the "Evening" was from one to four in the afternoon, +before the "special" went to press.</p> + +<p>"Joyous Jimmy," as we called him, was seated in his shirt-sleeves in +the midst of all the noise and litter, a big briar-pipe in his mouth +and the remains of his lunch at his elbow.</p> + +<p>At the moment when I entered he was uttering a string of unqualified +imprecations upon a small, trembling printer's imp who had delivered +a message wrongly to the foreman. Six tape instruments were clicking +in chorus, while two telephones were calling, and a boy was +repeating something about stocks and shares which was coming over +the 'phone from the City editor. To the unaccustomed, that room was +a perfect pandemonium. Indeed, how the sub-editors worked in those +nerve-shattering surroundings was always a marvel to the uninitiated.</p> + +<p>"And where's Keene, I wonder?" Marvin was saying, in the same breath in +which he had abused the boy. "Gone on another of those vain, wild-goose +chases of his—or else still in bed, I suppose! Franks, just wake him +up again on the 'phone. Tell him I want him here—at once. When I say +at once, I don't mean in half an hour. Tell him that."</p> + +<p>"You needn't," I laughed across to Franks, who was that day assisting +in the sub-editing; "I'm here."</p> + +<p>The red-moustached, bald-headed Scot turned at sound of my voice, +bristling up in a moment.</p> + +<p>"Well, young man?" he asked, looking me up and down. "And a fine +laughing-stock you've made of this precious rag to-day!"</p> + +<p>"I don't follow you," I said.</p> + +<p>"Follow me? Well, I should think your own common-sense—if you have +any—ought to tell you?" he snarled. "Look! What do you call that?" and +he pointed to the portrait in the front page of the paper.</p> + +<p>"Well—it's a picture."</p> + +<p>"Yes. And you've played a pretty neat game with us to-day. That +portrait which you've sent in as the one found down at Barnes is a +fraud—and you know it!"</p> + +<p>In an instant it occurred to me how curiously anxious he had been to +publish the picture. How could he possibly know the truth?</p> + +<p>"Well," I said, with rather offended dignity, "you're pretty outspoken."</p> + +<p>"Outspoken!" he cried. "And who, pray, gets the blame if things go +wrong? Who has to go and face the Chief, and hear all his nasty +criticism? Why, only yesterday he declared that the whole staff of the +paper were only fit to run a weekly in the country. I'm sick of the +whole bag of tricks!"</p> + +<p>"Well, you needn't blackguard me—I've done my best," I protested.</p> + +<p>"I hope you'll do better as a special on the 'Morning' than you've +done with me. That's all I've got to say," was his sneering rejoinder. +"Boy, take this tray away, and say it's the worst chop I've ever had. +Yes," he said, replying to one of his assistants, who inquired how much +space they should give to a speech by the Chancellor of the Exchequer +at the Mansion House. "There's a lot too much gas about the Colonies. A +'stick' is quite enough. Has any of that Bellamy divorce come in? When +it does, give it a column. It's worth that—and a few good cross-heads, +remember. We'll make it a feature, and put it on the bill."</p> + +<p>Then, having delivered himself of these hasty instructions, a youth +appeared with a proof of the contents-bill, which he held up for +Marvin's inspection.</p> + +<p>"Bah!" he cried, with withering sarcasm. "Does Beavan call that a bill? +I call it a tombstone—set like an epitaph! Take the thing back, and +tell him to set it again." The boy grinned and disappeared with the +message.</p> + +<p>"And as for this portrait," he went on, turning again to me, "I've +taken the thing out."</p> + +<p>He saw my look of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that an hour ago it was recognised?" he went on.</p> + +<p>"Recognised—identified!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; by the man's brother, who came up here to complain."</p> + +<p>"Of what?"</p> + +<p>"That we were publishing the portrait of his dead brother, who was +a young Pressman. He came up from Birmingham, and was on some small +financial rag in the City, it seems."</p> + +<p>This was a contretemps which I certainly had not expected. I never +knew, indeed, that poor Bingham had a brother. At least, he had never +told me of his existence.</p> + +<p>"A Pressman!" I ejaculated, in pretence that I was still in ignorance.</p> + +<p>"Yes. And you palmed it off upon us as the one which Whitlock found +over at Barnes," he said frankly, removing his pipe from his lips, and +looking straight into my face. "I hope you'll not play this kind of +game now you're on the 'Morning,' or Wakeley will soon shunt you, you +can rely on that."</p> + +<p>"Well," I said, angry at his manner towards me before his assistants, +"if you don't believe me, just ask Whitlock. He's certain to be in at +Scotland Yard about seven to make his report."</p> + +<p>"Then you actually declare that the portrait is the one which he found?"</p> + +<p>"I make no statement; please ask Whitlock," I replied sharply. "Merely +because the portrait is identified by the man's brother, you charge me +with attempting to perpetrate an absolute fraud on the paper!"</p> + +<p>And I turned upon my heel in anger.</p> + +<p>"I do charge you, Keene!" he shouted. "You and Whitlock have, I +suppose, arranged it together. He doesn't wish the real photograph +published—eh?" he asked, in a curious tone, a tone which seemed to +imply that he was aware of much more than he would admit.</p> + +<p>But I made no reply, and, leaving the room, banged the door after me.</p> + +<p>As I did so I ran into the arms of old Macdonald, nearly knocking him +over.</p> + +<p>"Hey, hey, mon!" he exclaimed, in his broad Highland accent. "You're +a wee bit angered-like, it seems. Remember what Publius Syrus says: +'<span class="smcap">Miserrima est fortuna quæ inimico caret.</span>'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dry up, old chap!" I cried. "I'm in no mood for philosophy."</p> + +<p>"Philosophy! Has not Cicero said: 'Oh, philosophy! guide of life, +explorer of virtue, expeller of vice,'" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"You're a marvel at quotations—a perambulating dictionary!" I declared.</p> + +<p>"Then, with Plautus, in his <i>Bacchides</i>, I would say, mon, 'Your +flattery is so much bird-lime.'" He laughed and passed on, chuckling at +his own aptness of quotation.</p> + +<p>It was true, as the eccentric old reporter—one of the most dry-as-dust +fossils in the whole Press-world—had only remarked to me on the +previous day, that our short span of life forbids us to spin out hope +to any length. Soon enough night will be upon us, and the fabled Shades +and the shadowy Plutonian home. And then?</p> + +<p>I strolled down the long corridor of the office, deep in thought. +Somehow, old Marvin's manner had struck me as distinctly suspicious. +Why, I could not tell. There was something peculiar in the manner in +which he looked at me which aroused my strong suspicion that he knew +the truth of my own picture having been found in that empty house at +Barnes. But how could he possibly know?</p> + +<p>True, I had originally given the little trinket to Daisy as a +love-token, but I knew full well that she was extremely careful never +to let old Annie see it. Only a fortnight ago, while we were lunching +together at Dieudonne's, she had told me how very careful she always +was of it, in order that her old servant should not discover our secret.</p> + +<p>I had queried whether it would not be wiser to take Annie into our +confidence, in order that I might meet my love more often and get a few +minutes with her each night when she left the halls. But she would not +hear of this. Annie would certainly tell her mother, and unpleasantness +would thus be caused.</p> + +<p>A wild and entirely foolish theory occurred to me as I descended the +stairs to the editorial rooms of the <i>Daily Herald</i>. Was it possible +that old Marvin himself had got hold of the little miniature, and knew +of it being concealed with that bundle of telegraph-tape? If so, with +what motive had it been placed there? But such a suggestion was utterly +improbable, and I dismissed it. I did not like Marvin—I never liked +him. He was a nigger-driver of the very worst sort, and would dismiss +any member of the reporting staff at a moment's notice. It was because +of this dislike, I think, that I held him in suspicion.</p> + +<p>Wakeley, who had just come on duty, was seated in his room looking +through his correspondence and dictating replies to the female typist. +His hours were from two in the afternoon till one in the morning, with +a couple of hours' interval at dinner-time. Full of discretion, clever, +up-to-date, and energetic, with a marvellous grasp of what the public +wanted, he was acknowledged to be among the first journalists in the +kingdom, if not the very first.</p> + +<p>He controlled the great staff of correspondents, numbering hundreds, +scattered all over the world, gave orders for special articles, decided +upon what should appear in the paper, and held under his control the +most powerful journalistic organ in the world.</p> + +<p>"Halloa, Keene!" exclaimed the merry-faced, middle-aged man as I +entered. "Want a job? You might cross to Lille to-night. There's +rioting among the miners there, and it might be worth a column of +descriptive. Ring up Paris, and Abbot will tell you all about it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm doing the Barnes affair," I said. "Don't you think I'd +better finish it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I forgot. Of course, you'd better stay in town a few days +longer and finish that story. Whitlock is a friend of yours, and you +get exclusive facts from him," he said. "By the way, Marvin has made a +fool of the 'Evening,' it seems. Been and published the picture of a +young Pressman as a bit of police evidence! We've been rung up twice +about it this morning," and he laughed at the idea of immaculate Marvin +getting called down to hear some of the Chief's biting sarcasms. "I +only hope some of our rivals won't get hold of the truth. If they do +they're sure to start their old wheeze, and expose what they call the +methods of the <i>Evening Herald</i>. I wonder who sent in the photograph +and hoaxed old 'Joyous Jimmy'—eh?"</p> + +<p>I was silent. What could I reply?</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>IS EVEN MORE MYSTERIOUS</h3> + + +<p>When, about nine that evening, I entered the Gambrinus Hall, that +German brasserie in Regent Street, the place was nearly filled with men +and a sprinkling of women, some drinking beer and others eating German +dishes. Above the dark-panelled wainscotting were many trophies of the +chase, while the whole interior was essentially Teuton in character. +It was one of the principal rendezvous of the German colony in London, +for there one could obtain genuine Bavarian beer, and lager brewed in +Pilsen itself.</p> + +<p>It was one of Whitlock's haunts at evening. There are certain places +in that vicinity upon which Scotland Yard keeps an open eye each +night, not because they are in the least ill-conducted, but because +into certain very comfortable beer-halls around Leicester Square there +often drop men who are "wanted." Indeed, it is a well-known fact to the +Criminal Investigation Department that any escaping foreigner arriving +in London will, sooner or later, make his way there, and thus fall +under the active surveillance of the detectives nightly on duty.</p> + +<p>So cleverly is the eye of the police kept upon all who enter that +the public never suspect. It is only perhaps when some old thief or +criminal, who, believing himself quite safe, has dropped in for a drink +and to hear the music, suddenly looks up to recognise, in alarm, a +detective seated at the next table, probably one of a merry party of +both sexes. Without the fair sex, indeed, the police would often fail, +and many a dangerous criminal has been arrested half an hour after +the sign or word given by some well-dressed, good-looking girl who, +ascending the steps, has disappeared into the jostling night crowd in +the vicinity of the Empire.</p> + +<p>Whitlock was never on duty about those places. He left it to the +younger men. When a man "wanted" was found, he was informed, and then +came upon the scene to direct the future movements of the watchers.</p> + +<p>The <i>habitués</i> of the Gambrinus were not of the same class, of course, +as those of certain other establishments close by, and as I entered +I saw Whitlock seated with a gentlemanly-looking man in a blue serge +suit, over in a far corner, smoking and calmly playing dominoes.</p> + +<p>"Evening, Keene!" he exclaimed, as I approached. "You know my +friend—don't you?"</p> + +<p>I smiled in recognition, greeted him, and took a seat at his +side. Whitlock had not pronounced the other's name, for he was +Detective-Inspector Kennedy, a well-known officer.</p> + +<p>Beer was brought for me, and I watched their game.</p> + +<p>"We shan't be very long," Whitlock replied, deeply interested, for +dominoes were his chief recreation. I myself often played with him when +we had nothing better to do.</p> + +<p>"Anything special?" I whispered, surprised that they should both be +there together.</p> + +<p>He made a movement with his eyebrows which at once put me upon my +guard. I lit a cigarette, and, while pretending to be deeply immersed +in their game, glanced around at the dozens of men and women at the +tables.</p> + +<p>Presently, while Kennedy was shuffling the dominoes, Whitlock leant +towards me, whispering—</p> + +<p>"We have something on. Your name is Hammond, and you are clerk in a +coal merchant's at Cardiff. My name is Hopkinson—understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered excitedly. "Upon whom are you keeping observation?"</p> + +<p>"Don't look. But at the third table on your right is an ugly little old +man, reading the <i>Globe</i>. He'll be joined, we expect, by another man +presently. Remember, don't take any notice of them. I shan't look in +the old man's direction any more. You can watch and give me word." And +he commenced another game, apparently absorbed in it.</p> + +<p>That Whitlock should have Kennedy with him showed that they were +engaged upon some important case. Why, too, had he invited me to meet +him there?</p> + +<p>"Has this anything to do with the Barnes affair?" I whispered, as soon +as I got a chance.</p> + +<p>"We hardly know yet. Just remain quiet. I want to see the old man's +friend."</p> + +<p>Presently, after I had idled a few moments over an evening paper, I, +with pretended disinterestedness, obtained a good look at the old +fellow. About sixty, with sharp, thin features, a short white beard and +moustache, his keen dark eyes searched hither and thither, while every +few moments he turned towards the door, in eager expectation of the +arrival of his friend. Well-dressed in frock-coat and buff waistcoat, +he wore a silk hat slightly tilted, which gave him a jaunty, reckless +appearance. But he was very short of stature, and though I could not +see plainly because he was seated, I believed that he was a little +deformed.</p> + +<p>On his finger as he smoked glittered a fine diamond, and the drink +before him—a small glass of that Danzig liqueur with tiny particles +of gold floating in it—showed him to be an epicure. Another man, a +stranger to him, was seated at the same table—a young City man who had +called in for a rapid drink <i>en passant</i>.</p> + +<p>Who, I wondered, was the old man?</p> + +<p>There was certainly nothing about his exterior to suggest the criminal. +In my life I had met thousands of quiet old men such as he. The only +feature about his appearance was the unusual keenness and brightness of +his eyes, and the sporting manner in which he wore his hat. Yet that +abomination of dress, the silk hat, getting askew by accident, will +impart, even to a Wesleyan preacher, the air of the man-about-town.</p> + +<p>In the position in which I was sitting the old man did not notice me. I +tried to imagine what profession he could be, and put him down at last +as some successful tradesman—a jeweller, perhaps, on account of that +very fine diamond. That he was a bit of a dandy was evidenced by the +way in which he carefully dusted some tobacco-ash from his vest with +a dark-green silk handkerchief. The deliberate and careful manner in +which he selected a fresh cigar from his case also showed his habit of +smoking only the best of weeds.</p> + +<p>My two friends were too immersed in their game to take any notice—or, +at least, pretended to be so.</p> + +<p>"I fancy he's not coming, old chap," Kennedy remarked, speaking into +his dark beard, as he bent to pick up one of the dominoes that had +fallen.</p> + +<p>"The old man is fidgeting," I said; "keeps looking up at the clock."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he'll come," declared Whitlock; "keep the game up."</p> + +<p>And so the clicking dominoes were again shuffled, while I sat in wonder +as to what connection this old man could have with those two dead women +at Barnes, and trying to speculate as to what was about to happen.</p> + +<p>Time went slowly on. Customers came and went, but we still remained. +The clock showed half-past ten. I had intended to look in at the Oxford +as usual to see Daisy do her "turn," but she had already been on, and +was no doubt well on her way home.</p> + +<p>Hour by hour, as I thought of the woman whom I loved so devotedly, I +could not help the recollection of that little miniature arising within +me. Its connection with all those extraordinary discoveries in that +empty house was utterly inscrutable. Could it have been stolen from +her? Or had she lost it and feared to tell me, lest I might believe +that she treated my love-token with carelessness? The latter solution +was, to me, the most probable. She might have left it in one or other +of the dressing-rooms in rushing from hall to hall, as she sometimes +had to do when she had two, or even three, engagements nightly. Often +she appeared at the Canterbury in Westminster Bridge Road, the Palace +of Varieties at Hammersmith, and the Holborn on the same night, and +this, of course, meant a great rush in a hired brougham from one hall +to the other in order to get "booked in" at the proper time by the +stage-managers.</p> + +<p>What more probable than that my dainty little love should have lost it, +and that the finder had, for some purpose at present unknown, concealed +it where I had discovered it?</p> + +<p>Yes. I decided that on the morrow I would approach her, and get her +to tell me the truth. To exist in this uncertainty further was quite +useless. I saw that the point had sorely puzzled Whitlock, and it +should therefore be at once cleared up.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid he's changed his mind," Kennedy remarked to his colleague, +beneath his breath. "It's getting on for eleven, and we can't sit here +much longer without arousing the old man's suspicion."</p> + +<p>"The manager knows who I am," Whitlock answered. "I daresay he's +wondering why we're here so long."</p> + +<p>"The old man won't stay much longer," I remarked. "He's just taken a +telegram from his pocket and read it as though to reassure himself of +the appointment."</p> + +<p>"That means he'll wait another ten minutes," Whitlock said.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to introduce me?" I inquired presently, recollecting +what he had said about my name.</p> + +<p>"We may. I don't yet know. Till the other man comes I can't decide how +I shall act."</p> + +<p>"Do you intend making an arrest?" I asked, excited at the prospect of a +dramatic scene.</p> + +<p>"Arrest! Well, not here—at anyrate," was my friend's response. "We +generally like to do things quietly when we can, you know," he added, +with a significant smile.</p> + +<p>"What's the old chap's name?"</p> + +<p>"He's got half a dozen, hasn't he?" Kennedy asked of his colleague.</p> + +<p>"Quite. He's a crook—and a pretty clever one; though he don't look it."</p> + +<p>"By Jove, yes," remarked Kennedy, still speaking into his beard, +pretending to contemplate his hand of dominoes before playing. "He's +worked one or two very smart games in his time, hasn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and a pretty tough customer into the bargain," added Whitlock. +"I wonder if our other friend will come? I'm tired. I left home at six +this morning."</p> + +<p>"I was at the office at half-past eight," said Kennedy.</p> + +<p>The manager of the restaurant passed to and fro, but gave no sign of +recognition to Whitlock. He never spoke to him unless the inspector +spoke first. A detective-sergeant whom I knew well by sight entered and +called for some beer, but, noticing his two superiors, drank, rose, and +departed without even a nod of acknowledgment.</p> + +<p>Whitlock and Kennedy were evidently playing a cunning game, while the +well-dressed old man, apparently anxious over the non-arrival of his +friend, was utterly unconscious of the surveillance upon him.</p> + +<p>It was getting late. Eleven o'clock had struck, and the place was now +filling rapidly with people from the theatres and music-halls in the +vicinity, whose habit it was to go there for a snack prior to taking +the motor 'buses and tubes to the suburbs. Still the old man remained, +calmly smoking a cigar and gazing upon the life and bustle about him.</p> + +<p>The diamond on his thin, bony finger attracted me, and each time he +removed his cigar from his lips it shone with a thousand brilliant +hues. It was an ill-gotten jewel without a doubt.</p> + +<p>At a quarter past eleven the old man's patience was, I saw, exhausted. +He had read a number of evening papers, looked at several foreign +illustrated journals, and had a number of drinks, yet his friend had +not put in an appearance.</p> + +<p>His whole demeanour was that of a man who feared a contretemps. He kept +his keen eyes ever upon the entrance from Regent Street, with brows +somewhat knit, half of disappointment, half of dread.</p> + +<p>I was bending, watching the play of my two companions when a sudden +movement of the old man attracted my attention.</p> + +<p>He had raised his hand and risen, while upon his grey countenance +spread a bright look of recognition.</p> + +<p>I glanced eagerly towards the doorway. Whitlock raised his eyes at the +same moment.</p> + +<p>Open-mouthed and speechless I sat there, utterly astounded. Was I +dreaming?</p> + +<p>I recognised in an instant that this vigil of Whitlock's was in +connection with the Barnes affair, but the matter had now assumed a +phase utterly and entirely mysterious.</p> + +<p>I watched the old man greet the new-comer. I was utterly dumbfounded, +breathless and mystified, for I had, in that brief moment, made an +amazing and startling discovery—one that was so strange as to be +utterly incredible—one that staggered belief.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>IS A REVELATION</h3> + + +<p>The contretemps was certainly a most startling one. I could not believe +my own eyes.</p> + +<p>There, through the doorway of the crowded restaurant, entered a tall, +dark-haired, rather handsome young man in crush-hat and black overcoat, +with a white muffler around his neck, while at his side walked a +woman—a woman in dark skirt, a cream jacket, and neat dark-blue hat—a +woman who was none other than my well-beloved!</p> + +<p>Yes. The man for whom the detectives were so anxiously watching was +accompanied by Daisy Marvin!</p> + +<p>So excited was I at the sudden recognition that I half rose from my +chair. Next instant, however, I sank back again into the obscurity of +the crowd, hoping not to be recognised. I intended to watch in silence. +She was, I saw, playing me false.</p> + +<p>If she could, after the theatre, escape from old Annie and meet this +young club-lounger, then why had she always told me that to see me +was impossible? She had cruelly deceived me, but I had fortunately +discovered her perfidy.</p> + +<p>Jealousy is the injured lover's torment. In a moment my heart became +filled with fierce resentment. There was the woman whom I had believed +to be mine, and mine only, laughing gaily with that stage-door +idler—the man for whom Whitlock and Kennedy were in wait.</p> + +<p>The new-comers found a seat against the wall in the farther corner of +the place beneath a balcony, where they were joined by the old man +who had been awaiting them so long. Then the two men spoke earnestly +together in serious conference, while the detectives, muttering in an +undertone, continued their game.</p> + +<p>The instant the new-comer had appeared Whitlock had whispered, "Be +careful! he may know us by sight," and then bent, his elbow on the +table, his hand to his forehead, as though thoughtfully contemplating +his dominoes.</p> + +<p>"Who's the girl with him, I wonder?" asked Kennedy, lifting his shrewd +eyes and watching keenly.</p> + +<p>"Don't know. Never saw her before," was Whitlock's response. "Rather +good-looking and ladylike, isn't she?"</p> + +<p>What would the man at my side think if he knew the truth regarding +the locket? Who, I wondered, was this man who was her companion? What +did they want with him, and why had they waited so patiently for his +coming? How, indeed, did they know that he would come there?</p> + +<p>"Who is that man?" I whispered, when the pair had seated themselves.</p> + +<p>"Merely a gentleman in whom we have some little interest just now."</p> + +<p>"In regard to the Barnes affair?"</p> + +<p>"Well—yes."</p> + +<p>It was indeed fortunate that Whitlock was at that moment absorbed in +his game, or my countenance would, no doubt, have betrayed me.</p> + +<p>Daisy's little miniature of myself being found upon those empty +premises connected her in some way with the mysterious affair; +yet the two officers seated with me were in ignorance of it. They +little dreamed that the tiny portrait had been the property of that +sweet-faced, graceful girl who was now leaning her elbows on the table +and smiling as she chatted with her good-looking cavalier.</p> + +<p>Both my companions were interested as to who she might be. They +discussed her, while I, filled with mad jealousy and anger, kept my own +counsel. Seated in such a position that she could not see my face, yet +from time to time I managed to glance back at her, and watch the manner +in which she treated her mysterious and suspicious companion.</p> + +<p>Whitlock's patience had been rewarded, and he sat playing on, contented +that at least he would ere long discover more about the man he had +been expecting for so long. He was a marvellously painstaking officer, +and to his inexhaustible patience his success was mainly due. Only by +its exercise had he been able to recover the whole of Lady Dumbarton's +valuable jewels, which, stolen at King's Cross Station, he dug up from +the sands five miles from Ostend nearly three years after the theft. +Besides, was it not he who had recovered the celebrated "Madonna" of +Titian, which, cut from its frame in a Park Lane mansion by burglars, +he was able to take from a hayloft outside a Warwickshire village two +and a half years later? Contrary to the method of many officers of the +Criminal Investigation Department, he never hurried. He waited and +watched, for by that, he always declared, he was able to obtain more +knowledge than if he acted precipitately and made an arrest.</p> + +<p>Thousands of pounds' worth of valuable stolen property is lost yearly +by injudicious arrests. The thieves, growing alarmed, destroy their +haul—often getting rid of it by throwing it into rivers or into the +sea; whereas, by careful inquiry and clever observation, the place +where the property is secreted until a safe opportunity is presented +for turning it into money can often be discovered.</p> + +<p>What was Whitlock's present game? Why did he not tell me the name of +Daisy's companion?</p> + +<p>Again I approached the subject, whereupon he replied—</p> + +<p>"Of his real name I have only a suspicion. If that is correct, he is +the man we are looking for—the man whose birth-certificate we found in +such curious circumstances."</p> + +<p>"You mean Drayton!" I gasped.</p> + +<p>He nodded slightly in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>"Marvellous!" I gasped. Here already he had discovered the man, and +knew that his habit was to come to that café.</p> + +<p>"It's only a suspicion, remember," he went on; "that's why we are +keeping observation upon him—or, rather, we shall when he leaves here."</p> + +<p>The conference between the two men was hurried, and appeared to be in +secret from Daisy. She took up a paper and glanced through it while +they were in confidential conclave. Then, with a few final impressive +words, the old man rose, raised his hat to my well-beloved, and walked +out.</p> + +<p>Whitlock made no attempt to follow, and by that it was evident that he +was in possession of all the facts concerning the old man that were of +any importance.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes passed.</p> + +<p>The man under suspicion was bending to his companion, talking +earnestly. Where could be the faithful Annie, the woman who never let +Daisy out of her sight after she had finished her work at the theatre? +That my beloved should be going about London with a well-dressed +stranger at that hour was to me perfectly incredible.</p> + +<p>Smartly attired, he possessed the air of the man-about-town, while she +on her part was speaking with him confidentially. How I wished I could +overhear that conversation!</p> + +<p>The finding of the little portrait secreted in that empty upstairs room +had connected Daisy Marvin with the remarkable affair at Barnes in a +manner which was beyond solution. The discovery that my sweetheart +was a friend of this man whom the police were watching had utterly +dumbfounded me.</p> + +<p>In the café there were two doors, one leading out into Regent Street +and the other into Glasshouse Street. At Whitlock's suggestion we rose +and passed out by the last-mentioned exit, in order not to be seen by +the pair now in such close consultation.</p> + +<p>Outside, Whitlock and I passed round by the Café Monico into Regent +Street, in order to watch the pair if they should emerge that way, +while Kennedy remained idling near the door in Glasshouse Street.</p> + +<p>"Who is that man?" I repeated, as I stood with Whitlock on the edge of +the opposite pavement, for I had no desire that Daisy should recognise +me.</p> + +<p>"I believe him to be the man Drayton, though at present I am not +certain," was my friend's reply. "If he is, then the affair assumes a +very much stranger aspect than even it does at present."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Well, because this man is known. There's something very curious about +him. If he turns out to be Drayton, then we've tumbled upon one of the +most extraordinary cases of modern times."</p> + +<p>His words held me breathless.</p> + +<p>"Then you yourself believe him to be Drayton?" I inquired anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I have no opinion," he said, correcting me. "Others have, and believe +him to be Drayton."</p> + +<p>"And if he turns out to be Drayton?"</p> + +<p>Whitlock pursed his lips and looked mysterious.</p> + +<p>"Well, then we shall have to consider how to act. This man is, at +anyrate, a slippery customer, and I daresay has a revolver on him at +this moment. I wonder who the girl is? Not one of his crowd, evidently."</p> + +<p>"Crowd?" I echoed. "Are there others?"</p> + +<p>"Probably," he answered. "We want to find out something about this +interesting person. When he comes out I shall follow him."</p> + +<p>"May I come?" I begged, for I wanted to see where Daisy intended going.</p> + +<p>Whitlock hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied at last. "Providing you promise to drop out when I +tell you. We must run no risk of recognition, remember, for this is a +serious inquiry—a very serious one."</p> + +<p>"I'll promise to be discreet."</p> + +<p>"Then let us follow them separately. It will be best."</p> + +<p>That was just what I wanted, and scarcely had we finished speaking +when the door swung open and Daisy and her companion emerged. In an +instant I left Whitlock's side and turned away, so as not to meet +them. Another moment and I saw that they had mingled with the crowd of +foot-passengers going towards Leicester Square, therefore I followed +quickly.</p> + +<p>The man suspected to be the Francis Douglas Drayton—the man whose +birth-certificate was in possession of the police—had linked his hand +in Daisy's arm and was piloting her through the crowd of homeward-bound +pleasure-seekers.</p> + +<p>Whitlock, walking in the same direction, was not far from me as we +passed the entrance to the Pavilion, when of a sudden a dirty, unkempt +man, with a contents-bill and a bundle of papers in his hand, pushed +forward, and walking beside him cried—</p> + +<p>"'Ere y'are, sir! <i>'Erald</i>, sir! Latest news, sir!"</p> + +<p>I recognised the man. Whitlock, without pausing, indicated the pair +he was following, whereupon the fellow disappeared instantly into the +crowd. He was a policeman's "nose"—one of hundreds in London who give +the police information, and assist them in a variety of ways of which +the public never dream. The "nose" had been put on the watch, and +Whitlock knew that, wherever the man and his lady friend might go, the +humble seller of evening papers would keep a very watchful eye upon +them.</p> + +<p>What he had told me about the man Drayton had greatly interested me. +If this man were actually the person suspected, then he was of bad +character and in no way fitted to be the companion of Daisy. With +eager, jealous eyes I watched them in anger and in wonder. What could +it mean?</p> + +<p>Whitlock had suspected two persons—Julian Little and this unknown +young man of leisure. Utterly unconscious that they were being so +closely followed, the pair walked on past Wardour Street, along the +north side of Leicester Square, past the Empire—now closed and +dark—and on through Cranbourn Street, where, at the corner of Charing +Cross Road, the man halted as though in expectation of meeting somebody.</p> + +<p>He glanced up and down. From across the way the unkempt man hawking his +papers was watching, while Whitlock had fallen back some distance.</p> + +<p>I could see that Daisy was very anxious to leave him and get home, but +on his part he was persuading her to remain, apparently assuring her +that the man expected would arrive in a few moments.</p> + +<p>At that midnight hour there was still plenty of life and movement, as +there always is in that quarter of London. The corner was not too well +lighted, now that the Hippodrome doors were closed, therefore there was +but little risk that Daisy would detect my presence there.</p> + +<p>She was, I felt, in the hands of unscrupulous persons, and it was +well that I was there to protect her. Indeed, it required all my +self-possession to restrain myself from going boldly up to the man +suspected to be Drayton, and demanding what business he had with the +sweet-faced woman whose heart was mine.</p> + +<p>To act thus, however, would ruin all Whitlock's plans. The present +inquiry was both important and difficult, for the mystery at Barnes +must, at all hazards, be cleared up. The affair had got upon my nerves, +and I was as keenly interested in every detail as was the renowned +police-officer himself.</p> + +<p>Daisy, at her companion's urgent request, remained idling up and down +near the Hippodrome for about five minutes, when from the direction of +Long Acre there hurried a short, grey-bearded, shabbily-dressed little +man, who had the appearance of a foreigner.</p> + +<p>I now saw the keen forethought of Whitlock in employing the services of +one of his unofficial agents.</p> + +<p>The two men met, swiftly exchanging some quick words, for the old man +was breathless, and I saw also that he was slightly deformed.</p> + +<p>Then Daisy was introduced to the sinister-looking, little old man +by her companion. His profuse manner in greeting her confirmed my +suspicion that he was a foreigner. The manner in which he raised his +shabby hat showed me that he was probably Italian.</p> + +<p>He was, however, in great haste. His words to his friend were quick +and to the point. Both consulted their watches, as though making an +appointment to meet later; then, raising his hat again, the queer +little old fellow stepped into a hansom and, giving the man an address, +drove rapidly away.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</h2> +</div> + +<h3>CONCERNS THE STRANGER</h3> + + +<p>Hardly had the stranger left the kerb when another crawling hansom was +stopped a little distance off, and a man sprang in and drove after the +first vehicle.</p> + +<p>For an instant I saw his face and recognised it. It was Kennedy, who, +finding the pair had left the café, had hurried on, finally overtaking +us. He had seen that observation must be kept upon the queer little old +man and his identity established.</p> + +<p>Daisy, as soon as the old man had left, turned along Charing Cross +Road towards the station, where it was so often her habit to meet +old Annie prior to proceeding home. Her companion, however, seemed +to have suddenly grown very excited over something which the old man +had so swiftly related. He seemed to be speaking angrily, assuming +a threatening manner, not towards her, but towards some person not +present.</p> + +<p>Little did he dream that the breathless old fellow was being closely +followed in his rapid flight westward, or that he himself was being +watched by three keen pairs of eyes.</p> + +<p>A second vendor of evening papers approached the first, but, receiving +a sign, slunk away. He knew that his fellow-hawker had "got a job +on," for, looking across, he at once recognised Inspector Whitlock. +The public little guess how much information of great value to the +police those paper-men and cab touts pick up, or how clever they are in +discovering secrets and putting the authorities upon the right track. +Whenever I walked in the West End with Whitlock at night—and it was +often—there were frequently hasty words whispered in the dark in +passing by dirty, forbidding, ruffianly-looking men who were acting as +his "eyes" and "ears" in various matters.</p> + +<p>Truly the West End is a strange and complex world of pleasure and +crime, poverty and wealth, delight and despair; the concentration +of all the vices but few of the virtues of our modern Babylon; the +greatest, most extravagant, and at the same time most poverty-stricken +city the world has ever seen.</p> + +<p>Whitlock sauntered on, narrowly watching Daisy, and still wondering +who she might be.</p> + +<p>How would he act, I reflected, when he knew the truth, as he must ere +long.</p> + +<p>The pair strolled to the corner of Trafalgar Square, halting in front +of St Martin's Church. As I watched, I saw that the young man was +speaking earnestly with her, his hand linked again in her arm. What he +was saying had evidently created a great impression upon her, for she +stood staring before her as though utterly dazed.</p> + +<p>Suddenly her mind seemed made up, and her companion hailing a cab, she +entered, and they drove away along Pall Mall.</p> + +<p>"We must follow," Whitlock said, quickly; "but it is difficult now +there's so very little traffic." He signed to the news-vendor to leave +us, and calling a cab, which at that moment approached, we entered and +followed.</p> + +<p>Whither was this man taking my well-beloved? What was the object of +this midnight adventure? I sat back in the vehicle watching in anger +the two red lights of the cab in front.</p> + +<p>Up St James's Street, along Piccadilly and Knightsbridge we went, +towards Kensington. She was going in the opposite direction to her own +home—she who had so cleverly and so cruelly deceived me!</p> + +<p>Fortunate it was, perhaps, that Whitlock was with me, or I would have +faced the pair boldly long before, and demanded of her an explanation +on the spot.</p> + +<p>And yet, as I reflected, I could not disguise that there was about her +manner something which showed her to have fallen completely beneath +that man's influence. She was acting involuntarily. Old Annie was most +probably waiting for her somewhere, and waiting in apprehension. To +travel about in a cab at night with a stranger was certainly not like +Daisy Marvin. But was he such a stranger? Was not this man, so strongly +suspected by the police, her secret lover?</p> + +<p>That last hour had been a complete revelation to me. Daisy, so full +of wild abandon in her stage-dancing, so <i>piquante</i>, <i>chic</i>, and full +of fun before the footlights, was, in her private life, an entirely +different girl, modest, sweet, and full of a girlish charm that was +as indescribable as it was delightful. Had I been told that she loved +another I would never have believed it. But I had seen with my own +eyes, and even now, at that moment, was following them to an unknown +destination.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to know who the girl is," Whitlock remarked presently to me. +"If the man is the same that I believe him to be, then the whole affair +assumes the form of a problem a hundred times more complicated than +before."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"That man, though not old, has had a past—a remarkable past."</p> + +<p>"Of crime?"</p> + +<p>"Well—not exactly. Rather of mystery."</p> + +<p>"But is not the finding of that birth-certificate very extraordinary?" +I asked, quickly reviewing in my own mind all the curious features of +the astounding affair.</p> + +<p>"Very. I can't, for the life of me, explain—first, why it was +concealed there, and, secondly, why the sender of the anonymous +telegram should wish to direct our attention to the spot."</p> + +<p>"Motives of revenge, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"That certainly seems more than likely—revenge upon the person named +Drayton."</p> + +<p>"The man in front of us?"</p> + +<p>"It may be him—or it may not."</p> + +<p>"And if he should turn out to be another man?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>Whitlock shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I may be mistaken. But in any case we shall know definitely +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Wait, and I will show you in due course. I wonder," he added, "who +that old man was? Kennedy will, I hope, have something to tell us in +the morning. The old chap gave our friend in front some information, +and was apparently in a tremendous hurry to get out of the way. Kennedy +won't leave him till he's found out who and what he is, depend upon it."</p> + +<p>The cab we were following had already passed Kensington Church, and +was now on its way along the broad, deserted Phillimore Terrace, going +still westward towards Addison Road. Whitlock had given directions to +our man to keep a respectable distance behind, in order that the pair +should not suspect us of following.</p> + +<p>"They seem to be going a long way!" I remarked, impatient to ascertain +their destination.</p> + +<p>"Yes. There's some trickery in progress—that's my firm opinion. And I +tell you what, Keene; I don't think that girl is the kind of companion +for Francis Drayton. She seems far too genteel, modest and ladylike."</p> + +<p>I agreed, and perhaps my hot words aroused wonder within him. But he +only remarked—</p> + +<p>"If that girl knew as much as I know, she wouldn't be seen about with +him, that's very certain."</p> + +<p>"Can't you tell me more, Whitlock?" I urged. "You've been speaking in +enigmas all the evening."</p> + +<p>"It's judicious to do so sometimes," he answered, turning his face +towards mine in the darkness. The tone of his voice struck me as +curious. He was, I knew, thinking of that small portrait of myself. +Little did he dream that the picture was the one I had given to the +girl travelling in the cab before us.</p> + +<p>Along the Hammersmith Road we went, down Bridge Road, and across the +bridge.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether they are daring enough to go to the house at Barnes!" +exclaimed Whitlock, as we crossed the suspension-bridge.</p> + +<p>It seemed very much as though the house of mystery was actually their +destination. Our expectations were soon afterwards realised, when +about half-way along Castelnau the cab before us pulled up and the +pair descended. The suspected man must have paid well, for the driver +without protest, turned his horse round and came in our direction.</p> + +<p>We had already stopped and Whitlock, ordering our man to return to +the foot of the bridge and there wait, walked straight into the front +garden of the house before which we had pulled up, I, of course, +following. It was a ruse of his in order that if the man or the woman +glanced back they would not detect us.</p> + +<p>If, indeed, they had noticed us it would seem as though we had alighted +before our own door.</p> + +<p>My companion informed me that he had withdrawn the telegraph clerk, and +that the house was tenantless, as before.</p> + +<p>As we watched, we saw the stranger fumbling at the padlock upon the +gate—a lock which the police had placed upon it—and while the girl +stood eagerly watching up and down the road, in case someone might +approach, he succeeded in opening it, probably with a false key.</p> + +<p>From where we stood we could plainly see them standing together, as she +covered his suspicious movements. The long, broad road was deserted, +and the silence unbroken, save for the distant footfall of a constable.</p> + +<p>Quickly, however, the pair opened the gate and slipped within the +garden, while a few moments later the constable passed by, all +unconscious of what was in progress.</p> + +<p>What could possibly induce Daisy to visit that house? She knew quite +well by the papers of the strange happenings there. Was it only her +woman's curiosity that led her to accompany her companion on that +midnight visit, or were they there for some entirely different purpose?</p> + +<p>Had she been there before? That was the great question exercising +my mind at that moment. When I recollected how my portrait had +been concealed in that upstairs cupboard my heart sank within me. +I remembered, too, her surprise when she had read the report of +the inquest upon the two unfortunate women. In that report she had +discovered something—what it was I knew not—which had caused her the +greatest apprehension. Was she, therefore, cognisant of the real facts? +To me it seemed very much as though she knew much more about the affair +than she had admitted.</p> + +<p>She had disappeared within, together with her companion.</p> + +<p>"They have to get the door unlocked yet," Whitlock whispered to me, +after the constable had passed. "We'll give them a little time longer. +Then we'll just watch and ascertain the reason of this visit."</p> + +<p>As I stood there I could hear my own heart beating, so excited was I. +What were we about to discover? What link was there which connected +the woman I so dearly loved and adored with that most amazing and +motiveless crime and suicide?</p> + +<p>Daisy was alone in that empty house with the man whom Whitlock had +himself declared was unfitted to be her friend! I could hardly restrain +myself from dashing forth to her protection. It was on the tip of my +tongue to tell the truth to the man standing so patiently at my side. +Yet on reflection, I saw that any word from me might be misconstrued +into a shadow of guilt which would fall upon her unblemished +reputation. No; silence was best—for my sake, as well as for hers.</p> + +<p>For ten minutes or so we remained in that garden, hidden in the dark +shadows. To me, those anxious moments seemed hours, until at last +Whitlock motioned to me, and we crept as quietly as we could along the +pavement to the big iron gate, which I now knew so well.</p> + +<p>Pushing it open, we slipped in, walking over the grass to avoid our +feet making a noise upon the gravel, and, in the deep shadow of the +bushes, approached along the side of the house to its rear.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, just as we reached it, a sound broke upon our ears, causing +both of us to halt and hold our breath.</p> + +<p>The sound came from within that dark, silent house of mystery—a +woman's shrill, piercing scream.</p> + +<p>I listened again. The cry for help was from the lips of my own love—my +own sweet Daisy!</p> + +<p>For a second I stood there petrified.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE HOUSE OF SHADOWS</h3> + + +<p>I made a movement to dash forward and enter the house to the rescue of +my well-beloved, but Whitlock placed a quick, firm hand upon my arm +whispering—</p> + +<p>"Wait—we may discover something further!" and he drew me back into the +shadow.</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>My words were cut short by the sound of movement within. We were close +to the back entrance to the house, a short flight of steps leading from +the old-fashioned garden into one of the rooms.</p> + +<p>I listened for the cry of distress to be repeated, but there was no +further scream.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what is happening?" I gasped eagerly to the man at my side.</p> + +<p>"Hark!" he cried. "Listen!"</p> + +<p>I could hear voices within—voices in serious and deliberate +conversation. I held my breath, with ears strained to catch the words. +But all was an indistinct mumbling. As I stood there, inactive and +apprehensive, my impulse was to rush forward and face the pair.</p> + +<p>Of a sudden, without warning, the door opened, and they both came down +the steps, the man closing the door noiselessly behind him. Surely +their visit there was a bold step, having in view the fact that the +police had, until the previous day, remained in possession of the +premises. It almost seemed as though they had some inside knowledge of +the action of the authorities.</p> + +<p>"You are convinced now, are you not?" asked the man, as he came down +the steps behind my sweetheart.</p> + +<p>"How can I doubt further?" she said hoarsely, evidently much impressed +by something she had either seen or heard in that house of shadows.</p> + +<p>"You disbelieved me when I told you the truth. But you've now seen with +your own eyes," he remarked in a gruff, off-hand way.</p> + +<p>"Please do not mention it further," she urged as she passed close by +us, fortunately without detecting our presence, for we were standing +back in the darkness beneath the high wall. "It is as terrible as it is +incomprehensible. I never dreamed that!"</p> + +<p>"And you still believe in—in him, eh?" he sneered.</p> + +<p>I pricked up my ears at mention of myself.</p> + +<p>"I will not disbelieve until I have proof to the contrary," was her +bold response.</p> + +<p>"But you surely have had that to-night?" he said.</p> + +<p>What proof was there, I wondered. Was there a plot against myself?</p> + +<p>She made no answer, but walked to the gate, the well-dressed young +stranger following closely at her heels.</p> + +<p>We wondered where they were going, for they had dismissed their cab, +and conveyances at that late hour there were none.</p> + +<p>I could see that Whitlock's wish was to enter the house and ascertain +what had caused the young lady such fright. The incident had struck +us both as utterly mysterious and incomprehensible. Yet, on the other +hand, he was anxious to ascertain the destination of the pair.</p> + +<p>At the gate the man hesitated for a second, and then turned in the +direction of Hammersmith Bridge.</p> + +<p>"Good!" remarked Whitlock. "I gave the cabman instructions, and told +him who I was. Finding the cab there, they will most probably take it; +therefore the man will report to me at the Yard in the morning. I'll +watch—you remain here."</p> + +<p>He left my side and, passing along to the front gate, disappeared.</p> + +<p>Alone in the dark garden, where, beneath that great old tree to my +left, we had dug up the box containing those curiously-preserved +articles, I stood calmly reviewing the occurrences of that eventful +night.</p> + +<p>Was it possible that Daisy—my own Daisy—could be out until that late +hour without serious inquiry on the part of "Joyous Jimmy" and his +wife? Her companion had spoken of some man sneeringly, and his remarks +in themselves showed some serious conspiracy against me—a conspiracy +formed, perhaps, by himself. What, I wondered, could be its nature? +True, her little keepsake had been concealed in that upstairs cupboard, +but, on the other hand, had not that man's birth-certificate, buried +in the garden, been recovered by means of the forged telegram of the +Central News?</p> + +<p>I glanced up at the great old-fashioned house, which, in the silence of +that night-hour, seemed so full of forbidding shadows. Truly it was a +house of mystery and of tragedy.</p> + +<p>By whose hand had its lonely but beautiful occupant fallen? At whose +instigation had that second woman killed herself rather than face +inquiry?</p> + +<p>My thoughts wandered far away to Julian Little, my old and trusted +friend. What could he know of the affair? If innocent of it, then why +had he fled beyond the Danube?</p> + +<p>Could we only discover who had despatched that extraordinary Press +message to Plymouth, then we should certainly understand its motive. +Whitlock had promised that next morning would establish or deny the +identity of Daisy's companion with the man whose birth-certificate we +recovered in such remarkable circumstances. But how? After all, why was +my friend so anxious about Little if he did not suspect him?</p> + +<p>Standing there in silence, awaiting Whitlock's return, I reviewed the +whole of those amazing circumstances, and the more I reflected upon +them the more hopeless became the solution of the astounding problem.</p> + +<p>In my profession as journalist—or "murder-monger," as I was known +in the office of the <i>Evening Herald</i>—I had assisted the police in +investigating many strange and apparently motiveless crimes. Yet none +had presented such incomprehensible features as this affair; none were +so full of clues that seemed to lead nowhere.</p> + +<p>Was this visit the first Daisy had paid to the house? On calm +reflection I concluded that it was not. I recollected how, without sign +of fear, she had boldly accompanied her companion there, and how, in +descending the steps, she had, without hesitation, taken the pathway +leading to the front entrance. Her every movement was now photographed +upon my memory, while her shriek of terror still rang in my ears.</p> + +<p>That cry! Why had she uttered it? Certain it was that she was in no way +afraid of her companion. Therefore, she had undoubtedly seen something +within that house which had utterly unnerved her. But what? Aye, that +was the question!</p> + +<p>Standing there in the damp darkness of the night I awaited Whitlock's +return. Then we might, perchance, discover the cause of that loud +shriek from those lips that had so often met mine in fond and +passionate caress.</p> + +<p>Was she playing me false? I put it to you. Place yourself in my +position—and answer if you can!</p> + +<p>It seemed as though Whitlock would never return, and I began wondering +whether the pair had not found another cab, and under necessity my +friend had been compelled to follow them.</p> + +<p>The silence of the night was suddenly broken by the slow tread of the +constable returning along the pavement. Fortunately Whitlock—always +full of forethought—had closed the gate behind him, so the man in +uniform passed on without noticing that the padlock and chain had been +removed.</p> + +<p>A motor car came along, its whirr being heard a considerable distance +away, and its head-light shedding a bright streak of brilliance upon +the road quite a long time before its approach. Then, with a flash, it +went by, and the beat of its engines was quickly lost in the distance.</p> + +<p>Still I waited, though full of impatience. That inactivity was galling. +I wanted to enter the house and ascertain what had so terrified my +well-beloved.</p> + +<p>At last Whitlock's dark, burly figure appeared in the gateway, and he +exclaimed in a low voice—</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Keene. They've taken our cab! We shall know more in +the morning."</p> + +<p>Daisy—my own sweet love, whom I had believed so true to me—had +driven away with that dressed-up young club-lounger, who seemed for an +unaccountable reason to hold some occult influence over her! Whither +had they gone?</p> + +<p>I bit my lip in the darkness. To-morrow I should know—but not until +then. And to-morrow was a long time.</p> + +<p>"Come along," exclaimed Whitlock, in his cheery, bustling manner. "I +have a bit of candle in my pocket. Seldom go out at night without it, +you know!" he laughed. "Let's have a peep inside and see if we can find +out the reason of the girl's scream. That strikes me as peculiar—very +peculiar. Do you know, Keene," he added, "I'm not quite sure that I'm +not mistaken, after all."</p> + +<p>"In what?"</p> + +<p>"In believing that that man is really Drayton."</p> + +<p>"But you said you will know in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I shall know positively," was his reply. "I leave little to luck, +as you know. I generally look ahead, and have done so in this case."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind how. If you come to my office at noon to-morrow I will be +able to tell you definitely whether my surmise was correct, or whether, +after all, I'm on the wrong track."</p> + +<p>"Which at this moment you think you are—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I fear that I've formed a wrong conclusion, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because that girl loves the fellow. If he were actually Drayton, there +are reasons why she would not do so."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you."</p> + +<p>"No. I expect you don't. You see, you are not in possession of very +many of the facts."</p> + +<p>"No. But I want to be. All that I know constitutes a complicated and +amazing enigma, which the more I try to solve the more difficult it +becomes."</p> + +<p>Whitlock laughed lightly.</p> + +<p>"You're a good journalist, Keene; but you'd never be a good detective. +You take things far too seriously."</p> + +<p>Little did he dream that we were discussing the woman who was all in +all to me.</p> + +<p>I had never known love until I met her, and I had foolishly flattered +myself that she was only mine. But now, in the discovery of her +double-dealing, my brain was aflame. I saw how heartlessly she had +misled and deceived me; and now discerned how, in order to meet this +man, she had always declared to me that I must never come near the +stage-doors after her performance.</p> + +<p>You who have once been undeceived, and whose tender love has been +tossed recklessly aside in favour of that of another, know what I mean +when I say that the madness of jealousy was upon me. You who have never +experienced it can never know what torments I suffered in those moments.</p> + +<p>Whitlock noticed the strangeness of my manner, I think, for he said—</p> + +<p>"Come along. Let's have a glance around inside."</p> + +<p>Together we ascended the steps, and when he had lit his piece of +candle-end, which he always kept in a little tin box, we passed on +through the dark passage, until we reached the room where the tragedy +had so recently occurred, and there we lit the gas.</p> + +<p>Nothing, as far as we could discern, had been disturbed. All remained +exactly as we had left it, except that three empty lager bottles stood +upon the table, having been bought by the telegraph clerk who, until +the previous day, had been there on duty. But he had been withdrawn, +and a surveillance placed upon the telegrams on that line received or +despatched at the chief office in London.</p> + +<p>From room to room we proceeded, Whitlock holding the candle aloft, but +we could discern nothing unusual. The place was exactly as we had left +it.</p> + +<p>Presently, returning to the room where the telegraph instrument still +remained, my companion walked to the table and pointed out that a +quantity of tape had come out. Upon it were dashes which we could not +read.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if that man could decipher any of this?" he said. "I wonder, +too, if there is any message here the text of which we ought to know?"</p> + +<p>"There may be," I said, at once adopting his suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Then we'll have it all read," he decided, and, tearing off the tape, +he twisted up the many yards of paper ribbon and wrapped it in an old +newspaper that lay upon the table.</p> + +<p>And with the packet in his hand we together left that house of grim +shadows.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</h2> +</div> + +<h3>WHAT THE TAPE REVEALED</h3> + + +<p>Walking to Hammersmith Broadway we found a cab and drove to the +<i>Herald</i> building off Fleet Street, where I knew that one or other of +our telegraph clerks could read that tangle of tape.</p> + +<p>By day Fleet Street and its vicinity lies in a lethargic state. True, +there is the bustle of business and the roar of traffic, but the great +newspaper offices are mostly deserted. The "case-rooms" are empty, the +editorial offices given over to junior clerks, and the only movement in +the machine rooms is the "taking-in" of those big reels of paper, each +about five miles in length, which about three o'clock in the morning +will be swallowed into those gigantic, roaring machines which print, +cut, paste, fold, count, and deliver automatically—marvels, indeed, +of man's inventive genius. By day the night-workers sleep soundly in +their suburban homes, and only when the business offices close, and +men rush home eastward to Ludgate Hill Station, or westward along +the Strand, arrive that great army of men who constitute the Press +of London—editors in their motor-broughams down to humble printers' +imps—to prepare the newspaper for to-morrow's breakfast-table.</p> + +<p>It is then that Fleet Street, Bouverie Street, Whitefriars, and +Salisbury Square begin to palpitate with life. The white electric +lights shine brightly, the silent streets are wakened by the quick +tread of messengers from Reuter's, the "P.A.," the "C.N.," and +commissionaires from the Post Office. Telegraph tapes and telephones +are at work incessantly; "comps." in those big, well-lighted buildings +are hard at it setting "ads."; the linotype composing machines click +on, casting in lead each separate line for the paper; the machine-rooms +are oiling up, the stereo foundries are busy with the "early plates," +and the newsrooms are agog with the mass of late intelligence which +crowds out the news accepted by the "subs" earlier in the day. The +feature decided upon an hour ago for to-morrow's paper is now rejected +for half a column of something far more sensational; while such is the +state of the public mind that the news editor knows that a motor 'bus +accident in the Strand is worth more space than an earthquake in Japan +or a revolution in South America.</p> + +<p>A strange, fevered, hustling world indeed is our Press-world of London +at two o'clock in the morning.</p> + +<p>Everyone, from editor to machinist, has his eye upon the clock—the +hands of which are every minute moved by electricity from Greenwich +Observatory, for there are trains to catch, and the paper must go "to +bed" at the exact moment. Otherwise there will be trouble.</p> + +<p>Two o'clock at the <i>Daily Herald</i> meant frantic haste in every +department, for an edition—for the West of England—went to press at +2.28. Upon that very second the levers of those enormous machines must +be pulled, and with a bound and a deafening roar those great presses, +almost human in their work, would belch forth the <i>Herald</i> printed, +folded, counted, and packed up in bundles ready for the special train +awaiting them at Paddington.</p> + +<p>Editor and leader-writer have done their work. The latter, sitting at +home in his study in North London, received at seven o'clock his order +by telephone as to what subject he should write upon. At half-past +nine a boy brought the "copy" down, and at eleven the leader-writer, +a youngish, clean-shaven man, came himself, read his proof, made some +dry remarks upon the political situation in general, and went back +home in a cab. He had finished his duty. But the news department was +still frantically busy. Telephones were going and tapes were clicking +as merrily as though it were mid-day, and above all Wakeley in his +shirt-sleeves, in charge of the whole of that gigantic organisation, +now and then opened the sluice-gates of a vocabulary unprintable in the +<i>Herald</i>.</p> + +<p>There were assuredly no drones in that busy hive. The lift was running +as though it were noon, the long corridors of the huge building were +thronged by youths rushing hither and thither, and even the usually +quiet library—that big room filled to overflowing with books of +reference of all sorts, and in all languages—was now occupied by one +or two subordinates, busily looking up dates, or verifying facts.</p> + +<p>Whitlock had never seen the <i>Herald</i> going to press, and was astounded +when, on passing along one of the corridors, he was nearly knocked over +by a boy who dashed headlong out of a room, and sped downstairs with a +sheet of "copy" in his hand.</p> + +<p>Together we passed to another and somewhat quieter part of the +building, where we entered a small room in which sat four telegraph +clerks at their ever-clicking instruments. One of them, Knight by name, +a young, fair-haired man, who sat in the corner receiving messages +over the Post Office wire, was, I knew, due to go off duty. Therefore, +approaching him, I introduced my companion, explaining that we wanted +the messages read.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later he glanced at the clock, tapped his key for the +last time, and, placing the small wooden cover over the instrument to +protect it from dust or injury, rose and stretched himself.</p> + +<p>"We'll go into the next room, Mr Keene," he said. "It's quieter there."</p> + +<p>So all three of us entered a room which, by day, was one of the offices +of the circulation department, and Whitlock, undoing the bundle of +tape, placed the tangle before him.</p> + +<p>"This is a Post Office wire," Knight remarked, as soon as he saw it. +"The London-Plymouth Trunk Line;" and seated at a table he began deftly +to unravel the mass of narrow paper.</p> + +<p>At last he found the beginning, and read to us rapidly, one after +the other, messages sent by the public to Portsmouth, Bournemouth, +Exeter, Plymouth and other places. Most of them showed the strenuous +life the world leads to-day. The first struck a tragic note. It had +been handed in at Beccles, in Suffolk, at 4.18, and, directed to a man +at an hotel in Plymouth, read: "Your wife dying—asking to see you. +Come immediately." And the next was from a bookmaker to a noble lord, +saying: "Put you twenty on Lallie has won—8 to 1." Diverse, curious, +sometimes humorous, often tragic, the fair-haired young man read +message after message that had been flashed to the West between the +hours of four o'clock on the previous afternoon and one o'clock that +morning.</p> + +<p>We stood listening, as, with monotonous voice, he read out the sharp, +decisive words that had been ticked over the wire. There was nothing +which gave us any insight into the reason for that woman's horrified +scream. And yet she must have either seen or heard something to cause +her alarm. From her manner towards him, as they left the house, it was +quite clear that he had not attacked her, as I had at first supposed.</p> + +<p>The reading of all those messages occupied a long time. Of a sudden, +as we stood leaning against the table, there was a roar beneath the +building, and the whole place began to vibrate as though a miniature +earthquake were occurring. The Western edition of the <i>Daily Herald</i> +had started printing. Those huge and complicated machines in the big, +well-lit rooms in the basement one after another began their deafening +roar as they took mile after mile of paper into their insatiable maws, +and poured forth in a continuous stream bundles of papers ready for the +special express at Paddington waiting to receive and carry them to the +furthermost rural villages of Dorset, Devon, and Cornwall.</p> + +<p>The telegraph clerk instinctively glanced at the electric clock upon +the wall. The time was 2.29. The edition was one minute late, which +would mean inquiry and censure in the morning.</p> + +<p>Continuing, he repeated message after message on a variety of subjects. +Never until that moment did it occur to me how full of curiosity and +interest the work of a telegraph clerk must be. Abuse, endearment, +doubt, fear, courage, good advice and reassurance followed each other, +the senders being of all classes, from men and women of title to the +humble labourer.</p> + +<p>Yards upon yards of the tape were occupied by a long Press message, +the condensed report of a speech by a Cabinet Minister that evening +at Glasgow sent by the P.A. (Press Association) to the most important +morning paper in the West, the <i>Western Morning News</i>, at Plymouth. +A glance at the beginning and the end was sufficient to show its +purport. Then followed a mass of Stock Exchange closing prices, the +premium on gold from South America, and the report of a fatal motor +car accident in the North of Ireland. Foreign intelligence of Reuter's +"special service," a Laffan or two, and several interesting items +from the Central News correspondent in St Petersburg followed each +other closely, for in the evening, between seven and midnight, when +the public messages are few, the Press practically monopolise the +telegraphs at their reduced rate of a hundred words for one shilling.</p> + +<p>We were nearing the end of the tangled ribbon, when suddenly both +Whitlock and I pricked up our ears at Knight's monotonous words, which +were as follows—</p> + +<p>"To <i>Western Morning News</i>, Plymouth, from P.A., London.—Barnes +Mystery. Though the police are naturally very reticent in regard +to their discoveries at the house in Barnes, where an unknown girl +was discovered murdered the other night, and where her companion, +after arrest, committed suicide in the police-cell, nevertheless a +representative of the Press Association has been able to gather certain +additional facts. It appears that Inspector Whitlock, of the Criminal +Investigation Department, who is assisted by Inspector Kennedy and +other officers, has to-day been making inquiries in the neighbourhood +of Feltham, Middlesex, the result being that a clue has been obtained +to the perpetrator of the deed, and in the course of a few hours his +arrest will undoubtedly take place.</p> + +<p>"Facts now established by the police show the matter to contain +some very astounding and puzzling features. This morning the London +<i>Evening Herald</i> published what purported to be the portrait discovered +by Inspector Whitlock in the empty house, but this picture was +recognised by a relative of the man in question, and was withdrawn from +publication immediately the editor discovered that he had been imposed +upon. The police are in active search of a man named Francis Douglas +Drayton, but information reaching the Press Association shows that the +person in question went to Lima in the early part of last year and died +there in May last. At the resumed inquest the evidence will no doubt +reveal a very remarkable and sensational story; for the identity of the +murdered girl was to-day established by the police, but it is believed +that they will endeavour to keep it a secret for some unknown, but +undoubtedly very good, reason. The Home Office have been communicated +with, and the secrecy is to be preserved at their instigation.</p> + +<p>"The case will, in the course of a few days, be found to be full of +sensational developments. The police are in possession of the story of +the unfortunate girl, which is most romantic, tragic, and mysterious; +but it is doubtful whether public curiosity will be satisfied either +at the adjourned inquest or at the trial of the alleged assassin. The +actual reason of the suicide of the second woman is still a mystery, +but from certain papers discovered at a house in Woburn Square, +Bloomsbury, the truth has been surmised.</p> + +<p>"We may add with all reserve that the person whose arrest is only a +matter of a few hours is a certain clever young London journalist, +well known in Fleet Street, who, it is alleged, was the lover of the +murdered girl."</p> + +<p>"Great heavens!" I gasped breathlessly, turning to Whitlock. "Why, that +means myself!"</p> + +<p>"Apparently so," he replied in a dry, mechanical tone.</p> + +<p>"But this is scandalous—libellous!" I cried, furiously. "Wait a +moment; I'll see if Wakeley has it in the <i>Herald</i>." And I dashed along +to the news editor's room.</p> + +<p>"No. Nothing has come in to-night from the P.A. about the Barnes +affair," was his reply, after he had asked his assistants, who were +still busy with further "copy" for the late edition of the paper, which +would go to press in an hour's time.</p> + +<p>Then the telegram had not been sent round to the London Press! In a +few moments I was on the 'phone, speaking with the night editor of the +Press Association, who after a pause while he inquired, answered—</p> + +<p>"No, we've sent out nothing for the last twelve hours about that case."</p> + +<p>I met Whitlock in the corridor and told him.</p> + +<p>"Then that message emanates from the same hand as the previous one to +Plymouth," he said. "But why Plymouth, and why connect you with the +affair?"</p> + +<p>I made no reply; I was too dumbfounded.</p> + +<p>I now recognised the reason of Daisy's scream. Her companion, who +evidently knew the telegraphic signs, had read to her the latter +portion of the message, in which I was not only charged with the crime, +but with being the lover of the murdered girl!</p> + +<p>Whitlock stood before me, thoughtful and hesitating.</p> + +<p>"There's some truth in those details," he remarked; "that's why the +affair is so mysterious. The statement that Drayton went to Lima, for +instance, is true, but that he is dead is not yet established. If there +is one grain of truth in the message there may be another. I must +search in Woburn Square. That fact is, no doubt, given in order to +place us upon the track of the identity of the woman who took her own +life. But with what motive are you denounced, Keene?" he added, looking +me straight in the face.</p> + +<p>"How can I tell?" I asked. "The mystery becomes greater every hour!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>CONTAINS MRS DAVIS'S STORY</h3> + + +<p>The mystery was increasing.</p> + +<p>Whitlock decided that no further action could be taken at that hour of +the morning, and that we must wait for daylight.</p> + +<p>By this time the whole of the gigantic machinery in the basement of +the <i>Daily Herald</i> building was roaring, while the street outside was +blocked by carts and waggons being rapidly loaded up with great bundles +of papers and driven rapidly away to Paddington. Shouting men and boys +ran hither and thither, packing away the bundles into vans, and thus +the morning paper for the West of England was being despatched from +Fleet Street to far-off breakfast-tables in rural Devon and Cornwall.</p> + +<p>Wakeley, in his shirt-sleeves, came hurrying along the corridor with a +late and important tape telegram in his hand. "Good-night, Keene," he +cried. "I suppose you'll be off abroad soon? I'd quite forgotten that +you'd been transferred to us. I'll give you something to do near home +before very long."</p> + +<p>Even while we were speaking the roar of machinery had suddenly stopped. +Before he had left his chair he had telephoned the order to the +machine-room to stop the presses, and the men on the "plates" were +making ready for a "stop-press"—the few lines of type set in a box in +the curved stereotype-plate.</p> + +<p>"Anything startling?" I asked him.</p> + +<p>"Only sudden death of an M.P.—vacancy in a Lancashire borough," was +his quick reply, and he hurried on, again wishing us "good-night."</p> + +<p>For a few moments I looked in at the quiet reference library, now +deserted, and then, as we descended in the lift, the machines suddenly +began to roar again, pouring out their great bundles of papers +containing the very latest "stop-press" intelligence.</p> + +<p>Soon after three o'clock I entered my silent chambers and switched on +the light. At that hour, not even a cat was stirring in Gray's Inn. I +was not sleepy, for all the excitement of the night had kept me wide +awake. Therefore, I flung myself into my pet armchair, and took a +cigarette from the box.</p> + +<p>As I lit it my eyes caught sight of an unusual brand upon it, and next +second I recognised that it was Greek—identical with the remains of +that cigarette which we had found in the empty grate at Barnes! It was +evidently one of Julian Little's, which, perhaps found by the old woman +who "did" for us, had been placed in my own box.</p> + +<p>I extinguished it, and, holding it between my fingers, pondered deeply.</p> + +<p>I remembered quite well how Julian, at half an hour's notice, had left +for Athens to interview the Greek Minister of Foreign Affairs upon the +question of the Greek bands in Macedonia, and his attitude towards the +Sublime Porte, and I also recollected his remark about having brought +back some very special cigarettes which were made only in Patras. But +he was a great connoisseur of cigarettes, and was always bringing back +weird brands from out-of-the-way places on the Continent. Therefore, at +the time, I had not thought of trying one.</p> + +<p>But this discovery now caused me much suspicion, especially as he +had, at his own request, left so suddenly for Servia, yet Whitlock's +energies seemed to be directed in quite another direction—towards that +mysterious man who had accompanied Daisy to the empty house at Barnes, +the man whose identity he had expressed confidence of establishing in a +few hours.</p> + +<p>Like many another mystery of the giant heart of London, the public +were only aware of a few of the facts. The remainder—the details of +the tantalising puzzle—were withheld from them by the police for +obvious reasons. The public often read in the newspapers the three or +four lines of dry, matter-of-fact evidence given by a detective at +the Old Bailey or the Sessions, but are in total ignorance of all the +excitement, all the patient inquiry, and all the romance that lies +behind that bald but convicting statement.</p> + +<p>Until the grey dawn showed between the window-sash and the blind I sat +there, calmly reviewing the amazing situation, and reflecting upon the +attitude of my beloved towards the man suspected to be Francis Drayton.</p> + +<p>Was that man her lover?</p> + +<p>That was the great and all-important question which occupied my whole +soul. I loved Daisy Marvin—yes, loved her with that whole-hearted and +devoted affection which constitutes a passion. True, we were latter-day +Bohemians, both of us—she an actress and I a journalist. Both her +mother and father, actress and journalist themselves, were Bohemians. +They had indulged Daisy ever since she had been a child, and though +they allowed her to follow her inborn penchant for the stage, they did +not altogether view it with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Mrs Marvin had once openly condemned it before me. She knew the +disappointments, the pitfalls, and temptations of professional life too +well, she had said. The variety stage was an over-crowded profession, +too, and yet huge salaries were paid to those with real talent, many +popular comedians earning as much as Cabinet Ministers. Managers +were ever in search of something fresh, but, alas! seldom found it. +When they did, however, they paid well. Daisy, because of her dainty +<i>chic</i>, her refined voice and her graceful dancing, was already a +popular favourite, earning a very respectable income, which her father +regularly banked for her. So quickly had she sprung into notoriety, +and so high already was her standing in the profession, that "Joyful +Jimmy's" suggestion that she should retire from the stage had been met +with a negative by his wife. Yet, truth to tell, both were secretly +delighted with Daisy's success—the mother that she should have a +daughter so popular in her own profession, and the father because he +foresaw the possibility of her marrying some wealthy young aristocrat.</p> + +<p>Other girls had done so, he argued; why should not she?</p> + +<p>Therefore every man who cast eyes upon the dainty Daisy was promptly +warned off by old Annie, and my love and I in secret had smiled at +"Joyful Jimmy's" complete ignorance of the situation.</p> + +<p>But there were many facts which now puzzled me beyond measure.</p> + +<p>How was it possible that Daisy could be out till three o'clock in the +morning without inquiry on the part of her parents? Where was the +faithful Annie? Was it possible that she was enabled to take the woman +into her confidence when she wished to meet her secret lover? If so, +why did she not meet me? I saw that I had been all along deceived by +her soft kisses and whispered declarations of affection—that, while +she had declared it impossible to meet me, she had nevertheless been +constantly in the company of that man whom Whitlock had so openly +condemned.</p> + +<p>Her confidential manner towards him was, in itself, sufficient to +convince me of the bitter truth.</p> + +<p>And why, too, had she gone willingly to that house of tragedy in +Barnes, if she were not in some way or other implicated or connected +with it?</p> + +<p>Again, why, on reading that curious message on the tape, should she +have uttered that scream of dismay? Yes, the whole affair had now +assumed proportions that were hourly growing more extraordinary and +more inscrutable.</p> + +<p>Already it was dawn—a chilly, grey, dispiriting morning. Beside myself +with grief at the discovery of the perfidy of the woman I loved so +dearly and devotedly, I had risen, and was pacing the sitting-room, +when for the first time my eyes caught sight of a note addressed to me, +lying on my blotting-pad.</p> + +<p>Old Mrs Davis must have come in after I had gone out on the previous +evening, and, finding it lying on the floor of our tiny hall, placed it +there for me.</p> + +<p>The envelope was a pale-blue one, and the superscription in Daisy's +handwriting.</p> + +<p>Tearing it open, I found a few lines hurriedly scribbled in pencil, +telling me that on the morrow she would be at four o'clock at a certain +seat in Kensington Gardens where we had met secretly on several +previous occasions.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"Do not fail to come," she urged, "as I wish to see you very +particularly. I shall be rehearsing my new dance at Allen's until +half-past three, and can remain with you till six.—Love from your own +<span class="smcap">Daisy</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Were those final words meant in earnest, or were they merely feigned? +Again and again I read them in wonder and disbelief, recollecting how +deeply in earnest she had spoken to her companion, and how on one +occasion, as they bent to each other over that table in the Gambrinus, +he had held her slim gloved wrist with all the tenderness of a lover.</p> + +<p>And she had looked straight into the fellow's eyes and smiled!</p> + +<p>Was she "my own"? That was the question.</p> + +<p>I placed her note in my pocket, with the satisfaction that very soon I +should be afforded an opportunity of ascertaining the truth.</p> + +<p>As money is nowadays a form of religious worship, so a saint is a man +with a past, and a sinner a gentleman with a future. Daisy's companion +was, I felt convinced, one of the last-named fraternity. I longed for +afternoon to come, so that I could see and speak with her, without, of +course, betraying the fact that I had watched them.</p> + +<p>Old Mrs Davis entered at seven by means of her latchkey, and was +surprised to find that I had not been to bed.</p> + +<p>"May I come in, sir?" inquired her rasping voice from the hall, and on +permission being given she entered, a short, grey-haired old body in +a shawl once black, but now green with age, and a mourning bonnet in +the same stage of decay. For eighteen years she had "done for" several +gentlemen in chambers in the same building, and was a clean, homely old +person who was everlastingly talking of her Emmie, who, "thank God! +had married well—one of the best and kindest-hearted gentlemen in the +world. 'E lived in these 'ere rooms for two years, an' now they have a +beautiful place over in Ireland."</p> + +<p>I fully expected her to impart to me the latest news concerning the +immaculate Emmie, whom I had never seen, but to my surprise she said—</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, I 'ad such a orful fright 'ere larst night."</p> + +<p>"A fright?" I laughed. "Well, I expect it takes a bit to frighten you, +Mrs Davis! They say the staircase is haunted, don't they?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; that's just it," she replied. "As the story goes, there wor +a young gentleman down below about a 'underd years ago, a-studyin' the +law. 'E'd come up from Norfolk, where 'e'd fallen in love with the +daughter of a squire. She, devoted to 'im, followed 'im up to town, +and was one evening in 'is rooms when an old man, who was jealous of +'er, shot 'er. She died in 'er lover's arms—like they do in the plays +wot used to be on at the Adelphi. An' ever since then, they say, 'er +ghost 'ornts these 'ere stairs. It seems she wor comin' out o' the door +o' the chambers when the murderer, standin' up in the dark, shot 'er. +'E was 'ung, an' serve 'im right, says I. The young lady was devoted +to 'er lover, or she wouldn't ha' come up to London and forsaken 'er +friends."</p> + +<p>"But you've never seen this interesting young lady?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Never. I fancy it's all a fairy tale, like those you reads of in the +papers. They calls 'em serial stories. I always read it in my Sunday +paper, but it usually leaves off just in an interestin' part, and +then I 'ave to wait a week for the next. But, as I was sayin', I 'ad +a fright last night. It gave me such a turn that I 'ad to go out into +'Oborn an' 'ave a nip of gin afterwards—a thing I never do, sir, as +you know."</p> + +<p>The old lady liked her little drop as well as anyone—a fact proved +by our whisky mysteriously disappearing. Yet, like all her class, she +usually made declamatory protest that she was a total abstainer.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, an' do you know what it was?" she went on. "Well, I came +up 'ere about nine o'clock to shut the windows because there was a +shower. I 'ad my old 'ouse boots on, wot don't make any noise, an' when +I turned the corner o' the staircase I saw, to my astonishment, two +gentlemen bent down to this 'ere door a-tryin' to open it. They were +burglars, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Burglars!" I echoed. "What did you do?"</p> + +<p>"I screamed out, of course, but before you could say 'knife' they'd +both bolted down the stairs an' out quicker than they'd come. They +left this 'ere in the lock," and from beneath her shawl she produced a +skeleton key, which she handed to me.</p> + +<p>"I thought, sir," she went on, "as 'ow you'd like to tell the perlice +about it. If I 'adn't 'a' come up in the very nick o' time they'd +certainly 'ave been in 'ere."</p> + +<p>"What kind of men were they?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"One was a low-lookin' fellow, an' the other was a gentleman—in an +evenin' 'at—one o' those crush-up ones like yours. 'E 'ad on a black +overcoat an' a white muffler round 'is neck. Quite the gentleman, I can +tell you."</p> + +<p>I was silent.</p> + +<p>"Had he a little dark moustache?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"Yes; 'e 'ad, sir. 'E was about twenty-five to thirty, I should say."</p> + +<p>Her curious story caused me to reflect and wonder.</p> + +<p>The description was exactly that of Daisy's mysterious companion!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>IN WHICH WE MAKE A DISCOVERY</h3> + + +<p>I had had my breakfast and a tub, and was just glancing through the +<i>Daily Herald</i> when Whitlock entered, looking as fresh and rosy as +though he had had an excellent night's rest.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Keene," he said, standing upon the hearthrug and facing +me, "the puzzle has grown even more complicated."</p> + +<p>"How?" I gasped.</p> + +<p>"Well, you'll remember in that extraordinary telegram, alleged to +emanate from the Press Association and addressed to the <i>Western +Morning News</i>, at Plymouth last night, it was stated that we had +discovered some papers in a house in Woburn Square? Well, Kennedy +reports that that little old hunchback, after calling at several places +last night, went to a certain house in Woburn Square, the door of which +he opened with a latchkey. He remained there till 5.30, when he left +Euston for Birmingham."</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether the object of that mysterious telegram is to put us +on the scent, as the first one undoubtedly was?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said hesitatingly, "there was some mention in it of a young +London journalist—eh?" and he looked at me curiously.</p> + +<p>"I know—I know!" I answered. "I believe, Whitlock, that the anonymous +author of those Press messages owes me a grudge."</p> + +<p>"So it seems; yet he is certainly in possession of the secret history +of the crime. I've put a watch upon the house in question, and I'm just +going up there. You can come, too, if you like."</p> + +<p>I required no second invitation. Over the 'phone I told old Marvin at +the <i>Evening Herald</i> that I was still on the Barnes affair, and we both +went forth together along Theobald's Road up Southampton Row and across +Russell Square. At the corner of Upper Montague Street, a plain-clothes +officer, a youngish man dressed as a mechanic, approached my companion, +saying—</p> + +<p>"All quiet, sir. Nobody's been to the place. It's furnished, but +untenanted, I hear. My information, from the milkman and others, shows +that a lady and gentleman took the place furnished about four months +ago, but the other day they both suddenly left, owing a lot of small +accounts to tradesmen around. The milkman is particularly sore about a +debt of four and threepence."</p> + +<p>"Any more?" asked Whitlock, in that sharp tone habitual to him.</p> + +<p>"Only that the tenant of the house was not a hunchback, as Mr Kennedy +believed, but quite a young man. The woman, too, was also young."</p> + +<p>"And nobody knows where they are gone? What about letters?"</p> + +<p>"The postman says that their name was Elkington. They had only one +or two letters, and since their departure there have been none. The +landlord lives in Ireland, and, as far as I can gather, has no agent in +London."</p> + +<p>"But the little old fellow had a key."</p> + +<p>"Probably left with him by Mr Elkington. He may have left some pets +there—cats or canaries—that want feeding," suggested the detective.</p> + +<p>"Which is the house?" asked Whitlock.</p> + +<p>"Just along on the left, sir. The one with the light green railings. +It's been recently done up."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Remain on duty, but don't attract attention. I'll arrange +for your relief. I shall try and get in with a key, so just keep an +open eye and let us know if there are any too curious neighbours about."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir," the man responded; and as we parted he crossed the +road, affecting to be going in the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>The house differed but little from the general run of those +old-fashioned residences in the squares about Bloomsbury; three +storeys, a deep basement, with railings in front, and a big hall door, +newly painted dark green, with brass knocker-handle and letter-box.</p> + +<p>The state of the front steps betrayed that the house was tenantless, +for upon them lay wisps of straw and bits of paper, blown there by the +wind. From his pocket Whitlock produced a bunch of skeleton-keys, and +having carefully examined the lock he inserted one after another in an +endeavour to raise the wards.</p> + +<p>"It's fortunate it isn't a very complicated latch," he remarked to me. +Nor did it prove so, for at the fourth attempt the door opened easily, +and we found ourselves within a wide, old-fashioned hall, well and +solidly furnished.</p> + +<p>From without, save perhaps the state of the steps, there was nothing to +show that the place was unoccupied. The blinds were not down, though +lace curtains covered the windows of both the dining-room, on a level +with the street, and the drawing-room above.</p> + +<p>"This is, no doubt, the place mentioned in the anonymous telegram," +Whitlock remarked, looking around. Then, as we entered the dining-room, +and saw the several fine paintings on the walls, the bronzes upon the +high marble mantelshelf, and the plate—a trifle tarnished—on the +sideboard, he added: "And it seems to belong to somebody who's very +well off."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But the Elkingtons only rented it, remember," I remarked, adding, +as the matter flashed across my mind, "have you yet established whether +the man whom we followed to Barnes last night was actually Drayton?"</p> + +<p>"No, not yet. I hope, however, to know for certain this afternoon. Let +us now take a look round the place."</p> + +<p>From room to room we passed. Behind the dining-room was a small +and rather cosy little study, the book-shelves of which I noticed +were filled mostly with works of science and travel, evidently +the collection of a cultured man. Set in the window was a big +writing-table, while upon the floor was a thick Turkey carpet.</p> + +<p>Upstairs were two drawing-rooms thrown into one, solidly and +comfortably furnished. In the cabinets I noted some rare old china +and one or two pieces of antique silver of considerable value. Some +of the furniture, too, was genuine Louis XIV., yet about the room was +something chilly and repellent. The windows being closed, the place +bore a musty odour.</p> + +<p>There was a smaller sitting-room—a boudoir, evidently—on the same +floor, while above the apartments were all bedrooms, each being +furnished with taste combined with comfort. There was nothing cheap +or common about the place. The beds were all comparatively new, the +linen of the very finest quality, the carpets soft and new, and the +decorations of each apartment very tasteful.</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Whitlock, with a laugh, as we stood in the dining-room +again, "I wonder where those papers are which we are supposed to have +found?"</p> + +<p>"I wonder," I echoed. "But doesn't it strike you that the person who +sent that telegram last night would, expecting you to come here, also +watch the house?"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, Keene, I never thought of that!" he cried. "It seems very +possible that he would. I wonder whether he's watching now—whether he +saw us come in here?"</p> + +<p>"He most likely has, I believe," was my reply.</p> + +<p>Whitlock went carefully to the window and looked up and down. Only the +plain-clothes man, together with a nursemaid wheeling a perambulator +were in sight.</p> + +<p>"In any case," my companion remarked, "he'd keep out of the way. But we +must search this place at once."</p> + +<p>The keen eye of the detective outside had caught sight of Whitlock at +the window. My companion beckoned him, and he came across and entered +the door, which the inspector opened.</p> + +<p>"We're going to look through this house, Snow," Whitlock remarked. +"There may be certain papers hidden away here."</p> + +<p>"If the little old hunchback hasn't taken them away," said the +subordinate officer.</p> + +<p>"He may have done that, of course," Whitlock remarked, "but we must +satisfy ourselves. We'll start with the dining-room."</p> + +<p>With a thoroughness acquired by long practice in the art of searching, +the two officers, whom I also assisted, opened every drawer and +examined every nook and corner of the room. Even the edges of the +square of carpet they turned up, but our search was futile. We found +nothing.</p> + +<p>The study behind seemed a more likely place. Entering there, Whitlock +and I turned our attention at once to the drawers of the writing-table, +while Snow commenced to rout out the cupboards beneath the bookcases.</p> + +<p>The drawers, which we took separately and investigated, had evidently +been cleared by the landlord prior to letting the house, for all we +found were letters and papers which showed the occupant, Mr Edward +Elkington, to have had rather extensive dealings in American and +Canadian railway bonds and stocks, such as Grand Trunk First and Second +Preference and Atchison Adjustment Mortgage Bonds, as well as Mexican +Government Five per Cents, and Japanese Four per Cents, 1921.</p> + +<p>My limited knowledge of the Money Market told me that his investments +were not ill-advised ones, while Whitlock, as he read the letters, +noted on a slip of paper the name and address of the broker who was his +correspondent.</p> + +<p>There were also quantities of letters relating to betting transactions +with firms in Holland, as well as big bunches of newspaper-cuttings +relating to new inventions, new mines, and new industrial enterprises. +To me, it seemed as though the absent Elkington was a speculator on a +pretty large scale.</p> + +<p>"From these letters, this man Elkington seems to have had his fingers +in a good many financial pies," remarked Whitlock, as, seated at the +table, he read letter after letter. Now and again Snow brought forth +the various objects he discovered, but nothing threw any light upon +the mystery, though the correspondence of Mr Edward Elkington was, in +parts, highly interesting and threw considerable light upon his present +occupation, if not upon his past.</p> + +<p>Some of the letters were addressed to the Hôtel Beau Site at Cannes, +showing that he and his wife had spent the previous winter on the +Riviera.</p> + +<p>We turned the library practically inside out, but found no papers +as reported in the mysterious message to Plymouth. One letter was +curious—a letter in a woman's handwriting, and dated from the Birnam +Hotel, at Dunkeld, in the Highlands. It had reference to some debt of +honour of the writer, and begging time in which to pay. Both Whitlock +and myself were of opinion that it was in reference to a gambling debt, +probably at bridge.</p> + +<p>Of letters to Mrs Elkington there were but few, mostly from tradesmen +asking for settlement of their accounts.</p> + +<p>Upstairs in the boudoir we found a few odd letters of hers, but they +told us very little beyond the fact that she possessed an intimate lady +friend who signed herself Amy, and who wrote from Bailey's Hotel. One +or two of these letters, which my friend handed to me for my opinion, +were curiously vague, and evidently possessed a meaning which was not +that shown upon the face of them.</p> + +<p>One had reference to a supper at the Savoy at which somebody named +"Charlie" was present. "I have an idea," wrote the lady, "that Charlie +suspects something. If he does, then it would be best to throw up the +whole affair, at least for another year. We cannot afford to risk +failure, as you know, my dear. So I leave it to you to ascertain how +much the man really knows."</p> + +<p>"That's rather curious," I remarked, handing it back to Whitlock. "I +wonder who the lady is? The letter is dated, as you see, about a month +ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's a little suspicious, certainly," replied the inspector. "I +can't see to what it refers."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I. But we might discover if any lady is staying at Bailey's +whose Christian name is Amy—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" remarked Whitlock, doubtfully. "I daresay during the past month +there have been lots of Amys. Besides, married women seldom register +their Christian names at hotels."</p> + +<p>"But she may be unmarried."</p> + +<p>"No," he replied decisively; "that isn't the letter of a girl."</p> + +<p>Snow was foraging about the room, taking an eager delight in examining +everything, when, addressing his superior, he suddenly exclaimed—</p> + +<p>"Is this anything, sir?"</p> + +<p>I looked up quickly in his direction.</p> + +<p>He had something in his hand—something the sight of which held us both +rigid in amazement.</p> + +<p>I stood aghast. Whitlock and I looked at each other in blank silence.</p> + +<p>Neither of us uttered a word.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</h2> +</div> + +<h3>IN WHICH ANOTHER DISCOVERY IS MADE</h3> + + +<p>The man Snow held up before our eyes a cabinet photograph which he had +found in the drawer of an old-fashioned oak bureau.</p> + +<p>No second glance was required by either Whitlock or myself to recognise +it as a portrait of a person we had both seen.</p> + +<p>It was the picture of a beautiful girl in a slightly <i>dêcolleté</i> dinner +bodice—the unknown girl who had been so brutally murdered at Barnes!</p> + +<p>Whitlock took it and examined it intently. Gazing upon it, I saw that +it had been taken by a well-known photographer in Bond Street—a sepia +print mounted upon a large grey card. There was a number pencilled upon +the back which would, no doubt, result in the name of the unknown girl +being discovered.</p> + +<p>Had the object of the sender of that forged Press message been to +direct our attention to that portrait?</p> + +<p>The face was one with merry, laughing eyes, quite charming, but, alas! +different, indeed, to the cold, grey, expressionless countenance I +had seen when the attendant of the mortuary-chamber had reverently +displaced the white shroud that covered it.</p> + +<p>"You recognise her?" asked Whitlock, looking at me curiously.</p> + +<p>"Of course," I said. "To mistake is impossible."</p> + +<p>"We shall now discover something," he said in a tone of confidence. +"At least we shall know her name—which will be something towards the +solution of the problem."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but does it not strike you as curious that our identification of +the victim is predicted in the mysterious Press message?" I remarked.</p> + +<p>"That message was sent with an ulterior motive, depend upon it," +my friend replied. "Remember that there was an imputation against +yourself. By whom?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! that's a point we have yet to clear up," I said. "As far as I +know, I have no enemy capable of placing upon me suspicion of having +murdered a woman."</p> + +<p>"And an uncommonly pretty woman into the bargain," Whitlock added, +his eyes still upon the photograph. "We must lose no time in making +inquiries of the photographer."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she could not have been Mrs Elkington?" I suggested. +"Remember, husband and wife only left this house quite a short time +ago."</p> + +<p>"About a fortnight, I think," said Snow. "Nobody seems to know exactly +when they went."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that," Whitlock remarked. "She hadn't any wedding-ring +when found. She may be a friend of these Elkingtons. If so, they +probably know something about the affair. At anyrate, we'll see." Then, +turning to Snow, he added: "You'd better turn out the whole of that +bureau. There may be something further there."</p> + +<p>The man continued his work of investigation quietly and methodically, +while we both stood aside watching.</p> + +<p>"The whole thing is utterly amazing," Whitlock declared. "One would +almost think that it is the murderer himself who, putting us upon the +right scent, is at the same time cleverly implicating persons who've +had nothing to do with the matter."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear fellow," I exclaimed, "I hope you don't think that I've +had anything to do with it!"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," he replied frankly. "But what I can't discern is +the motive why you should be condemned. There are points which are +conclusive against yourself, you know."</p> + +<p>"Which points? You mean what was stated in the message last night?"</p> + +<p>"That—and others."</p> + +<p>"What others?"</p> + +<p>"Well—we needn't go into them, need we, Keene?" he said. "You have an +enemy—a bitter enemy—that's very certain."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and, what's more, he's a secret enemy," I declared angrily. "If I +knew who it was I could fight him with his own weapons. As it is, I'm +in the dark—completely in the dark!"</p> + +<p>"You won't always be so," he said encouragingly. "This photograph will +shed some light upon the affair, without a doubt."</p> + +<p>Whitlock was in ignorance of my love for Daisy—the woman we had +watched on the previous night. Surely she could not be my secret enemy.</p> + +<p>Day by day the mystery was now increasing. From the first moment I had +gone down to Barnes to investigate, until the present, not a glimmer +of light had been shed upon the astounding affair. We certainly had +made several very curious discoveries, but where had they led us? Into +a <i>cul-de-sac</i> always! Whoever had engineered those two Press messages +had done so with great tact and cleverness. Besides, he was aware of +much more of the truth than we were. We were groping in a maze of +mystery, and he, secure in his anonymity, seemed to hold us in the +hollow of his unscrupulous hand.</p> + +<p>For over an hour we searched that house high and low, rummaging in all +likely corners where any papers might be concealed, but found nothing. +The mention of papers in that mysterious Press message had evidently +been made in order to induce us to search and find the portrait of the +victim.</p> + +<p>That the recent tenants of that house were well-off was patent on every +hand. Some of the correspondence we found was couched in a language +that, no doubt, had a double meaning, but whether it concerned some +great plot or not we could not determine.</p> + +<p>Snow hunted about like a fox-terrier. Some of the things he had brought +to light were of interest and also puzzling, but there was nothing save +the portrait which really led us further towards a solution of the +problem.</p> + +<p>"I wonder why the Elkingtons have suddenly left?" I queried.</p> + +<p>"We shall perhaps discover that later on," Whitlock said, after giving +some directions to Snow. "The chief point which puzzles me at the +moment is the reason why the little old hunchback comes here in secret. +There is some object in it. But what? He certainly does not come here +to see anyone."</p> + +<p>"To see after the place, I suppose," was my remark.</p> + +<p>"But isn't it a rather unusual hour to come?" my companion queried. "It +seems as though he has no wish that the neighbours should be aware of +his visits, so he comes when all is quiet and goes away before people +are awake."</p> + +<p>"One bed has been recently slept in, sir," Snow said. "Second-floor +back."</p> + +<p>"Not by our deformed friend, I think," answered his superior.</p> + +<p>Upon the mantelshelf between two bronzes was one of those clocks which, +beneath glass shades, go for a year with once winding. Its pendulum was +still revolving, and its face showed that it was near eleven. I was in +time to catch the first edition of the <i>Evening Herald</i>.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Whitlock," I said, a moment later. "I'd very much like to +publish the fact that the photograph has been found."</p> + +<p>"You can if you like, Keene," he surprised me by replying. "Only no +word must be said of how or where it has been discovered. You can +merely say that exclusive information reaching the <i>Herald</i> makes it +plain that the police are in possession of a photograph of the dead +woman which will lead to her identification."</p> + +<p>"And may I not add that the portrait came into the hands of the +police in a mysterious manner? Such a statement adds a flavour to the +information, you know," I laughed. "The <i>Herald</i> public love a spice of +mystery."</p> + +<p>"I know they do," he said, also smiling. "Well, if you like, say what +you suggest. Only, no more, remember—not a word more without first +consulting me. Perhaps the publication of this bare fact will induce +our unknown friend who telegraphs news to the west of England to let +out a little more."</p> + +<p>"Right!" I exclaimed. "There's a telephone, I noticed, in the study. +Excuse me a moment."</p> + +<p>From the study table I took up the receiver, and in a few moments was +talking with "Joyful Jimmy."</p> + +<p>"Where are you, Keene? I've been ringing up your chambers for an hour +and got no answer. I want you to go down to Beckton Gasworks at once—a +strike on there," he snapped in his querulous voice.</p> + +<p>"I can't. I'm on the Barnes mystery," was my reply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, hang the Barnes mystery! What's the use of pottering about it any +further? It's quite dead now."</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't. I've got some good stuff this morning. Will you take it +down?"</p> + +<p>"Hold the line. I'll get one of the subs."</p> + +<p>"But I can't go to Beckton. You really must send somebody else," I +protested.</p> + +<p>The response was a grunt of dissatisfaction. The Marvin grunt was well +known in the office of the <i>Evening Herald</i>. Then a moment later the +voice of one of the sub-editors was heard, and to him I dictated what +was to appear in the next edition of the paper—a message very similar +to the one Whitlock had suggested.</p> + +<p>"There seems something very extraordinary about that case," remarked +the sub-editor, after I had finished. "The P.A. have just sent out a +warning on their tape not to accept any of their messages regarding the +affair without first making inquiry. It seems that somebody has been +forging Press messages into the country. At least, that's what we hear."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "I know all about it. Somebody sent a sensational yarn +down to Plymouth and signed it 'P.A.'"</p> + +<p>"A joke—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose so," was my careless answer. "Good-bye."</p> + +<p>And I rang off.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later we all three left the house quietly, without +attracting attention. Snow turned sharply to the left, having orders to +continue to keep watch upon the place while I walked with Whitlock into +Russell Square.</p> + +<p>At the corner by the railings stood an old newsman with a bundle +of <i>Evening Heralds</i> under his arm; while attached to the railings +themselves was a contents-bill, bearing in big letters, "Barnes +Mystery: Extraordinary Discovery!"</p> + +<p>"They haven't been long about it," my friend remarked, as he passed. +"But there—you people down at the <i>Herald</i> are the greatest hustlers +in London. We believe in smartness of action at Scotland Yard, but I +must confess we can't hold a candle to you."</p> + +<p>"Not when the Press report things before they've actually happened," I +remarked, laughing.</p> + +<p>"No; you're right. Those telegrams are really most weird and +extraordinary. I confess I can't make them out at all."</p> + +<p>"Nor anybody else," I said. "If we could only publish that in the +<i>Herald</i> we should create a first-class sensation."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you journalists are for ever looking out for opportunities to +give the public spasms," he laughed. "But our object is always to do +things as quietly and unobtrusively as ever we can. We don't believe in +sensation, Keene."</p> + +<p>"But we do. The <i>Evening Herald</i> wouldn't have any circulation at all +if it were not that it gave the day's stories picturesquely."</p> + +<p>"With embroidery," he added.</p> + +<p>"Well—sometimes," I admitted.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said, "we can't afford to deal in fictions, as you can. A +contradiction next day does you no harm. With us a contradiction might +mean an action against us for damages for false arrest. Let's take that +cab down to the photographer and hear what he has to say."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE PHOTOGRAPHER TELLS HIS STORY</h3> + + +<p>A quarter of an hour later we alighted in Bond Street and entered the +photographer's in question. The young lady called down the manager—a +tall, slim young man, with fuzzy hair trimmed to look artistic, and a +big black flowing cravat.</p> + +<p>Whitlock briefly explained that he was an officer of the Criminal +Investigation Department and was engaged upon an important case, though +he did not refer to its nature.</p> + +<p>"I have here," he went on, "a photograph which has been discovered. I +would be glad if you will kindly let me know under what circumstances +it was taken by you, and, further—what is perhaps more important—the +name of the original."</p> + +<p>The young man in frock-coat looked at the pencilled reference number, +and answered—</p> + +<p>"I don't think that will be very difficult. If you don't mind waiting a +few minutes I'll look it up."</p> + +<p>So while he disappeared to consult his books we made a tour of the +place, inspecting the various specimens of poses, styles, enlargements +and miniatures displayed for the attraction of the women who come there +in their best frocks to have their counterfeit presentments transferred +to paper.</p> + +<p>A photographer's shop is always amusing. The various expressions +upon the faces of the sitters—the straight, demure look upon the +countenance of the <i>débutante</i>, the saucy laugh of the professional +actress, the self-satisfied smirk upon the matronly mother, and the +seductive grin upon the hag of sixty trying to look sixteen—always +afford the philosopher food for reflection. Many women, indeed, owe +much to their photographer. A first-class artist can "flatter" an ugly +woman till she peers out at you a perfect beauty. Actresses know that, +and never fail to take advantage of it.</p> + +<p>The young man in frock-coat returned in about five minutes, carrying a +big and rather shabby ledger, saying—</p> + +<p>"I see from the entry that the picture was taken in September last +year. The sitter came with a gentleman who apparently gave the name +of Frederick Stonor, and his address Kazan House, South Cliff, +Scarborough. The dozen sepia prints were paid for at the time, and were +sent by post to Scarborough seven days later."</p> + +<p>"Then the lady's name was not given?" Whitlock remarked disappointedly.</p> + +<p>"No. Sometimes when a gentleman pays for the prints the lady's name is +not given," the young man said, smiling. "It was so in this case."</p> + +<p>He was, no doubt, wondering why Scotland Yard was taking such an +unusual interest in the lady in question.</p> + +<p>"Who took the picture?"</p> + +<p>"I did myself," was the reply. "I recollect the lady quite well."</p> + +<p>"And the man?"</p> + +<p>"He was stout and middle-aged. I quite remember remarking within myself +that the pair did not seem to be on very good terms."</p> + +<p>At this Whitlock pricked up his ears.</p> + +<p>"What caused you to suspect this?"</p> + +<p>"From her inert, careless manner she seemed as though she were entirely +under his influence, and did his bidding under compulsion. I was much +struck by this, because when I posed her before the camera she moved +mechanically, and sighed as though there rested upon her a great weight +of sorrow."</p> + +<p>"She struck you as a lady or—or a business girl?"</p> + +<p>"A lady—most decidedly. She spoke as one."</p> + +<p>"And the man Stonor?"</p> + +<p>"He was in a lower station, evidently, than herself. Rather +overdressed, I thought. He wore a silk hat and frock-coat, but was not +at all at home in them."</p> + +<p>"You could recognise him again?"</p> + +<p>"Anywhere. He had coarse features and fat hands."</p> + +<p>"She had no wedding ring?" asked the inspector.</p> + +<p>"She wore gloves."</p> + +<p>"Then you have no idea of her name?"</p> + +<p>"He called her some pet name, but it was a foreign one, which I could +not distinctly catch. What, however, riveted the sitting in question +upon my mind was her utter disregard for everything—the state of +her hair, her dress, pose, style of portrait—everything. It seemed +as though he had compelled her to come and have her picture taken. +Besides, there was another fact which was curious."</p> + +<p>"And what was that?" inquired my friend, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Well, about a month ago a tall, consumptive-looking man, rather +shabbily dressed, brought in the number of this same photograph and +asked me to make a print, saying that he was prepared to pay for it. I, +of course, refused. We never sell copies of ladies' portraits without +the sitter's permission, or unless it is our copyright."</p> + +<p>"Did he say why he wanted one?"</p> + +<p>"He explained that the lady had died, and that he wished for a +photograph as souvenir."</p> + +<p>"And that was a month ago?" my companion exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Whitlock and I exchanged glances. Again was an event declared to have +taken place before it had really happened!</p> + +<p>"What kind of person was he—young or old?"</p> + +<p>"About thirty, sandy-haired and cadaverous-looking. When he entered +here I took him to be a cadger, so shabby were his clothes; yet he +offered me half a guinea for a print."</p> + +<p>"Curious."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I thought so at the time. His appearance recalled the incident of +the taking of the portrait to my memory. And now, when you come from +Scotland Yard, it makes the affair quite mysterious. Do you suspect +her? Has she done anything wrong?" he inquired, itching to know the +real reason of the inquiries.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not in the least," Whitlock declared. "I am simply making some +inquiries into the friends of certain persons—confidential inquiries. +You well understand. I would willingly tell you the whole matter, but, +at present, any mention of it might defeat the ends of justice."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said the young man, nodding his head slowly, "I quite +understand. I would help you further if it lay in my power. But I, +unfortunately, have no knowledge of the young lady's name. And now, I +suppose, she is dead. Is that so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she is dead," answered Whitlock, telling the truth.</p> + +<p>"If you found the man at Scarborough, then you might learn her name."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I think that must be the direction of our next inquiries," my +companion said, and, thanking the photographer's manager, we went out +together into the life and movement of Bond Street.</p> + +<p>"It's a pity we can't establish the poor girl's identity," he said, +when we were outside. Then, glancing at his watch, he remarked that he +was due at Scotland Yard.</p> + +<p>"And what about Scarborough?" I inquired. "If you are going down I'd +like to come with you."</p> + +<p>"With pleasure. I shall go to-night. There's a train from King's Cross +a little after six which would land us down there before midnight. +There's a restaurant-car. Look up the exact time in the 'A B C,' and +meet me at the station. Good-bye for the present."</p> + +<p>And next moment he was in a hansom going towards Piccadilly.</p> + +<p>I ran down to the office, lunched at the Savage, and punctually at the +hour appointed by Daisy approached the well-known seat in Kensington +Gardens which had so often been our trysting-place.</p> + +<p>Entering from Kensington Gore by Queen's Gate, I turned to the right +and afterwards to the left, behind the Albert Memorial. There is a +narrow and unfrequented path which leads out into the wider way towards +the Serpentine, and as I walked, for it yet wanted five minutes to +four, the sky was grey and the chill wind caused a faint rustle in the +leaves above, precursory of rain. The afternoon was a dull, dispiriting +one, in keeping with my own feeling of insecurity and mystery.</p> + +<p>There was no one in the vicinity, therefore I cast myself upon the +seat, lit a cigarette, and waited. Behind me sounded the distant whirr +of the motor 'buses and the warning horns of private cars. Before +me, away beyond the limits of the gardens, arose the low roar of the +traffic in Bayswater.</p> + +<p>A dilatory, grey-cloaked nursemaid wheeling a perambulator passed me +by, but there was no other sign of life upon that quiet, unfrequented +path so near the fevered heart of London. In these vibrating days of +noise, hustle, and the motor 'bus, the quiet spots in our Metropolis +are indeed few; but, fortunately, Kensington Gardens still retains its +old-world rural charm, the ancient trees still bud and blossom and +spread their shade, and the early spring flowers still put forth their +carpet of colour and fade again ere they become soiled by the smuts of +the myriad chimneys.</p> + +<p>Around me, as I sat beneath the huge beech, the leaves, were already +beginning to flutter lightly to the ground as each windy gust caused +the great boughs to wave. The murky sky was slowly darkening, and all +around seemed sad and gloomy—that dull greyness that is, alas! too +often apparent at the close of the London day.</p> + +<p>Reflecting deeply as I sat there, I suddenly saw my well-beloved +appear round the bend in the path, and rose quickly to meet her. She +looked neat in a pale brown gown trimmed with white, a black hat, and +a veil which only served to heighten her sweet beauty. Her attire +never possessed that note of loudness usually inseparable from the +variety artiste, but, on the contrary, there was an air of modesty and +a display of taste which made her own natural refinement apparent. +Though on the stage she possessed all the wild abandon of the French +<i>chanteuse</i>, yet in private life she was quiet and retiring and +unassuming.</p> + +<p>"Daisy!" I cried, gladly taking her little, white gloved hand.</p> + +<p>"Victor! I'm so glad you were able to meet me," she said. Her voice +seemed unusual. In an instant I recollected all those extraordinary +events of the past night.</p> + +<p>In her dark eyes was a look which puzzled me, a hard glance which I had +never seen there before. What could it mean?</p> + +<p>"You know, dearest," I said, "that when in London I always put +everything aside in order to be with you for a few moments—don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I suppose you do," was her rather inert response, as we walked to +the seat.</p> + +<p>As we sat together I took her hand and raised it reverently to my lips. +Our eyes met in silence. Neither of us spoke.</p> + +<p>Why did she take the precaution to meet me in secret when she went with +that young, well-dressed clubman openly to the Gambrinus, and travelled +about with him in cabs after midnight?</p> + +<p>I was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, dearest, I couldn't come to see you do your turn last +night, but I was busy. I had to be down at the office."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it was as well," she said. "Annie may grow suspicious if she +sees you about too often." Her reply was certainly a cold one. She, of +course, never dreamed that I had been watching all her movements.</p> + +<p>"But why should we fear Annie?" I protested. "My love for you, my +darling, is surely an honourable one. Your father knows me well, +and——"</p> + +<p>"And he would never let us marry, I'm afraid, Victor," she interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because——" and then she hesitated. It seemed to be on the tip of +her tongue to tell me something, but on reflection she appeared to be +resolved to remain silent.</p> + +<p>"Because—well, for what reason?" I asked, looking straight into her +beautiful eyes through the veil.</p> + +<p>But her perfect countenance was sphinx-like.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't exactly know," she faltered, in a voice which told me that +she was not speaking the truth.</p> + +<p>"He has said something about me—something to my detriment—eh? Come, +tell me the truth, Daisy," I urged in all seriousness.</p> + +<p>"He admires you in your profession, Victor, but I have reason for +anticipating that he would never consent to my marriage with you."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because he is always declaring that journalism is a profession far +too precarious. A doctor or a barrister gains experience by age and +progresses in prosperity; but a journalist, he says, as he grows older +goes down the ladder. Only young men are wanted nowadays, and the elder +Pressmen are cast aside as sucked oranges."</p> + +<p>"By some papers only. There are, happily, other honourable journals +which still retain the men who have been faithful in a life-long +service," I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the old-fashioned and therefore decaying papers," was her answer. +"No. Your profession is like my own. When we are young we are popular, +but with the first sign of age we are no longer wanted. In both Press +and Stage life youth and energy are required."</p> + +<p>"And your father has been saying these things—eh?" I asked. "Then he +suspects, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Sometimes I believe he does," she replied, glancing +again into my eyes. "Do you remember when you came to our house the +other Sunday evening?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But I am sure I took no undue notice of you," I declared.</p> + +<p>"It was injudicious," she said. "You should have declined his +invitation, for how could we be in the same room without unconsciously +betraying our affection? As it was, my father chaffed me after you had +left."</p> + +<p>"What did he say?" I asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"He told me that he was certain you were fond of me, and warned me to +have nothing whatever to do with you."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"He pointed out that with my popularity and my talent, as he calls it, +I could make a rich marriage."</p> + +<p>"Rich marriage!" I cried. "Do you think, my darling, that wealth will +buy you domestic happiness? Have you not, among your own friends, girls +who have married for money—and have soon repented very bitterly? I +have."</p> + +<p>"I know! I know!" she exclaimed quickly. "But—well—I ought not to +have told you what I have, Victor. It will cause you to be bad friends +with my father."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I'm no longer on the <i>Evening Herald</i>, and shall in future +see but little of him. Besides, if I know that you still love me, +Daisy, why need I care for his attempt to prejudice me in your eyes?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes were downcast. She was thoughtfully tracing a line upon the +gravel with the ferrule of her umbrella.</p> + +<p>She made no response.</p> + +<p>"Speak!" I said, taking her hand in mine. "Tell me, darling, whether +you really do love me still, or—or whether——"</p> + +<p>I could not conclude the sentence, for the hateful vision of that +man in black overcoat and crush-hat—the man suspected to be Francis +Drayton!—arose before my eyes.</p> + +<p>I felt her hand trembling in mine. She dare not raise her eyes.</p> + +<p>For some moments I remained, still holding her hand in mine, and +trying to fathom her thoughts. I loved her with a pure and passionate +affection; my heart, my very soul, was hers. And yet the discovery of +the previous night had frozen my very being.</p> + +<p>Slowly, yet firmly, she withdrew her hand from mine, her breast heaving +and falling. I saw in her attitude an intention to evade my question.</p> + +<p>"Will you not tell me the truth, Daisy?" I asked in a low, earnest +voice. "If you love another, why not acknowledge it?"</p> + +<p>At last she found tongue, and, turning to me as she braced herself for +an effort, she said—</p> + +<p>"Before I answer your questions, Victor, first answer one which I have +come here to-day to put to you. Answer 'Yes' or 'No.'"</p> + +<p>"Well," I said, amazed at the extraordinary demeanour of the woman +to whom I was so utterly devoted; "I am all attention. What is your +question?"</p> + +<p>Again there was silence.</p> + +<p>At last she spoke, very slowly and distinctly.</p> + +<p>And her words revealed to me a ghastly truth.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</h2> +</div> + +<h3>REVEALS THE GULF</h3> + + +<p>As I did not reply she repeated her question.</p> + +<p>"Do you know the reason Mr Little has left London, Victor?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were fixed upon me calmly and seriously. Her glance was one +of strange suspicion. In her beautiful countenance was a look which I +had never seen before. She had bent and, through her veil, was gazing +straight into my eyes.</p> + +<p>"The reason?" I faltered. "How should I know? He goes and comes so +often without explaining any reason."</p> + +<p>"H'm!"</p> + +<p>It was all she responded, but it signified much doubt and suspicion. +What story, I wondered, had that young fop in dress-clothes been +telling her?</p> + +<p>"And what can Julian Little's absence from London concern your love for +me?" I asked, again taking her hand. But once more she withdrew it, +slowly but very firmly.</p> + +<p>"You are changed, Daisy," I said in a low tone of reproach. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Changed!" she cried, suddenly awakened to the fact that I had noticed +her unusual demeanour. "Changed! Why, I'm sure I'm not! How?"</p> + +<p>"Because I ask you a simple little question, and you refuse to reply."</p> + +<p>"You silly boy," she exclaimed. But her laugh was hollow and unreal. I +saw that her mind was overshadowed; that she held some secret which she +intended to withhold from me.</p> + +<p>It was upon the tip of my tongue to mention the man who had accompanied +her on the previous night, but I refrained. I did not wish that she +should know that I had spied upon her. Hitherto I had trusted her +implicitly, never dreaming that she would play me false; that she +denied me the pleasure of meeting her at night in order to accept the +companionship of another man.</p> + +<p>"Why am I silly?" I asked earnestly. "I love you, Daisy. You surely +know that?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do," she replied. "You have told me so."</p> + +<p>"And do you not believe it?" I cried, opening my eyes widely at her +strange inertness.</p> + +<p>She paused before replying.</p> + +<p>"Well—I suppose I must," she said, with a slight sigh.</p> + +<p>"I don't follow you at all," I said quite frankly. "I love you, Daisy, +truly and devotedly; while you have yourself many times told me that +you reciprocate my affection. Yet when I ask you to repeat those words +that are so reassuring to me, those words of love from your own lips, +you first ask me the reason Julian has left London. You know quite well +that Julian, as special correspondent, comes and goes at a moment's +notice. Sometimes, even at his dinner, he is interrupted by Wakeley on +the 'phone, receives orders, and a quarter of an hour afterwards he is +in a cab on his way to the railway station. Because we have chambers +together it is no reason why he should share with me his confidences. +Indeed, I know very little, I can assure you. He's by nature very close +about his own affairs."</p> + +<p>Daisy again fixed her fine eyes straight upon mine. Her look was one of +disbelief and suspicion.</p> + +<p>"Then you tell me you are unaware why Julian has gone to Servia?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing more than that he received some information predicting a +disturbance in Belgrade," I replied.</p> + +<p>"No; I mean his private reason?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"You are quite certain that his journey has nothing to do with +yourself? I mean that it does not concern your own future?" she said +slowly, still looking at me fixedly.</p> + +<p>"I really don't understand you, darling," I said.</p> + +<p>She smiled and nodded her head slightly, expressive of disbelief.</p> + +<p>"You appear to think, dearest, that I'm trying to deceive you about +something," I cried. "But I swear I am not. I cannot see why you are +asking these extraordinary questions. What have they to do with our +mutual love?"</p> + +<p>"Much," she replied in a low voice—and I saw how changed was her +manner.</p> + +<p>"But, Daisy," I exclaimed, bending to her, "tell me what has happened! +Why are you like this? It is surely not like you?"</p> + +<p>All the mysterious details of that extraordinary tragedy flashed +through my mind in an instant. Was it possible that the well-dressed +young club-lounger was her lover after all? Was it possible that there +was some foul plot against me and my own happiness? Fortunately, +Whitlock disbelieved the amazing and anonymous allegation that a young +journalist—myself, it was plainly hinted—was guilty of the crime. But +did it not seem more than possible that the plot, whatever it was, had +for its object my separation from this sweet-faced, dainty girl to whom +I was so deeply devoted?</p> + +<p>I looked into her beautiful countenance in silence. What could I +say? Pause for a moment and reflect what you would have said in such +curiously delicate circumstances.</p> + +<p>"You affect not to understand me, Victor," she said in a low, cold +voice.</p> + +<p>"All I can understand," I said in a tone of reproach, "is that you are +tired of me; that, perhaps, you have found someone whom you can love +better than myself—someone who has taken my place in your heart," I +added pointedly, watching her face the while. I saw that she bit her +lip, while her cheeks went a trifle paler, and I felt that I had spoken +the truth.</p> + +<p>She gave vent to a hollow laugh.</p> + +<p>"How ridiculous!" she cried. "Then you accuse me, Victor, of deceiving +you?"</p> + +<p>"I accuse you of nothing, dearest," was my quick response. "I am only +expressing surprise at your extraordinary attitude." Would that I could +speak to her openly, but I dare not, for it would have betrayed the +fact of my watchfulness upon her on the previous night.</p> + +<p>Was it possible that the man who had accompanied her was really +Drayton? If so, what connection had he with that house of grim shadow +in Barnes?</p> + +<p>"It is of your attitude I complain," Daisy said reproachfully. "I ask +you a simple question to which you will not reply."</p> + +<p>"No," I protested. "I asked you whether your love for me was the same, +but you refuse to answer. You ask me a question regarding Julian +Little instead. Come," I said, taking her hand again, "don't let us +quarrel, darling. You know how very sincere is my affection for you; +that without you my life is a perfect blank. Thoughts of you and of our +future happiness stir me to do my best in my profession. They call me a +rising man—but why? Because I struggle and strive for your dear sake. +Will you not tell me once again that you are the same to me as ever?" I +whispered, bending earnestly to her.</p> + +<p>I felt a slight shudder run through her. Her little hand trembled +within my own. Her lips quivered. She tried to speak, but it seemed +as though, in that great struggle going on within her, she wished to +explain to me something, and yet could not bring herself to do so.</p> + +<p>She was silent.</p> + +<p>Never before had she failed to respond to my declaration of love, and +until the past night I had reposed every confidence in her. Though +living in that wild, restless world of the variety song and dance, a +world full of temptations and pitfalls for the unwary, yet she was +sweet, innocent, and pure, a womanly woman possessing all the grace, +modesty, and tenderness of her sex. But her adventure of that night +had caused me a storm of indignation, and a dark cloud of suspicion +overshadowed my whole being.</p> + +<p>Was she playing me false?</p> + +<p>I repeated my words, but she made no response. Her face was pale to +the lips; her whole attitude was that of a woman seeking to control +herself, determined not to speak out the truth.</p> + +<p>"If you refuse to reply, Daisy, what am I to think?" I asked in a tone +of deep regret.</p> + +<p>She was sitting rigid and motionless. For nearly five minutes she did +not utter a word, but sat staring straight before her.</p> + +<p>"Why were you so deeply interested in my friend Little?" I asked. +"Come, do tell me, dearest, and let us end all this."</p> + +<p>"I—I want to know the truth," she stammered.</p> + +<p>"About what?"</p> + +<p>"About Mr Little's sudden journey to Servia."</p> + +<p>"But I've told you everything I know," I declared. "He left a note for +me saying that he had gone."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"The secret reason of his journey—if there be any secret one, +dearest—is known to himself alone. I had no idea of his intention to +leave. Indeed, only on the previous night I heard him speaking over the +'phone to the Chief regarding a journey to Canada, to 'do' a conference +in Quebec."</p> + +<p>"Tell me the truth, Victor," she said, turning again to me. "Are you in +utter ignorance of the real motive of his sudden departure?"</p> + +<p>"Of course!" I exclaimed in surprise. "I've already told you everything +I know about it."</p> + +<p>"But you've not referred to the—the mystery," she said, in a low, hard +voice.</p> + +<p>"Mystery! What mystery?"</p> + +<p>"You know well enough to what I refer," she said, her face changing. +"And you know well enough that Julian Little has gone to Belgrade in +your interests. And—and yet you dare to repeat your love for me!"</p> + +<p>I half rose from the seat, then sank back again, utterly staggered by +her words. Julian gone to Servia in my interests! What could she mean?</p> + +<p>"I really don't understand you, Daisy," was all I could reply.</p> + +<p>"Because you do not wish to do so," was her cold response.</p> + +<p>Well did I recollect Whitlock's attitude towards my friend on the +night of his call at Gray's Inn. Had not that fact been puzzling me to +distraction? Why had Julian left so suddenly, and why was Whitlock so +very anxious daily for news of him if there was not some suspicion upon +him?</p> + +<p>No. That man suspected to be Drayton had made some false accusation +against me, without a doubt. Had those forged Press messages actually +emanated from him? At anyrate, his identity with Francis Drayton would, +ere long, be established or negatived, and it was equally certain that +neither he nor Daisy dreamed that they had been watched and followed on +the previous night.</p> + +<p>"You mistake me, Daisy," I said at last, when I had sufficiently +recovered from my surprise. "To my knowledge Julian Little has no +interests to serve on my behalf in his sudden journey. I can therefore +only surmise that you have been given information which is false and +baseless. You appear to be making some mysterious allegation against +myself and Little. Why not be frank and tell me what it is, so that, if +false, I can refute it? This," I went on, "is surely not like your old +self, dearest. Put yourself for a moment in my place, charged with some +mysterious misdemeanour by the very woman whom I love better than my +own life, and——"</p> + +<p>"Let us leave love out of the question at present, Victor," she said, +interrupting. "We are dealing with facts."</p> + +<p>"And is not my strong affection for you a fact, Daisy?" I protested. +"Have we not been happy in each other's love all these months? Have we +not often sat upon this very seat, careless of all other things in the +world; have we not lived for each other alone, heedless of all around; +and yet," I added with deep reproach, "you call me here this afternoon +to tell me that we need not mention our affection."</p> + +<p>"Because you refuse to clear up the mystery which has surrounded you."</p> + +<p>"But as far as I know there is no mystery! I love no other woman, and +my movements are all open and well known."</p> + +<p>She smiled with a slight cynicism. Was it possible that she had grown +jealous. If so, of whom? Of late I had not been out in society much, +and had hardly spoken to any other woman. Her whole attitude was +sphinx-like.</p> + +<p>Slowly she rose, saying, "There is no use for me to remain. Let us +part."</p> + +<p>"Part! You mean to leave me, Daisy!" I cried, in dismay, "because +of this—because——Well, I suppose," I added, half choked with +emotion—"I suppose you have found another love—you, my own dearest +love! This is heartless, cruel. I never dreamed that you, my own dear +heart, would treat me thus."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," she said, very coldly, putting forth her hand. "I can never +trust a man farther who attempts to deceive me as you have done."</p> + +<p>"Deceive you!" I cried. "Why, before Heaven! I've never attempted +to do such a thing! Who has cast this veil of mystery about me? An +enemy—perhaps a man who loves you and has become my rival. But if he +has stolen your love he shall reckon with me," I added in anger.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Victor," was all she said, for next instant she turned, and +I stood watching her receding figure in the falling dusk, too astounded +to follow; so utterly astonished that I was powerless.</p> + +<p>The sudden blow had stunned me. A mystery had fallen upon me—me! +But what was it? Why did she refuse to tell me, and thus allow me no +opportunity of clearing myself of any suspicion?</p> + +<p>But she had turned the bend in the path, and the sun of my life had set +for ever.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE DOUBLE LIFE</h3> + + +<p>How long I stood there I cannot tell.</p> + +<p>Once I was on the point of rushing after her and demanding to know the +truth concerning that young stranger of the previous night: the man who +had apparently brought some false charge against me. But I restrained +myself, for I saw that the meeting had been arranged purposely to break +off our secret engagement.</p> + +<p>Such an issue as this I had never dreamed. So implicitly had I trusted +her that it had never, for one moment, crossed my mind that she could +play me false. But now, as I stood there in the falling London dusk, +the distant roar of traffic sounding away behind the trees, a feeling +of utter loneliness fell upon me; that soul-killing loneliness that the +broken-hearted can feel even in the midst of the hurry and bustle of +our great Metropolis.</p> + +<p>She was a stage-woman—a variety artiste. All that I had read regarding +such people crowded up in my mind; how their enemies said, for a woman +to make sufficient to live upon was an utter impossibility if she still +wished to retain her self-respect. I remembered the denunciation of my +late brother-journalist, Clement Scott, whom I so often used to meet, +and who said, "No woman can succeed on the stage without sacrificing +her honour." I recollected what a storm of abuse was hurled upon him +because he had dared to state this opinion, and it now became forced +upon me how the public—the respectable suburban audiences who go to +the theatres and music-halls—close their eyes to what is so palpably +placed before them. Until that moment of my bitter awakening, I, like +all the others, had closed my eyes and endeavoured to believe the stage +an eminently respectable profession. Yet the truth did not admit of +argument. To-day, with the decadence of the legitimate drama, and the +rapid advancement of variety shows and so-called musical comedy, our +stages are not trodden by actresses or singers, but in many cases by +women who flaunt their meretricious charms with impunity and parade +the stage for the advancement of their own ends. Perhaps my views were +embittered by the thought of my beloved's conduct to me.</p> + +<p>Had not Daisy deceived me all along? Had I not been fooled by her +pretty speeches and her feigned modesty? Was it possible for a young +girl like her, with beautiful countenance, pretty hair, and good +figure, to have made such rapid strides legitimately in a profession +already over-crowded? Before my eyes arose a vision of her as I so +often saw her, a vision of neat silk stocking, dainty lingerie, low-cut +black bodice trimmed with carnations and glittering with silver +spangles, as she danced and sang before her hundreds of admirers. Her +illuminated number appearing always caused an outburst of applause, for +she was already a popular favourite, whose face laughed at you from the +big boards outside the hall whereat she was appearing, and whose song, +"The Motor Maid," was being whistled by every errand-boy and being +played by every barrel-organ in the suburbs.</p> + +<p>Yet, recollecting all that I had seen, heard, and read regarding the +stage, of which, as a journalist, I possessed inside knowledge, how +could I help in the present circumstances regarding her with suspicion?</p> + +<p>I had been fooled. She had carried the joke to a point where it +could not be carried further. The well-dressed young club-lounger of +the previous night—the man with whom she had sat in the Gambrinus, +laughing and talking so merrily—was, I felt convinced, her lover.</p> + +<p>I clenched my hands, and an angry imprecation escaped my lips. I hated +that man, for he was my most bitter enemy. He had stolen her from me.</p> + +<p>"No!" I cried aloud, still standing at the spot where my love had left +me. "No! I will not think ill of her. I have no proof. I love her, and +while I love her I will not allow this horrible suspicion to enter my +heart. I have believed her to be pure and honourable, believed that +she was the exception to all other women, and I will still retain my +good opinion of her. These thoughts shall not cause me to prejudge +her. It would be cruel and unjust to thus condemn the woman I love so +devotedly. All this to-day is a misunderstanding—a misunderstanding +caused by some infernal plot formed by my secret enemy. She did +love me, I am confident of that. And she shall return to me when I +have discovered the truth of this extraordinary conspiracy to place +suspicion upon me of that mysterious crime."</p> + +<p>I paused, glancing in the direction she had taken. I was alone; no one +had passed.</p> + +<p>"No, Daisy!" I cried bitterly, aloud. "Though to-day you have forsaken +me in favour of that man, you little dream who or what he is. You are +his victim, like myself, and it is my duty, not to denounce you as +worthless, but to save you—yes, my own love, to save you!"</p> + +<p>And, fully resolved, I turned upon my heel and walked back to +Knightsbridge.</p> + +<p>Recollecting my appointment with Whitlock, I hailed a hansom and drove +straight to King's Cross, where, upon the departure platform, I found +him walking up and down with Inspector Kennedy, giving him certain +instructions. The latter was dressed in a smart suit of grey tweed, +while my friend wore a dark brown overcoat and bowler hat.</p> + +<p>"Halloa, Keene!" he cried, when he saw me. "Coming up with me, as you +promised? I'm going to Scarborough by this train," indicating the one +standing at the platform.</p> + +<p>"Well——" I hesitated, for I had brought nothing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do come up. I've got a seat in the diner for you. We shall change +into the back of the train at Doncaster."</p> + +<p>I again hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Hurry up and get a ticket. Look! there's only three minutes," he said, +glancing at the clock.</p> + +<p>And so, almost before I knew where I was, I found myself in the +dining-car, with the train slowly moving out of the station on its +journey North.</p> + +<p>We had a small table to ourselves, therefore we could talk.</p> + +<p>"Have you discovered whether the man last night was really Drayton?" I +asked in eagerness.</p> + +<p>He smiled, and placing his hand in his breast-pocket produced several +letters and papers.</p> + +<p>One of them was a large white printed form upon which were impressed +ten finger-marks; the identification paper of a criminal from among the +many thousand records kept at Scotland Yard. A second paper, smaller +and something like a large-sized photograph, he placed beside it.</p> + +<p>"Well?" I asked, looking at them both.</p> + +<p>"The four fingers and thumb of the right hand are identical," he said +triumphantly. "I was right, you see, after all."</p> + +<p>"Then he is actually Francis Drayton!" I gasped, feeling that my +revenge was near at hand.</p> + +<p>"The finger-prints never lie, Keene."</p> + +<p>"But how did you get these?" I inquired, indicating the photograph.</p> + +<p>"Quite easily," he laughed. "Last night the man drank at a West End +bar, you'll remember. I simply gave orders that the glass was to be +taken away carefully and left untouched until I sent for it. Three +hours later at the Yard they dusted it over with some of our green +chalk which they find useful, and out came the tell-tale marks which +are photographed there!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I exclaimed; "then there's even a danger of identification +in going to get a drink?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he laughed. "Men who want to avoid recognition should wear +gloves. Had Drayton worn his gloves we should have been puzzled. But, +as it is, all is plain sailing."</p> + +<p>"All plain sailing!" I echoed. "Then you have a clue?"</p> + +<p>"Well—not exactly," was his rather dubious answer. "We must first +establish the identity of the murdered woman."</p> + +<p>"And of the suicide."</p> + +<p>"The second will be easy when we discover the first. I'm hoping to get +at something to-morrow morning in Scarborough. We shan't be there till +half-past eleven. We'll stay at the Grand. Ever been there before?"</p> + +<p>"Once," I answered, longing to take him into my confidence and tell +him of the interview I had had that afternoon. "But how does the +identification of Drayton affect the affair? Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"The establishment of Drayton's identity puts an altogether new phase +on the affair," he said. "Until this afternoon I believed that certain +surmises I held were correct, but now I find them entirely wrong. We +were following an entirely different line."</p> + +<p>"And the present is the correct one?"</p> + +<p>"I believe it to be. If we meet with success up in Scarborough, we +ought by this time to-morrow to know the names of both women and the +reason for the assassination."</p> + +<p>"And also why the girl lived there alone with the telegraph +instrument?" I added.</p> + +<p>"Yes. That's one of the most mysterious points in the whole case. +But we ought, if we persevere, to be able to clear it up." And as he +replaced the papers he had shown me, I saw that he had with him the +photograph we had discovered in Woburn Square.</p> + +<p>"But tell me about Drayton. He interests me very much," I said. "Of +what offence was he convicted?"</p> + +<p>"His last was a sentence for forgery. He is, it seems, clever with his +pen."</p> + +<p>"He looks a very gentlemanly young man," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"Quite the swell, I admit. Belongs to a good club in Piccadilly—under +another name," Whitlock remarked. "It would astound and horrify the +members of some good West-End clubs if they only knew how many of their +fellow-members are shady characters who have adopted names which they +did not receive at their baptism. I could point out at least a dozen +men who have 'done time' and who now mix in the most select circles, +their friends never dreaming that they report themselves periodically +at some obscure police-station."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the world of London is a strangely complex one," I admitted. +"There must be many black sheep in even the most select clubs. The +successful criminal can easily afford forty guineas entrance fee, +and there are many men who will stand his sponsors for a monetary +consideration. A good name, can, nowadays, as easily be purchased as +a pound of cheese, and the biggest scandal in the Press to-day is +entirely forgotten next week. But this man Drayton," I added, "tell me +more about him."</p> + +<p>"You seem very much interested in the fellow," was Whitlock's reply, +as he went on eating his dinner. "He was released on licence from +Parkhurst on July 11th last year, and for the past eight months has +failed to report himself until three days ago, when he walked into +the police-station at Staines, and gave his address at a cottage in +Feltham, a few miles away. He stated that he had been abroad, and asked +the inspector on duty to place the matter before the Commissioner of +Police in order that his excuse might be accepted. Otherwise he is +liable to be arrested and sent back to complete his term."</p> + +<p>"And has he really been abroad?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so—to Peru. But of that I'm not absolutely certain."</p> + +<p>"Why to Peru? What has he been doing out there? Didn't you say that it +was believed that Drayton had died in Lima."</p> + +<p>"Yes; that's a fact that is extremely puzzling. He went out there with +some motive, and, judging from his present means—for he has money, no +doubt—his journey turned out a very profitable one. So profitable, +indeed, that he told the inspector at Staines that he had decided to +lead an honest life in future. But," Whitlock went on, "you remember +the girl who was with him last night, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said eagerly. "What about her?"</p> + +<p>"Well," he replied, "I've found out one or two very curious facts +concerning her. She's on the music-halls, it seems. But if all is true +that I have learnt to-day, then I believe she knows more about the +affair at Barnes than anybody else."</p> + +<p>"What!" I gasped. "Do you believe that she committed the crime?"</p> + +<p>"I believe nothing, until I have proof," was the officer's calm reply. +"But the mystery concerning her and the double life she leads is—well, +it is, to put it plainly, one of the most remarkable and extraordinary +stories of duplicity and cunning that I've ever heard."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>IN SEARCH OF THE TRUTH</h3> + + +<p>"Double life!" I gasped. "Tell me all about her—all that you know!"</p> + +<p>But next instant I saw how, by my anxiety, I was betraying myself, and +recognised how injudicious were my words.</p> + +<p>"I only know what I've been told," replied Whitlock, glancing with +surprise across at me. "She was Daisy Marvin, the music-hall favourite. +You've surely seen her at the Oxford, Pavilion, and other places?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course. But what have you heard about her?" I demanded. "I've +always understood that she was a very quiet, respectable girl."</p> + +<p>"Not very many of them about on the music-hall stage, I fancy," +laughed my companion. "I wouldn't care to have a sister of mine in the +profession. I'd rather see her dead first."</p> + +<p>"But you can't condemn a whole community because there are a few black +sheep in it," I protested.</p> + +<p>"Well, my own profession has taken me a lot into the music-hall crowd, +and shown me a good deal of the undercurrents there, Keene. If you +doubt me go to the corner of York Road, Lambeth, any Monday morning. Go +and speak with any of them there waiting for engagements, and ask them +their opinion of their own women, and——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," I said; "but what is this extraordinary story, regarding +Daisy Marvin?"</p> + +<p>"Well, first and foremost, she's on very good terms with Drayton."</p> + +<p>"You mean that he is her lover?" I remarked, a frenzy of jealousy +convulsing me.</p> + +<p>"How can we say that? We know nothing except what we saw with our own +eyes last night."</p> + +<p>"And from that what did you gather!"</p> + +<p>"That he was very fond of her."</p> + +<p>"And that his love was reciprocated?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And your informant—what does he allege against her!" I went on, eager +to learn the depths of the perfidy of the woman who had so cruelly +deceived me.</p> + +<p>"Several curious things. The truth we shall probably learn up in +Scarborough to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"But are you of opinion that this variety artiste is in any way +implicated in the tragedy at Barnes?"</p> + +<p>"I repeat, I have no opinion—at present."</p> + +<p>"Then I put it in another way. Are your inquiries directed towards such +a theory?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; but, remember, my mind is perfectly open. This curious +story concerning a pretty woman does not prejudice me against her in +the least. She may be the cat's-paw of Drayton, which seems to me most +likely."</p> + +<p>"His victim—eh?"</p> + +<p>"In all probability. All women are more or less weak—especially in the +hands of a good-looking young fellow of Drayton's stamp."</p> + +<p>"But surely this is monstrous!" I cried, at risk of causing him further +surprise. "She is very popular, and extremely good-looking, isn't she?"</p> + +<p>"One of the prettiest girls on the London stage, without a doubt," +he admitted. "But you know as well as I do, that it is frequently +a woman's misfortune to be beautiful. Many a pretty woman has, +before now, wished that Mother Nature had given her a different +shape, for plainness and a poor figure save the fair sex from many +unpleasantnesses."</p> + +<p>"But, if we know the truth, cannot we save her from this man?" I +suggested, bending deeply in earnestness across the narrow table of the +dining-car.</p> + +<p>"We don't know the truth yet," was my companion's reply; "we only +surmise it. Therefore how can we act? What can we do in the girl's +interests at present? Besides, it is evident, from her attitude last +night, that she loves the fellow."</p> + +<p>"You think so?" I asked hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Think so? Why, of course."</p> + +<p>Little did Whitlock dream how deeply his words sank into my wounded +heart, or what a storm of jealousy was raging within me; the fierce +hatred of this criminal who held my own Daisy as wax between his hands. +He should suffer. I swore within myself that he should. My love had +been stolen, and I would punish him relentlessly for the theft. My +whole life in future I would devote to my revenge.</p> + +<p>"You said something about a double life that she is leading. Tell me +about it."</p> + +<p>"I'm not in possession of the details. It has merely been hinted to +me—hinted in such a manner as to predict that I should discover +something concerning her that would amaze me."</p> + +<p>"Deceit and duplicity were hinted at, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"The term 'a double life' was used by my informant. That is all I know. +We may discover something more up in Scarborough," Whitlock went on. +"As far as I can see, there are certain points which we may elucidate +up there."</p> + +<p>"But I can't understand it," I said.</p> + +<p>"Neither can I, Keene."</p> + +<p>"Are you convinced that Drayton is the girl's lover? Has anyone told +you so, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Well, not exactly in plain words."</p> + +<p>"It's been hinted at?"</p> + +<p>He nodded; a mysterious smile playing about his lips.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered, after a brief pause, "a good deal has been hinted +at—a good deal that is mysterious and unaccountable. The lady is, I +admit, very pretty, but if all that is whispered is true, the pair are +pretty well matched."</p> + +<p>"What?" I cried, amazed. "Then she is not his victim?"</p> + +<p>"To a certain degree I think she is. But what I mean is that she is not +the very modest and unassuming little person she pretends to be."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but tell me how, Whitlock. You make all sorts of veiled hints, +but give me no real facts."</p> + +<p>"Because I don't know any more facts than you yourself. But," he added, +"you seem uncommonly interested in her. Smitten by her pretty face, eh, +Keene?" he laughed.</p> + +<p>"I am interested in her, and for a very good reason," was my bold +reply. "If she is really Daisy Marvin, then she's the daughter of my +late chief, the news editor of the <i>Evening Herald</i>."</p> + +<p>"The dickens she is!" cried Whitlock, opening his eyes widely. "I +didn't know that. Then, if she's his daughter, she would, of course, +know some of the technique of journalism."</p> + +<p>"I believe she does. I've heard, indeed, that she's reported concerts +and social functions for the <i>Herald</i> sometimes."</p> + +<p>My companion grew thoughtful. I wondered if the current of his +reflections ran in the same course as my own, for at that moment it +suddenly occurred to me whether Daisy herself was not author of those +mysterious Press messages that had placed us in possession of those +curious but enigmatical facts. As the daughter of a journalist she +would know the manner in which to write Press telegrams; the forms to +use; and the language in which to couch them. If so, why had she cast +suspicion upon me—why had she screamed when in that house at Barnes?</p> + +<p>I recollected her strange questions and her evident misgiving when we +had been together that afternoon in Kensington Gardens. And Whitlock's +informant, whoever he was, hinted at her double life, whatever that +meant!</p> + +<p>"To me, Keene," my companion was saying, "it seems very remarkable +that, if the young lady lives at home with her father and mother, as it +appears, she should be able to make nocturnal visits as she did last +night. Her movements entirely bear out what I have been told concerning +her."</p> + +<p>"What have you been told?" I demanded eagerly, anxious to ascertain the +exact allegation.</p> + +<p>"No," was his reply, "I never repeat any criticism of a woman's +reputation before I have proof. Words lightly said can never be +recalled, you know, and when a woman's honour is at stake care should +always be exercised before it is besmirched."</p> + +<p>"Then there is an allegation of dishonour," I said, in a hoarse voice. +Ah! that awakening was to me the cruellest blow in all my life. In +those past few hours all my belief in a woman's love, truth and +honour had been shattered. I had struggled not to prejudge her; I had +tried to regard her as the victim of that well-dressed young man who +was a criminal, as a woman to be shielded and rescued from him. But +Whitlock's declarations had sown further seed of suspicion within my +heart, and had caused a fierce passion of hatred against Drayton to +arise within me. Torn by the agony of jealousy I sat there as the train +rushed northward, listening to my companion, who went on, unaware that +he was discussing the woman whom I had loved better than my life.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I somehow feel convinced that we shall discover some +very remarkable evidence up in Scarborough, and that we shall find +the young variety artiste not quite so innocent as she feigns to be." +Then, after a pause, he asked, as though a sudden thought had occurred +to him, "Do you happen to know whether she knew your friend, Julian +Little?"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well—I'd like to know."</p> + +<p>"They may have been acquainted," I replied vaguely. "Of course Little +knows lots of people with whom I'm acquainted."</p> + +<p>Whitlock grunted in dissatisfaction. What, I wondered, what could be +at the back of his mind, for he had lapsed into silence. The cloth was +removed from the table, and he took up the evening paper and became +immersed in it. Huntingdon, Peterborough, and Essendine were passed as +we rushed northward towards Grantham, our first stop.</p> + +<p>My companion had lit a cigar, and appeared to be thoroughly enjoying +it, lolling back in the corner, idly reading the day's news. I +furtively watched his countenance, but saw no look of anxiety upon it. +Yes, Whitlock could be perfectly sphinx-like whenever he chose. To +that very fact he attributed much of his success in the elucidation of +mysterious crimes.</p> + +<p>I, too, took up a paper; but only in pretence of reading. My mind was +too torn by conflicting emotions to be able to centre itself upon +what I read. I was reflecting deeply upon those extraordinary hints +of his regarding what he had described as "the double life" of my +well-beloved. What could that mean? What was the true extent of the +perfidy of the woman whom I had loved to call my own—the woman whose +sweet voice had been as music to my ear; whose soft touch had thrilled +me; whose passionate glance I had mistaken for the true love-light? I +had to imagine what could be the truth; Whitlock had refused to satisfy +my curiosity. I knew well how careful he always was never to say evil +of a woman until he had proof of it, whether she were a lady, or a girl +of the people.</p> + +<p>It was a trait of his character that I had hitherto admired. But now, +when it touched my own future, I felt offended. He ought, I argued +within myself, to tell me outright and frankly all that had been told +him concerning Daisy.</p> + +<p>I looked around the car. Near me sat a man and a woman—both young, +both good-looking. I saw how happy they were. Why was I not the same?</p> + +<p>I watched the girl, saw her smiling across the table at her companion, +and noted how sweet and trusting was her face. Faugh! I turned away. +Women were all the same. They laughed and smiled, and kissed and +whispered, but behind were only deceit, treachery, and—a double life! +My own existence had in those past few hours become soured and warped. +I had loved—loved with all the power of my being; loved with a strong +sense of right and duty; loved as an honest man should love the woman +he intends to make his wife.</p> + +<p>And what had been my repayment? Deceit and cold dismissal. The favours +had been thrown to a man who was a criminal.</p> + +<p>Yes; I would stand and denounce him. I, who now knew the truth, would, +even at the risk of incurring Whitlock's displeasure, face them both +and expose to her the naked, hideous truth.</p> + +<p>The train rushed on, and I tried to analyse calmly and without +prejudice my own mind. Such analysis was difficult. I either believed +in the purity of my lost love, or I did not.</p> + +<p>In the circumstances, what could I believe?</p> + +<p>What would you have believed?</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +</div> + +<h3>SOME DISCOVERIES IN SCARBOROUGH</h3> + + +<p>We had breakfast next morning in that big room of the Grand Hotel at +Scarborough that overlooks the bay.</p> + +<p>Though I was myself an early riser, Whitlock had been up and out a long +time before me. Most probably he had been to have a chat with the Chief +Constable of the town, in order to learn something of the tenants of +Kazan House. But when he returned he made no remark save—</p> + +<p>"Tired last night—eh, Keene? I've been for a stroll along the +Esplanade. Quite nice this morning," and he looked out upon the +sunlit sea, the green Castle Hill, and the much-talked-of Marine +Drive. Scarborough, without any exaggeration, can be called the Queen +of English watering-places. Once, in the days when our fathers were +courting, it was the mode to go to Scarborough and parade on its +"Spaw," but, alas! nowadays, when there are so many other attractive +places, and when Cook's take the curious "abroad" cheaper than they can +live at home, even beautiful Scarborough, like so many of our lovely +coast towns, is far too much neglected by the wealthiest of English +holiday-makers.</p> + +<p>Breakfast finished, I walked up Huntriss Row with my companion, who +wanted to send telegrams. One of them was, I noticed, in cipher, and +addressed to Scotland Yard. Then we returned, crossed the Spa Bridge, +and ascended to the South Cliff, the select and aristocratic part of +the town, whence splendid views are afforded of the old town, harbour, +and the ruined stronghold upon the grass-grown promontory.</p> + +<p>The morning was delightful, with bright sun and little wind, and +as we passed along the sea-front, with long terraces of big, +substantially-built houses, our eyes were eagerly in search of Kazan +House. Its discovery did not entail very much difficulty, but we were +both much disappointed to note upon the door a small board in black and +gold, bearing the word "Apartments."</p> + +<p>It was a boarding-house, as were nearly all the others in the same +terrace. Its position was a delightful one, for right before it, +sloping between the Esplanade and the sea, lay the beautiful Belvedere +Gardens, with their pineries and roseries, which every visitor knows as +one of the finest shore-gardens in all the kingdom, private property, +and therefore closed to the public, save in the rose season, when +their benevolent owner threw them open in aid of various charities. +On such occasions thousands upon thousands availed themselves of the +opportunity of wandering in those cleverly-devised walks, and admiring +the glorious views of sea and cliff that show through the canopies of +foliage, in the direction of Filey.</p> + +<p>"It's a boarding-house, as I expected," remarked Whitlock, +disappointedly, as we strolled past. "Mr Frederick Stonor may have been +only a visitor to this place, after all. At any rate, let's see," and +he suddenly turned back again, entered the gate, went up the short walk +of the tiny strip of front garden and touched the electric bell.</p> + +<p>A maid with dark, fluffy hair appeared, whereupon my friend inquired if +there were any rooms to let.</p> + +<p>"If you step in, sir," replied the girl, with a Yorkshire accent, "I'll +call my mistress."</p> + +<p>So we entered the small hall and waited until there appeared a +middle-aged, rather pleasant-faced woman, who wore a severe black stuff +gown, and whose dark hair, parted in the centre, was brushed down flat.</p> + +<p>We repeated our inquiry, and were shown up to the first floor, where +we found a large, airy sitting-room and two well-furnished bedrooms. +Whitlock, acting as spokesman, expressed himself as perfectly satisfied +with both the accommodation and the terms demanded, while the landlady, +growing chatty, as landladies usually do when they exhibit their best +demeanour towards fresh arrivals, told us that her name was Pennington, +and that she was a widow.</p> + +<p>Whitlock did not press any inquiries, but said that we would take the +rooms, and that our traps were on their way from London and would +arrive on the morrow. We would return to the Grand, pay our bill, and +come back there in an hour's time.</p> + +<p>And so we became tenants of furnished rooms in Kazan House, South +Cliff, Scarborough.</p> + +<p>"We shall have to remain here at least one day, if not two," my friend +remarked, as we walked back in the direction of the town.</p> + +<p>"Then, if I must stay, I'll be compelled to wire to the office," I said.</p> + +<p>"Better wire now. I have an idea that we shall learn something here," +he answered. "I was half inclined to make inquiries of the man Stonor; +but, after all, it's better to let the questions come naturally, +otherwise Mrs Pennington may not be communicative."</p> + +<p>At noon, therefore, we were installed in our new abode, and standing +together at the sitting-room window we obtained a wide view of the +charming garden of the Belvedere. Two young ladies in white dresses +were wandering in the rosery, plucking bunches of flowers, while the +owner, a well-preserved, elderly gentleman, was giving directions +to his gardeners. Beyond the gardens lay the sunlit sea, blue and +unruffled.</p> + +<p>Luncheon was served very shortly afterwards, and following it +reappeared Mrs Pennington to express, in her fussy manner, a hope that +we were satisfied.</p> + +<p>This gave Whitlock his opportunity. He began by hinting that if we were +comfortable we should probably spend the winter with her—knowing well +what winter lodgers mean to the keepers of seaside boarding-houses. By +such remarks as these he ingratiated himself with her, and then began +to remark about the beauties of the private garden opposite.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied. "They belong to the landlord of this house. He's +a most courtly and charming gentleman, and allows his tenants to go +in and walk about on Sundays. I hear, however, that some people have +abused the privilege and have actually carried away great bunches of +his roses."</p> + +<p>"Such privileges are always abused," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"You're quite right, sir," declared Mrs Pennington. "It's a shame, and +it makes it bad for others."</p> + +<p>"The two young ladies I saw just now are his daughters, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. His granddaughters. Both very charming girls. They have a +German lady as companion. Has she been out there this morning? She's +generally out very early, getting flowers for the table—often before +I'm up."</p> + +<p>"I shall see her presently, I expect," was my reply.</p> + +<p>Then she fell to gossiping about her neighbours and referring to the +kindheartedness and generosity of the gentleman to whom the terrace +belonged, and who lived in the big stone house at the end, whence a +subterranean passage running beneath the Esplanade gave communication +with the extensive cliff gardens.</p> + +<p>At last Whitlock seized his opportunity and remarked in a casual way—</p> + +<p>"I met a little time ago a man named Stonor, who lived somewhere along +here. He told me what a charming view could be obtained from the +Esplanade."</p> + +<p>"Stonor, sir!" Mrs Pennington echoed. "Was it Frederick Stonor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. His name was Frederick—a rather stout, middle-aged man."</p> + +<p>"Well, funnily enough, sir, he's my brother."</p> + +<p>"Your brother!" exclaimed Whitlock, as we both pricked up our ears.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. He's been away in York for a week, but he returns to-morrow. +So you know him. Only fancy! He will be pleased to find you are our +guests."</p> + +<p>"Then he rents this house in conjunction with you?" my companion asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"He didn't tell me whether he was married or not."</p> + +<p>"No, he isn't. In fact," she laughed, "he is a most confirmed bachelor."</p> + +<p>"It was about last September, I think, when I met him in London."</p> + +<p>"Yes. He went to town last September—so he did."</p> + +<p>"There was a young lady with him—if I remember aright."</p> + +<p>"A young lady?" replied Stonor's sister, with some surprise. "That's +news to me. He went up to see about realising some property which my +father left to us three years ago. Are you not mistaken? Fred said +nothing to me about any young lady."</p> + +<p>"No; I remember quite distinctly. On the second occasion we met—in +Piccadilly one afternoon—he had a very pretty young lady with him."</p> + +<p>"Then I must ask him when he returns to-morrow," she laughed, +good-humouredly. "He has few secrets from me."</p> + +<p>"He's been with you here a long time, I suppose?" Whitlock remarked, +cleverly changing the topic of conversation.</p> + +<p>"Ever since my husband died, five years ago. But," she added, rather +thoughtfully, "what you've just told me regarding him being about with +a young lady rather worries me."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he's thinking of marrying at last," I laughed.</p> + +<p>"I should hope he won't be such a fool!" she declared.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs Pennington, of course, all I have said you will regard as +confidential," Whitlock said. "Had I not believed that you were aware +of the young lady's existence I should never have mentioned her. As it +is, I think it would be better if you said nothing when he returns. He +would only be annoyed with me."</p> + +<p>"Of course, sir, if you wish it, I will say nothing," she replied. "But +when he returns perhaps you can find out for me who the lady was. I'm +very anxious, you know; for if he marries he will most certainly leave +here, and I should then lose his help and support, which means very +much to me. You can well understand my anxiety."</p> + +<p>"I do. Say nothing about the matter, Mrs Pennington, and leave all to +me."</p> + +<p>When she had closed the door and descended the stairs, my friend turned +to me and said hastily—</p> + +<p>"I've made an infernal blunder—one that can't be recalled. I'm a fool!"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because I said that Stonor knew me. We can't meet him now, or our game +will be given away. We must leave early to-morrow morning, but before +we go we'll try and learn, if possible, something more. Now that we've +promised to help her to fathom her brother's secret she'll tell us all +she knows."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, admitting his remarkable tact and cunning. "You've acted +splendidly."</p> + +<p>"I got through all right—except that short-sighted statement that I +can't now wriggle out of. The moment her brother returns she'll tell +him that a friend of his is upstairs. He'll come up, and, finding a +perfect stranger, will at once become suspicious. No, Keene; we shall +have to leave suddenly early to-morrow morning. There's a train to York +a little after nine."</p> + +<p>"But before that we ought to have another chat with Mrs Pennington," I +suggested. "It's very evident that she don't want her brother to marry."</p> + +<p>"We'll go out for a stroll, and try and have a chat with her after +tea," he decided.</p> + +<p>So, taking our hats, we went out, wandering along the cliffs to Cayton +Bay, meeting hardly a soul. Then, on our return, about half-past five, +we had tea and sat at the open window, lazily smoking and discussing +the curious events of the past few days.</p> + +<p>About half-past six we told the fluffy-haired maid to ask Mrs +Pennington to kindly step up, and when she entered Whitlock pretended +to give her orders regarding what we preferred for breakfast.</p> + +<p>She at once began to gossip about all kinds of topics, until with +subtle cleverness my companion turned the conversation again to her +brother.</p> + +<p>"No. He's not often up in London," she said. "But he frequently goes +away for two or three days at a time, and he never tells me where he's +been to. In fact, this last couple of years he has been very erratic in +his movements. He has a good many friends in various parts of Yorkshire +and Lincolnshire, and often goes to visit them. But he's always very +close regarding his movements—so much so that I've often wondered +whether there wasn't some attraction somewhere of which he was keeping +me in ignorance."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I see," Whitlock laughed. "Then his habit was to go away to +unknown destinations?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Once he told me he'd been in Darlington, staying with his cousin +for three days, but I afterwards found out that he hadn't been there at +all. When I told him he became very much annoyed, and told me in future +to mind my own business."</p> + +<p>Whitlock shot a meaning glance in my direction.</p> + +<p>"And I suppose you didn't make any further remarks?"</p> + +<p>"No. But I've been pondering a good deal of late."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs Pennington," Whitlock said, "I wonder whether, in these +circumstances, you can keep a secret? Remember, I am his friend, and I +don't wish anything repeated to him."</p> + +<p>"I certainly won't repeat anything," the woman assured him. "I'd very +much like to know who the lady was with whom you say he was walking +about London."</p> + +<p>"Then this is her photograph," Whitlock said, producing it suddenly +from his breast-pocket. "Do you recognise her?"</p> + +<p>Mrs Pennington's countenance went deathly pale as her eager eyes fell +upon the picture we had discovered in Woburn Square. I saw that she +held her breath, utterly dumbfounded.</p> + +<p>That she recognised the portrait was in an instant evident.</p> + +<p>But next moment she had recovered herself.</p> + +<p>"It's a lie!" she cried, glaring at my friend. "He was never with her! +Impossible!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</h2> +</div> + +<h3>ONE FACT IS MADE CLEAR</h3> + + +<p>Mrs Pennington's emphatic declaration was, to say the least, curious.</p> + +<p>Whitlock looked calmly into her face and smiled.</p> + +<p>The woman had, without a doubt, recognised the portrait of the victim +at Barnes. Her sudden resentment at the suggestion that her brother had +been in her company in London was, in itself, very suspicious that she +knew some ugly fact which she intended to conceal.</p> + +<p>Was she privy to the cruel assassination of that defenceless girl whose +dead face ever haunted me?</p> + +<p>"What makes you so positive that your brother, Mr Stonor, was never in +her company?" Whitlock asked, thrusting his hands into his trousers +pockets unconcernedly.</p> + +<p>"Positive! Well, I am positive that he'd never walk about with that +woman," she declared, with an air of extraordinary resentment. Those +last words showed us plainly that she was the dead woman's bitter enemy.</p> + +<p>"Why not with her as well as any other woman?" he queried. "Besides, +it's an uncommonly pretty face!"</p> + +<p>"There are reasons, sir, why my brother Fred would never meet her," she +replied in a quiet, changed voice.</p> + +<p>"But he was with her, Mrs Pennington. He took her to the photographer's +and paid for that very portrait you have in your hand."</p> + +<p>"How do you know that?"</p> + +<p>"The photographer told me so himself. The copies were sent here, to +this house."</p> + +<p>"And who are you, that you appear to know so much?" she asked, frowning +slightly.</p> + +<p>"As I have already told you, I'm a friend of your brother's—and I hope +a very sincere friend."</p> + +<p>"Well," she declared, "I don't believe he was ever with that girl in +London. There's some mistake, evidently. The photographer has misled +you."</p> + +<p>"I think not. He described your brother—rather stout and middle-aged."</p> + +<p>"I can't believe it—no! I won't believe it!"</p> + +<p>What my friend had told her certainly seemed to have wrought a great +change in her. I watched her face. It was that of a woman filled with +a deadly fear. Though struggling to conceal the misgivings that had +arisen within her, she could not refrain from those emphatic denials +which in themselves had, I saw, aroused Whitlock's interest.</p> + +<p>"I have merely told you the truth," my companion said. "This morning +you expressed a wish to ascertain the identity of the lady with whom +he was in London, and for that reason I have ventured to show you her +portrait."</p> + +<p>"But when I happen to know that that woman is the last in the world +whom he would meet—and more especially in secret—it is not surprising +that I refuse to believe you."</p> + +<p>"And why is he so antagonistic towards her? Why should they not meet?"</p> + +<p>"There are strong reasons—private reasons," was her answer, her eyes +cast upon the ground.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I see—I understand," Whitlock remarked tactfully. "They +quarrelled—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Er—well—I—I really don't know," was Mrs Pennington's lame answer. +"I only know that, for certain private reasons, he would never +willingly meet Louise Lorimer."</p> + +<p>Whitlock smiled in gratification. The woman had unwittingly told us +exactly what we wanted to know—the name of the unfortunate girl who +had been found murdered in the empty house at Barnes.</p> + +<p>"You seem to possess some secret knowledge regarding this Miss +Lorimer," he suggested, hoping that her hatred of the girl would lead +her to tell us something more.</p> + +<p>"I only know what I've been told."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't know her personally?"</p> + +<p>"No. But why are you so inquisitive regarding her?" she asked. By her +manner I saw that she was lying. Her denial of all knowledge of the +dead girl was certainly not the truth. Her attitude was that of a +sister shielding her brother.</p> + +<p>"I'm not unduly inquisitive, am I?" asked Whitlock. "This morning you +practically took me into your confidence because I am a friend of your +brother's. If your brother secretly meets Miss Lorimer in London, +then——"</p> + +<p>"But he does not. He'd never do that," she declared, interrupting.</p> + +<p>"But I repeat what I have already said," my companion remarked quietly.</p> + +<p>"I, too, happen to know that Miss Lorimer is acquainted with your +brother, Mrs Pennington," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"He was acquainted with her, I admit—but not now."</p> + +<p>Her reply struck me as somewhat peculiar. Was she admitting secret +knowledge of the girl's death?</p> + +<p>"Because they quarrelled," laughed Whitlock, carelessly. "Many men and +women quarrel and make it up again."</p> + +<p>"Their quarrel could never be made up."</p> + +<p>"How long ago, then, did the difference arise?" asked Whitlock, for in +this he scented a distinct clue.</p> + +<p>"About two years."</p> + +<p>"Well, it seems as though their differences were settled, and they have +become good friends again without telling you about it," he said. "Your +suspicions of him contemplating marriage were evidently well founded."</p> + +<p>"Marriage!—with that hussy?—absurd!" she exclaimed. "Let's talk of +something else," and we could both see that she was very eager to +change the topic of conversation.</p> + +<p>Whitlock's object, however, was to obtain some further facts concerning +the dead woman. That Mrs Pennington could furnish some very valuable +information was undoubted, but it was equally certain that she would +say nothing for fear of implicating her brother. Of what? Ah! that was +the problem.</p> + +<p>"Well," Whitlock said, after we had been chatting for some time upon +other topics, "I'm sorry, Mrs Pennington, if I've caused you any +unpleasant thoughts by referring to your brother's knowledge of Miss +Lorimer; but, of course, when I mentioned it, I was quite unaware of +the state of affairs."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, no apology is needed, I'm sure," the woman declared. "I—I'm +only thinking what a curious coincidence it is that you should come +here and then turn out to be one of Fred's friends."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is curious. What time do you expect him to-morrow? I'm longing +to see him."</p> + +<p>"At four-thirty, I think."</p> + +<p>"Ah, and then we'll have a good long chat. You'll find him a +first-class fellow," Whitlock added, addressing me. Then turning again +to Mrs Pennington, he said, with a laugh, "I suppose it isn't likely +he's gone to see Miss Lorimer now—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," she replied promptly. "He never goes to London now—or +at least very seldom."</p> + +<p>"Then he isn't up in town?"</p> + +<p>"No. He's been staying with some friends near Burton-on-Trent, and +to-day he's at Darlington."</p> + +<p>By no manner of ingenious questioning could he induce her to say +anything further regarding Louise Lorimer. But we knew we were at last +upon the right trail. We had established the identity of the dead +woman, and, what was more, we knew who was her enemy—two facts of the +very utmost importance.</p> + +<p>After Mrs Pennington had gone Whitlock raised his finger, commanding +silence. He was suspicious that she might be listening outside on the +landing. So he walked to the window and remarked upon the beautiful +evening.</p> + +<p>"I must write a letter or two," he added. "Afterwards we'll go for a +stroll."</p> + +<p>Then he lit a cigar and sat in thoughtful silence, while I took up a +paper and glanced through it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly we heard a slight creaking of the boards outside the door. +Whitlock was not mistaken. An eavesdropper was creeping away!</p> + +<p>We were undecided how to act. Whitlock seemed inclined to leave early +in the morning, so as not to meet the man Stonor, although, of course, +surveillance would be kept upon him.</p> + +<p>For half an hour he fidgeted about the room; then, suddenly saying that +he must go out and find a telephone, asked me to remain there till his +return.</p> + +<p>When he had gone, and I sat alone in silence, I again thought I heard +someone moving very stealthily outside the door. A floor-board creaked, +just as it had done half an hour before.</p> + +<p>This Mrs Pennington and her brother were mysterious. Of that there +was no doubt. They were aware of something concerning the fate of the +pretty Louise Lorimer. Her denials in themselves condemned her. Still, +while we had been in Scarborough we had made important progress. We +had, at least, learnt the name of the victim. Why, I wondered, had the +second woman committed suicide? Was she the actual murderess? Whitlock +was convinced that she was not.</p> + +<p>Evening had crept on, the blinds had been lowered, and the gas lit +by the fluffy-haired housemaid. But I still sat there, smoking +and thinking of Daisy. Every hard, cruel word of hers rang in my +ears—those words of dismissal—because of what? Because of the seeds +of suspicion that had been sown within her heart.</p> + +<p>What was that "double life" of hers at which Whitlock had hinted? What +could it possibly be? Again, who had been his informant against her?</p> + +<p>As a journalist I had vainly believed myself well acquainted +with life's seamy side, but here was I the victim of a plot, the +ramifications of which seemed spread on every hand.</p> + +<p>What could I do? How could I act? Daisy had returned to the arms of her +lover—the criminal Drayton. She believed in him and doubted me. I had +been as wax in her hands ever since the first time I had known her, for +I loved her with a great, all-sacrificing devotion. Surely she had not +been deceiving me from the very first? No. I could never believe that; +I refused to believe it. Those love glances of hers were not feigned. +She had loved me until this man with the shady past—this man who was +my deadliest enemy—had come between us.</p> + +<p>The little clock upon the mantelshelf chimed the hour, and the maid +entered to lay the cloth for dinner. The meal was subsequently brought +up, but Whitlock did not return. He was probably awaiting an answer to +a telephonic message to Scotland Yard, perhaps, for assistance, as we +should no doubt want to leave somebody to keep a watchful eye upon the +movements of the man Stonor.</p> + +<p>Another half hour went by, and being hungry I ate my dinner alone. +Then, having finished and lit a cigar, I became anxious regarding my +friend. What, I wondered, had happened? He had particularly asked me +to await him there, so I could not go in search of him. He might, I +reflected, have had an object in keeping me there, for he was one of +those men who are full of tactful forethought in any emergency.</p> + +<p>I pulled up the blind and looked out upon the moonlit bay. The night +was glorious, but the Esplanade was deserted save for a few loving +couples strolling upon the promenade before the house. From the +left, below the cliff, came up the distant strains of the band at +the Spa, while a prominent feature in the night landscape was the +many illuminated windows of the Grand Hotel standing boldly forth and +dominating the town.</p> + +<p>I must have remained there fully half an hour, watching for his coming, +when of a sudden I espied his figure moving swiftly on the opposite +side of the road. When level with the house, he crossed straight over, +let himself in with the latchkey Mrs Pennington had given him, and +ascended to where I stood.</p> + +<p>As he entered he lifted a warning finger.</p> + +<p>"So sorry I'm late," he began; "but I couldn't get what I wanted in the +town. I tried a dozen shops."</p> + +<p>Then, when the door was closed, he looked straight at me, and said in a +low voice, scarce above a whisper—</p> + +<p>"This woman has warned him."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"She's sent him a wire. I expected she would, so I went to the +post-office and waited for it."</p> + +<p>"Then you've read her telegram?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, and stopped it going through for an hour. I had some +difficulty with the postmaster, who refused at first to be convinced +of my identity till I showed him my card. She took the wire down to +Huntriss Row herself. Afraid to trust it to the servant. Besides, she's +lied to us. He's at the Hotel Russell."</p> + +<p>"The Russell! Why, that's close to the house in Woburn Square!"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. I've 'phoned to Kennedy to keep him under observation."</p> + +<p>"What has she said in her wire?"</p> + +<p>"Told him that we've been making awkward inquiries, that his +acquaintance with Louise is known, and urging him not to return here. +He'll bolt, most probably, but not far without Kennedy after him."</p> + +<p>"And are we now on the right track?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Keene. I really believe we are," was his answer as he selected a +cigar and bit off the end. "We'll tell them to clear these things away. +I don't want any dinner."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE MYSTERIOUS MR STONOR</h3> + + +<p>About half-past ten o'clock Whitlock, who appeared uncommonly restless, +announced his intention of going out for another stroll along the +promenade. The night was bright and glorious, therefore I accompanied +him, and we turned our faces towards the myriad lights of the town +lying in its valley.</p> + +<p>Crossing the Spa Bridge we were quickly in the vicinity of the Grand +Hotel, when he suddenly said he wished to call at the post-office again.</p> + +<p>In Huntriss Row he left me for a few moments.</p> + +<p>"We've had bad luck," he said, on rejoining me. "The telegram has been +returned not delivered, as the addressee has left the hotel."</p> + +<p>"And we don't know where he may have gone to."</p> + +<p>"He's probably on his way here," my friend said. "And now we have to +decide whether to leave, or whether to wait and face him."</p> + +<p>"In either case his sister will tell him of her suspicions," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"That's the dickens of it. I was a confounded fool to say that I knew +him. I ought to have started the matter in another way," he declared, +as we strolled slowly along together by the way we had come. At that +hour there were very few people about, for Scarborough retires to bed +early.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we remain till he comes home—what will happen?" I queried.</p> + +<p>"Both of them are in deadly fear, and he'll clear out again as soon as +ever she warns him."</p> + +<p>"In fear of what?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's the question!" he laughed. "That's what we must find out in +the course of the next few days."</p> + +<p>"Well, if he bolts you can have him watched. He would have bolted just +the same had he got his sister's telegram."</p> + +<p>"Certainly; but it isn't wise that he should see me yet. I may have to +watch him myself," Whitlock pointed out. "If I only had a man here I'd +disappear to-night, and leave him to meet Stonor and watch where he +bolts to. At all hazards he must not know me yet. I've blundered badly, +and must try and recover lost ground."</p> + +<p>"In that case why shouldn't you leave Kazan House, and I'll remain?" +I suggested. "You can keep watch at the railway station for our +appearance."</p> + +<p>"No. If you'll wait here I'll disappear until you follow him and +ascertain his hiding-place. Then I can appear on the scene and you can +return to London. I'll go and see your people at the office to-morrow +and explain your absence, if you like."</p> + +<p>"Very well," I agreed.</p> + +<p>"Then I shan't come into that house any more. Here's the key of my bag. +You can abandon it when you go away, for you'll be off so suddenly you +won't be able to pay Mrs Pennington her bill. Make an excuse for me +to-morrow morning. Tell what lie you like. You've always said you'd +like to do a bit of inquiry work, Keene, and now's your chance."</p> + +<p>"I'm delighted," I said, not without some excitement. "Rest assured +that I'll act with promptness and discretion, and wire to you as soon +as I have anything to report."</p> + +<p>He gave me certain injunctions, and then, at the foot of the Valley +Bridge, we parted, and he turned back into the town, leaving me in +charge of the inquiry into one of the most sensational and important +London mysteries of the past half-century.</p> + +<p>I walked back along the deserted Esplanade to Kazan House, wondering +whether the man Stonor was already on his way from London. He had +left the Hotel Russell, which seemed as though he had started on the +homeward journey. Whitlock had told me that there was a train due in +from London about half-past eleven.</p> + +<p>He might come by that.</p> + +<p>So, entering the house, I sat alone listening for an arrival. Midnight +struck, and I heard Mrs Pennington turning out the gas in the hall and +bolting the front door. It was evident that she did not expect her +brother that night.</p> + +<p>Before I could get to sleep I lay for hours deeply reflecting. It was +nearly a year ago since Louise Lorimer had had her photograph taken in +Bond Street. But with what object did Mrs Pennington persist in those +denials?</p> + +<p>Was this man, whose existence we had discovered in such curious +circumstances, the actual assassin? Somehow, notwithstanding all the +varied suspicions of the past few days, I became convinced that it was +actually Stonor who had killed the woman. Had not his sister declared +to us that the pair were enemies? Had she not asserted that they would +never, in the future, be upon friendly terms? Without doubt, that man +had evidently an object in getting rid of the girl.</p> + +<p>But who was his enemy? Whose hand had written that curious Press +message which had caused us to go to Woburn Square and find the dead +woman's portrait? That it had been done by an enemy was certain. Yet +how could the person in question have surmised that we should discover +Stonor's existence? Mrs Pennington was filled with fear regarding her +brother's safety, and had secretly warned him. Therefore she must be in +possession of knowledge of his guilt.</p> + +<p>The telegraph notice of non-delivery had not been sent to her. Whitlock +had delayed it until the morning, therefore the woman had gone to her +room in the full belief that her brother, having received word from +her, would disappear.</p> + +<p>A thousand regrets concerning Daisy arose within me. Her last words +rang ever in my ears. Loving her as fondly as I did, I somehow refused +to believe those allegations against her. The world is cruel to every +woman, and the pure and virtuous are for ever suffering equally with +their erring sisters. Women are the bitterest enemies towards their own +sex, for gossip, lightly said, easily ruins the reputation of the most +honest and upright, and whispers about defenceless women pass swiftly +from mouth to mouth. A man will always seek to conceal a woman's +shortcomings, while a woman invariably endeavours to expose them.</p> + +<p>It was a woman who was Daisy's enemy, and who had told Whitlock that +extraordinary story of what he had referred to as a "double life." Of +that I was convinced. Some woman, jealous, perhaps, of my love's good +looks, was seeking to ruin her. Who was she? I wondered. I resolved to +discover her identity and learn the truth with my own ears. It was the +only way.</p> + +<p>Before my eyes, as I lay with the gas turned low and my ears strained +to catch every sound, arose a hateful vision—the face of the young man +I had first seen in the Gambrinus, Francis Drayton. They said he was +her lover. What proof had I of that? A very plain one, surely. She had +forsaken me.</p> + +<p>I clenched my hands in anger as I realised the ghastly truth. I was +the victim of that man. But he should, I determined, answer to me for +any wrong that he might have done to her. Daisy had been mine, and she +still should be. I loved her, and I still believed as I had always +believed—that she was pure and good.</p> + +<p>How long I slept I do not know. I dozed many times, until at last I +found the sun shining in from across the sea, and rose. When I sat +down to my breakfast alone it was just nine. Five minutes previously +Mrs Pennington had entered the room fussily, and I had explained my +friend's absence. He had gone to York on urgent business, and would be +back in the evening. He was a civil engineer, I casually explained, +and had gone to York concerning the plans for a new bridge which the +corporation were proposing to build.</p> + +<p>In this she became much interested. It puzzled her, for she no doubt +entertained some suspicion of my friend's real calling. Then, when I +had ordered luncheon, she left the room.</p> + +<p>For an hour I idled over the paper, sitting near the window, whence I +had a view along the Esplanade in the direction of the town. Every cab +that passed caused my heart to beat quickly. A number of people were +taking their morning stroll along the cliff, for the day was perfect +and the sea unusually blue for the Yorkshire coast. I longed to be able +to go for a stroll myself, but was prevented by the fact that Stonor +might return at any moment.</p> + +<p>In ignorance that her warning had not reached her brother, Mrs +Pennington, believing him safe, had grown quite calm again. But it was +a waiting game. I had, of course, no certainty that he would come, +beyond the woman's expectation expressed on the previous night. That +expectation was that he would arrive in the evening, while it was as +yet the forenoon.</p> + +<p>Impatient to be active, I waited in all the morning, seated nearly the +whole time at the same point of vantage, whence I could see without +being seen.</p> + +<p>The day wore on. I had lunched, and was seated in the armchair with +a cigarette when I heard the clip-clap of a horse's hoofs upon the +asphalt outside, and springing up I saw a station-fly stop before the +door. From it descended a man whom I saw in a moment was the person I +expected.</p> + +<p>A trifle stout, aged about forty-five, with small moustache turning +grey, round-faced, and with ruddy cheeks, he wore a well-cut blue serge +suit and a felt hat. The cabman carried his kit-bag inside the hall, +and receiving his fare drove away.</p> + +<p>All this happened within a few moments, and in the brief few seconds +from the instant of alighting until he entered the house I was able to +obtain a good look at his rather bloated features.</p> + +<p>His reappearance had, no doubt, entirely upset his sister. My first +object was not to be seen. As soon as she told him her suspicions +he would endeavour to get sight of me. Therefore, I saw that if the +surveillance was to be conducted successfully I must make myself scarce +before he had time to see me. With that object I placed one or two of +my possessions in my pockets, slipped on my coat, took my hat, and went +down the stairs as noiselessly as I could until I gained the front +door, out of which I walked straight, taking great care that anyone who +might be at the lower windows would not be able to get a glimpse of my +features.</p> + +<p>I walked straight along the Esplanade, crossed by the Spa Bridge, and +went up through the town to the station. There I left my overcoat, and +going forth again to an outfitter's shop in Westborough, I purchased a +light grey coat and a brown hat, which I assumed, telling the shopman +to send my own coat to London. Therefore, save for my dark tweed +trousers, my appearance was changed from what it was when I had left +Kazan House.</p> + +<p>Then I went back to the station, feeling convinced that sooner or later +Stonor would return there in order to get away at once. As he had not +seen my face I would be able to watch and learn his destination.</p> + +<p>There was no train to York for another hour and a half, so, feeling +sure that he would make for York, as from there he could get rapidly +anywhere, I idled in the refreshment-bar. Indeed, I hung about the +place for hours, spending a very weary time. The longer Stonor remained +at his sister's house the more remarkable would my absence be regarded. +Though I might have to wait there many hours, I nevertheless had the +satisfaction of knowing that the fugitive must leave that station +sooner or later.</p> + +<p>The sunset faded and evening was creeping on, when, soon after half +past five, I saw a porter come upon the platform carrying a bag I +recognised, and behind him Stonor himself. At the moment I was looking +at some books upon the stall, but I saw that the man glanced furtively +up and down, as though in fear lest he might be followed. But he walked +to the York train, where his bag was put into a first-class smoker, he +afterwards purchasing a paper and entering the compartment. Presently +I saw a ticket inspector commence the work of examination at the rear +of the train, and half a crown in his palm resulted in his statement a +few minutes later that the destination of "the gentleman in the first +smoker" was King's Cross.</p> + +<p>He was returning to London.</p> + +<p>Therefore, I got a ticket myself and entered a third-class compartment +near the engine. Up to the present he was, I saw, entirely unsuspicious +of me.</p> + +<p>But had I only known what the result of my boldness was to be, I don't +think I should ever have dared to face the risk.</p> + +<p>That moment proved to be the opening of a series of very strange, very +remarkable, and withal exciting adventures, which, if you will bear +with me, I will chronicle as briefly as possible.</p> + +<p>They will, I am confident, amaze you, as much as they amazed myself.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE STEPS OF THE STRANGER</h3> + + +<p>We alighted at York, with just sufficient time to spare to allow us to +catch the up dining-car express from Edinburgh to London.</p> + +<p>As he got out of the compartment Stonor glanced at his watch and looked +up and down the platform as though in search of someone. The passengers +for London, urged on by the porters, rushed up to the further end of +the platform. There the London express was waiting; but not so Stonor, +for he turned into the Station Hotel quite leisurely after leaving his +bag in charge of a porter.</p> + +<p>To follow him there was too risky. Therefore I left the station by +passing through the booking-office, and entered the hotel from the +street a few minutes later.</p> + +<p>I found him seated at one of the small tables in the hall, ordering a +whisky and soda. It was evident that on the way from Scarborough he +had changed his mind as regards his destination, and was now awaiting +another train going in an opposite direction.</p> + +<p>For half an hour he idled, smoking many cigarettes; then at last he +rose and went out again upon the platform and bought another ticket.</p> + +<p>Passing across the bridge to the other side of the huge station he +entered a train, where the collector quickly clipped the ticket. From +the official I learned the destination to be Manchester, and instantly +rushed and bought a third-class ticket for that city.</p> + +<p>Hardly had I entered the train when it moved slowly out of the station, +and from that time till eleven o'clock that night, when I alighted +again, the hours passed uneventfully.</p> + +<p>As soon as I fixed his destination I intended to wire to Whitlock, but +up to the present he appeared to be endeavouring to cover his tracks.</p> + +<p>He went to the Midland Grand Hotel, that place which is always so full +of bustle and movement, but did not engage a room. On the contrary +he had some supper, smoked for an hour in the lounge, chatted to two +men with whom he was apparently well acquainted, and at three o'clock +next morning left Manchester again, with a ticket for Peterborough. +Soon after seven we were at the latter station and he got out, still +in entire ignorance that he was being followed. His appearance was +now considerably altered, I noticed, for during the journey down from +Manchester he had shaved off his moustache, and appeared to have deep +lines upon his countenance that I had not hitherto noticed.</p> + +<p>That he was an adept in effacing himself was shown by this. Indeed, +he had changed his clothes during the journey, and when he stepped +from his first-class compartment I confess that, at first, I did not +recognise him, for he presented the appearance of being at least twenty +years older.</p> + +<p>In the booking-office he purchased still another ticket, and from the +telegraph-office despatched a wire. As regards the latter, not being a +detective, I could not ascertain its address, but the ticket I found +was to Cromer, on the Norfolk coast.</p> + +<p>There was nearly an hour to wait for the train; therefore he sauntered +across to the Great Northern Hotel for breakfast, while I took mine at +the refreshment-bar of the station.</p> + +<p>My one great fear was lest he might see and recognise me. Up to the +present I had succeeded in passing unnoticed. Indeed, I had not shown +myself more than absolutely necessary, and flattered myself that my +efforts at surveillance had, up to the present, been crowned with +success. Why was this man going to Cromer? I wondered. It was certainly +not a port from which he might get away to the Continent. Had he been +going to Yarmouth or Lowestoft I should have suspected his intention +was to get away on board a fishing smack to the Dutch coast.</p> + +<p>Again, what object had he in taking that flying visit to Manchester? It +was true that in the Winter Garden he had met two well-dressed men with +whom he had held a long conversation, evidently upon some matter of +importance, for all three had spoken very seriously together.</p> + +<p>But I was not at all sure that he had gone to Manchester to meet those +men, for he seemed to discover them quite casually. The fact of taking +a ticket to King's Cross from Scarborough showed his intention to +mislead anyone watching or making inquiries regarding him, and he was +now bound for Cromer, where, perhaps, he intended to lie low for the +present.</p> + +<p>The journey from Peterborough to Cromer is a rather slow and tiresome +one, but by noon Stonor was comfortably settled in the Hôtel de Paris, +which, standing on the cliff above the pier, commands a good view of +the town and the country in the vicinity. The hotel was not large, +therefore I decided not to risk anything by putting up there. So I took +a room in another and less pretentious hotel behind the church, but +still kept a vigilant watch upon all the man's actions.</p> + +<p>At the Paris I found later that afternoon that he had given the name +of Ridgman and his address at Stockton-on-Tees. He evidently meant to +remain there at least for another day; therefore I succeeded, after an +hour of patient trial, in getting on to Whitlock by telephone to his +own house.</p> + +<p>When I told my friend where I was he gave vent to an ejaculation of +surprise, and when I explained where Stonor was, and the name under +which he was living, he said—</p> + +<p>"You remain where you are, Keene. I've made it all right at the +<i>Herald</i> office. I'll leave by the seven o'clock from King's Cross, and +bring down a man with me. I expect I'll be with you by midnight. What's +your address?"</p> + +<p>I told him, and he wrote it down.</p> + +<p>"Right you are. Be watchful. He's a wary bird, so mind you're not +spotted. We've found out a bit more. Kennedy's been busy."</p> + +<p>"What further do you know?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you when we meet. I never care about telling tales over the +'phone," he laughed. "Good-bye," and he rang off.</p> + +<p>I idled about quaint, old-world Cromer the whole afternoon, but saw +nothing further of the fugitive. In the square around the church, which +is the natural centre of the place, I whiled away the time looking into +the several shop-windows, not daring to pass either the front or the +back of the Hôtel de Paris lest I should attract his attention unduly.</p> + +<p>With the blaze of the sundown landward, a bright, blood-red glare +shedding over the grey North Sea, I descended the cliff to the +esplanade and sat for a long time near the pier lost in my own bitter +reflections. One thought, one sad memory arose within me always: that +of my sweet-faced love now lost to me.</p> + +<p>Kennedy had discovered some further facts! What could they be? I was +impatient for Whitlock's return, to learn the latest phase of this +complicated and astounding affair. So many people seemed to be in +some way or other implicated in that midnight tragedy at Barnes that +I failed to grasp any other clue than the one we were now so actively +following.</p> + +<p>Whitlock, however, seemed to be directing inquiries in various other +directions, and also appeared to entertain a strong suspicion of the +girl I loved. He was prejudiced against her—prejudiced by something +that had been told him. His very words betrayed what was at the back +of his active mind. The whole problem was an incomprehensible one, yet +our visit to Scarborough had certainly been fruitful. We at least now +knew the name of the dead girl, Louise Lorimer, and it was her past +that Kennedy and Whitlock were now engaged in tracing. The past of a +murdered person will generally show the motive of the crime, and point +to the identity of the assassin.</p> + +<p>The grey waves, tipped with the crimson light of the dying day, slowly +lapped the shingly beach. What, I wondered, would be the end of it all? +What had Kennedy discovered?</p> + +<p>Dozens of times I reflected whether it would be judicious to reveal to +Whitlock the secret of my love for Daisy—whether knowledge of it would +further our inquiries. But I always decided against such a course. +She had, because of that man Drayton, forsaken me. Therefore I would +conceal my own heavy burden of sorrow.</p> + +<p>I did not blame her entirely. My enemy was the man who had uttered some +vile lies concerning me.</p> + +<p>Why was she so antagonistic towards Julian Little? Why, indeed, had +Whitlock's attitude been so curious on that evening when he had called +at Gray's Inn and I had introduced them? I often reflected upon that +incident, and the more I did so the more puzzling it became.</p> + +<p>Daisy's hard words at parting rang ever in my ears. Should I ever see +her again save behind the footlights, in that environment of tinsel +and pasteboard which seemed always so ill-suited to her sweet and +modest demeanour? Daisy Marvin, the idol of audiences at the Oxford, +the Pavilion, the Holborn Empire, and many of the outlying "halls," +became gay and reckless when the curtain rang up for her "turn," but +the instant she came off she was the same quiet-mannered, sweet-faced, +charming girl that I knew so intimately, and who I had vainly believed +would be mine for ever.</p> + +<p>Her pretty face, smart figure, musical voice, and reckless dancing had +already endeared her to half London, and she had only recently had +tempting offers to go to New York and Chicago. But Mrs Marvin would not +hear of it, therefore a three-year contract with the Tivoli had been +entered into instead, and by that she could with justification call +herself a "star" of her profession.</p> + +<p>Most variety artistes, as well as the ladies in musical comedy who call +themselves actresses, have a male admirer lurking somewhere. As far as +Daisy Marvin was concerned I had foolishly imagined myself alone, until +the discovery of that man with whom she had visited the Gambrinus and +afterwards gone to Barnes—the man Francis Drayton.</p> + +<p>The last rays of the blazing afterglow had faded and the sea had grown +cold, grey, and mysterious. A chill wind had sprung up with the close +of the day, therefore I rose and walked slowly to the end of the +promenade, and afterwards reascended the cliff to the town.</p> + +<p>Few people were about, for it was the dinner-hour of the visitors. +Indeed, from where I had been walking I had heard the gong of the +Hôtel de Paris just above, and it reminded me that I myself had hardly +touched food that day. I had existed in such a whirl of excitement that +I had forgotten all about luncheon.</p> + +<p>While walking to my hotel across the square, in which stands the old +square-towered church—a prominent landmark to mariners in the North +Sea—I saw before me a familiar figure in a dark tweed suit. It was +Stonor. He had changed both clothes and hat. Instead of a black bowler +he wore a dark-brown soft felt, and carried in his hand a light cane. +During my absence on the promenade below he seemed to have purchased a +new wardrobe and had got into it.</p> + +<p>Undetected by him, I followed and saw him cross to the post-office. +Peering within, as I passed, I saw that he was writing a telegram. I +looked at my watch and noted that the hour was 7.11. When Whitlock came +I would report this, and no doubt he would go to the postmaster and +obtain sight of the message.</p> + +<p>After despatching it, he posted two letters which he took from his +pocket, and then retraced his steps leisurely to the hotel. It was +evident that he was not yet contemplating another such a journey as he +had just accomplished; therefore, I went at once to my dinner, having +first ascertained that Whitlock was due to arrive at 11.39.</p> + +<p>And I awaited that hour with all impatience.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>REVEALS A CROOKED CIRCUMSTANCE</h3> + + +<p>At midnight Whitlock arrived, and I took him up to my bedroom where we +might talk without an eavesdropper.</p> + +<p>He sat on the edge of my bed, listening to my report upon the movements +of Stonor from the moment he had left Scarborough, without uttering a +word.</p> + +<p>"Suspicious!—very suspicious," he remarked at last. "To me, it seems +as though he feared to be followed, but is now confident that he has +escaped us."</p> + +<p>"Yes. That is exactly my opinion. He is quite unaware of our presence +here."</p> + +<p>"Good. Then I'm half inclined to take a room at the Paris to-morrow. I +should have better opportunities of keeping in touch with him," was my +friend's reply.</p> + +<p>"But what is your opinion of the affair in its present aspect?" I asked +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's the most difficult problem I've ever had to solve during +all the years I've been in the police," he declared. "The further +Kennedy probes, the more extraordinary become the features of the case."</p> + +<p>"But you told me on the telephone that Kennedy had made some further +discoveries."</p> + +<p>"And so he has. He's found out one or two things that add both +interest and mystery to the matter. He's been making inquiries about +Drayton—and also about that girl, Daisy Marvin."</p> + +<p>"About Daisy Marvin!" I gasped. "What about her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well—as I suspected," was his careless reply. "You recollect what +I told you in the train coming North—eh?"</p> + +<p>"About her double life—as you called it?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"Well, what about it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing which really concerns this case. She's only one of a +thousand others on the stage. You know, Keene, in what contempt I hold +the whole world of the variety stage."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you're prejudiced," I declared. "Because there are a few black +sheep you condemn the whole flock!"</p> + +<p>"You're young," he laughed, "and a devotee of the music-hall, of +course. I was the same once."</p> + +<p>"No," I cried resentfully. "Many men and women on the variety stage are +honest and hard-working, and some are, you'll admit, clever in dancing, +juggling, riding cycles, performing acrobatic tricks, and the like. Why +entertain such a strong prejudice! You should leave that to others."</p> + +<p>He laughed, saying—</p> + +<p>"Well, Keene, there's a lot of truth in what you say, of course. But in +the case of Miss Daisy Marvin I don't think Kennedy is mistaken. He's +been very active these past two days."</p> + +<p>"And he's found out, of course, that she has a lover," I remarked +bitterly, "and that his name is Francis Drayton."</p> + +<p>"There's no doubt that a very strong friendship exists between the +pair," he said. "That was surely apparent when we watched them the +other night."</p> + +<p>"But are they lovers?"</p> + +<p>"You seem very interested in the young lady's love-affairs," he +remarked.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've often seen her on the stage, and greatly admire her. I +think she's charming in some of her songs."</p> + +<p>"Take my advice, Keene, and never have anything to do with a +stage-woman."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because they're all the same—deceit and heartlessness. When I was a +young man I loved a girl in the chorus at Drury Lane—in Gus Harris's +time. We used to meet every night at the stage door, and on Sundays I +took her to Hampton Court, Richmond, and other places—six months of +this and then a rude awakening. No, you take my tip and keep away from +the stage if ever you're in search of a wife."</p> + +<p>"And Drayton?" I asked, eager to change the subject.</p> + +<p>"His identity is established without a doubt," Whitlock responded +quickly. "The result of Kennedy's inquiries go to show that the +girl is, by some unaccountable means, entirely beneath the fellow's +influence. Miss Marvin has a confidential maid who accompanies her +everywhere and who dresses her at the theatre. Last night Drayton and +this maid, known as Annie, met in the Horse-shoe in Tottenham Court +Road, unknown to Miss Marvin. The latter was on the stage at the +Oxford waiting for Annie's return. The maid and the man held a long +consultation in private, after which Drayton showed her a letter. The +maid appeared very much perturbed on reading it, and commenced to +upbraid her mistress's lover."</p> + +<p>"Then Drayton is her lover? You admit that," I cried.</p> + +<p>"Well, knowing what we now do, we can only surmise—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Go on," I said hoarsely. I had tried to believe in my love's honesty, +but how could I continue in that belief in face of all that was now +being revealed?</p> + +<p>"The woman quarrelled with the man and appeared to threaten him. They +were sitting in a corner of the private bar, conversing in undertones, +so Kennedy, unfortunately, could not get sufficiently near to them to +overhear what was said. The man, however, was evidently frightened of +her reprisals. She openly threatened him, and when he heard her words +his face fell. Kennedy says that across his countenance spread an +evil look—the glance of a man who had a terrible revenge within his +heart. Yet at the same time he held the woman Annie in terror, for he +presently took from his pocket-book a bank-note and tried to press it +into her palm. But she refused to accept it and pushed it away from +her. Drayton appeared surprised. He had not expected that her attitude +would be so antagonistic.</p> + +<p>"He argued with her, but she merely laughed in his face. He +surreptitiously took out a second bank-note and added it to the first, +but she refused point-blank.</p> + +<p>"'No!' she said, loud enough for Kennedy to hear. 'You've gone too far. +I wish to have nothing further to do with you.'</p> + +<p>"'But you shall,' he cried. 'It's all very well for you to be defiant, +but remember what I can tell if I choose—recollect that you have +already accepted monetary consideration for certain services.'</p> + +<p>"The woman rose as though to go.</p> + +<p>"'No. Wait and hear me!' he commanded. 'I give you till to-morrow at +this hour to decide. I shall meet you here, and then hear your answer. +Consider well, for your decision means whether we shall still continue +to be friends—or whether in future we are to be enemies. Now you may +go.' And she left him without uttering a word. His threat of exposure +had, it seemed, caused a sudden change in her manner. She was now +rather crestfallen than defiant.</p> + +<p>"Kennedy waited and afterwards followed Drayton out. The old servant +had evidently gone to rejoin her young mistress on the stage of the +Oxford. That some conspiracy is in progress was evident."</p> + +<p>"Does Kennedy suspect some plot against Miss Marvin?" I asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Well, it almost seems so," was my friend's reply. "After leaving the +Horse-shoe, Drayton went across to Frascati's, and there met two men +who were apparently awaiting him. They were foreigners—Spaniards +evidently."</p> + +<p>"You said that Drayton had been in Peru," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. They were evidently friends he had known abroad. Kennedy says +that, from their appearance and their ignorance of the life about +them, it was certain they had not been in London very long. Well, they +remained in earnest conversation for half an hour or so, and then +he rose and left them, taking a cab down to the Gambrinus in Regent +Street."</p> + +<p>"That seems to be a favourite resort of his," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. And curiously enough, after waiting there a few minutes he was +joined by the girl against whom he had evidently been conspiring."</p> + +<p>"Daisy Marvin!" I gasped. "And she met him there by appointment?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It's distinctly curious," Whitlock said. "How she gets rid of the +old woman Annie, we don't know. But it's very evident that she's over +head and ears in love with the fellow Drayton. It's a pity, for he's +such an infernal blackguard."</p> + +<p>"A pity!" I cried. "Yes; but, by Heaven, we'll be even with him. He +little dreams of how much we know, does he?"—and I chuckled within +myself as I contemplated my bitter revenge. Daisy had cast me aside in +favour of this good-looking criminal—this man who, though young in +years, was already an adept in crime. My love was in ignorance of the +fellow's past, but ere long I would unmask him, and then she should +choose between us.</p> + +<p>"Well," I said, "and what else?"</p> + +<p>"Very little. They remained chatting together for about twenty +minutes, and then he put her into a cab and told the man where to +drive—her father's house on the Surrey side. After that, Kennedy left +him, resolving to go to-night to the Horse-shoe again at the same +hour and witness the meeting between Annie and the man we have under +surveillance. What has occurred to-night I, of course, don't yet know."</p> + +<p>"The man is her lover evidently," I declared bitterly. "She's +infatuated with him."</p> + +<p>"All girls of her age suffer from an infatuation. It's an infantile +disease—like the measles or whooping-cough—and is seldom fatal," +laughed Whitlock, philosophically. "Every girl begins her womanhood +with an infatuation of some man older than herself, and very soon +learns to dislike him just as much as she once admired him. There is +no harsher critic of a man than a girl still in her teens. This pretty +dancer is in the infatuation stage, but in a month or so you'll see +that the ecstasy will gradually wear itself out, and——"</p> + +<p>"But you believe there is a conspiracy against her," I said. "Ought she +not to be warned?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. When we know the truth—not before. Otherwise we may betray +ourselves to Drayton."</p> + +<p>"But in the meantime, if Annie is compelled to act with Drayton, she +may fall a victim."</p> + +<p>"We must chance that," was his reply, ignorant of my love for the girl +we were discussing.</p> + +<p>"Chance it!" I cried, "and allow her to run such a risk?"</p> + +<p>"The risk is not so very great, Keene. Remember what she is—an +actress. She's well able to take care of herself, depend upon it."</p> + +<p>"Not when she is helpless in her infatuation of that scoundrel," I +declared quickly.</p> + +<p>But to this he made no reply. He changed the subject, asking—</p> + +<p>"Has Stonor met any friend here?"</p> + +<p>"Not to my knowledge," I answered. "Of course some friend may be +staying at the Hôtel de Paris. The place seems full of golfers. It's a +pity I dare not go there."</p> + +<p>"I think I shall make a move there in the morning. I'm at a +disadvantage here."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose the best thing for me to do is to return to town—eh?"</p> + +<p>"No; not yet. I've seen your people at the office and they quite +understand. They told me to tell you to send them some good copy," and +he smiled.</p> + +<p>"Copy!" I cried. "If you'd only let me publish all I know, Whitlock, +regarding this affair, it would make a first-class sensation."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But at present we must keep our own counsel," he answered. +"I know quite well that you view the mystery from a journalistic +standpoint—as a feature, as you call it—in the <i>Herald</i>. I admit that +it is one of the strangest and most complex mysteries that has ever +been given to Scotland Yard to unravel. At present we have a clue, +but whither it will lead us we cannot tell. To be wary and silent is +our present course. While pretending to know nothing, we must be ever +watchful."</p> + +<p>"And Stonor? What do you think of him?"</p> + +<p>"This time to-morrow I may be able to express an opinion. At present I +have not yet seen him."</p> + +<p>I saw by my friend's manner that he was in possession of some +further fact which, though it puzzled him, caused him considerable +satisfaction. He took a cigarette from my case and smoked with such an +air of contentment that I knew he had at last discovered a clue—either +in Stonor and his sister or in Drayton and Daisy Marvin.</p> + +<p>Until the bells of the parish church chimed two o'clock, we sat +chatting in low tones, so as not to be overheard by our neighbours. +Then we parted, to meet again at eight the following morning.</p> + +<p>Shortly before ten Whitlock, with an excuse to the landlord of our +hotel that a golfing friend of his was staying at the Hôtel de Paris, +took his bag and left. Then that day I spent in loneliness, as before, +ever on the lookout for my friend, but never once catching sight of him.</p> + +<p>At six I received a scribbled note telling me to watch the promenade +and see who went upon the pier from seven till eight-thirty. "Be +careful not to be seen," was Whitlock's injunction, "and be in your +hotel to-night at ten-thirty."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, just before seven I descended the steps from the cliff +to the seashore and idled up and down, watching narrowly those who +went upon the pier. Quite a goodly number of persons were taking their +evening airing for the sunset was a glorious one of green, crimson and +gold.</p> + +<p>Suddenly—walking behind two ladies in tweed Norfolk costumes, golfers +evidently—came two men, walking leisurely, enjoying their cigars. Both +were in dark flannels and both possessed the easy gait of gentlemen.</p> + +<p>The first I recognised as Stonor, but when I glanced at the second +I stared and rubbed my eyes. Was I dreaming? Was this a hard, solid +reality? I drew back next instant, fearing lest he should recognise me.</p> + +<p>The discovery was a startling one—more amazing, indeed, than any we +had hitherto made in the whole course of that difficult and searching +inquiry. I stood bewildered.</p> + +<p>Sight of that man—the very last person I had expected to +meet—revealed to me a startling and astounding truth.</p> + +<p>Whitlock was correct. We had found a clue to the assassin of Louise +Lorimer, if not to the motive of the suicide of her friend—the unknown +woman who had killed herself rather than reveal her secret!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +</div> + +<h3>IS DISTINCTLY CURIOUS</h3> + + +<p>The man with whom Stonor was walking on the pier was none other than +Julian Little!</p> + +<p>He was wearing a suit that I had never seen before, and with his hat +slightly drawn down over his eyes there seemed an effort at disguise. +I had imagined him to be in Belgrade, but, on the contrary, he seemed +to be in hiding at the Hôtel de Paris at Cromer. That he had actually +travelled to Servia was proved by the fact that Wakeley had received a +telegram from King Peter's capital announcing his arrival there. But it +seemed most probable that he had, after despatching the message, taken +the Orient Express back again to Ostend, and thence straight to Cromer.</p> + +<p>I looked about, but saw nothing of Whitlock. He had not dared to +follow, lest Little should recognise him.</p> + +<p>Two queries arose within my mind. First, the object of Julian's +subterfuge, and secondly, the reason of his intimate friendship with +the man who had taken the unfortunate girl, Louise Lorimer, to the +photographer's. That the pair were in guilty co-operation seemed more +than possible. If Julian was in hiding, then only to his best friend +could he betray his hiding-place. That was certain. Then, why was this +fugitive his best friend? Surely there must be some guilty bond between +them!</p> + +<p>Whitlock had suspected Little from the very first. The detective's +visit to our chambers in Gray's Inn was the cause of Julian's sudden +flight—an escape apparently well known to Daisy, who had, in other +words, alleged that I was in possession of his secret. The skein was +becoming more and more tangled, and yet had we not returned again to +the Whitlock starting-point—the suspicion of Julian Little?</p> + +<p>I recollected that half-smoked Greek cigarette that we had found in +the empty grate at Barnes—the cigarette of that brand which he alone +had brought from Patras. Again, the story of old Mrs Davis about the +two men endeavouring to enter our chambers. Could one of them have +been Julian? I remembered that he had left his own latchkey upon the +mantelshelf when he had left so hurriedly for Belgrade. There might be +something in his writing-table which he wished to obtain possession of +or to destroy.</p> + +<p>And yet, as I watched the receding figures of the pair as they walked +to the pier-head, I could not bring myself to believe that Julian was +guilty of a crime. He was my friend—my best friend. Old Sir Halliday +Little, of Winholt Hall, had been a life-long friend of my father's, +even while he was still in the Diplomatic Service. My father had been +his guest on more than one occasion at the Embassy in Madrid, where Sir +Halliday had been British Ambassador for seven years, and prior to that +at Athens, where he was Chargé d'Affaires for three years.</p> + +<p>The son took after the father, inasmuch as he was a thorough-going +cosmopolitan—honourable, upright, and with all the pride of honour +characteristic of an English gentleman. No. As I could not believe in +Daisy's wilful deceit, so I could not credit that Julian Little was +implicated in the assassination of a lonely and defenceless woman.</p> + +<p>He and Stonor turned as I watched, and faced me, causing me to quickly +turn away and seek concealment. They were in earnest conversation, +Julian emphasising his words with his index finger, a habit of his when +he wished to impress a fact. Stonor was wholly a listener; he heard +what his friend had to say without offering any comment whatsoever. It +was now quite evident to me that Stonor, alarmed by our presence at +Kazan House, had fled across England and back again in order to evade +anyone that might follow. That he should have failed to discover me was +most fortunate. I, of course, had exercised every precaution, yet I +regarded my first attempt at shadowing with pardonable pride. The man +Stonor flew from Scarborough to confer with Julian!</p> + +<p>Why had the latter been so antagonistic towards Daisy? That she was +equally an enemy of Julian's was proved by those words she had uttered +in Kensington Gardens. True it is that life is a variety entertainment +and things are not what they really seem. Woman has become a term of +endearment, and marriage is a perpetual armistice. The Speaker is one +who seldom speaks, and Parliament is but a popular delusion. Have +these and many other incongruities of our national life never occurred +to you? Have you not seen the honest man "go under" because of his +scrupulous probity, and have you not likewise seen the unscrupulous +swindler in business with his flaring offices, shining brass-plates +and rows of clerks, rise to become a millionaire, give a substantial +donation to "the Party funds," and blossom forth a titled personage +with a suddenly superior air, and a cockade in his coachman's hat? +Truly this England of ours to-day is the world of make-believe.</p> + +<p>I walked back to my hotel puzzled and perplexed. I had never dreamed +that Julian was in England. I knew that he passed from city to city +with a rapidity that often astounded me, but that he should be living +quietly in a seaside hotel had never occurred to me.</p> + +<p>Whitlock must certainly have had some good ground for suspicion from +the very first. But what was it, I wondered?</p> + +<p>Fearing to stroll about the town lest I might come face to face with +my fellow-occupant of the chambers in Gray's Inn, I idled in the hotel +until half-past ten, when, quite punctually, Whitlock was shown up to +my bedroom for greater privacy.</p> + +<p>"Well," he exclaimed, when the door was shut. "You saw them—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It is amazing!"</p> + +<p>"I agree with you, Keene. It is a staggerer," he said. "What is your +friend Little doing here? I thought you said he was in Servia?"</p> + +<p>"I believed him to be in Belgrade," I replied. "Indeed, he wired from +there to the office announcing his arrival, as he always does."</p> + +<p>"And evidently he returned here immediately. Depend upon it, he went to +Servia for some ulterior reason."</p> + +<p>"Nothing connected with the affair we are investigating, surely!" I +remarked. "What connection can he possibly have with the mystery at +Barnes?"</p> + +<p>"Well—he's an intimate friend of Stonor, isn't he? Otherwise the man +from Scarborough would not desire to consult him. You've done well, +Keene, to track Stonor here. I congratulate you upon a very clever bit +of observation."</p> + +<p>"But what are we to do now?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"Remain patient and watch. They'll probably live here for some time, +believing themselves quite safe. I've got Sergeant Beale staying at the +Crown. I've left the Paris and my bag is already at the station. Beale +will go to the Paris to-morrow and learn what he can. Little knows us +both, therefore we cannot be too careful."</p> + +<p>"And do you propose to remain here!"</p> + +<p>"No. We leave by the first train in the morning. The adjourned inquest +is fixed for three to-morrow afternoon and I have to be present. After +that we may return here—or we may not. All depends upon Beale's +report."</p> + +<p>I got my companion a room and we remained smoking until nearly +midnight, when we parted and turned in. Next morning, at eight, we left +Cromer and duly arrived at King's Cross. Snatching a hasty lunch at a +small Italian restaurant opposite the station, we took a cab to Gray's +Inn, where we had a wash and brush-up, and afterwards went by the +"tube" from Holborn to Hammersmith.</p> + +<p>Across Hammersmith Bridge we walked into Barnes, past the empty house +that had been the scene of the mysterious tragedy, and on to the Red +Lion, where the coroner was about to open his adjourned inquiry.</p> + +<p>The public crowded the court, the jury were expectant, and the +reporters and "liners" had pencils ready sharpened to take down some +startling evidence which would form the "feature" of that night's +papers.</p> + +<p>But Whitlock had already arranged privately with the coroner that the +evidence should be vague, and contain nothing which should put the +assassin on his guard.</p> + +<p>The jury having been sworn, the coroner briefly addressed them, +referring to the curious circumstances of the death of the young woman +and the suicide of the other woman, who apparently came to visit her +in secret. It was a nocturnal tragedy, full of mysterious features. He +recalled to the minds of the jury the evidence they had already heard, +and then proceeded to read it over from the sheets of blue foolscap +upon which he had written it.</p> + +<p>This ended, there was a stir in court, and then a tension of excitement +as Inspector Whitlock came forward and kissed the Testament.</p> + +<p>"You are Inspector Whitlock, Criminal Investigation Department?" asked +the coroner, in those businesslike tones he used when dealing with a +professional witness. "Well?"</p> + +<p>"It is not our intention, sir, to offer much additional evidence," my +friend said. "We are still making investigations."</p> + +<p>"Have you established the identity of the deceased woman?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Her name was Louise Lorimer."</p> + +<p>"And address?"</p> + +<p>"She had several. She at one time lived in Scarborough."</p> + +<p>"And the woman who committed suicide?"</p> + +<p>"Her identity is not yet established."</p> + +<p>"I need not ask you if you have any suspicion of any person who was the +enemy of this Louise Lorimer, and who would be capable of taking her +life. That is your own affair. All I would like to know is whether you +propose to offer any further evidence to-day?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. We do not!"</p> + +<p>"Any question of the witness?" asked the coroner of the foreman of the +jury.</p> + +<p>"We would like to know whether Inspector Whitlock has any clue +to—well, to the assassin?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid, sir, that is not a question you can ask," interrupted the +coroner. "Scotland Yard is doing its best, but such a question is, at +this stage, indiscreet, and, if answered, might defeat the ends of +justice."</p> + +<p>"Then I don't see why we should be brought here any more," grumbled the +foreman. "The affair is a mystery, and it isn't yet cleared up."</p> + +<p>"Except in one important particular—the identification of the woman +found shot," remarked the coroner. Then, after a pause, he went on. +"Of course, gentlemen, it rests entirely with you if you return your +verdict to-day, or not. I am quite willing to adjourn, say, for another +seven days, but honestly, I do not myself see the use of it. You are +here to state by what means, in your opinion, these two women came +by their deaths. You have heard the whole of the evidence, and if +you believe that they died from natural causes, you must return your +verdict to that effect. If, on the contrary, you believe they died by +their own hand or by violence, it is your duty to record that fact. It +is not for me to influence you in any way whatsoever. I merely place +the facts before you as I have them here—the evidence of the police +and of the doctors. You see what the post-mortem has shown, and I ask +you to carefully consider whether you would like to conclude the case, +as far as this court is concerned, to-day, or adjourn again?"</p> + +<p>The jury, after a brief consultation, announced their decision to +return their verdict that day.</p> + +<p>"In those circumstances, then," the coroner went on, "it is my duty +to briefly review the whole case as it appears in evidence," and, +clearly and succinctly, he laid the facts, as far as had been given in +evidence, before the twelve local tradesmen who had been empanelled as +a jury.</p> + +<p>The public in the body of the court were very disappointed. They had +anticipated a sensation, but there was none forthcoming.</p> + +<p>For a quarter of an hour the coroner continued to describe the +mysterious circumstances, until, in conclusion, he said—</p> + +<p>"And it now remains with you, gentlemen, to record your verdict. If you +wish to retire you are perfectly at liberty to do so."</p> + +<p>The foreman announced that his brother-jurors wished to consult in +private. Therefore they all filed out into an adjoining room, where for +ten minutes or so they remained with locked door.</p> + +<p>Then, on their return, they reseated themselves, and the foreman, +bending forward, said—</p> + +<p>"We are agreed, sir, that the younger woman, Louise Lorimer, was +wilfully murdered by some person unknown, and that the woman +unidentified committed suicide."</p> + +<p>"What? A verdict of <i>felo-de-se</i>!" exclaimed the coroner, in surprise.</p> + +<p>"No, sir—suicide we mean—while in an unsound state of mind."</p> + +<p>"Very well, gentlemen," replied the coroner. "Then I record that as +your verdict." He wrote it down upon his blue paper, then read it over. +The foreman signed it, and the remainder of the investigation was left +in the able hands of my friend Whitlock.</p> + +<p>That night, the <i>Evening Herald</i> and other papers made a feature of the +verdict, but as I glanced down the column I reflected what a sensation +the real facts, as I knew them, would cause if I only dared to publish +them.</p> + +<p>The verdict had been given, but we were, alas! no nearer the truth.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX</h2> +</div> + +<h3>A NIGHT AT THE SAVAGE</h3> + + +<p>It was Saturday evening, and Whitlock decided to return to Cromer. At +the conclusion of the inquest, in consequence of a telegram he received +from Beale, he made a sudden resolve. I ventured to suggest that to +return might mean detection by Julian Little. But he only smiled, +saying—</p> + +<p>"I shall take good care we do not meet."</p> + +<p>I wished to accompany him, but he would not allow it. One of us was +sufficient, he declared; therefore, about eight o'clock I saw him off +from King's Cross, and walked back to Gray's Inn—lonely and puzzled.</p> + +<p>Old Mrs Davis had nothing fresh to report; but among my letters I found +an urgent note from Wakeley, the news editor of the <i>Daily Herald</i>, +stating that Tewfik Pasha, the Foreign Minister of the Sultan, had +consented to be interviewed regarding the proposal of international +disarmament; that he had appointed a day at the end of next week; +and that "the Chief" had suggested that I should be sent on my first +foreign mission to Constantinople.</p> + +<p>In ordinary circumstances such an order would delight any journalist. +Not only was I to be sent so far, on my first engagement abroad, but +I was to be entrusted with a very delicate and important interview, +which I was to sign, and which would, I knew, be quoted in the Press +of the whole world. Any pronouncement of policy by Tewfik Pasha is of +international importance, and he must be a very wooden journalist who +would not be filled with delight at such an opportunity of earning +distinction.</p> + +<p>With me, however, it was different. I had no desire to leave London, +and yet there were Wakeley's words—</p> + +<p>"I shall be at the office on Sunday night and will have cash ready +for you, also your passport, which I've sent to the Turkish Consulate +for <i>visé</i> for Constantinople. You must leave Charing Cross at nine +on Monday morning at latest, and catch the Orient Express from Ostend +<i>viâ</i> Constanza. I have heard nothing of Little. A wire to the Grand at +Belgrade has been returned. Have you any news of him?"</p> + +<p>I read and re-read my travelling orders. At that moment I would have +given anything to remain in England and watch the course of events. +But it was quite out of the question. I could not possibly disobey +the Chief's wishes in this respect. He trusted me and believed in me, +otherwise he would never have entrusted me with such an important +mission. Besides, I was a Bohemian in spirit—a wanderer who desired to +travel and see the world beyond the stifling four-mile radius and the +smug, self-satisfied civilisation enjoyed by our modern England.</p> + +<p>True, I had "done" one or two of the Continental capitals as a summer +tourist, and had been driven in Cook's chars-a-bancs to the battlefield +of Waterloo and suchlike historic spots, but it had always been the +dream of my life to see the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn, to visit +St Sophia and the Great Bazaar. The capital of His Majesty the Sultan +is, to the majority of Europeans, a closed book. Its beauties are well +known, but few have seen them. Here was surely an opportunity not to be +missed.</p> + +<p>And yet when I reflected upon the urgent necessity of my presence in +England just at that moment, and how it might affect my future life, I +felt sorely tempted to write direct to Sir Henry Neave, and ask him to +relieve me of my engagement. On the other hand, however, I reflected +how all my chances of advancement in my profession depended upon the +success of that mission, and how the Chief might view my disinclination +to travel to the Near East. It was he himself who had given me +advancement, and surely I ought to keep faith with him!</p> + +<p>It was this reflection that decided me. I was hipped and soured by +Daisy's heartlessness, and a change, perhaps, would do me good. I would +be absent at least a fortnight, and would return refreshed in mind and +body.</p> + +<p>So I sent a wire to Whitlock to get on the telephone at ten o'clock +next morning, and then went down to the Savage Club for an hour.</p> + +<p>Saturday night is always merry at that smoke-begrimed home of London's +Bohemia—or, at least, the little that is left of Bohemia. In my own +student days in Paris, Bohemia still existed, and across the Seine we +were a merry, careless crowd, who assisted each other and who never +judged a man by his coat. But the Bohemia of Mürger and of Du Maurier +has long ago departed, and in its place there is in London, as also in +Paris, the little coterie of successful men who assemble weekly and +endeavour to sustain its old traditions and unwritten laws.</p> + +<p>Save in the case of one or two members of the Savage, the real, +thorough-going, felt-hatted Bohemian does not exist nowadays. Even +the last of the race of original Savages—a charming old gentleman in +broad-brimmed hat and flowing cloak—has become changed, indeed, in +these decadent days of "tubes" and motor 'buses.</p> + +<p>Even if one sighs for the free, merry life that is no more—the +life where the successful helped the struggling, and where the +good-fellowship was as genuine to the penniless artist as to the +influential editor—nevertheless Saturday night at the Savage is +still one of the institutions of London, and invitations are eagerly +coveted by some of the highest in the land. The guests at the weekly +house-dinner have ranged from Royal princes down to recently-made +birthday knights, including scientists, explorers, soldiers, lord +mayors, politicians, literary men, doctors—in fact, representative men +in all professions. After the ordinary, plain English dinner the tables +are cleared and a smoking concert is given, the chairman of the evening +keeping order with a huge African club—the Savage club.</p> + +<p>On entering, I found the stairs crowded by men who had come out of the +room "to get a breath of air." Within, the tobacco smoke was thick and +the assembled company were laughing hugely at a humorous recitation +given by Mr O'Neil, an actor of the old school, who for many years had +made the Savage his home, and was in consequence one of its best-known +members. The recitation ended, a loud encore compelled him to sing a +song with a rousing chorus, the final lines of which were—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">"We'll drink strong beer</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To welcome the harvest ho-o-o-ome,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To welcome the harvest home."</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Men I knew waved their hands to me, journalists, artists, sculptors, +most of them, all smoking furiously and consuming whisky and soda.</p> + +<p>The guest was one of the greatest scientists of the day, a +white-headed, sedate-looking man, who blinked upon the company through +his gold spectacles and who rarely laughed, while the chairman was an +alderman who during the preceding year had been Lord Mayor of London. +The Savages have a partiality for ex-Lord Mayors, and no really +representative gathering is complete without one.</p> + +<p>Mr O'Neil was followed by a great naturalist of world-wide fame in +a brief and very humorous lecture upon the common or garden snail, +illustrated by diagrams on the blackboard, which caused great hilarity. +Then came a lightning artist, another recitation, several songs, and +afterwards a selection from a popular play given by an actor who had +recently received a knighthood, and who, in consequence, now considered +the club rather bad form. He patronised it merely because he met +critics there who were of use to him. The whole club were well aware +of this, and despised both him and his conduct, treating him with the +contempt he deserved.</p> + +<p>Presently, as I sat at the end of one of the long, crowded tables, +smoking and chatting with Garnett, the news editor of the <i>Pall Mall</i>, +Wakeley entered and, greeting me, managed to squeeze himself in at my +side.</p> + +<p>"Thought you were in the country, Keene!" he exclaimed. "Got my +letter—eh? When shall you leave?"</p> + +<p>"Well, on Monday morning, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Right! I'll wire to-morrow to our man in Constantinople telling him +you are coming. I've never met him, but I believe you'll find him a +decent fellow," he added, lighting his big briar pipe. "He'll put you +up to all the ropes. I only wish I were going out. What a chance!"</p> + +<p>"Where are you off to, Keene?" inquired Garnett.</p> + +<p>"To see Tewfik Pasha in Constantinople," I replied.</p> + +<p>"What, have you given up crime?" he laughed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered. "I've become a special."</p> + +<p>"Then good luck to you, my dear chap," he said, raising his glass +to me. "That was always my ambition, as it is of every man in Fleet +Street. But it comes to few of us. I'm getting a bit too old, now, and +shall stick in the news-room for ever, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"And I, too," admitted Wakeley, who was undoubtedly the smartest +journalist in all London. "I tried to become a special a dozen times +before I went to the <i>Herald</i>, but nobody would have me!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove! It requires a smart man nowadays to be a special +correspondent!" our colleague of the <i>Pall Mall</i> remarked. "But you, +Keene, are just the fellow."</p> + +<p>"You're very kind indeed to say so," I laughed. "I love travelling."</p> + +<p>"You'll follow in the footsteps of Julian Little, I suppose—his +assistant in fact—eh?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," I said, for mention of my friend's name brought before +me all the tangled skein of events which, amid that smoky scene of +good-fellowship and <i>bonhomie</i> I had, for the moment, forgotten.</p> + +<p>A well-known variety artiste had at that moment seated himself at the +piano and commenced to play and sing a popular song with a catchy +refrain that had recently taken all London. Therefore, the chairman +brought down the big club heavily, and called us to order in a fierce +voice. And so for the next few moments we were compelled to remain +silent.</p> + +<p>The door was closed, and an associate of the Royal Academy had his +back against it, for no Savage enters or leaves the room while a song +or recitation is in progress. Saturday night is the one night in the +week when all are equal, and when the chairman rules. Guests sit meekly +by in wonder at the nicknames bandied about by men whose names are as +household words in the homes of England.</p> + +<p>"Oh! by the way," exclaimed Wakeley, turning to me suddenly—when the +song was ended in a thunder of applause and cries of "Give us another, +old man!"—"have you heard from Little? We haven't the slightest notion +where he is. He went to Belgrade, and hasn't been heard of since. I +know he writes to you often when he's away."</p> + +<p>"No," I replied. "He hasn't written to me."</p> + +<p>"Why, Little's in Cromer," remarked Garnett, who had overheard our +words.</p> + +<p>"In Cromer!" cried Wakeley, in a tone of incredibility. "Cromer—here +in Norfolk?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Certainly."</p> + +<p>"But he's out somewhere in Servia—went out there because of a crisis +he anticipated. He has a free hand—as you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't care for that," Garnett replied. "He was in Cromer three days +ago—I happen to know that as a fact. And a rather curious fact, I +think, when everything is considered."</p> + +<p>"Everything!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean?"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI</h2> +</div> + +<h3>A SERVANT OF THE PUBLIC</h3> + + +<p>Wakeley and I exchanged glances. That Julian Little was actually living +in secret in Cromer he refused to believe. I did not, of course, betray +my own knowledge, but repeated my question to Garnett.</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," he said, "there are sometimes things better left +unsaid—where a woman is concerned, you know," he added, with a meaning +laugh.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed Wakeley. "A woman at the bottom of it—eh? It's always +so. But I did not believe Little to be at all a ladies' man. He's +essentially a traveller, and travellers never dangle at a woman's +skirts."</p> + +<p>"Well," exclaimed Garnett, "if you wait a bit you'll see."</p> + +<p>"What—you surely don't mean a divorce case?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no, not that!" cried our colleague of the <i>Pall Mall</i>. "But +there, that's enough. He's in Cromer, and not in Servia. That's all."</p> + +<p>Wakeley sat puzzled. I knew that he was reflecting deeply by the +deliberate way he knocked the ashes from his pipe. A newly-discovered +entertainer, who had made a hit at the Hippodrome, was giving an +exhibition of thought-reading so wonderful that the whole room sat +silent in amazement. Then, when it had concluded and the door was +opened again, I rose and, wishing my two companions good-night, went +out into the purer air of Adelphi Terrace, where the moon shone +brightly and the rows of lights lined the dark and silent Thames. The +theatres were over, and the Strand was crowded with homeward-bound +pleasure-seekers, of people rushing to the restaurants to snap up their +supper before midnight—the closing hour.</p> + +<p>Obsessed by my own gloomy thoughts I elbowed my way through the crowd +towards Chancery Lane, and duly arrived home at my silent chambers.</p> + +<p>Why was Little in Cromer? At what woman had Garnett hinted? Did he +refer to Daisy Marvin, the woman I had so devotedly loved?</p> + +<p>On the following evening I was down at the <i>Daily Herald</i> office, and +from Wakeley, in his shirt-sleeves and pipe in mouth, I received my +instructions and the draft for money for my journey to the Ottoman +capital.</p> + +<p>He told me what questions to put to His Excellency and the general +lines of the interview, and urged me to obtain, if possible, some +definite expression of opinion regarding the probability of war with +Bulgaria.</p> + +<p>"And remain in Constantinople till I send you word to come home, +Keene," he added. "I may want you to go somewhere else in that quarter. +There seems some little trouble brewing in Roumania."</p> + +<p>"Then I may be away some time?" I exclaimed, dismayed.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I didn't know about Roumania till this afternoon. We've had a +message from our Vienna man. So you'd better take kit for a month. If +you're away longer we can send some more out to you. The Orient Express +takes parcels nowadays."</p> + +<p>And so next morning at nine I left Charing Cross without a soul to wish +me <i>bon voyage</i> on my first trip as special correspondent of, perhaps, +the most influential journal in the world.</p> + +<p>At Ostend I entered the train of wagons-lits which two days a week +links West with East, and, travelling for several days by Brussels, +Nuremberg, Vienna, Budapest, and Bucharest, at last reached at night +the port of Constanza, on the Black Sea. Here a fine steamer conveyed +the half-dozen or so of my fellow-passengers and the many bags of +mail to the entrance of the Bosphorus, and then commenced a slow and +delightful steam up a channel which is acknowledged to be one of the +most picturesque and beautiful in all the world. Were this a book of +travel I could describe the many beauties of that journey up past +white Therapia and the tiny Turkish villages at the edge of the calm +blue waters, until on the left in the misty haze rose the tall, thin +minarets and white domes of Stamboul, of Galata, and Pera, which, piled +tier upon tier and looking fairylike from the sea, make up the Sultan's +capital—Constantinople the Unchanging.</p> + +<p>From the steamer the whole scene was indescribably delightful. The West +had been entirely left behind, and here was the gateway of the glowing +East, the baggy-trousered, befezzed Turk, in a hundred varying garbs, +and of a hundred different races.</p> + +<p>Ashore at Galata, I admit, was a disenchantment, of mud, +scavenger-dogs, corrupt Customs officers, greasy passport officers, and +spies at every turn. But once within the Pera Palace Hotel, high above +the beautiful Golden Horn, all was artistic and full of quaint Eastern +charm.</p> + +<p>The Pera Palace is the centre of Western life in Constantinople. Here +in the midst of Oriental life one has an American bar and one can get +a grill. Travellers, diplomats, concession-hunters, and financiers +are constantly beneath its roof, and all Europeans in Constantinople +naturally drift there, to lounge in its Eastern smoking-room or sip +cocktails in the American bar below.</p> + +<p>In writing this record of curious circumstances and man's cunning it +is unnecessary for me to describe my life in the Sultan's capital, +save to say that Tewfik Pasha—the white-bearded old gentleman in fez +and frock-coat, who is His Imperial Majesty's right hand—received me +very graciously, and with the inborn courtesy of the Turk answered the +questions I put to him. Noury Bey, the Secrétaire-Général and head of +Oriental diplomacy—a fair-bearded and very charming diplomat—was also +present, and both of them did all they could to render my stay in the +Turkish capital as agreeable as possible.</p> + +<p>Previously I had entertained a marked antipathy towards the Turk. I had +viewed him through Western spectacles and adjudged him upon the basis +of the Armenians I had met. But now that I had seen the real educated +Turk at home I could not fail to be fascinated with him, and was +compelled to admit within myself that all my prejudices were absurd. On +every hand I received little kindnesses without thought of reward. The +real Turk is a gentleman of honour, but the Armenian was, I found, the +most unscrupulous blackguard on the face of the globe—notwithstanding +the periodical screeches of our Nonconformist friends at home. Let +those who cry shame upon what they choose to dub "the Sick Man of +Europe" for his treatment of the Armenians in recent years go to Turkey +and see for themselves, as I saw, and they will very soon alter their +opinion. Certainly those who defend the Armenians are not travellers.</p> + +<p>I wrote my interview with Tewfik, and it was duly published in the +<i>Daily Herald</i> and quoted up and down Europe by almost every paper of +note. In the Reichstag and in the House of Commons questions were asked +about it, and the great Turkish statesman, the man who directed the +external policy of the great Ottoman Empire, laughed merrily when we +discussed its effect one afternoon at the Sublime Porte—as the Foreign +Office is called.</p> + +<p>It is the privilege of a special correspondent to mix with all +sorts and conditions of men, and to know the trend of the political +undercurrent. Many a correspondent is, therefore, of great service to +his Government in furnishing confidential information to the proper +quarter—information which he carefully withholds from the public. +In fact, the foreign telegrams one often reads in one's daily paper +are the exact opposite to the truth, and have been sent with one +object—namely, the misleading of the opponent and the furtherance of +British diplomacy in that particular country. Ambassador and journalist +are always good friends, and many has been the day when the former has +scribbled a fictitious despatch and asked his journalistic friend to +telegraph it to London as the truth!</p> + +<p>A whole month went by.</p> + +<p>October was creeping on, and the Bosphorus was, I found, delightful +in the autumn. Across at Scutari I frequently went and spent pleasant +afternoons with "Our Own Correspondent," who was resident in Stamboul, +and who often took me to see the sights—the great mosques, the +Imperial Treasury, the Selamlik and the Sweet Waters of the Bosphorus.</p> + +<p>I had written to Wakeley twice, asking that I might return, but in +reply I had received the one telegraphed word, "Remain." And so +I remained on from day to day, wondering when I might be sent to +investigate the Roumanian troubles.</p> + +<p>Whitlock, in reply to mine, had written me several letters. There was +nothing fresh to report, he declared. All the inquiries we had made had +led him into a <i>cul-de-sac</i>. He was still watching, but rather hopeless.</p> + +<p>Little had reappeared. His excuse to Wakeley, when taunted with having +been in Cromer, was that he had a very dear friend living there who was +lying ill, and that he had been to visit him.</p> + +<p>With the coroner's open verdict the public sensation regarding the +Barnes mystery had now died down. It is amazing what a short memory the +British public possess in these times of the daily "sensations" of the +evening Press. Personally, I was anxious to return home to seek the +solution of the mystery, with which I felt convinced that my lost love +was in some unaccountable way connected. The delights of Constantinople +were all very well and very entertaining, but I was daily longing to +return in order to glean the truth. From Daisy I had had no word. I had +written to her the night before my departure, telling her my address in +the Turkish capital, but her silence showed me only too plainly that +she had given me my <i>congé</i>. Ah! in those warm autumn days beside the +blue Bosphorus, how often I walked along the heights, gazing over to +the Asiatic shore and wondering what the future held in store for me. +Broken-hearted as I was, and, held there in exile because of the duty +imposed upon me, I was powerless. I had ceased to take any interest +in the life about me. My one desire now was to get back to London. In +the European papers reaching me I could discover nothing regarding any +rising in Roumania. As far as I gathered, all was quiet. Therefore, why +was I held there and bidden not to move? Was Wakeley himself conspiring +against my happiness?</p> + +<p>I wrote again to Daisy, but, alas! without result. All was over +between us. I tried not to prejudge her, but I admit that in the +circumstances it was very hard not to do so. Memory of her sweet, +innocent countenance haunted me everywhere. Sleeping or waking, that +unforgettable face was ever with me, ever taunting me with the past +that had been so full of perfect bliss and of a love that I had, alas! +vainly believed would last always.</p> + +<p>And so I lived on in my lonesome exile, fettered, puzzled, unable to +act. Constantly I wrote to Whitlock, asking for news of Stonor, of +Drayton, and of Miss Marvin. But the replies were ever vague, and I saw +plainly that Scotland Yard were gradually disregarding the inquiry, and +relegating the Barnes mystery to the long list of London's unelucidated +mysteries.</p> + +<p>I was helpless, with the present a blank and the future hopeless.</p> + +<p>I loved Daisy Marvin, but she was now lost to me for ever.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE MYSTERIOUS M'SIEUR SMITH</h3> + + +<p>Weeks dragged by.</p> + +<p>From Constantinople I was suddenly ordered to Berlin, thence to Warsaw +and St Petersburg, where I was kept busy describing the reign of +terror, and had little time for reflection. At Moscow I was eye-witness +of a terrible bomb outrage, in which the chief of police and half a +dozen other persons were blown to atoms, and very quickly I found that +as special correspondent on the Continent my life was to be as full of +adventure as it had been when I was the "Murder-Monger" of the evening +edition of the <i>Herald</i>.</p> + +<p>No word had come to me from Daisy, or indeed from anyone at home +except my father, who constantly wrote to me from our dear old home in +Suffolk, kindly encouraging and giving me good advice. Now and then a +brief telegram of instruction came from Wakeley, and one day in our +embassy in St Petersburg, I chanced to pick up a copy of the <i>Daily +Herald</i>, and there saw a signed telegram of Julian Little's, dated from +Chicago. He had, therefore, emerged from his retreat, and was again on +one of his erratic journeys.</p> + +<p>It was nearly seven weeks since I had left Charing Cross, and I +was already tired of the strenuous work in towns with which I was +unacquainted and amid people who spoke a tongue which I could not +understand. True, my knowledge of French and the smattering of German +I knew stood me in good stead, but there was nevertheless always a +difficulty in getting at the root of a matter, and I was always liable +to be misled by any unscrupulous informant who might wish to make the +<i>Daily Herald</i> the laughing-stock of Europe.</p> + +<p>A special correspondent abroad experiences far more difficulties +than the public even suppose. Every influential journal has its +enemies as well as its partisans, and the former are ever scheming to +bring it into ridicule by furnishing false intelligence. It is the +correspondent's first qualification to be able to sift the truth from +the fiction, and be ever wary not to be "had" for purposes of the +Bourse.</p> + +<p>Full of change and excitement as my life was, I had, nevertheless, +already grown homesick because of the woman I so fondly loved. I used +to sit in my hotel in the evening, smoking, reflecting, and trying to +discern the reason why Scotland Yard, having discovered a clue to the +strange affair at Barnes, had suddenly dropped it. What could be the +reason of Whitlock's evasive responses?</p> + +<p>The last letter I had received from him was dated from the Adelphi, at +Liverpool, where, he told me, he was inquiring into a big jewel robbery +on the American Boat Express between Euston and that port. A well-known +woman in New York society had lost nearly forty thousand pounds' worth, +and it had been taken, it was believed, by certain American "crooks." +He made no mention of the Barnes affair, and merely concluded his +letter with an expression of belief that I must be having a better time +in Russia than in London.</p> + +<p>By that same post came something which caused me the greatest +gratification—three scribbled lines from the Chief, and +initialled—lines of satisfaction at the work I was doing. At anyrate, +I was not disappointing them at home, even though I had been thrown so +suddenly upon my own resources without any old hand to guide me.</p> + +<p>Yet, nevertheless, I was anxious to continue that inquiry in London, +and to search out the truth regarding Daisy and the life she led. The +man Drayton—the well-dressed idler who had stolen her heart—had +aroused within me a perfect volcano of jealousy. I was anxious to +follow him and to see with my own eyes the depth of his perfidy.</p> + +<p>Ah! when I thought of my lost love I was beside myself. In all the +faith my innocence could give me, and with all the duty of my soul, +I had served her. And now in my bitterness it became impressed upon +me that to doubt is safer than to be secure. Friendship is but a word +after all; in this life of ours love is everything. Happy the man who +is a stranger to love's enemy, jealousy. Yet fortune rules everything, +and as far as my affection was concerned, she had jilted me. Was it not +Massinger who wrote <i>Nil ultra</i> to his proudest hopes?</p> + +<p>There is no venom like that of the tongue, and it was certain that +to advance his own interests Drayton had lied to her concerning me. +What had he said? I knew that she suspected me to be implicated in +the affair at Barnes, and yet was it not curious that she should also +suspect Julian Little? Did it not appear as though some portion of what +had been told her was the truth?</p> + +<p>From St Petersburg I was sent to Berlin and thence to Hanover, hoping +soon to be recalled to London. Unfortunately, however, a political +crisis arose in Germany and I was compelled to return to the Kaiserhof +Hotel in Berlin, and remain day after day reporting the progress of +events, at that moment of great interest to England.</p> + +<p>Just two months after leaving London I found myself in Paris, at the +Grand Hotel. An automobile show was about to open, and I had been +sent to do a special column of descriptive. I had dined, and upon the +telephone I had just talked to Wakeley and extracted a promise that I +should return to London as soon as the show in question had opened.</p> + +<p>I was passing through the big winter garden, intending to go down to +the Paris office of the <i>Herald</i>, where an old friend of mine named +Dunn was in charge, when, amid the smart, chattering crowd sipping +their coffee at the little tables, I caught sight of a familiar figure +in a plain black evening dress, with a pretty hat of the latest mode, +and a dark wrap about her shoulders.</p> + +<p>She was leaning back in her chair, laughing merrily.</p> + +<p>It was Daisy Marvin!</p> + +<p>And the man with her—the good-looking idler in dinner jacket and black +tie—was Francis Drayton!</p> + +<p>I halted in amazement. Then, in fear lest they should detect my +presence, I turned upon my heel and managed to conceal myself at a +table behind one of the pillars, where I could watch unseen.</p> + +<p>She was dressed with her characteristic neatness, except that her hat +was of striking design and betrayed the hand of the Parisian <i>modiste</i>. +That they were both on pleasure bent was apparent. They had evidently +dined in the restaurant, and were now taking their coffee prior to +going forth to some place of entertainment. The winter garden of the +Grand is always crowded just after the dinner-hour, and is perhaps the +most cosmopolitan spot in all Paris. The <i>monde</i> and the <i>demi-monde</i> +rub shoulders, and the scene is usually full of gaiety and brilliance.</p> + +<p>Daisy was chatting with her cavalier vivaciously, and appeared loth +to go forth from the pleasant surroundings. Therefore I rose, and, +slipping out to the hall, made some inquiries.</p> + +<p>A Mlle. Marvin was certainly among the guests, but the name of Drayton +did not appear on the list. He was not staying there.</p> + +<p>So it seemed as though the fellow was a visitor. She had invited him to +dine.</p> + +<p>I wondered whether Daisy had an engagement at the Jardin de Paris, the +Marigny, Olympian, the Folies Bergère, or one of the other variety +theatres; but although I searched the lists I could not discover her +name.</p> + +<p>Returning to the table, where they were unable to see me, I took a +newspaper and, pretending to read, still watched them. The expression +in her eyes when they met his was sufficient to reveal to me how +entirely and completely the fellow had fascinated her. He was "wanted" +by the police, therefore I would, at the earliest moment, wire to +Whitlock and tell him of the whereabouts of the man who was believed to +have died in Peru.</p> + +<p>That she was beneath his influence was undoubted. Her whole attitude +was that of a woman devoted to her secret lover, hanging upon his every +word; while he, blowing the cigarette-smoke from his lips, basked in +her smiles.</p> + +<p>And this was the woman in whom I had so foolishly believed, the woman +whom I had known as so sweet, modest, and unassuming.</p> + +<p>The steel of a poignant bitterness pierced my soul. I could have risen, +gone over to them, and denounced the man before her. Sorely was I +tempted to do that, yet after all, I reflected, it would be sheer folly +to create a scene. The onlookers would only jeer at me as a jealous +idiot.</p> + +<p>No, I could only watch as I had watched before. That Drayton was +possessed of a guilty knowledge regarding the mystery at Barnes +I had all along been convinced. Was it possible that he—the man +whose existence we had discovered by means of that anonymous Press +message—was the actual assassin of poor Louise Lorimer?</p> + +<p>For fully half an hour they remained there, still laughing and +chatting. In those well-remembered eyes of hers was a love-look +unmistakable. Her companion, with his airy graces, held her enthralled.</p> + +<p>She was bending across to him, speaking very earnestly, laying her +white-gloved fingers upon his arm in order to emphasise her words, but +he on his part treated her with coolest unconcern. He merely smiled +with veiled sarcasm and utterly disregarded what was, most evidently, +an appeal.</p> + +<p>What would I not have given at that moment to have overheard her words? +Though she had forsaken me in favour of this man, whom Whitlock himself +had denounced as a criminal, I, nevertheless, still regarded her as +mine—mine by right of my intense and all-consuming love. I was still +her champion, and he that harmed her would have to answer to me.</p> + +<p>From my place of concealment I watched the superior airs the fellow had +assumed towards the woman who had so unfortunately fallen beneath his +influence, and surely if ever the thought of murder entered my heart it +was at that moment. All the savage instincts of my wild ancestry were +aroused within me, and I felt as though I could rise and strike him +dead where he sat.</p> + +<p>Yet I remained watchful, chuckling within myself at the thought of +their utter ignorance of my presence, and determined to ascertain the +reason of their meeting in Paris. She was staying alone in the hotel; +therefore, if I wished, I might on the morrow meet her accidentally and +demand of her the truth. Yet was such a course judicious? Would it not +frighten Drayton into flight? I had no desire to do this until I knew +what action Whitlock intended to take.</p> + +<p>Indeed, it occurred to me that, as I had been on the telephone to +Wakeley, I could speak to Scotland Yard and leave an urgent message for +him, which he would receive in the morning.</p> + +<p>At last Drayton drained his liqueur glass and put his cigarette-end in +the ash-tray. By this I saw their intention to depart, therefore I rose +and went out to the main entrance, where at a point where I should be +unobserved, I awaited their exit.</p> + +<p>In a few moments they came and, entering a motor-cab, drove away.</p> + +<p>Inquiry of a porter, and a five-franc tip, elicited the fact that they +had gone to Rue Pierre Charron, No. 105, in the Champs Elysées quarter.</p> + +<p>I had believed, by their dress, that they were about to go to a variety +theatre, for Daisy was ever anxious to witness the "turns" of other +artistes, but it seemed that they had gone to a private house—to pay a +call upon some mutual friend, no doubt.</p> + +<p>My duty was to discover that friend's identity; therefore I took +another motor-cab, and told the man to put me down at the corner of +the rather aristocratic thoroughfare in question. No. 105 differed in +no way from dozens of other high houses in the same wide thoroughfare, +and a difficulty arose from the fact that the whole house was a series +of flats, and that it was impossible to discover into which the pair +had entered. The <i>concierge</i>, whom I found in his little den, was, +after the application of a little palm oil, quite communicative. The +English young lady and gentleman had ascended to the second floor—the +right-hand door—the apartment of an eccentric Englishman who had only +taken it furnished a week before, and who seemed a very eccentric +person.</p> + +<p>He was, according to the <i>concierge</i>, a certain "Meester Sme-eth."</p> + +<p>Without a moment's hesitation I resolved to ascertain more of that +interesting tenant, but such resolve was destined to cause me more +adventures than I ever contemplated—adventures which were, to say the +least, most exciting and extraordinary.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THOSE WHO KNEW</h3> + + +<p>I ascended to the second floor, to the door of the small apartment +occupied by the eccentric "Monsieur Smith."</p> + +<p>As I stood on the landing outside I could hear men's voices raised in +altercation.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you!" I heard one man exclaim in English.</p> + +<p>"Then you call me a liar!" cried the other, in anger.</p> + +<p>"It isn't the first time that you've lied to me," was the response.</p> + +<p>"And you come here, to Paris, to tell me this—eh?"</p> + +<p>"I've come to tell you that I'm sick of the whole affair, and the game +wasn't worth the candle. What have I got out of it? Nothing!"</p> + +<p>"Well, and I can say the same."</p> + +<p>"Except that you've tried to mislead me."</p> + +<p>"Mislead you! How?"</p> + +<p>"You've tried to run me into the trap which you and your friends have +so cunningly baited!" shouted the other, in fury. "See here! Here is +the bait. Take her!"</p> + +<p>And I knew that voice was Drayton's!</p> + +<p>A woman screamed. It was Daisy!</p> + +<p>"Bait!" shrieked the other. "You're mad! You're——"</p> + +<p>"I mean what I say!" Drayton declared. "I've brought back the pretty +hostage, and here she is," he laughed. "Take her, and don't try to play +any more of your tricks upon me. I'm quite as fly as you are."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Douglas!" cried the girl, for they were apparently standing in the +small entrance-hall. "What are you saying?"</p> + +<p>"He's insulting both you and me!" replied the mysterious Monsieur +Smith, "and, by Heavens! he shall pay for it!"</p> + +<p>Drayton laughed loudly. Their conversation was, to say the least, +intensely interesting.</p> + +<p>"Those are bold words of yours, my dear sir," he answered airily, in +a lower tone. "But recollect that two can play the good old game of +retaliation. So reflect well before you act."</p> + +<p>"Cease this quarrel, both of you!" cried Daisy, in a frightened voice, +apparently knowing well the desperate character of the pair. "If I am +the bait, as you call it, I can well take care of myself."</p> + +<p>"Don't believe him, Miss Marvin," Smith urged. "This fellow could not +obtain the money he wanted, and now rounds upon his friends."</p> + +<p>"But you are surely not his friend," she protested.</p> + +<p>"My friend!" Drayton cried. "A pretty fine friend, when, if he were not +afraid of his own skin, he'd give me away to that bloodhound Whitlock +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Give you away? What for?" asked Daisy, in all innocence.</p> + +<p>There was an awkward pause.</p> + +<p>"Never mind what for," he answered lamely. "That's my own affair and +nobody else's. You've been used as a decoy, my dear girl, and one day +you'll thank me for daring to make this exposure of the blackguardly +tactics of a man who poses as a gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Smith.</p> + +<p>"What I say," replied Drayton, in an impudent, defiant tone.</p> + +<p>"Be careful what you say."</p> + +<p>"I repeat my words—that you are a blackguard and a liar who baited +your infernal trap with this woman!" shouted Drayton, in anger.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is infamous!" Daisy shrieked. "I won't remain here."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said her companion, "you shall remain, for I will be your +protection against this evil genius of yours—this man who sought to +make me the scapegrace."</p> + +<p>"No!" she cried. "I will not remain. You are cruel to me, both of you!" +and she burst into tears. "Let me go!"</p> + +<p>"No, not yet," responded Drayton. "Please remain calm," and he +apparently barred her passage.</p> + +<p>"Let me pass," she commanded, while I, in fear lest she should emerge, +drew back into a recess upon the dark landing, where I hoped I should +escape notice.</p> + +<p>"First hear me," cried the man who had dined with her at the Grand +Hotel. "To-night, Daisy, we shall part, never, perhaps, to meet +again. But I tell you before this man's face that he is a liar and +unscrupulous. He would have sacrificed your good name, your future, and +the man you love, in order to serve his own ends."</p> + +<p>"Please do not bring Mr Keene's name into this affair," she protested.</p> + +<p>Was this because she had no further confidence in me, or was it because +she still loved me?</p> + +<p>This quarrel had surely opened her eyes to the truth that Drayton did +not care a single straw for her. The mask had fallen from the fellow's +face.</p> + +<p>I was eager to see this eccentric Englishman who, passing in Paris as +Monsieur Smith, had been so openly denounced by Francis Drayton.</p> + +<p>My love's reference to myself held me in suspense, and caused me to +wonder whether, after all, I had not allowed myself to wrongly judge +her. Drayton himself had exposed the manner in which she had been +tricked into becoming the tool of the scoundrel, and the bait of some +ingenious trap which had for its object the betrayal of himself into +the hands of the police.</p> + +<p>To me it seemed as though I were on the verge of a discovery—that at +last the veil of mystery was to be lifted and the real truth revealed. +I stood there breathless, my ears strained to catch every sound.</p> + +<p>From the spot where I had drawn back I could not catch the +conversation, which was still heated. The two men were again in fierce +altercation, while the voice of my well-beloved was raised in protest. +Therefore I risked the sudden opening of the door and stole back into +my previous position.</p> + +<p>"Then I defy you!" I heard Drayton cry. "And, moreover, if you do not +apologise for those words, I'll go straight to the Prefect of Police, +who will be glad of certain information."</p> + +<p>"You dare not do that!" was Smith's defiant reply.</p> + +<p>"Wait and see. I have nothing to lose; you have."</p> + +<p>"You may lose your liberty."</p> + +<p>"Not if I turn King's evidence. That is very easy, you know," Drayton +said. "The affair has blown over now, but it can quickly be re-opened. +Even up to now not a soul suspects why Hetty committed suicide."</p> + +<p>Hetty! Who was she? Could that be the Christian name of the woman +who killed herself in the police-cell rather than reveal the truth +concerning poor Louise Lorimer?</p> + +<p>"And they will never know."</p> + +<p>"Unless I reveal it."</p> + +<p>"Which you will never do, my dear sir," Smith replied. "You are not the +man to incriminate yourself."</p> + +<p>"No; but the object of my revelation will be to retaliate for what you +have told this girl regarding myself."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it—I don't believe anything he's said," Daisy +interrupted, as though eager to end the quarrel. "Come, let us go!"</p> + +<p>"I shall go. You will never, I hope, see me again, Miss Marvin. You +know the truth now."</p> + +<p>"But is it the truth?" she queried, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"I swear it is. Beware of this man. He threw you into my company, and +he intended that you should share the fate of poor Louise—death!"</p> + +<p>"It's a lie!" shouted Monsieur Smith, whose face I longed to see.</p> + +<p>"It is the truth, and I repeat it," was Drayton's reply.</p> + +<p>"Then I see it all," Daisy cried in deep distress, "I see how I have +been made the victim of a foul, despicable plot—how I have been forced +by you to sever myself from the man who loves me dearly, and whom I +love."</p> + +<p>"You mean Keene," Drayton said, referring to myself. "Yes, he loves +you, without a doubt."</p> + +<p>"And he's been prying about with Whitlock," added Smith. "He knows too +much about things already."</p> + +<p>"He will know more when next I meet him," declared Daisy, openly. "I +shall tell him the whole story."</p> + +<p>"No," urged Drayton, "don't. For all our sakes, keep the truth from +him. We should all be misjudged—all of us. Keep your own counsel, but +beware of this man here, who is your bitterest enemy!"</p> + +<p>Would she adhere to her resolve, I wondered. Would she, when I sought +her at the hotel, tell me all that she knew—all that Drayton had +revealed? This man whom I hated was actually turning out to be my +friend!</p> + +<p>The trio retired into a room still altercating, but I could not +distinguish a single word uttered.</p> + +<p>Mine was a tantalising position. Upon the stairs I heard the old +<i>concierge</i> ascending, and was obliged to descend a flight in order +to meet him and give a whispered explanation. In common with all +<i>concierges</i> he was thirsting for information regarding his new English +tenant, so I promised to afterwards satisfy his curiosity.</p> + +<p>Then I again crept upward to the door and listened for words from the +mouth of my sweet-faced well-beloved.</p> + +<p>She was the victim of a plot. That had been most conclusively proved. +She had been fascinated by this good-looking idler, who was also a +criminal, but he on his part had resolved to reveal to her the hideous +truth of how she had been duped.</p> + +<p>My sole hope now was that when I approached her at the Grand, in +pretence of a chance meeting, she would place me in possession of the +true facts. Who was this man Smith—this eccentric <i>Anglais</i> who had +only arrived a week before, and taken furnished the apartments of a +young Spanish diplomat?</p> + +<p>At least I should have an intensely interesting story to relate to +Whitlock!</p> + +<p>Each minute seemed to me an hour, as I waited there, my ears strained +behind the door, listening to the hum of voices, but unable to catch a +single intelligible sentence of the conversation.</p> + +<p>I think a quarter of an hour must have passed. Now the voices were +raised in angry discussion, as accusations were hurled at each other +by the men, and then the altercation fell to a low hum, in which my +well-beloved would join. My position was surely tantalising. Ah! if +I could only catch the whole of those bitter accusations and defiant +retorts! Would they not lead me to a direct knowledge of the truth +concerning poor Louise Lorimer and brand the actual assassin?</p> + +<p>I was so near the truth, and yet, at the same time, so far from it. I +would have given worlds if Whitlock had been with me now, for, by the +exercise of his ingenuity and daring, we might probably learn more than +what I had already gathered.</p> + +<p>The <i>concierge</i> below must have held me in suspicion, for I heard him +moving, probably half inclined to believe that I was a thief, or that I +had ascended there and was lying in ambush with evil intent.</p> + +<p>I heard a telephone bell ringing within the flat of "Mee-ster +Smee-eth," and he himself went to answer it.</p> + +<p>He spoke French excellently, even though he might be an Englishman.</p> + +<p>"Eh—what?" I heard him ask, in a quick, excited voice. "Eh—are you +sure? He's over here—and——"</p> + +<p>There was a pause. He was listening intently with the receiver at his +ear.</p> + +<p>"Thanks for the tip. I won't go near the place. Do you think it would +be wise to leave Paris?" he asked, still speaking in French.</p> + +<p>"Very well. I'll leave the Gare du Nord to-morrow at nine-fifty. Keep +your eyes and ears open, and if you think it safe see me at the train. +<i>Bon soir!</i>"</p> + +<p>I wondered whether either Drayton or Daisy knew French. But the +question was quickly solved by Daisy, who asked in English—</p> + +<p>"Who was that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, only a man who wants me to go with him to-morrow night to a +reception. Nothing. He's a dreadful bore, so I've refused."</p> + +<p>It was therefore evident that neither she nor her companion understood +French, or were aware that he had received a mysterious warning, and +had resolved upon flight.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> +</div> + +<h3>FACE TO FACE</h3> + + +<p>It was after midnight.</p> + +<p>Daisy had just entered her room on the third floor of what is known as +the "Opera quarter" of the colossal Grand Hotel. I had followed her +back, and had seen Drayton take leave of her at the entrance.</p> + +<p>The leave-taking was not exactly cordial, while she seemed depressed +and full of anxiety. Her last words to him were an appeal, but of what +nature I was in ignorance.</p> + +<p>Hardly had she closed the door of her room when, with my mind made up, +I walked swiftly along and tapped loudly. When, a moment later, she +opened it and found herself face to face with me, she drew back with a +startled cry, and her countenance went pale as death.</p> + +<p>"You, Victor! I—I did not know you were in Paris!"</p> + +<p>"I've not been here long," was my reply. "But I'm staying in this +hotel, and seeing you enter a moment ago I could not resist the +temptation, Daisy, of coming to talk to you."</p> + +<p>"At this hour!" she exclaimed in a strangely cold voice. "Why not +to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>She had not invited me in, therefore I suggested we should go +downstairs to one of the public rooms.</p> + +<p>"No," I urged; "to-night, dearest. Do you not still recollect our +parting—and your hard words to me?"</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "we cannot discuss our private affairs here in the +corridor. You had better come inside, at risk of a breach of <i>les +convenances</i>," and she smiled in her old sweet way.</p> + +<p>"Now, look here, Daisy!" I said, when she had closed the door behind +me, and I stood with her near the big dressing-table set in the window. +"I've come to know what you meant by your strange words when we met in +Kensington Gardens—I mean about Julian Little going to Servia in my +interests?"</p> + +<p>She stood before me the same dainty little figure, the same sweet-faced +girl with the well-dressed chestnut hair and great dark eyes that had +fascinated all London, and that had been in secret my own trustful +well-beloved.</p> + +<p>"Why should we discuss that any further, Victor?" she queried, standing +with her hand upon the back of a chair. She had removed her hat before +I entered, and she looked strikingly beautiful in the black dinner-gown +with a bunch of pink carnations in the corsage. She was fond of pink +in combination with black, and had adopted it in several of her +stage-dresses. "You have been abroad quite a long time," she went on. +"Dad told me of your success in Constantinople, and how you had been +sent on to Russia."</p> + +<p>"So you sometimes think of me, Daisy, even though you have treated +me—well, let us say, without consideration—eh?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated, her dark eyes fixed upon me. She seemed at a loss what +to reply to my indictment.</p> + +<p>"Why could you not have waited until the morning?" she asked. "It is so +late, and your presence here is scarcely judicious, is it?"</p> + +<p>"I care nothing for what people may say, dearest," I cried, taking her +hand, and holding it firmly in mine as I looked into those wonderful +eyes of hers. "Surely you know that my whole future, my whole life, +depends upon you? That without your love I am as one lost? Ah! dearest +heart, you cannot know how much I have suffered ever since that moment +when you left me in London, how every hour I have thought of you, how +every day I have longed to return to you and ask you for the plain, +straight-forward truth."</p> + +<p>"But, Victor——" she exclaimed, trying to withdraw her hand. I could +see that she was terrified and unnerved by the quarrel of those two men +which she had witnessed that night, and now my sudden reappearance had +completed her anxiety. She was concealing something. What had she to +conceal? What was this strange secret of her heart?</p> + +<p>"There are no buts, dearest," I interrupted. "I am here because I love +you—because I have never for one moment wavered in my affection for +you," and before she was aware of it I had raised her hand to my hot, +passionate lips. "An enemy has come between us and has poisoned your +mind against me. I am full well aware of that. But why, I beg of you, +do you allow a stranger to break the bond of love which binds your own +dear heart to mine? Is it wise, Daisy? Is it just, either to you or to +me? We were happy—ah! so happy—in each other's peaceful affection +until of a sudden you changed—you doubted me!"</p> + +<p>Her eyes were fixed immovably upon mine. Never before had I noticed +such a strange look upon her countenance—a look that told of the +fierce struggle taking place within her heart. That fellow Drayton held +her fascinated. I knew she had forsaken me on that account. But how +could I tell her so without revealing what I knew?</p> + +<p>"Victor!" she said at last, her voice trembling with emotion. "Will you +not have pity on me?"</p> + +<p>"Pity?" I echoed. "If you are in distress, tell me. Let me assist you, +my darling! You are still mine—or at least I still regard you as +such—even though you somehow appear to have forsaken me in favour of +somebody else."</p> + +<p>To this last remark of mine she raised no protest.</p> + +<p>"You cannot, alas! assist me, Victor," she said simply, her eyes +downcast, her hand trembling slightly in mine.</p> + +<p>"But something is troubling you, my darling," I said. "Tell me what it +is—do!"</p> + +<p>She only shook her head. I could see that her emotion prevented her +from replying. That violent quarrel between Drayton and the mysterious +Monsieur Smith had utterly upset her. Her countenance was still pale +and drawn. Hers was the face of a woman upon whose conscience rested +some great and terrible secret. Was it possible that over her young +life hung the shadow of that dastardly crime at Barnes?</p> + +<p>From the very first she had in some mysterious way been associated with +the mystery. Little, the man at first suspected by Whitlock, had openly +declared himself as her enemy.</p> + +<p>What she was doing at that moment in Paris I did not seek to inquire. I +did not wish to complicate matters further, being myself aware of all +her movements that night.</p> + +<p>Failing to get a word from her in reply to my question, I asked the +reason of her sudden change towards me, adding—</p> + +<p>"You know, Daisy, how all this has driven me to distraction, loving +you as devotedly as I do, and in ignorance of the real reason why you +rose from that seat in Kensington Gardens and left me in that manner. +I can only surmise that there must be some burden of suspicion upon +your mind. Why not reveal it to me, and allow me a chance to make my +defence? Surely," I said, "it is not fair to condemn a man unheard?"</p> + +<p>"No," was her reply, for she had suddenly grown quite calm. "I have not +condemned you, Victor. I—well, I don't know how to put it to you. I'm +puzzled. I have been told something which I cannot really believe. Yet +I have had proof in a certain way that what has been said is the actual +truth."</p> + +<p>"About myself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, about you," she said, looking me in the face unflinchingly.</p> + +<p>"And will you not tell me what this charge is against me?"</p> + +<p>"I have given a promise not to speak to you upon the matter."</p> + +<p>"To whom?"</p> + +<p>"To a friend."</p> + +<p>"But I put it to you, dearest, is this justice? Ought not I to be given +an opportunity of refuting this allegation, and of proving my innocence +of this mysterious charge against me?"</p> + +<p>"You undoubtedly ought," was her reply. "But I, unfortunately, cannot +break my promise."</p> + +<p>"Not when your own future happiness is at stake?"</p> + +<p>"Future happiness!" she echoed wildly. "There is none for me now +that——"</p> + +<p>But she broke off short in the middle of her sentence, and her cheeks +flushed slightly as she realised how nearly she had been to betraying +herself.</p> + +<p>Was it of Drayton's desertion that she had been about to speak when she +suddenly arrested her words? I became convinced that it was, and that +her emotion was more upon his account than in consequence of our sudden +meeting.</p> + +<p>She loved that good-looking fellow, who would, ere long, be again in +the dock. For one thing, however, I entertained an admiration for +him—namely, that he had that night had the courage to denounce the +mysterious Englishman of the Rue Pierre Charron, and reveal to Daisy +how she had been made the cat's-paw of unscrupulous persons.</p> + +<p>I had expected that this latter fact would, in itself, cause her to +return to me. But I was mistaken. Those allegations against myself, +whatever they were, had so impressed themselves upon her that she was +unable to repose further trust in me. I knew, of course, what they +were—that I was implicated in the assassination of Louise Lorimer.</p> + +<p>"Daisy!" I said, very quietly, placing my hand upon her shoulder as I +stood before her and looking straight into those dear eyes, "there is +still happiness for you, the happiness of life and of love, if you will +continue to trust me. Surely you must see that my heart is entirely +yours? In the past our love was perfect, our confidence mutual, and +our hearts were as one. You have hundreds of admirers. You, with your +beauty and grace, cannot avoid it. In your profession your success in +a measure depends in your captivating those of my sex who are patrons +of the variety stage. They believe you to be gay and giddy like most +of the others, and you do not undeceive them. Only I myself know your +true character, that of a sweet, refined, and honest woman, who casts +off her stage manners with her dresses, and who would make a good +wife to the man who honestly loved her. I love you—with all my soul. +Dear heart, forgive me if I have in any way offended you. Kiss me +forgiveness, and let us be as we were before—lovers in secret."</p> + +<p>I bent slowly to kiss her soft red lips, but with a frightened +cry—almost of repulsion—she put me away from her, saying—</p> + +<p>"No! No! I cannot! Leave me, Victor. Leave me! I beg of you never to +approach me like this again."</p> + +<p>"But why, dearest? Surely by right of long friendship, I, on finding +you alone in Paris, may come and pay my respects to you? I don't +understand."</p> + +<p>"No; that's just it. You don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Then, tell me—tell me, darling, I beg of you. Do you doubt my great +love for you?"</p> + +<p>"No. Certainly not. I know you love me—better than any other man could +ever love me," she faltered, her eyes fixed upon the carpet.</p> + +<p>My hand was again upon her shoulder, but I felt a shudder run through +her as I touched her.</p> + +<p>"Then why discard my love?" I urged. "Why not accept it?"</p> + +<p>For a full minute no response came from her lips, but when it did it +held me appalled.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" she echoed, in a hoarse, agonised whisper, covering her face +with her hands and bursting into tears. "Because—ah! you do not know +all, Victor!—because—ah! yes, I—I confess—I must confess to you," +she sobbed—"because—cannot you guess?—I—I am unworthy of your love!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV</h2> +</div> + +<h3>DESCRIBES AN EXCITING CHASE</h3> + + +<p>Soon after nine o'clock on the following morning I strolled through +the big booking-office of the Gare du Nord, in Paris, and out upon the +platform.</p> + +<p>The long green-painted restaurant car express for Calais—the morning +mail to England—was already in waiting, and homeward-bound British +tourists—some of the men in knickers and stockings and the womenkind +in the usual tweed skirt and blouse—began to dribble in and seek +the best places. The <i>maître d'hôtel</i> of the restaurant was busy +distributing his tickets for the first <i>déjeuner</i>, and blue-capped +attendants were conducting passengers to seats previously reserved for +them.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the departure of no train in the world presents such a +changeful picture of life as the Paris-London mail. I have travelled by +it a great many times, both before and since, yet the scenes witnessed +there always fascinate me. One sees the elegant Frenchwoman going <i>en +voyage</i> for the first time in her life, and dreading the fifty minutes +of sea passage; the home-coming tourist, who believes he has had a +holiday because he has put on nailed boots and attempted the fagging +ascent of a Swiss mountain, or who has accomplished a tour of Italy, +including Rome, in eight days; the youth who has just had his first +taste of the much overrated pleasures of "Gay Paree," as he terms it; +the uninterested business man; the home-going schoolgirl, personally +conducted after the completion of her education; and the hardened +traveller who knows which is the best seat in the train and has it, +and who lifts his finger to the chief of the restaurant car and thus +secures a little table to himself.</p> + +<p>And amid the increasing bustle I was seeking for a man I had never +seen—the mysterious Monsieur Smith.</p> + +<p>A P. and O. boat had come into Marseilles on the previous day, and a +crowd of her overland passengers had just arrived, eager to get a sight +of "home" after perhaps years of exile. Huge quantities of baggage were +being registered, and more than one Anglo-Indian carried his solar +topee in his hand.</p> + +<p>It was within ten minutes of the departure of the train, yet, although +I walked up and down, I saw nobody that I knew. Who, among that crowd, +was the man known in the Rue Pierre Charron as Monsieur Smith? One man, +an elderly, grey-haired Englishman with a very red face, was seated +in the corner of a second-class carriage immersed in the <i>Gaulois</i>. I +passed and repassed, wondering if it were he. Among the hundred and +fifty or so departing passengers there were, indeed, several of whom I +entertained suspicion.</p> + +<p>It was tantalising that I had not had an opportunity of getting a +glimpse of him during the previous night. The words of my sweet-faced +well-beloved rang in my ears. "I am unworthy of your love!" she had +cried. Why had she made this confession? Why was she unworthy, if it +were not that Francis Drayton had held, and still held, her fascinated?</p> + +<p>My intention was to endeavour to see her again on my return to the +Grand—to induce her to reveal to me the truth. Who was Louise Lorimer? +Why had she been so cruelly assassinated, and who was the actual +assassin? That she knew all this I was convinced. Behind her public +life as a popular stage-favourite lay a mystery—one that it was her +duty to me, her lover, to confess and to reveal.</p> + +<p>For what purpose was she in Paris? As far as I knew she had no +engagement there. My only conjecture was that she had come to the +French capital to meet in secret the mysterious Mr Smith—the man who +at that moment was, unknown to me, flying back to England. Who had +warned him, I wondered? Whose voice had that been on the telephone?</p> + +<p>My vigilant watch along the train remained unrewarded. No doubt the man +Smith was there, but, not being acquainted with his appearance, I was +unable to identify him.</p> + +<p>My position at that moment was a most annoying and puzzling one.</p> + +<p>The minutes were passing quickly. Most of the passengers had taken +their seats, and people "seeing off" their friends were crowding about +the carriages giving their parting injunctions to write, and wishing +the travellers <i>bon voyage</i>.</p> + +<p>I was standing near the luggage-trucks at the front of the train, and +facing the barrier by which travellers gained access to the platform, +when I suddenly saw a figure hurrying along in search of a seat. He +was the usual late passenger, to be noticed at the departure of every +train, and two conductors, seeing him, began to search the first-class +carriages for a vacant place.</p> + +<p>He was a rather stout man, in a light greenish drab overcoat of sack +shape and a grey soft felt hat. He was clean-shaven, keen-faced, and +beneath the overcoat he wore a dark blue suit, while on his nose he +wore gold-rimmed pince-nez.</p> + +<p>No second glance was needed to tell me the truth. I stood staring at +him when I realised his identity.</p> + +<p>The man approaching me was Frederick Stonor. His altered appearance to +that he had presented weeks ago at Cromer gave me no cause to doubt +that he was the Monsieur Smith of the Rue Pierre Charron, who had +received over the telephone the urgent warning to escape. It was he who +had been so openly charged with being a blackguard by Drayton on the +previous night, he who had been so defiant, and so utterly heedless of +his friend's bitter reproaches.</p> + +<p>The fellow, who was Julian Little's secret friend, and whom Drayton had +accused of using Daisy as a decoy in some ingenious but dastardly plot, +was hurrying along the train, breathless and eager to get away from +France. A little bearded man in neat black, and wearing a bowler hat, +eyed him suspiciously. He was the agent of police, I knew, but, not +having monsieur's description as a person "wanted," he allowed him to +enter the train in search of a seat.</p> + +<p>Cries of "En voiture, messieurs," were at that moment being raised by +the porters. Should I mount the train and follow the fugitive? If I did +so I should have no opportunity of further conversation with Daisy. But +on an instant's reflection I began to query whether such attempt to see +her was wise, having in view the fact that Drayton was in Paris. If I +left for England after Stonor I should still have an opportunity of +seeing Daisy on her return to London in a day or two.</p> + +<p>Stonor's attitude told me that he was in fear, and it was this that +decided me, for just as the train moved away I clambered up into one of +the carriages. In the corridor I was at once pounced upon by a ticket +examiner, and not having one, obtained from him a first-class ticket +for London.</p> + +<p>"M'sieur had plenty of time to obtain a ticket," he remarked, as he +handed me the written voucher.</p> + +<p>"I know," I replied; "but I did not decide to go until the last moment."</p> + +<p>Then I wandered along the train, noted the compartment which the +man from Scarborough had selected, and afterwards went along to the +restaurant car, and there found a seat myself.</p> + +<p>As I had anticipated, the fugitive did not come to lunch, and the +journey to Calais was uneventful. Indeed, I saw nothing more of him +until in the afternoon I watched him, his hat crushed down on his +head, pacing the deck of the Dover boat, his countenance dark and +heavy—essentially the face of a man with a secret.</p> + +<p>His actions were those of a person who feared to be followed, and I +was compelled to exercise the greatest caution not to betray in him +any undue interest. At Calais Station, before embarking, I had sent +an urgent telegram to Whitlock at Scotland Yard, but whether he would +receive it in time to meet us at Charing Cross was an open question. +Part of the time on board he spent chatting with one of the sailors, to +whom he appeared to be giving some instructions, the nature of which +was revealed when he landed.</p> + +<p>Without luggage he had passed along the pier to where the Charing Cross +train was in waiting and entered a compartment, when about ten minutes +later the seaman with whom he had been talking upon the steamer came to +the carriage accompanied by a telegraph boy, who handed him a message.</p> + +<p>This he read, knit his brow slightly, and then, handing both the sailor +and the boy each a tip, he got out of the carriage in which he had been +so comfortably ensconced.</p> + +<p>Receipt of that telegraphic message seemed to have altered his plans, +for he sought out the station-master and of him made some inquiries, +after which both men consulted a time-table pasted up near the +refreshment bar. The fugitive, after some discussion with the guard, +walked along the pier to Dover Town Station, and after half an hour's +wait took train to Ashford. To follow was a precarious undertaking, but +I resolved to risk it. It was evident he meant to avoid London, and +keep some appointment. Ashford reached, he took another ticket, and +after an hour's wait arrived in Guildford.</p> + +<p>It was near ten o'clock when he entered the old-fashioned hotel in +the steep, broad High Street. I continued past the place, and after +the lapse of a short space I turned and entered the bar. The house +is a favourite resort of motorists from London, who run down by that +road, ever popular since the early days of cycling, which passes from +Kingston through Ripley. It was therefore not surprising that several +cars should be standing in the yard, or that a particularly fine +Limousin should be awaiting its owner at the door.</p> + +<p>Stonor was not in the bar, therefore I swallowed the drink I ordered +and then explored the place. I had been there on a previous occasion, +when my journalistic duties had taken me to the county town of Surrey, +therefore I knew the quaint old place, with its wooden staircases, +narrow passages, and odd nooks and corners.</p> + +<p>Pushing open the door of the long, low coffee-room, I peered within, +and there to my joy saw the man whom I had followed from Paris, seated +with a clean-shaven man in motoring overcoat and muffler, with whom he +evidently had an appointment. They were sitting opposite each other, +engaged in earnest conversation. Before Stonor was a formidable plate +of cold beef and pickles, which he was devouring with keen appetite, +while his companion calmly smoked a big briar pipe.</p> + +<p>The man, a perfect stranger to me, was rather refined, with the air and +manners of a gentleman. What was the topic of discussion I could not +possibly discover, for they were conversing in an undertone, fearing, +no doubt, lest the rather shabby, splay-footed English waiter should +overhear.</p> + +<p>In silence I gently pulled back the door again and returned to the bar. +My chase had been a close and hard one, and I hoped that, for that +night at least, it was at an end.</p> + +<p>Drayton's open denunciation had evidently alarmed him, in conjunction +with the mysterious warning he had received over the telephone. His +intention had been to escape to London, but he had received information +which had brought him across country to that old-fashioned town wherein +we now were.</p> + +<p>My second telegram to Whitlock must have puzzled him, for a quarter of +an hour after urging him to meet us at Charing Cross I had despatched a +second wire telling him that I had changed my destination.</p> + +<p>From where I stood in the bar I could keep a watchful eye upon anyone +leaving the hotel, and it was not long before my vigilance was +rewarded. Stonor and his motoring friend came forth and went out to the +"forty" Limousin standing at the kerb.</p> + +<p>As I watched I at once realised Stonor's intention, for opening the +door he took from within a heavy frieze motor-coat, cap, and pair of +goggles, which he assumed in place of his own thin overcoat and felt +hat. The instant I saw that flight was intended I passed back through +the hotel into the garage and of several men assembled there asked if +there was a car to be hired for a run to London.</p> + +<p>At first there was some demur, but presently one young chauffeur +remarked that his master had left him there with the car, having been +suddenly recalled by train to Exeter, and that if it would only occupy +a few hours he was ready to take me for a consideration.</p> + +<p>The consideration I fixed at "a fiver," and without further ado he went +up to a fine, big open car, a "sixty" Mercédes to be exact, started the +engine, and lit the headlights. Then, he having put on his overcoat and +cap, I borrowed a coat of his master's, and just as we were seated side +by side I saw the red car, in which was the fugitive, glide past the +end of the yard on its way down the hill.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> +</div> + +<h3>MORE MYSTERY!</h3> + + +<p>Never, to my dying day, shall I forget that exciting night run.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had we started than it began to pour with rain, and in a few +brief words I told the chauffeur that I was following the red car, the +back-light of which was slowly drawing away from us.</p> + +<p>I no longer feared detection by Stonor, for, muffled up in the big coat +with astrakan collar, and wearing a pair of very disfiguring goggles +with linen flaps, I presented an appearance entirely different to that +I had done a quarter of an hour before.</p> + +<p>"It's that Limousin, sir," remarked the man as we slipped down the hill +almost in silence.</p> + +<p>"What—do you know it?" I asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No. Never seen it before, to my knowledge. Half an hour ago, however, +I had a look round it and found that everything was ready for a long +run. I asked them in the garage whose the car was, but nobody knew. It +came in here this morning, and the owner's driving. It has a London +identification plate."</p> + +<p>"And from that I could discover the owner, I suppose?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>"You might, and you might not," was the man's dubious reply. "If +they're on any crooked bit of business, as from what you say they seem +to be, then depend upon it that their plates are false ones, in order +to mislead the police, providing they're stopped for exceeding the +limit."</p> + +<p>Suddenly we saw the car before us turn off to the right, then again to +the right and up the hill, showing that they had either mistaken the +road or had preferred to go by a roundabout route to turning the car on +the steep incline of the main street.</p> + +<p>"They're making for the Ripley road, after all!" said the young man at +my side. "We'll let them get on a bit, so as not to appear that we're +following them. And they've got an open exhaust, too. What an infernal +row it makes!" he remarked.</p> + +<p>True, the noise of the car before us awakened the echoes of the night +as it ran through the streets of Guildford, at that hour dark and +deserted.</p> + +<p>As my chauffeur had predicted, they took the left-hand road, and ten +minutes later we were tearing along the level, well-kept highway that +runs by Woodlands and Sandhurst to Ripley. The red car, upon which was +a whistle as well as a horn, went at a fearful speed. Rounding the +corner on entering Ripley village it narrowly escaped collision with a +farmer's cart which, without a light and with a sleeping driver, was on +its wrong side of the road. But through Ripley we went like a flash, +and every attempt to gain upon them was futile.</p> + +<p>Shortly afterwards we passed along the edge of the lake opposite the +motorists' hotel called The Hut, and then up the hill and across Ockham +Common, in the direction of Cobham.</p> + +<p>Two cars we passed coming from London, but in the pelting rain all was +blurred. Along the dark, wet road the small red back-lamp remained +ever before us, slowly drawing away from us sometimes, and at others +growing nearer as now and then the chauffeur at my side let her "rip." +The car I was on was a splendid one, and owned by a baronet whose name +was well-known in the political world. Many a time I had, in years gone +by, reported his speeches on platforms and in the House itself. But +I had never dreamed that I should experience a night ride in his car +following a fugitive criminal.</p> + +<p>The chauffeur, whose name was Mills, had thoroughly entered into the +spirit of the chase, and was delighted to find that up to the present +the pair on the Limousin, by reason of the big body hiding out the view +behind, were unaware that another car was behind. While the steady +splutter of their open exhaust rendered hearing impossible, we were +running smoothly—almost, indeed, noiselessly. At half a mile only the +white radiance of our powerful head-lamps betrayed us. With these we +could see our road far ahead of us, and so bright were they—some new +French invention—that more than one person we met shaded their eyes +with their hands, so dazzled were they by the glare.</p> + +<p>Half-way between Fairmile and Esher the tiny red light suddenly +stopped. The keen eye of the man Mills instantly detected it, and +pulling up short, he sprang from the car, and extinguished both our +lights. And not an instant too quickly, for in another moment, though +we were nearly half a mile behind, our presence there would certainly +have been detected. It was a prompt action and one upon which I +heartily congratulated the driver. He was a man of resource without a +doubt.</p> + +<p>The red back-lamp remained stationary; therefore, leaving Mills with +the car, I went forward on foot to get closer and reconnoitre. It was +as we had surmised. A tyre trouble had occurred, and both men with +their overcoats off and one of the headlights set in the muddy roadway, +were at work upon the wheel in frenzied haste.</p> + +<p>Fearing to approach too near, I retraced my footsteps and reseated +myself at Mills' side, watching for the moving of the tiny red light in +the distance. It was at a lonely part of the road, half-way across a +common, where we had halted, and as we sat there I began to experience +the pangs of hunger, remembering that I had had nothing to eat for more +than twelve hours.</p> + +<p>The period of waiting there in the rain seemed interminable, but at +last the car moved forward again, gathering great speed, and quickly +we were through Esher and on towards Surbiton. On such a drenching +night the police had relaxed their vigilance, otherwise we both would +have been trapped for exceeding the limit, for often we must have been +travelling over forty miles an hour. Fortunately the road was too wet +for skidding, or we might have come to grief on the slippery pavement +of Esher.</p> + +<p>"It's evident they're going to London," Mills remarked, as we flashed +through Surbiton. "We shall have to get up nearer presently."</p> + +<p>His surmise proved correct, for presently we passed through Kingston, +and afterwards through Richmond and along to Kew. Outside the Star and +Garter, beyond Kew Bridge—closed at that hour—Stonor first discovered +us, though it was evident that he had no idea that we had followed him +from Guildford. The red car, ascending the short hill from the bridge +leading to the main road through Chiswick to Hammersmith, was pulled +up suddenly, and, next moment, a man in a drab mackintosh emerged from +a doorway, where he had evidently been awaiting the pair, and went up +to Stonor with some hurried information. What the man said we had, of +course, no idea. My first impulse was to pull up at the foot of the +bridge, but next moment I told Mills to pass them and go on towards +Chiswick, which he did.</p> + +<p>As we passed, Stonor—in conversation with the man in the +mackintosh—glanced across at us, but in complete ignorance that we +were following. Surely his had been a roundabout route from Paris to +London. Had he undertaken it in order to evade Whitlock's vigilance at +Charing Cross? Did he expect arrest?</p> + +<p>The man in the mackintosh had raised his finger in emphasis of his +words. He appeared very excited, and all three spoke together quickly. +Just as we passed, Stonor was bending down to the clock upon the +splash-board in an endeavour to see the time.</p> + +<p>"There's some crooked business in progress, I should think, sir," Mills +remarked, after we had passed.</p> + +<p>"Yes. That man is giving them some important information, it would +appear," I said. "Let's go on a bit farther, and then pretend to have a +breakdown. They're sure to come up here if they are going to London."</p> + +<p>"And if they're not? Why, they'll just turn to the left through +Brentford and Hounslow, where they've got the Bath or the Staines road +before them—both main roads to the West."</p> + +<p>"We must take the risk," I decided. "It will not do for them to suspect +that we've followed."</p> + +<p>I saw that Mills believed me to be a detective. His own excitement, and +the sporting way in which he had kept up the chase, told me how keenly +interested he was in its motive.</p> + +<p>Then, about a quarter of a mile further up the broad high road, which +is paved, and along which run those irritating tram-lines, I said +suddenly—</p> + +<p>"Let's run to this kerb and break down here."</p> + +<p>The man obeyed, drew the waterproof sheet from his knees, and in order +to mislead any who suspected us got down and took off the bonnet from +the engine—an action always indicative of trouble.</p> + +<p>We were beneath a gas-lamp and so completely in view. Mills pretended +to potter about with the cylinders, and so realistically did he act +that the driver of a car coming from the direction of Hammersmith +slowed up and inquired if he could be of any assistance.</p> + +<p>"No, thanks," I cried. "Only a broken sparking-plug. Good-night!"</p> + +<p>"Good-night!" cried a cheery voice, and the friendly car drew away +again, and was soon lost to sight.</p> + +<p>For a full ten minutes we had been there, when, of a sudden, we heard +the rhythmic roar of an open exhaust, and the red car flashed past us. +Our trouble was noted by Stonor and his companion, but we furthermore +saw that in the Limousin sat the man in the drab mackintosh.</p> + +<p>When they had passed Mills at once readjusted the bonnet, and after the +lapse of several minutes we sped on over the wood-paving as fast as he +dared go without skidding.</p> + +<p>Not before we had passed Young's Corner did we get another sight of the +car of the fugitive, and then we followed it up through Kensington, +past Hyde Park Corner, up Piccadilly and Shaftesbury Avenue, until +I found that we were in a neighbourhood I had already good cause to +remember.</p> + +<p>We were entering Russell Square. At my orders Mills slowed down. The +car we had been following pulled up suddenly at a short distance +from the house in Woburn Square, which had once been tenanted by the +mysterious Elkington and his wife.</p> + +<p>Stonor and the man in the mackintosh descended and hurriedly bade the +owner of the Limousin adieu. The red car moved off, and the two men +immediately parted.</p> + +<p>The man in the mackintosh walked on towards Euston Road, while Stonor, +not dreaming that he was being watched, so far off were we, out in +Russell Square, crossed quickly to the tenantless house, the door of +which opened noiselessly to receive him, and closed again without a +sound.</p> + +<p>The mysterious Monsieur Smith had sought what he believed to be a safe +asylum.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes I sat upon the car, my eyes strained towards the +abode of the missing pair, the Elkingtons, wondering what I had best do +next. I had tracked Stonor to his hiding-place. What was now to be done?</p> + +<p>Even while I sat pondering a strange thing happened.</p> + +<p>A man ran swiftly down the steps of the house upon which my eyes were +fixed, and, evidently escaping from the place, hurried in our direction.</p> + +<p>As he approached he passed beneath the light of a street lamp—and I +saw his face!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE PALACE THEATRE, HAMMERSMITH</h3> + + +<p>The man who fled from that house was Julian Little! He had escaped in +secret because of the return of his friend Stonor. I had no doubt about +that, because he had not closed the front door after him.</p> + +<p>My motor clothes were sufficient disguise, and as he passed the car he +did not recognise me.</p> + +<p>He disappeared round the corner of the Hotel Russell, leaving me +puzzled and uncertain. Would he return to our chambers? Should I go +there and wait?</p> + +<p>After a few minutes I took the car along to Theobald's Road, and, +descending, paid the man the sum agreed upon, together with a tip, and +dismissed him. Utterly fagged out, I ascended the stairs in Gray's Inn, +entered with my latchkey, and switched on the light.</p> + +<p>At a single glance I could see that Little had not been there in +my absence. All was untouched, even to his latchkey still upon the +mantelshelf. Where, I wondered, were his headquarters in London? Why +had he fled from Woburn Square on the arrival of the man who was so +entirely in his confidence?</p> + +<p>I longed to obtain a peep within that house which, on that +well-remembered night, I had searched with Whitlock—the house wherein +we found the first clue to the truth. During my absence on the +Bosphorus my mind had ever been full of the strange nocturnal tragedy +at Barnes, and now, at the first moment of my return on English soil, I +found myself again watching the progress of an amazing drama.</p> + +<p>Utterly done up I snatched a few hours' sleep, and next morning rang +up Whitlock on the telephone. At eleven o'clock I sat with him at his +office at Scotland Yard relating my adventure in Paris, but, of course, +omitting the fact that I had spoken with Daisy Marvin.</p> + +<p>My friend was sorely puzzled. What I told him did not, it seemed, tally +with the result of his secret inquiries during my absence in Turkey.</p> + +<p>Later that day I went down to the office, and from Wakeley gathered +that Little had suddenly turned up about a fortnight ago and asked +"the Chief" for a month's leave. Things being unusually quiet, he was +at once granted it, and had given an address in county Galway where a +telegram would reach him in case of necessity. Then he had walked out +of the news-room and had not since been seen.</p> + +<p>Through several corridors I walked, and up two flights of stairs until +I gained the news-room of the <i>Evening Herald</i>, where old Marvin was +seated at his table in his shirt-sleeves.</p> + +<p>"Halloa, Murder-Monger! Back again! Well, how did you get on in the +Land of Turkish Delight?" he grunted, without taking his eyes off the +pile of "flimsy" before him.</p> + +<p>I briefly related some of my experiences, whereupon he said—</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd been back again with us the other day, Keene. That Barnes +affair is a devilish good story, and has never been sufficiently worked +up."</p> + +<p>"I'm off crime now," I answered, though rather surprised at his sudden +reference to the matter that was so near my heart.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I know! As special you haven't any further interest in +murder mysteries and domestic tragedies. We've got to get another +Murder-Monger, I suppose? One thing, however, is quite certain: we +shan't get as good a man as you were."</p> + +<p>"You're jolly flattering," I said. "But I've had enough of crime to +last me my lifetime. By the way, how's your daughter getting on? Any +fresh engagements?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. Let's see. She starts at the Holborn Empire and the +Hammersmith Palace on Monday next. Two shows at the first house and one +at the second."</p> + +<p>"'The Motor-Maid,' I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course. It's her most popular song. The week after next she's +at the Pavilion for four weeks, and then starts on a provincial +tour—Manchester, Glasgow, Newcastle—the Moss Empires."</p> + +<p>The Palace of Varieties at Hammersmith! I happened to know all +connected with that very popular place of entertainment—the pleasant +and very gentlemanly proprietor, the genial manager, and the tall, +thin and active, if sharp-tongued, stage-manager behind. It had been +my habit to go there often, for at no suburban hall was there such an +excellent entertainment provided. Mr Rowe, the proprietor, believed +in giving a thoroughly amusing but thoroughly sound programme. He +spared no expense, and consequently the house was crowded nightly by an +orderly and interested audience.</p> + +<p>It was my intention to again see Daisy and speak with her. Therefore +I waited until Monday night, and then took the "tube" to Hammersmith. +By reason of the fact that I sometimes wrote notices of the variety +performances for the <i>Evening Herald</i> I had free <i>entrée</i> to more than +one music-hall in London, including the one in question. Therefore, +after being warmly welcomed by Mr Rowe and his smartly-dressed, +clean-shaven manager, Mr Lewis—who, by the way, was one of the +shrewdest and most genial among music-hall managers in all London—I +went round to "the back" and, passing the fireman at the stage-door, +found myself shaking hands with Mr Dickinson, the stage-manager. He +had just shouted "Lights up!" for a popular female artiste was on the +stage, singing a song with a swinging chorus—a song about love, money, +and green fields—and one or two people were idling in the wings. In +a suit of blue serge, and wearing a yachting cap, he bade me as warm +a welcome as his principals "in front" had done. Tall, thin-faced, +with a slight black moustache, he was at heart a refined, generous, +sympathetic man, with a penchant for photography, but close and nightly +contact with the variety world and its vulgar tastes had rendered him +somewhat callous and hard towards the artistes who came there to fulfil +their engagements.</p> + +<p>He was scrupulously just to the very letter. Once he had confided to me +that "these artistes would simply wipe their shoes on you if you were +not master. So I have very often to be a bit hard on them." But, be it +said, I have never heard a single complaint by an artiste against any +injustice practised by the management of the Hammersmith Palace.</p> + +<p>To those unaccustomed to the little world behind the stage at a London +music-hall, all would appear strange. Nobody is allowed there except +those actually engaged, and, in rare cases, representatives of the +Press, of which I was one. Mr Rowe, the proprietor, was most strict in +this respect, and in every part of the house the most strict decorum +was always displayed. Indeed, the house in all its appointments, in its +entertainment, and its general management, was quite equal to any in +the West End, for Mr Rowe knew what the public wanted and he gave it to +them.</p> + +<p>Though they were in Hammersmith he tolerated no vulgarity upon the +stage, and woe betide the artiste who attempted it. "Behind" was as +decorous as any West End drawing-room, and, perhaps, more so; and the +whole theatre was, indeed, a credit to its merry, round-faced, and +prosperous proprietor, who always had a cheery word for all of his +friends who gathered nightly about him.</p> + +<p>I walked along the stage with my friend Dickinson, to where, against +the corner of the proscenium, was the clock dial which worked the +curtain and the electric numbers corresponding with the programme. The +stage-manager had a seat there, at that moment occupied by a rather +pretty dancing girl, who in her gay skirts and spangled bodice was +awaiting her turn.</p> + +<p>"I saw in the <i>Herald</i> that you've been in Turkey lately, Mr Keene," +my friend was saying, as we stood together watching the girl at that +moment occupying the stage.</p> + +<p>I explained that I was only just back, and wanting an evening's +entertainment I had come down to look him up. Beside him upon a desk +was a ledger, where, in an almost microscopically neat caligraphy, he +booked the time of each artiste, "on" and "off."</p> + +<p>"You've Daisy Marvin this week," I remarked. "What time is she on?"</p> + +<p>He consulted the programme tacked upon the wall, and replied—</p> + +<p>"Oh, about 10.18. She has to come from the Holborn. An excellent turn, +isn't she? By Jove! she's making a lot of money nowadays, and a jolly +good girl into the bargain. Know her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Quite well. Her father's at our office, you know."</p> + +<p>"Of course. I quite forgot. You'll stay and see her—eh?" And, unable +to wait for my reply, he dashed away, shouting some orders to the +scene-shifters, whom his keen eye had detected setting the next scene +wrongly. It was the scene for a sketch, and not being properly done he +gave vent to some forcible language, threw his coat aside, and, nipping +about nimbly, set it himself to show how it should be done.</p> + +<p>A young man with a waxed moustache—his assistant—came to ask a +question about the "limes," and received a quick, decisive answer; and +then came the female dresser, a short, rather thin girl with a merry +face, with a message from one of the artistes who had that moment +arrived and was in her dressing-room.</p> + +<p>By this time the curtain had fallen and "the house" was thundering +applause. Dickinson was shouting and running about, giving an order +here and bestowing condemnation there. Not an instant did he lose, +until at last a young woman in evening dress took up her place upon a +couch in the drawing-room that had been so rapidly built up.</p> + +<p>Then, with a swift glance to see all was right, Dickinson shouted up +to the flies, "Lights up." And next instant the curtain rose, the +orchestra ceased, and the great house was silent in expectation as the +tall, fair girl in the pale blue dinner-gown spoke her opening lines.</p> + +<p>"We can go out now," Dickinson remarked to me with a sigh of relief, +wiping the perspiration off his brow and putting on his coat. "This +plays for twenty minutes."</p> + +<p>And so we emerged from the stage-door and walked up the by-road into +King Street, where, at the private bar at the corner, we had a friendly +glass together, as was our habit whenever I visited the theatre.</p> + +<p>I was standing on the stage with Dickinson watching a pair of humorous +acrobats who were making the audience laugh heartily by their antics +when the musical voice I knew so well exclaimed, "Good-evening, Mr +Dickinson!" and, turning, I found myself face to face with Daisy, +dressed ready to go on. Indeed, she had come along in the brougham from +Holborn just as she was in her short, spangled skirt of pansy velvet, +shaded from the palest tint to the darkest, and its bodice glittering +with golden sequins.</p> + +<p>She started back at discovering me there, but next moment recovered +herself, saying—</p> + +<p>"Only fancy, Victor—you here! I thought you were still in Paris."</p> + +<p>"No," I laughed. "I'm back home again," and together we strolled to the +farther end of the stage, where no one could overhear. "Is Annie here?" +I asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"No. She's not well, so I'm alone to-night."</p> + +<p>"And we can have a chat after you've finished your business—eh?" I +suggested.</p> + +<p>She hesitated, but only for a second.</p> + +<p>"If you wish. Will you wait till I've dressed? Excuse me a moment," she +added, "I've left my fan in the brougham." And she bustled away to send +the stage-door keeper for it.</p> + +<p>I saw that she evinced but little pleasure at meeting me. Six months +ago her face would have been illuminated by real pleasure had we met +unexpectedly like that. To-night, however, there seemed just a slight +shadow of annoyance upon her countenance. And yet how fondly I loved +her—and how I hated that fellow Drayton with all my heart!</p> + +<p>Where was he, I wondered? Was it because of him that she had hesitated +to spend an hour with me after the show?</p> + +<p>How neat and dainty she looked as she tripped back towards me, fan in +hand! I preferred her in her ordinary clothes and without the make-up +which, against her will, she was compelled to use. Yet from the +auditorium, with the white lights upon her, she looked very charming to +the public, who applauded her dancing so vociferously.</p> + +<p>Would I ever be able to take her from that life of glitter and +artificiality and make her my wife? Would she, used as she had now +become to the nightly excitement and the plaudits of the crowd, ever +be able to live without it? Aye, that was the question which often +occurred to me.</p> + +<p>The curtain fell, and the acrobats, perspiring and panting, brushed +past us, one of them asking Dickinson: "How's that, boss? Got a double +encore, you see!"</p> + +<p>"A very good act," responded the stage-manager, laughing. "You're +improving."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," replied the man with the powdered face, red nose, and a +smashed silk hat. "Good-night, old chap," and he passed away into the +dressing-room.</p> + +<p>"Miss Marvin—ready?" shouted Dickinson, touching one electric button +to give the orchestra the cue, and another which caused the heavy +velvet curtains to part, and draw up on either side of the proscenium.</p> + +<p>And next second, Daisy, waiting until the orchestra had played the +opening bars of the song, tripped lightly on to the stage.</p> + +<p>A perfect thunder of applause greeted her from "stalls" to "gods." She +was one of the popular favourites whose portraits looked out upon you +from the window of every post-card shop, and whose catchy songs were +played upon every street-piano.</p> + +<p>With a piquant air and a merry, devil-may-care manner, she sang a +new and somewhat sarcastic song that I had not before heard, called +"Love—Love—Latter-day Love." In it, face-fakers and medicated sleeps +at ten guineas each were referred to, while it was declared that love +was slowly dying—dying of popularity. A tuneful song, with many +references to the humorous side of affection, and yet it somehow jarred +upon me, owing, most probably, to my frame of mind at that juncture.</p> + +<p>But it received a loud and enthusiastic encore, and she dressed swiftly +and went on again to sing "The Motor-Maid," that song which had secured +for her popularity throughout the whole country.</p> + +<p>The gods clapped again and again when she appeared a second time, and +the band struck up the overture. They shouted their rough but hearty +salutations to her, and she, in return, smiled up to them and waved her +hand merrily.</p> + +<p>The song went with a swing and the whole house joined in the chorus, +as it always did, whether at the Oxford, the Tivoli, the Holborn, or +elsewhere. It was the song the words of which had been written by Tommy +Newton of the Savage, and had taken all London. "Tuck up your veil! +Tuck up your veil!" was one of the lines in the second verse, and this +had become a popular saying. "Now, tuck up your veil!" one heard on +every side, the advice being generally given by men to the opposite sex.</p> + +<p>At last she sang the final verse, there was a thunder of applause, and +the great velvet curtains swung to. But the clapping did not cease, +and she was bound to go to the centre of the stage again and bow her +acknowledgments from between the parted curtains.</p> + +<p>Yes. The wild plaudits she received for that song were surely +sufficient to turn the head of any girl.</p> + +<p>She skipped away to the dressing-room, hot and excited after the strain +of singing and dancing, but a quarter of an hour later rejoined me, +neat in a black skirt, close-fitting tailor-made jacket, and black +toque—modist, sweet-faced, and devoid of every artificiality of the +stage. That fifteen minutes had transformed her into an entirely +different being.</p> + +<p>She was the modest, soft-voiced, soft-haired girl I loved so well—the +girl whose bright eyes held me beneath the spell of her wondrous +beauty, and whose voice filled me with enchantment.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she asked, as she came up to me, looking straight into my face. +"Are you angry, Victor? You don't seem yourself to-night!"</p> + +<p>"Let's get away from here," I whispered. "I want to speak to you;" +and together we wished Dickinson—who was busy "booking-in" another +turn—"Good-night."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> +</div> + +<h3>MY LOVE'S CONFESSION</h3> + + +<p>The big dress-basket had been placed upon the hired brougham, and +we were within the vehicle going at a jog-trot past the West London +Hospital in the direction of Kensington.</p> + +<p>She had repeated her question why I was not myself that evening, but +I had evaded it. Then we sat silent for a long time. I was holding +her soft, ungloved hand in mine, for even though I was distracted by +the enigma that had, through all those weeks, become more and more +complicated, yet it surely gave me happiness to be once more beside the +woman I so dearly loved.</p> + +<p>You all of you, do love, or have once loved. Therefore you know the +sweet and silent ecstasy of the first moments of being alone together +after a long and bitter parting.</p> + +<p>I did not know what to say, so full was my heart. Whitlock, the famous +police agent, had failed utterly to unravel the mystery which grew +daily more inscrutable and more impossible of solution. Only the +sweet-faced, soft-voiced woman at my side knew the truth.</p> + +<p>"Dearest," I said at last, drawing her closer to me until her face was +near my own, "I have come to ask you what you meant the other night in +Paris when you made that strange assertion that—that you were unworthy +of my love—you, who are all the world to me!"</p> + +<p>She tried to release herself quickly, and I felt her trembling.</p> + +<p>"No! Victor, you are cruel! Why refer to it? Why have you come to me +like this to-night? Ah! my God! you do not know—you don't know how I +suffer!"</p> + +<p>"For what?" I asked in a low whisper. "Why not, dearest, confide in +me?" I urged persuasively.</p> + +<p>She was silent for a few moments.</p> + +<p>"Did I not tell you in Paris? We are best apart in future."</p> + +<p>"Because you doubt me—eh?"</p> + +<p>"And because I have no right longer to your love," she said in a voice +of mystery.</p> + +<p>"I can't make it out," I declared, still holding her hand. "Why have +you so suddenly taken up this extraordinary attitude, Daisy?"</p> + +<p>She only sighed. By the ray of light from a shop-window I saw that her +countenance was now deathly pale. The sudden change it had undergone +was remarkable and startling.</p> + +<p>I repeated my question clearly, perhaps even a trifle harshly. The +existence of Drayton flashed across my mind. Had he actually supplanted +me in my well-beloved's affection?</p> + +<p>"I have already confessed to you, Victor," she faltered at last in a +low voice. "I told you the truth in Paris."</p> + +<p>"But why—why do you tell me this? Why are you unworthy of my love?"</p> + +<p>"One day you will, perhaps, discover for yourself," she responded +hoarsely, sitting bolt upright, her face turned from me.</p> + +<p>"I confess I cannot understand this self-condemnation of yours. Surely +you should give me some reason!" I cried, dismayed. "You know full well +how dearly and sincerely I love you, darling."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered in a mechanical voice. "Unfortunately, I do. +But——"</p> + +<p>"But what?" I asked, pressing her hand and trying to draw her nearer to +me.</p> + +<p>"But love and happiness can never come to us again, Victor," she said +in a sad voice full of emotion. "Our dream has ended."</p> + +<p>"No, it has not!" I cried decisively. "I love you, and you are mine, +even—even if, as you tell me, you are unworthy. Daisy—you shall be +mine," I said in a hard, fierce tone. "I will not allow you to pass +from me like this. I care nothing for your self-condemnations, nothing +for your declarations of unworthiness. You have been my love, and you +still are, and still shall be."</p> + +<p>She started at my words, and, turning, peered into my face.</p> + +<p>"And if I refuse?" she asked in an unusual tone. "What then?"</p> + +<p>"It makes no difference. You have told me, long ago, that you loved no +other man but myself, and I believe your words."</p> + +<p>"Ah! that was long ago," she answered. "A woman changes her mind +sometimes, you know."</p> + +<p>"And you have changed yours!" I gasped, staring at her. "Do you mean to +tell me that you have discarded me, the man who loves you better than +his life, in favour of that fellow?"</p> + +<p>"Of what fellow?" she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Of Drayton," I said, boldly. "I do not forget your attitude in +Kensington Gardens."</p> + +<p>"Of him!" she gasped, staring at me, as though she suddenly realised +a truth that she had not dreamed before. "Ah! I see. You believe +that—that I have deceived you, Victor!" she exclaimed quickly.</p> + +<p>"I only believe what I have seen with my own eyes," I said vaguely, for +I had no intention of explaining to her how with Whitlock I had watched +her movements. She, of course, believed that I referred to Drayton's +visit to Paris.</p> + +<p>"My confession of unworthiness had no connection with that man," she +said in a low, intense voice.</p> + +<p>"Come," I said, after a long pause, "let us end all this, Daisy. I love +you, and I refuse to accept your self-condemnation. You have assured me +that the fellow Drayton is not your lover."</p> + +<p>"I swear he is not, Victor," she cried hastily. "I—I love no one else +but you."</p> + +<p>I drew her closely to me, as, with a sigh, her head fell upon my +shoulder, and I kissed the cold lips again and again, while at the same +moment a slight shudder ran through her frame.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she cried, putting me away from her a moment later. "Why +have you come—to torture me—to recall all the past? My life is—God +knows—bitter enough."</p> + +<p>"Why should it be?" I asked in surprise. "Why are you not frank with +me? You have taken a great burden from my mind, dearest, in telling me +that I have misconstrued your regard for Drayton; and you have gone +farther—you have admitted that you still love me. Ah! you cannot tell +what peace your words have brought to me, or how deeply and devotedly I +love you!"</p> + +<p>"And yet," she said in a strange voice, turning to look me full in the +face as a gleam of light illuminated the interior of the brougham—"and +yet you still refuse to tell me the truth regarding Julian Little!"</p> + +<p>"The truth regarding Julian!" I echoed. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You surely know," she said.</p> + +<p>"Ah! you mean the motive which took him to Servia," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"I mean the real reason why he has been so long in hiding."</p> + +<p>"That, dearest, is as great a mystery to me as it is to you," I +declared. "He has not entered our chambers in Gray's Inn since the +strange affair down at Barnes. But, tell me, why are you so greatly +interested in that occurrence?"</p> + +<p>"I have a very strong reason to be, Victor," was all the reply she +would vouchsafe. "You have made many inquiries, I know. Have you yet +established the identity of the assassin?"</p> + +<p>"No. Unfortunately I have not," I replied. "But, truth to tell, I have +always had a suspicion that you know more of the secret history of the +affair than anyone else."</p> + +<p>She started visibly.</p> + +<p>"I? Why, whatever makes you think that?" she laughed, uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Because your actions somehow convinced me that you knew more than +either Scotland Yard or myself," I responded quite frankly. "I began +to investigate the affair in order to obtain sensational 'copy' for +the <i>Evening Herald</i>, but my connection with the affair has apparently +caused you to suspect me of complicity. Why, is a complete mystery."</p> + +<p>"You have refused to answer my questions, remember, Victor," she said +in a rather hard tone. "I have been investigating, just as you have +been."</p> + +<p>"And you apparently suspect Julian?"</p> + +<p>"I have made no allegation," she answered. "I have merely asked you to +tell me what you knew, and you refused."</p> + +<p>"As I have before told you, dearest," I said, "I have no knowledge of +Julian's connection with the affair, save that Whitlock held suspicion +of him from the very first."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. Who, I ask, could have sent those bogus Press messages, +except a man who had intimate knowledge of the ways of correspondents? +Why did he escape to Servia, and then return to Cromer and live in +hiding?"</p> + +<p>"You knew he was at Cromer, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and he is now here, in London, in secret. I caught sight of him +last night."</p> + +<p>"Then you have not yet given up your inquiries?"</p> + +<p>"No, I shall never give them up until I have fully established his +guilt," she cried furiously, and I saw, in the faint glimmer from a +street lamp, that upon her white countenance was a look of desperate +vengeance. Why, I wondered, was she so bent upon bringing the assassin +to justice? Was it possible that the two unfortunate women were her +friends? Why, indeed, had she gone to Paris to see the mysterious +Monsieur Smith?</p> + +<p>Suddenly she said—</p> + +<p>"You repeat, then, that you are entirely in ignorance of Little's +motives?"</p> + +<p>"Entirely. I have heard nothing from him since the day following the +tragedy."</p> + +<p>She gave vent to a long-drawn sigh, and sat back in the carriage +without uttering a word. Her self-condemnation puzzled me. Why did she +declare her unworthiness? Was it merely because she had doubted me, and +now saw that I had spoken the truth?</p> + +<p>My love for her was boundless. True, I had more than once found myself +doubting her, and had suspected her of double-dealing. But now that she +had denied it I had become reassured, and found myself more than ever +filled with affection for her sweet self.</p> + +<p>"Why should this mysterious affair be allowed to interfere with the +love we bear each other, darling?" I asked, placing my hand upon her +shoulder and kissing her soft cheek. She made no protest, but merely +sighed again.</p> + +<p>"Will you allow it?" I asked. "Surely your interest is also my own! And +have you not only a few minutes ago admitted that you are still mine as +completely as you ever were?"</p> + +<p>"I know! I know!" she exclaimed, hoarsely. "But—Victor—you do not +know——"</p> + +<p>"Know what?"</p> + +<p>"Know all that this means to me," she cried, bursting suddenly into +tears. "You say that you love me; but—but when you know the truth you +will hate me!"</p> + +<p>And she sobbed aloud, giving way to a fit of deep remorse.</p> + +<p>I sat beside her entirely mystified, and unable to utter a single +sentence.</p> + +<p>She seemed as though she was condemning herself for the actual crime!</p> + +<p>"Hate you!" I exclaimed at last. "Why, Daisy—why should I hate the +woman I love?"</p> + +<p>"Because—because—ah! no, I can't tell you. I can't! You love me, and +I cannot in one moment turn all your love to hatred. Ah! no—no"—and +throwing her arms wildly about my neck, she clung to me, sobbing +bitterly and saying: "let me drink the cup of my happiness to the +dregs. And—and," she sobbed, "you will think of me sometimes, Victor; +think of me as a woman who loved you fondly—who dared to love you, +notwithstanding her guilt——"</p> + +<p>"Guilt!" I gasped, taking both her soft hands and looking straight into +her haggard face. "Guilt! Speak! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"What—I—say," she answered in a hollow voice of despair.</p> + +<p>What could I answer? I sat dumbfounded, in silence, listening to her +broken breathing and her low sobs.</p> + +<p>Of what was she guilty? Of one thing only—of a crime I dare not +recall. Why was she so antagonistic towards Julian Little? Was it +because he alone knew her secret and, perhaps, had actually been one of +the conspirators who caused the tragic death of Louise Lorimer and her +unidentified friend?</p> + +<p>While I sat there pondering, with my well-beloved at my side, the +brougham suddenly pulled up. I had not heard Daisy give any order to +the coachman, so I presume he drove to the address where he had been in +the habit of taking her each evening after the show.</p> + +<p>She suddenly realised where we were, and gave vent to a low scream.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she cried wildly to the coachman. "Not here! I—I +forgot—I——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Daisy," I said in as quiet a tone as I could command, "let us +alight here. You evidently know this house. Come."</p> + +<p>I got out and helped her to descend. And like one in a dream I followed +her up the short flight of steps, where the front door fell back to +receive her.</p> + +<p>We were entering together the dark, silent house in Woburn Square—the +grim house of doom.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> +</div> + +<h3>TO THE UNKNOWN</h3> + + +<p>Behind her I passed into the dark hall. The door of the dining-room +was closed, but from within I heard voices—voices raised in high +altercation.</p> + +<p>The man who had apparently been watching for the arrival of my +companion, and who had opened the door, was tall and bearded—a perfect +stranger to me.</p> + +<p>He threw back the door of the dining-room, where a curious scene +presented itself.</p> + +<p>My companion, uttering a cry, drew back in alarm, while I stood upon +the threshold, scarcely knowing where I was. All was so sudden, so +entirely inexplicable. The room, with its old-fashioned furniture, was +well lit, and within stood two men. I could hardly believe my own eyes, +for before me stood Stonor—the mysterious M'sieur Smith of the Rue +Pierre Charron—and standing near him was my friend Whitlock.</p> + +<p>My friend, the police officer, was quite as surprised as myself. He +looked from me to my companion, and then exclaimed—</p> + +<p>"This is certainly a surprise, Mr Keene. I had no idea that you would +come here, especially with Miss Marvin."</p> + +<p>"Nor I. But," I asked, "why are you here?"</p> + +<p>"To perform a duty," he answered. "I have just placed this man, +Frederick Stonor, <i>alias</i> Elkington, under arrest for the murder of +Louise Lorimer at Barnes."</p> + +<p>"Arrest!" I gasped, staring at Stonor, and yet not without surprise, +while Daisy was too confounded to speak.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Didn't you recognise the sergeant who admitted you?"</p> + +<p>"It's a lie!" declared Stonor, defiantly. "I never killed the girl. You +have arrested me wrongfully."</p> + +<p>"Then let us say 'on suspicion,'" remarked Whitlock, a sarcastic smile +overspreading his ruddy features. "And recollect that all you've told +me already may be given in evidence against you on your trial."</p> + +<p>"I do not fear any evidence," he said. "I am innocent, perfectly +innocent. I know quite well that you came to Scarborough, that you +watched me. My movements may have been suspicious, but I shall be +interested to see what proofs you have against me."</p> + +<p>"You knew the poor girl well," I said, looking him straight in the +face. "You took her to have her photograph taken."</p> + +<p>"I quite admit that, but I had no knowledge of her assassination until +afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Until after your wife, Hetty Stonor, had committed suicide," +interposed Daisy.</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed Whitlock, turning to my well-beloved. "Was the woman +who took her own life the wife of this man?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But—but I know that he is innocent," she declared. "Are you a +police officer?"</p> + +<p>"This is Inspector Whitlock, of Scotland Yard," I said.</p> + +<p>"Then he has no right to arrest Mr Stonor," she said. "The man who +killed poor Louise is your friend, Julian Little."</p> + +<p>"He did not, any more than myself," cried Stonor, whom we, however, +knew to be his friend in secret.</p> + +<p>"We shall inquire into that all in due course, Miss Marvin," Whitlock +said. "But it seems that you know something of this case. Perhaps you +will kindly give us some information, and we will see if it tallies +with the results of our investigations."</p> + +<p>"I have told you the truth," she said in a harsh, strained voice. "Mr +Little is the guilty person."</p> + +<p>"I do not differ from you," said Whitlock; "but I go farther, and say +that this man here is equally guilty."</p> + +<p>"We shall see," laughed Stonor, in defiance. "Do your worst; but +remember that if you arrest me I shall hold you responsible for illegal +detention."</p> + +<p>"On suspicion, remember," Whitlock said, with a smile. It was evident +that some further information had reached him during the past day +or so, and he had resolved to take the bull by the horns and make +the arrest. It had been quite obvious from the first that Stonor was +implicated in the tragic affair, but we had never dreamed that the +woman hitherto unidentified was actually his wife. Besides, Little, who +had been suspected from the first by Whitlock, had acted in a manner +which betrayed fear of arrest.</p> + +<p>Yet why, after that scene in Paris, where Drayton had openly denounced +Stonor, should Daisy seek to secure his liberty? Why was she so sure of +Julian's guilt?</p> + +<p>I shall ever remember the startling scene that night—the man under +arrest, standing defiant, the inspector cool and somewhat sarcastic, +and my well-beloved, with countenance pale as death and trembling +hands, seeking to shield that man whose wife had taken her own life +under such extraordinary circumstances, and of whose guilt there could, +after all, be no doubt!</p> + +<p>"Mr Little returned to his chambers this evening," Whitlock said. "He +is under observation and we will go to him later."</p> + +<p>"You need not trouble. He will be here at midnight. I have an +appointment with him," Stonor said.</p> + +<p>"Then you admit an intimate friendship—eh?" remarked the detective.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. We are friends."</p> + +<p>"And he is the assassin!" declared Daisy. "He killed poor Louise!"</p> + +<p>"You will have to prove your allegation, Miss Marvin," Stonor said in a +quiet voice. "I have not forgotten your words in Paris the other night."</p> + +<p>"Nor have I forgotten the exposure which Mr Drayton made concerning +yourself," she cried. "It was you who endeavoured to part me from the +man who is to be my husband—the man who is here beside me."</p> + +<p>Whitlock started and stared at me.</p> + +<p>"Is this true, Keene?" he asked in surprise.</p> + +<p>I admitted that it was, and that a secret engagement had long existed +between the popular artiste and myself.</p> + +<p>At this he seemed puzzled, for he reflected for a full five minutes. +Then, turning to her, he asked—</p> + +<p>"What causes you to suspect Mr Little?"</p> + +<p>"I need not say," was her answer. "I know that he killed Louise—that +is all."</p> + +<p>"I believe you know Mr Francis Douglas Drayton?"</p> + +<p>"Intimately," was her prompt reply. "He is my half-brother. My mother +married again."</p> + +<p>"Your half-brother!" I gasped. "Why, Daisy, you never told me that, and +I have all along been jealous of him."</p> + +<p>"I had no idea of that until to-night, when I saw how foolishly I had +acted. But, now that you know the truth, dismiss him from your mind. In +this affair he has acted openly and honestly, and he has saved me from +becoming the victim of that man who now stands before us."</p> + +<p>A look of anger crossed Stonor's face. Had she been a man he would, I +am certain, have knocked her down. But as it was he only said, with a +bitter smile playing about his mouth—</p> + +<p>"You will regret one day, Daisy, the scandalous allegations you are +making against me."</p> + +<p>"Allegations! Have I not told them that you are innocent of the blood +of Louise Lorimer, although you cannot deny that you loved her."</p> + +<p>"I do not deny it. I did love her, and I have been searching to +discover the poor girl's secret assassin."</p> + +<p>"You have long ago found him in Julian Little," she said. "He played +you false."</p> + +<p>"As you have played this gentleman here—whose name I don't know," he +responded, indicating myself.</p> + +<p>Was he referring to the mysterious guilt which she had asserted +prevented her from accepting my affection to the full. I watched her +face, and saw that she had gone white to the very lips.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Stonor went on. "You and your half-brother Drayton may denounce +Little and myself, but one day the truth will be out and our innocence +established."</p> + +<p>"One moment," interposed Whitlock. "Am I correct in believing that this +Mr Drayton has been abroad for some years—in Peru and other places?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly he has been in Peru. He made, I believe, quite a comfortable +sum there by fortunate speculations."</p> + +<p>I exchanged glances with Whitlock. There were some closed chapters of +the life of her half-brother of which she was, no doubt, in complete +ignorance. And certainly she would not know that he was at that moment +wanted by the police.</p> + +<p>A detective-sergeant, whom I recognised as one of Whitlock's men, +entered the room and whispered something, but what he said I could not +hear. It was evident that my friend had called there unexpectedly, +while several of his men had surrounded the house where, before his +wife's tragic death, Stonor had lived under the name of Elkington. +The information that the Elkingtons had been young people—obtained +originally, I believe, from a milkman—had rather misled us, for, +later, we discovered that Elkington—or Stonor, as he was known to +us—had let the house furnished after the strange death of his wife, +and that the tenants were the young people who had gone away suddenly +and to whom the milkman had referred.</p> + +<p>A cab, sent for by Whitlock, was at the door, it appeared, ready to +take Stonor to the police-station.</p> + +<p>"I regret," said the man whose suspicious movements I had watched both +in Scarborough and Cromer, addressing Whitlock, "that you should think +fit to act like this. You apparently do not wish me to give you any +information."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary. I merely said that any denial or any statement you +may make will be used in evidence against you. It is the law, you +know," replied my friend, politely, while the sergeant stood awaiting +the orders of his superior.</p> + +<p>"At least allow me to remain until Little's arrival," urged the +prisoner. "He must be here in a moment, and he will perhaps convince +you that I am not the culprit."</p> + +<p>"But he is," declared my well-beloved.</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" inquired Whitlock. "What evidence have you?"</p> + +<p>"I can bring forward a person who knows the truth," she said. "Arrest +Julian Little, the murderer of poor Louise, my schoolfellow and friend, +and I will furnish ample evidence of his guilt."</p> + +<p>"Then, in your opinion, Miss Marvin, this gentleman here is not the +actual assassin?" Whitlock remarked.</p> + +<p>"I express no opinion except that, knowing what I do, I think you are +defeating the ends of justice by arresting him. I do not say he is an +upright or an honest man—far from it. Indeed, if I cared, I could +reveal certain things concerning him which would probably bring about +his arrest upon an entirely different charge, but, mark me, he is not +the secret assassin of Louise Lorimer. It was to his interest that the +girl should live."</p> + +<p>"But who was the girl?" I asked the woman I loved so dearly. "What was +the secret of that house at Barnes?"</p> + +<p>"Ask the man before you," she replied, indicating Whitlock's prisoner, +whose face fell at her direct accusation. "Or, if he will not tell, ask +Julian Little."</p> + +<p>"I am well aware that Mr Little was at the house at Barnes on the +evening preceding the tragic affair," Whitlock said. "He was identified +as having entered the house supposed to be tenantless, and therefore, +from the first moment when the inquiry was placed in my hands, I have +entertained a good deal of suspicion concerning him."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. And you will discover that what I have told you is correct," +Daisy said. Then, turning to me, she added, "Forgive me for saying +this, Victor, of a man who is your friend."</p> + +<p>"I cannot yet discover why you are so bitter against him," I remarked. +"What harm has he ever done to you?"</p> + +<p>"He killed Louise, my friend."</p> + +<p>"Tell us the reason of the girl's presence in that tenantless house," +urged Whitlock, addressing Stonor, "and why she was engaged at that +secret telegraph instrument!"</p> + +<p>"I am now under arrest," was his reply. "Ask Little. If he chooses to +tell you he can do so."</p> + +<p>"And if he does not?"</p> + +<p>"Then I shall say nothing," he replied briefly.</p> + +<p>"You still assert your innocence?" Whitlock asked, rather surprised at +the man's demeanour.</p> + +<p>"I do. Take me to the station if you wish, but not before you have +questioned Julian Little."</p> + +<p>"You imply that he is implicated in the affair with you," said the +inspector, drily. When dealing with a prisoner he always spoke abruptly +and to the point.</p> + +<p>"I imply nothing, and I refuse to make any further statement," Stonor +said, with an attempt at carelessness. "Miss Marvin has told you that I +am not guilty."</p> + +<p>"That has yet to be established," remarked the inspector, quietly.</p> + +<p>"And I will establish it," Daisy said, standing bolt upright and facing +Whitlock boldly. Her attitude was most extraordinary, having regard to +what had taken place in Paris.</p> + +<p>I did not know what to think.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL</h2> +</div> + +<h3>CONTAINS A GRAVE CHARGE</h3> + + +<p>There was a movement at the door and Little entered.</p> + +<p>His face was full of blank surprise when, on looking around, he +recognised Whitlock, Daisy, and myself.</p> + +<p>He wore a shabby grey tweed suit, was unshaven, and his appearance was +entirely unlike his usual dapper self. Like most constant travellers +and thorough-going cosmopolitans, he always—even if he had only just +come off a long journey—was well-shaven, clean, and the pink of +tidiness. Long journeys, or constant vigilance, induce in most people +habits of personal untidiness. But not so in the hardened traveller. +He can do a sixty-hour journey and look as fresh and clean at the +end of it as if he had only run down to Brighton. Therefore Julian's +haggard, neglected look took me by surprise. Certainly the expression +of apprehension upon his face was sufficient to cause the gravest +suspicion to arise within the mind of myself, his very best friend.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" cried the girl I loved so dearly. "Ask this man the truth. Compel +him to tell it to you."</p> + +<p>"The truth of what?" he gasped, looking round at us each in turn. "What +does this mean?"</p> + +<p>Stonor spoke.</p> + +<p>"It means, Little, that I am arrested for the assassination of Louise +Lorimer at Barnes!"</p> + +<p>"You!" laughed his friend. "How absurd!" Turning to Whitlock, he +said, "Perhaps the movements of Mr Stonor and myself have appeared +suspicious, but the truth is we have been investigating the affair on +our own account. I know you've watched us. I saw both you and Keene +in Cromer, and I feared that you might believe we were the guilty +parties, acting in co-operation. But I think I can point out to you +facts that will probably astonish you. I'm a journalist, as you +know—correspondent of a paper which has the reputation of printing +a picture of the real life of to-day. The hypercritical call it +sensationalism, but it is really the human interest of our everyday +life, omitting the dry-as-dust mock literature which papers like <i>The +Globe</i> still put forward. Keene and I believe in being alive and giving +the public facts up to date. He has investigated this case on behalf of +the paper, while I started out entirely on my own accord. And, I may +add, I have made certain discoveries."</p> + +<p>"Have you discovered the actual assassin?" I asked, fixing my eyes upon +his.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Victor," he said, in a low, distinct voice; "I have."</p> + +<p>"And who is he?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>"The truth regarding the affair is a long story," was Julian's reply. +"Stonor can tell you better than myself."</p> + +<p>Daisy laughed sarcastically. Her air was that of one acquainted with +the truth; and yet Julian's words had caused her to listen with +interest, and to wonder. I knew that Julian was antagonistic towards +her, but I little dreamed the truth. The scene at that moment was full +of tension, a dramatic episode the recollection of which I shall surely +carry with me to the grave.</p> + +<p>My well-beloved had alleged the crime of murder against the man who was +my dearest and best friend! What could I do? What could I say?</p> + +<p>"I am under arrest," Stonor said. "Therefore I will say nothing."</p> + +<p>There was a pause.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Mr Whitlock," said Julian, facing my friend boldly; "this +situation is absurd. I tell you frankly that Stonor never harmed the +girl. His wife committed suicide after the murder, and it was in his +own interest to elucidate the truth. He and I have been engaged in +making inquiries ever since the day following the tragedy."</p> + +<p>Whitlock looked at him for several moments. Then he said—</p> + +<p>"This statement of yours is interesting. And all the more so for one +single reason."</p> + +<p>"And what's that?"</p> + +<p>"Because there is an allegation against you that you are the actual +assassin!"</p> + +<p>Little burst into laughter.</p> + +<p>"Come, Whitlock," he said, "let us speak seriously. Are you actually in +earnest?"</p> + +<p>"Ask Miss Marvin."</p> + +<p>He turned to Daisy. Their eyes met, and I saw in his a strange look of +quick inquiry.</p> + +<p>"I have said all I have to say," she exclaimed, perfectly cool and +perfectly frankly.</p> + +<p>"And that," explained Whitlock, "is that you, Mr Little, killed Louise +Lorimer."</p> + +<p>Julian pursed his lips. It needed no second glance to show him that his +position was one of danger and of difficulty. The girl, against whom he +had, for the past couple of years, been so antagonistic, had apparently +had her revenge, for she had alleged against him the crime of murder.</p> + +<p>"So you have said this?" he asked her at last. "You!"</p> + +<p>"I have," was her bold reply, "and I repeat it. Mr Stonor is innocent. +It is you who are guilty."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose both you, Mr Whitlock, and you, Keene, suspect me—eh?" +he said, with a bitter smile. "Well, I admit that my movements have +been extremely suspicious. But our actions were imperative, and at +least we now have one satisfaction."</p> + +<p>"And what, pray, is that?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"That we have solved the mystery—Stonor and I. We know how the whole +extraordinary affair was conducted, and who actually killed poor +Louise!"</p> + +<p>"Who is the guilty person?" Whitlock asked.</p> + +<p>Little glanced across at Daisy, who stood at my side, and said in a +mysterious manner—</p> + +<p>"When we are alone I will answer your question. It was neither Stonor +nor myself."</p> + +<p>"Then you know the whole story of the crime," I said anxiously. +"Explain it to us."</p> + +<p>"I know a good deal," he replied, "even though I may not know every +detail—not having been present myself."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Tell us," urged Whitlock.</p> + +<p>"With Stonor's permission," he said, glancing inquiringly at his friend.</p> + +<p>"I have no objection," the other answered. "For the sooner the affair +is cleared up and the real criminal arrested the better. This arrest of +myself is absurd. Better be frank and explain the whole affair."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Julian Little, "I will." Then, turning to us, he +said: "There are very many curious features of the case, I admit; +but, Stonor's mouth being closed, I will explain briefly all I know +concerning the tragedy. Some few months ago, while in Constantinople as +special correspondent of the <i>Herald</i>, I discovered Stonor living there +with his wife—the woman who afterwards committed suicide at Barnes. He +had been there for nearly a year, endeavouring to obtain a concession +for a monopoly to supply the Sultan's capital with electric light, and +had already got hold of one or two good things which he had sold in +London. He placed an ingenious project before me—a project whereby we +might both make a big fortune at one <i>coup</i>. Briefly explained, it was +this. Germany is now making a railway towards the Persian Gulf. Of this +line a very long section is completed, but, as the line is a menace to +our interests in the East, our Embassy had put pressure upon the Sultan +and induced him to withdraw his <i>irade</i>, so that the line could not be +extended farther than the point it had already reached. In consequence +of this the shares in what had been a most prosperous company with a +huge future before it had gone down to nothing, for the stopping of the +line half-way across a desert had put an end to all hope of financial +success. Now, from one of his friends at the Yildiz—a son of the Grand +Vizier, I believe—Stonor knew that Germany was trying to secretly +influence the Sultan to revoke his decision. Therefore he suggested +that if we obtained early knowledge of the Sultan's reply we might, +with the assistance of a capitalist whom we knew in Berlin, buy up the +majority of the shares in the company before the truth leaked out, and +thus make a huge <i>coup</i>."</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I exclaimed in surprise. "Go on."</p> + +<p>"Well, there was only one way in which we could obtain premature news +of His Majesty's decision, and that was by intercepting and reading the +secret despatch sent from the German Ambassador to the Porte to Prince +von Bülow. The latter was in England, staying for some weeks with some +friends near Portsmouth. From the secret police in Constantinople +Stonor obtained a copy of the telegraphic cipher of the German Foreign +Office, which had been abstracted from the German Embassy a year +before, copied, and returned to its place. With this in our possession +we proceeded to complete our plans; first, in Berlin, with our +financial friend—who, at a given signal, could place his hands on the +majority of the shares—and then in London, where we took possession +of the empty house at Barnes, close to the trunk telegraph lines to +Portsmouth, which, with the aid of a telegraph engineer, whom we paid +well, we successfully tapped, so that we could read every message +before it reached the German Chancellor."</p> + +<p>"But what of Louise Lorimer?" Daisy asked, still full of suspicion.</p> + +<p>"I was about to tell you of her," Julian went on. "We wanted a female +telegraph-clerk, and Stonor, fortunately, knew Louise Lorimer, who was +at that time engaged at the post-office at Sydenham. She came to us, +and for six weeks, night and day, that wire was watched to see if the +despatch from Constantinople, which would mean fortune for us all, +came over it. I went to the house, it was true. Indeed, I often went +surreptitiously, for I chanced to be in England a good deal at that +time. Stonor's wife had been a telegraph-clerk before her marriage, +therefore she and Louise took it in turns to watch and sleep. It was +a weird business—that constant alertness in the empty house—I can +assure you. And then," he added, pausing—"and then came the astounding +news of poor Louise's death, and the unaccountable suicide of Mrs +Stonor. Only Stonor himself and I knew the identity of the lady who had +taken her own life, and it was to our interests to keep the affair a +mystery. Instead of a huge fortune, as we anticipated, our ingenious +plot had only resulted in a tragedy! And ever since that day Stonor and +I have been seeking to elucidate the mystery of who killed poor Louise."</p> + +<p>"The movements of both of you were highly suspicious, to say the +least," Whitlock remarked, surprised at the story.</p> + +<p>"I quite admit that. Indeed, when we knew that you had found us at +Cromer, Stonor anticipated arrest."</p> + +<p>"And I was not mistaken," laughed the man who had hit upon that +ingenious method of making a fortune.</p> + +<p>"You will recollect several curious Press messages during your +investigations," Little said, addressing me. "They were sent by me, so +as to put you off the scent of ourselves, and at the same time to lead +you to a knowledge of the actual assassin."</p> + +<p>"By you!" I gasped, recollecting that I had at the time judged them to +be the work of a professional journalist.</p> + +<p>"Yes. The box in the garden of the house at Barnes Stonor had buried +himself, while the pointing out of the house wherein he had lived as +Elkington was done in order to give you a clue to the young girl's +identity. We had already established, without a shadow of doubt, who +had committed the murder."</p> + +<p>"And whom, pray, do you allege committed the crime?" asked Whitlock, +deeply in earnest.</p> + +<p>"My friend and whilom partner, Stonor, is under arrest," answered +Little, with a smile. "Until he is free I shall not speak."</p> + +<p>"Then, in that case, I release him," said Whitlock, utterly amazed at +the extraordinary narrative.</p> + +<p>"And I hope, Inspector Whitlock, you will arrest the guilty man, who +stands there before you!" Daisy exclaimed, pointing straight at Little, +who merely shrugged his shoulders unconcernedly.</p> + +<p>"Come," said Whitlock, "explain all you know, and give me the names of +any witnesses you may have."</p> + +<p>"If I may see you for one moment alone, outside in the hall, I will +tell you something," he said.</p> + +<p>Acting upon his suggestion Whitlock went out at once with him, and for +a few moments they conversed together in an undertone.</p> + +<p>When the inspector returned I saw that his countenance had altered. +There was a look of self-satisfaction upon his face, for he at last +knew the truth.</p> + +<p>At that moment we heard the front door close, as some one left the +house, and then Whitlock said—</p> + +<p>"I think, gentlemen, that for the next half hour we may postpone the +discussion of the matter. I have sent a sergeant for an important +witness, whose presence here will greatly assist us," whereupon the +tension grew less, and Stonor, producing a box of cigars and some +whisky and soda, offered us generous hospitality.</p> + +<p>As if by general consent not a word was spoken regarding the tragedy. +Only Daisy was silent and thoughtful. She still seemed full of +suspicion of the man who was my friend.</p> + +<p>The moments seemed as hours as we waited for the arrival of the person +whose name Whitlock would not tell us. He evidently intended to spring +some surprise upon one or other of us. It was a habit of his to proceed +quickly, coolly, and then suddenly produce his trump-card. And this +trump-card had apparently been furnished by Julian Little.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI</h2> +</div> + +<h3>WHICH REVEALS THE TRUTH</h3> + + +<p>The door of the dining-room, wherein we were still assembled, re-opened +to admit a young man in evening clothes, the man of whom I had +entertained a groundless jealousy—Drayton.</p> + +<p>Stonor had, a few moments before, left the room in order to obtain some +more soda-water. Otherwise, we were all present.</p> + +<p>As Drayton entered, greeting us with some surprise, and inquiring of +Whitlock why he had been sent for, Little suddenly and abruptly stepped +forward and, raising his hand, said—</p> + +<p>"I charge that man with being the assassin of Louise Lorimer!"</p> + +<p>"You're a liar!" the young fellow cried. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that we are here to-night to end this mystery, and to deliver +the assassin to justice," exclaimed Julian, facing him boldly. "You +have acted cleverly—very cleverly—in establishing my guilt to your +half-sister. But to-night it must end. The truth must out."</p> + +<p>"Oh, must it?" cried Drayton. "Very well, then—it shall. Let us assume +for a moment that I am guilty. How, pray, do you prove my alleged +offence?"</p> + +<p>"You were her secret lover."</p> + +<p>"I don't deny that. It is true that I was in love with Louise; and, +by heaven! ever since the poor girl's death I've been seeking her +assassin!"</p> + +<p>"You admit that you were the lover of Louise Lorimer?" asked Whitlock, +in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Of course I do. Daisy knows that quite well," he answered. "I +frequently went to see her at that lonely house in Barnes where she +spent so many dismal weeks. After the murder I took Daisy there to show +her the place, as she wished to see it."</p> + +<p>"My allegation is that you wished to get rid of her, and went there +that night intending to do so," Julian said determinedly.</p> + +<p>"Scandalous!" cried Daisy, in defence of her half-brother.</p> + +<p>"My dear sir," he said, "you are at liberty to allege exactly whatever +you like against me. But you will have to establish it, recollect. As a +matter of fact, I was not in London on that night."</p> + +<p>"Ah, so you intend to prove an alibi!" remarked Whitlock, quickly.</p> + +<p>"You're a liar!" Little declared openly. "It will be proved that you +were not only in London, but you were with Miss Marvin earlier in the +evening."</p> + +<p>"She will be able to tell you that, no doubt," responded the man whose +finger-marks upon his glass at the Gambrinus had betrayed him. "You +are endeavouring to make this allegation against me in order to shield +yourself. You were, as you know, Daisy's admirer, and because she +refused to have anything whatever to do with you, you have been her +bitterest enemy."</p> + +<p>"Is this true?" I asked breathlessly, turning to my well-beloved, +beside whom stood Stonor, who had just re-entered.</p> + +<p>"I have forgiven everything long ago, Victor," she said, in her soft, +sweet voice. "But what I can never forgive is the foul assassination +of my helpless friend. What Douglas has told me is sufficient proof of +that man's guilt."</p> + +<p>"And what has he told you?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Facts which he cannot substantiate," interposed Little, with a dry, +but uneasy, laugh. The revelation that he had been an admirer of +Daisy's had apparently upset him. It was strange how each man was +now accusing the other, and all apparently without any satisfactory +evidence to support their charges.</p> + +<p>Drayton had admitted, however, that he had been the poor girl's lover +in secret, and his manner when charged with the crime was distinctly +that of a guilty man. I had not liked him from the first moment when +I had seen him in the Gambrinus, and I did not like him now. Upon his +countenance "Adventurer" was plainly written, yet he seemed to wield +over Daisy some strong but occult power. She humoured his every whim, +and what he told her she believed implicitly.</p> + +<p>That there had been suspicion against Julian Little could not be +denied, but in face of what I had just heard, I began now to discard +the theory I had once formed, and I believed every word that my friend +uttered.</p> + +<p>Drayton, though shielded by Daisy, was no doubt guilty. He had been +the secret lover of poor Louise, had been in the habit of visiting +the deserted house at night—as it was impossible to go there in the +daytime—and had, on the fatal night, rid himself of what he feared +was becoming an incubus upon him. The whole affair was now plain as +daylight; yet, unfortunately, it was merely based upon circumstantial +evidence. There was no witness; no actual proof.</p> + +<p>Whitlock apparently viewed the situation from exactly the same +standpoint as myself. He saw in Drayton's allegations against Little +an attempt to shield himself. The admission he had made of being the +girl's lover was in itself a damaging one.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the inspector, who certainly had a difficult task in these +conflicting allegations, "I think, Mr Drayton, that I shall have to ask +you to consider yourself my prisoner."</p> + +<p>"What!" gasped the young man, all the colour fading from his face. +"You—you mean you arrest me!"</p> + +<p>"Yes—on suspicion of being the assassin of Louise Lorimer," responded +Whitlock, in hard, businesslike tones.</p> + +<p>Daisy gave vent to a low scream, realising that her half-brother, in +whose honesty she had such firm belief, was now under arrest.</p> + +<p>"No!" she cried. "This is infamous! He is innocent. I know he is!"</p> + +<p>"Mr Drayton's innocence will be proved in due course," the detective +said coldly. "Meanwhile I must detain him on suspicion."</p> + +<p>"I can prove my innocence at once," cried the young man. "Give me a +piece of paper—I want to write a note."</p> + +<p>Whitlock pointed to a small escritoire, and, bending to it, Drayton +scribbled a few hasty lines, which he placed in an envelope upon which +he wrote an address.</p> + +<p>"Will you please send someone with that and ask for an answer," he +said, handing the note to Whitlock. "It isn't far—only in Marylebone +Road."</p> + +<p>My friend despatched it, ordering the sergeant to take a cab.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Twenty minutes or so later the sergeant returned, ushering in a +pale-faced, ill-dressed youth with longish hair and broken boots—a +youth who, by his appearance, picked up a precarious living on the +streets.</p> + +<p>"Good-evenin', Mr Drayton!" he exclaimed, on encountering the young man +who had sent for him. "I've come, yer see. I said I would, when yer +sent for me."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'm glad you're here, Monro," Drayton said. "I want you to tell +this gentleman"—and he indicated Whitlock—"what you saw in that house +at Barnes on the night when the young woman was murdered."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," he answered without hesitation, "I wor down on my luck, +an' 'avin' no place to go for the night I saw, as I wor goin' along +Castelnau, in Barnes, wot I takes to be a hempty 'ouse. I climbs over +the gate, an' findin' a window at the back 'arf open, gets inside, +when on a sudden I 'ears voices—a man and a woman, an' I also 'ears a +little bell a-ringin'. I listens, an' I 'ears another footstep outside +in the garden, an' I sees the figure of a man a-hidin' hisself in the +bushes. I creeps up to the room where the voices come from, an' I +sees a fellow an' a girl a-quarrellin'. An' then—an' then I saw the +fellow deliberately kill the girl. An' after 'e'd done it 'e steals out +quick, an' 'e nearly 'it up agin me in the dark passage where I wor +a-standin'. An' 'e does a bunk, quick."</p> + +<p>"You actually saw his face?" Whitlock asked eagerly. "Now, think of +what you're saying."</p> + +<p>"'Course I did."</p> + +<p>"Is he in this room?"</p> + +<p>"No. 'E ain't 'ere."</p> + +<p>Drayton stared at the youth in abject wonder, for he expected that he +would identify Little. "It was myself who hid in the bushes, for I had +gone there to see Louise," he explained.</p> + +<p>"What was he like?" Whitlock asked. "Describe him to us."</p> + +<p>"Well, 'e was stout, with a rather crooked nose an' a reddish face. I +saw 'im quite plainly," answered the youth Monro.</p> + +<p>"But you never told me this before," Drayton said.</p> + +<p>"I pointed out a bloke close to 'Ammersmith bridge wot from 'is back I +thought was the man."</p> + +<p>"And he was this gentleman—Mr Little," Drayton said.</p> + +<p>"Well, the chap who did it was much fatter, an' 'ad a red face—a +reg'lar clock on 'im," the youth declared.</p> + +<p>"Where is Stonor?" I asked, looking round, for on Monro's entry there +he had left the room again and had not returned.</p> + +<p>Stonor! the description of the assassin fitted him exactly! I stood +breathless.</p> + +<p>In an instant his absence aroused strong suspicion, and Whitlock, +stepping out into the hall, inquired of the sergeant if anyone had +passed out.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. And the area door is locked. I have the key."</p> + +<p>Whitlock shouted up the stairs, "Mr Stonor! Mr Stonor!" but there was +no response.</p> + +<p>Frantic search resulted in the discovery of the door of a small +bedroom on the second floor being locked. In a few moments it was +unceremoniously forced, and there upon the floor, with a small empty +phial upon the dressing-table, lay the body of the scoundrel who had +so completely deceived the man who had entered into the ingenious +partnership. He had, it seemed, seen the youth as he had left the rooms +at Barnes on the night of his crime, and, again recognising him, saw +that the game was up.</p> + +<p>Later inquiries, made by Little, Drayton and myself, showed that +Stonor was at first much attached to Louise, and had completely misled +his sister at Scarborough. A very shady business transaction of his, +amounting to a serious crime, in which he had swindled Little, had +been discovered by the girl, and he feared to discharge her lest she +should have her revenge by exposing his methods to Julian. Therefore +he resolved to kill her, and cast suspicion upon Drayton with Little's +aid. The concealment of the birth-certificate and other things showed +how carefully he had prepared the evidence against Drayton, whom he +knew as an adventurer, and how ingeniously he had carried the mystery +forward until the police were so utterly puzzled that the problem had +been placed beyond solution. Every detail had been marvellously thought +out—all except the tragic suicide of his poor wife—which had utterly +unnerved even him.</p> + +<p>Inquiries made it quite plain that she was well aware of her husband's +clever tactics, and had assisted him in several business transactions +which were the reverse of honest. Drayton had, through Louise, +obtained knowledge of all this, and the day previous to the tragedy +demanded blackmail of her. She had not told her husband, as they were +not on very good terms because of his undue admiration of the pretty +telegraph-girl. When on the night in question she entered there to +relieve Louise and watch the wire while she slept, and encountered +the constable, and saw the body of the girl of whom she was jealous, +she naturally concluded that Drayton had carried out his threat of +exposure, especially as she found herself under arrest. She, therefore, +in a frenzy of terror and despair, committed suicide in the police-cell.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>More than a year has now passed since the dramatic incidents of that +well-remembered night when the truth was crystallised.</p> + +<p>Daisy—my own sweet-faced Daisy—is now my wife. We love each other. +Need I tell you more?</p> + +<p>An hour after the establishment of Stonor's guilt we mutually +apologised for daring to doubt each other, and since that moment our +lives have been full of blissful happiness.</p> + +<p>She retired from the stage a week before our marriage, preferring my +love to the life of limelight and tinsel in which she had hitherto been +such a prominent figure. We have a pretty, old-fashioned house down at +Wimbledon, overlooking the common; but we are very seldom there, for +she is already becoming a hardened traveller, and is mostly away with +me on the Continent, journeying hither and thither, and assisting me in +my work as special correspondent of the <i>Daily Herald</i>. Indeed, many of +the telegrams you read in your morning paper signed by myself have been +penned by her hand.</p> + +<p>Drayton, owing to certain information I gave him regarding the probable +activity of the police, again left England suddenly, and when last +heard of was in Mexico. Julian Little is now our best friend, and +a confirmed bachelor. He is, like myself, ever travelling, and we +sometimes come across each other in odd out-of-the-way places on the +Continent, while at the office off Fleet Street the staff are just the +same, except that in certain quarters there is, I believe, considerable +envy at my good fortune.</p> + +<p>But Daisy and I laugh the whole world in the face. We love each other +with a passionate, perfect, and all-absorbing affection, and no cloud +mars our peace and contentment. Her self-accusation was, I discovered, +relative to the days long past, when Little had admired her, and when +she in her girlish ecstasy had given him a declaration of what she +believed then to be love. Though our marriage was really the outcome +of a great and mysterious crime, yet we both feel, and we have both +more than once declared, that if we could peep for an instant into the +Book of Fate we should find our present existence of sweet content +and our future just exactly as desired by you, my reader.—"<span class="smcap">The +Looker-On.</span>"</p> + + +<p class="ph3">THE END</p> + +<p class="ph3">EDINBURGH<br> +COLSTON AND CO. LIMITED<br> +PRINTERS</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + + +<p class="ph3">[Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation left as printed.]</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">WILLIAM LE QUEUX'S NOVELS</p> + +<p class="ph3"><i>OPINIONS IN 1908</i></p> + + +<p>"Mr William Le Queux is the master of the sensational novel. He never +lets us pause for an instant to draw breath."—<i>Daily Mail.</i></p> + +<p>"Our most gifted and popular writer of sensational fiction."—<i>M.A.P.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr Le Queux, instead of becoming stale, seems by practice to have +become more ingenious and subtle in his plots and defter in developing +them."—<i>British Weekly.</i></p> + +<p>"No living novelist can beat Mr Le Queux in contriving an ingenious, +sensational and absorbing mystery."—<i>The Reader.</i></p> + +<p>"Certainly the age of the mystery novel does not seem likely to pass +away so long as William Le Queux lives and writes."—<i>Northern Whig.</i></p> + +<p>"There is no defter hand at the compounding of a thoroughly +satisfactory mystery than Mr Le Queux. He holds the reader in +breathless suspense throughout."—<i>Literary World.</i></p> + +<p>"It is useless to recommend Mr Le Queux. He has an audience always +ready for more."—<i>Queen.</i></p> + +<p>"The last page ('The Count's Chauffeur') indicates that we have not +finished with George Ewart, and his tales are so exciting that we feel +we could stand any amount more."—<i>Daily Telegraph.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr William Le Queux is the favourite novelist of at least four crowned +heads. They are Queen Alexandra, the King of Italy, King Peter of +Servia, and Prince Ferdinand of Bulgaria."—<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr Le Queux is the most widely-read novelist; and deservedly so, for +his books hold one from the first page to the very last."—<i>Illustrated +Mail.</i></p> + +<p>"Wherever the English language is spoken, the thrilling stories of Mr +Le Queux are known."—<i>Ideas.</i> +</p> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78884 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/78884-h/images/cover.jpg b/78884-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fc60854 --- /dev/null +++ b/78884-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /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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