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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sins of Severac Bablon, by Sax Rohmer
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Sins of Severac Bablon
+
+Author: Sax Rohmer
+
+Release Date: June 20, 2007 [EBook #21879]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SINS OF SEVERAC BABLON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Clarke, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                       THE SINS OF SEVERAC BABLON
+
+                            By Sax Rohmer
+
+
+
+
+    CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD
+    London, New York, Toronto & Melbourne
+
+    First published _January 1914_.
+    Popular Edition _February 1919_.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+1. TO INTRODUCE MR. JULIUS ROHSCHEIMER
+
+2. "THIRTY MEN WHO WERE ALL ALIKE"
+
+3. MIDNIGHT--AND THE MAN
+
+4. THE HEAD OF CAESAR
+
+5. A MYSTIC HAND
+
+6. THE SHADOW OF SEVERAC BABLON
+
+7. THE RING
+
+8. IN THE DRESSING-ROOM
+
+9. ES-SINDIBAD OF CADOGAN GARDENS
+
+10. KIMBERLEY
+
+11. MR. SANRACK VISITS THE HOTEL ASTORIA
+
+12. LOVE, LUCRE AND MR. ALDEN
+
+13. THE LISTENER
+
+14. ZOE DREAMS
+
+15. AT "THE CEDARS"
+
+16. THE LAMP AND THE MASK
+
+17. THE DAMASCUS CURTAIN
+
+18. A WHITE ORCHID
+
+19. THREE LETTERS
+
+20. CLOSED DOORS
+
+21. A CORNER IN MILLIONAIRES
+
+22. THE TURKISH YATAGHAN
+
+23. M. LEVI
+
+24. "V-E-N-G-E-N-C-E"
+
+25. AN OFFICIAL CALL
+
+26. GRIMSDYKE
+
+27. YELLOW CIGARETTES
+
+28. AT THE PALACE--AND LATER
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+TO INTRODUCE MR. JULIUS ROHSCHEIMER
+
+
+"There's half a score of your ancestral halls," said Julius Rohscheimer,
+"that I could sell up to-morrow morning!"
+
+Of the quartet that heard his words no two members seemed quite
+similarly impressed.
+
+The pale face of Adeler, the great financier's confidential secretary,
+expressed no emotion whatever. Sir Richard Haredale flashed contempt
+from his grey eyes--only to veil his scorn of the man's vulgarity
+beneath a cloud of tobacco smoke. Tom Sheard, of the _Gleaner_, drew
+down a corner of his mouth and felt ashamed of the acquaintance. Denby,
+the music-hall comedian, softly whistled those bars of a popular ballad
+set to the words, "I stood in old Jerusalem."
+
+"Come along to Park Lane with me," continued Rohscheimer, fixing his
+dull, prominent eyes upon Sheard, "and you'll see more English nobility
+than you'd find inside the House of Lords!"
+
+"What's made him break out?" the comedian whispered, aside, to Adeler.
+For it was an open secret that this man, whose financial operations
+shook the thrones of monarchy, whose social fetes were attended by the
+smartest people, was subject to outbursts of the kind which now saw him
+seated before a rapidly emptying magnum in a corner of the great
+restaurant. At such times he would frequent the promenades of
+music-halls, consorting with whom he found there, and would display the
+gross vulgarity of a Whitechapel pawnbroker or tenth-rate variety agent.
+
+"'S-sh!" replied the secretary. "A big coup! It is always so with him.
+Mr. Rohscheimer is overwrought. I shall induce him to take a holiday."
+
+"Trip up the Jordan?" suggested Denby, with cheery rudeness.
+
+The secretary's drooping eyelids flickered significantly, but no other
+indication of resentment displayed itself upon that impassive face.
+
+"A good Jew is proud of his race--and with reason!" he said quietly.
+"There are Jews and Jews."
+
+He turned, deferentially, to his employer--that great man having
+solicited his attention with the words, "Hark to him, Adeler!"
+
+"I did not quite catch Mr. Sheard's remark," said Adeler.
+
+"I merely invited Mr. Rohscheimer to observe the scene upon his right,"
+explained Sheard.
+
+The others turned their eyes in that direction. Through a screen of palm
+leaves the rose-shaded table lights, sparkling silver, and snowy covers
+of the supper room were visible. Here a high-light gleamed upon a bare
+shoulder; there, a stalwart male back showed, blocked out in bold black
+upon the bright canvas. Waiters flitted noiselessly about. The drone of
+that vocal orchestra filled the place: the masculine conversation, the
+brass and wood-wind--the sweeter tones of women, the violins; their
+laughter, tremolo passages.
+
+"I'm observing it," growled Rohscheimer. "Nobody in particular there."
+
+"There is comfort, luxury, there," said Sheard.
+
+The financier stared, uncomprehensively.
+
+"Now look out yonder," continued the other.
+
+It was a different prospect whereto he directed their eyes.
+
+The diminuendo of the Embankment lamps, the steely glitter of the waters
+beyond, the looming bulk of the bridge, the silhouette shape of the On
+monolith; these things lay below them, dimly to be seen from the
+brilliant room. Within was warmth, light, and gladness; without, a cold
+place of shadows, limned in the grey of discontent and the black of want
+and desolation.
+
+"Every seat there," continued Sheard, as the company gazed vaguely from
+the window, "has its burden of hopelessness and misery. Ranks of
+homeless wretches form up in the arch yonder, awaiting the arrival of
+the Salvation Army officials. Where, in the whole world, can misery in
+bulk be found thus side by side with all that wealth can procure?"
+
+There was a brief silence. Sheard was on his hobbyhorse, and there were
+few there disposed to follow him. The views of the _Gleaner_ are not
+everybody's money.
+
+"What sort of gas are you handing us out?" asked Rohscheimer. "Those
+lazy scamps don't deserve any comfort; they never worked to get it! The
+people here are moneyed people."
+
+"Just so!" interrupted Sheard, taking up the challenge with true
+_Gleaner_ ardour. "Moneyed people! That's the whole distinction in two
+words!"
+
+"Well, then--what about it?"
+
+"This--that if every guest now in the hotel would write a cheque for an
+amount representing 1 per cent. of his weekly income, every man, woman,
+and child under the arch yonder would be provided with board and lodging
+for the next six months!"
+
+"Why do it?" demanded Rohscheimer, not unreasonably. "Why feed 'em up on
+idleness?"
+
+"Their idleness may be compulsory," replied Sheard. "Few would employ a
+starving man while a well-nourished one was available."
+
+"Cut the Socialist twaddle!" directed the other coarsely. "It gets on my
+nerves! You and your cheques! Who'd you make 'em payable to? Editor of
+the _Gleaner_."
+
+"I would suggest," said Sir Richard Haredale, smiling, "to Severac
+Bablon."
+
+"To who?" inquired Rohscheimer, with greater interest than grammar.
+
+"Severac Bablon," said Sheard, informatively, "the man who gave a
+hundred dollars to each of the hands discharged from the Runek Mill,
+somewhere in Ontario. That's whom you mean, isn't it, Haredale?"
+
+"Yes," assented the latter. "I was reading about it to-day."
+
+"We had it in this morning," continued Sheard. "Two thousand men."
+
+"Eh?" grunted Rohscheimer hoarsely.
+
+"Two thousand men," repeated Sheard. "Each of them received notes to the
+value of a hundred dollars on the morning after the mill closed down,
+and a card, 'With the compliments of Severac Bablon.'"
+
+"Forty thousand pounds!" shouted the millionaire. "I don't believe it!"
+
+"It's confirmed by Reuter to-night."
+
+"Then the man's a madman!" pronounced Rohscheimer conclusively.
+
+"Pity he doesn't have a cut at London!" came Denby's voice.
+
+"Is it?" growled the previous speaker. "Don't you believe it! A maniac
+like that would mean ruination for business if he was allowed to get
+away with it!"
+
+"Ah, well!" yawned Sheard, standing up and glancing at his watch, "you
+may be right. Anyway, I've got a report to put in. I'm off!"
+
+"Me, too!" said the financier thickly. "Come on, Haredale. We're overdue
+at Park Lane! It's time we were on view in Park Lane, Adeler!"
+
+The tide of our narrative setting in that direction, it will be well if
+we, too, look in at the Rohscheimer establishment. We shall find
+ourselves in brilliant company.
+
+Julius's harshest critics were forced to concede that the house in Park
+Lane was a focus of all smart society. Yet smart society felt oddly ill
+at ease in the salon of Mrs. Julius Rohscheimer. Nobody knew whether the
+man to whom he might be talking at the moment were endeavouring to
+arrange a mortgage with Rohscheimer; whether the man's wife had fallen
+in arrears with her interest--to the imminent peril of the family
+necklace; or whether the man had simply dropped in because others of his
+set did so, and because, being invited, he chanced to have nothing
+better to do.
+
+These things did not add to the gaiety of the entertainments, but of
+their brilliancy there could be no possible doubt.
+
+Jewish society was well represented, and neither at Streeter's nor
+elsewhere could a finer display of diamonds be viewed than upon one of
+Mrs. Rohscheimer's nights. The lady had enjoyed some reputation as a
+hostess before the demise of her first husband had led her to seek
+consolation in the arms (and in the cheque-book) of the financier. So
+the house in Park Lane was visited by the smartest people--to the mutual
+satisfaction of host and hostess.
+
+"Where's the Dook?" inquired the former, peering over a gilded
+balustrade at the throng below. They had entered, unseen, by a private
+stair.
+
+"I understand," replied Haredale, "that the Duke is unfortunately
+indisposed."
+
+"Never turns up!" growled Rohscheimer.
+
+"Never likely to!" was Haredale's mental comment; but, his situation
+being a delicate one, he diplomatically replied, "We have certainly been
+unfortunate in that respect."
+
+Haredale--one of the best-known men in town--worked as few men work to
+bring the right people to the house in Park Lane (and to save his
+commission). This arrangement led Mr. Rohscheimer to rejoice exceedingly
+over his growing social circle, and made Haredale so ashamed of himself
+that, so he declared to an intimate friend, he had not looked in a
+mirror for nine months, but relied implicitly upon the good taste of his
+man.
+
+"Come up and give me your opinion of the new waistcoats," said
+Rohscheimer. "I don't fancy my luck in 'em, personally."
+
+Following the financier to his dressing-room, Haredale, as a smart maid
+stood aside to let them pass, felt the girl's hand slip a note into his
+own. Glancing at it, behind Rohscheimer's back, he read: "Keep him away
+as much as ever you can."
+
+"She has spotted him!" he muttered; and, in his sympathy with the
+difficulties of poor Mrs. Rohscheimer's position, he forgot,
+temporarily, the difficulties of his own.
+
+"By the way," said Rohscheimer, "did you bring along that late edition
+with the details of the Runek Mill business?"
+
+"Yes," said Haredale, producing it from his overcoat pocket.
+
+"Just read it out, will you?" continued the other, "while I have a rub
+down."
+
+Haredale nodded, and, lighting a cigarette, sank into a deep arm-chair
+and read the following paragraph:
+
+     "A FAIRY GODMOTHER IN ONTARIO
+
+     "(_From our Toronto Correspondent_)
+
+     "The identity of the philanthropist who indemnified the
+     ex-employees of the Runek Mill still remains a mystery. Beyond the
+     fact that his name, real or assumed, is Severac Bablon, nothing
+     whatever is known regarding him. The business was recently acquired
+     by J. J. Oppner, who will be remembered for his late gigantic
+     operation on Wall Street, and the whole of the working staff
+     received immediate notice to quit. No reason is assigned for this
+     wholesale dismissal. But each of the 2,000 men thus suddenly thrown
+     out of employment received at his home, in a plain envelope,
+     stamped with the Three Rivers postmark, the sum of one hundred
+     dollars, and a typed slip bearing the name, 'Severac Bablon.' Mr.
+     Oppner had been approached, but is very reticent upon the subject.
+     There is a rumour circulating here to the effect that he himself is
+     the donor. But I have been unable to obtain confirmation of this."
+
+"It wouldn't be Oppner," spluttered Rohscheimer, appearing, towel in
+hand. "He's not such a fool! Sounds like one of these 'Yellow' fables to
+me."
+
+Haredale shrugged his shoulders, dropping the paper on the rug.
+
+"A man at once wealthy and generous is an improbable, but not an
+impossible, being," he said.
+
+Rohscheimer stared, dully. There were times when he suspected Haredale
+of being studiously rude to him. He preserved a gloomy silence
+throughout the rest of the period occupied by his toilet, and in silence
+descended to the ballroom.
+
+The throng was considerable, and the warmth oppressive at what time Mrs.
+Rohscheimer's ball was in full swing. Scarcely anyone was dancing, but
+the walls were well lined, and the crush about the doors suggestive of a
+cup tie.
+
+"Who's that tall chap with the white hair?" inquired Rohscheimer from
+the palmy corner to which Haredale discreetly had conveyed him.
+
+"That is the Comte de Noeue," replied his informant; "a distinguished
+member of the French diplomatic corps."
+
+"We're getting on!" chuckled the millionaire. "He's a good man to have,
+isn't he Haredale?"
+
+"Highly respectable!" said the latter dryly.
+
+"We don't seem to get the dooks, and so on?"
+
+"The older nobility is highly conservative!" explained Haredale
+evasively. "But Mrs. Rohscheimer is a recognised leader of the smart
+set."
+
+Rohscheimer swayed his massive head in bear-like discontent.
+
+"I don't get the hang of this smart set business," he complained.
+"Aren't the dooks and earls and so on in the smart set?"
+
+"Not strictly so!" answered Haredale, helping himself to
+brandy-and-soda.
+
+This social conundrum was too much for the millionaire, and he lapsed
+into heavy silence, to be presently broken with the remark:
+
+"All the Johnnies holding the wall up are alike, Haredale! It's funny I
+don't know any of 'em! You see them in the sixpenny monthlies, with the
+girl they're going to marry in the opposite column. Give me their names,
+will you--starting with the one this end?"
+
+Haredale, intending, good-humouredly, to comply, glanced around the
+spacious room--only to realise that he, too, was unacquainted with the
+possibly distinguished company of muralites.
+
+"I rather fancy," he said, "a lot of the people you mean are
+Discoveries--of Mrs. Rohscheimer's, you know--writers and painters and
+so forth."
+
+"No, no!" complained the host. "I know all that lot--and they all know
+me! I mean the nice-looking fellows round the wall! I haven't been
+introduced, Haredale. They've come in since this waltz started."
+
+Haredale looked again, and his slightly bored expression gave place to
+one of curiosity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+"THIRTY MEN WHO WERE ALL ALIKE"
+
+
+The room was so inconveniently crowded that dancing was a mere farce,
+only kept up by the loyal support of Mrs. Rohscheimer's compatriots. The
+bulk of the company crowded around in intermingling groups, to the
+accompaniment of ceaseless shuffling and murmuring which all but drowned
+the strains of the celebrated orchestra. But lining the wall around was
+a rank of immaculately groomed gentlemen who seemed to assume a closer
+formation as Haredale, from behind the palms, observed them.
+
+In two particulars this rank excited his curiosity.
+
+The individuals comprising it were, as Rohscheimer had pointed out,
+remarkably alike, being all of a conventional Army type; and they were
+unobtrusively entering, one behind the other, and methodically taking up
+their places around the room!
+
+Even as he watched, the last man entered, and the big double doors were
+closed behind him!
+
+"What's this, Haredale?" came a hoarse whisper from Rohscheimer. "Where
+are these Johnnies comin' from? Does Mrs. R. know they're here?"
+
+"Couldn't say," was the reply. "But it would be a simple matter for a
+number of impostors to gain access to the house whilst dancing was in
+progress, provided they came in small parties and looked the part."
+
+"Impostors!" growled Rohscheimer uneasily. "Don't you think they've been
+invited, then?"
+
+"Well, who shut those doors?" muttered Haredale, leaning across the
+little table the better to observe what was going forward.
+
+"You don't mean----" began Rohscheimer, and broke off, as the orchestra
+dashed through the coda of the waltz and ceased.
+
+For stark amazement froze the words upon his tongue.
+
+Coincident with the last pair of dancers performing their final gyration
+and the hum of voices assuming a louder tone, each of the men standing
+around the walls produced a brace of revolvers and covered the
+particular group nearest to him!
+
+The conversational hum rose to a momentary roar, and ceased abruptly.
+The horns of taxi-cabs passing below could be plainly heard, and the
+drone and rattle of motor-buses. Men who had done good work in other
+emergencies looked down the gleaming barrels, back to the crowds of
+women--and had no inspiration, but merely wondered. Nobody moved. Nobody
+fainted.
+
+"Held up!" came, in pronounced Kansas, from somewhere amongst the crush.
+
+"Quick!" whispered Haredale. "We're overlooked! Through the
+conservatory, and----"
+
+"Pardon me!"
+
+Rohscheimer and Haredale turned, together, and each found himself
+looking directly into the little ring of a revolver's muzzle. A tall,
+slim figure in faultless evening dress stood behind them, half in the
+shadows. This mysterious stranger had jet black hair, and wore a black
+silk half-mask.
+
+The melodramatic absurdity of the thing came home strongly to Haredale.
+But its harsh reality was equally obvious.
+
+"Perhaps," continued the masked speaker, in a low, refined voice, and
+with a faint, elusive accent, "you will oblige me, Mr. Rohscheimer, by
+stepping forward so that your guests can see you? Sir Richard
+Haredale--may I trouble you?"
+
+Rohscheimer, his heavy features slightly pale, rose unsteadily.
+Haredale, after a rapid glance about him, rose also, with tightened
+lips; and the trio moved forward into full view of the assembled
+company.
+
+"The gentlemen surrounding you," said the man in the mask, slightly
+raising his voice, "are all sworn to the Cause which I represent. You
+would, perhaps, term them anarchists!"
+
+An audible shudder passed through the assemblage.
+
+"They are desperate men," he continued, "indifferent to death, and
+would, without compunction, shoot down everyone present--if I merely
+raised my hand! Each of them is a social pariah, with a price upon his
+head. Let no man think this is a jest! Any movement made without my
+permission will be instantly fatal."
+
+_Dzing!_ went the bell of a bus below. _Grr-r-r!_ went the motor in
+re-starting. _OO-oo! OO-oo!_ came from the horn of a taxi-cab. And
+around the wall stood the silent rank with the raised revolvers.
+
+"I shall call upon those gentlemen whom I consider most philanthropic,"
+resumed the musical voice, "to subscribe to my Cause! Mr. Rohscheimer,
+your host, will head the list with a diamond stud, valued at one
+thousand guineas, and two rings, representing, together, three thousand
+pounds! Place them on that pedestal, Mr. Rohscheimer!"
+
+"I won't do it!" cried the financier, in rising cadence. "I defy you!
+I----"
+
+"Cut it!" snapped Haredale roughly. "Don't be such a cad as to expose
+women----" He had caught sight of a pretty, pale face in the throng,
+that made the idea of these mysterious robbers opening fire doubly,
+trebly horrible. "It goes against the grain, but hand them over. We can
+do nothing--yet!"
+
+"Thank you, Sir Richard!" said the masked spokesman, and waved aside the
+hand with which Haredale proffered his own signet ring. "I have not
+called upon you, sir! Mr. Hohsmann, your daughters would feel affronted
+did you not give them an opportunity of appearing upon the subscription
+list! The necklace and the aigrette will do! I shall post, of course, a
+formal receipt to Hamilton Place!"
+
+And so the incredible comedy proceeded--until thousands of pounds' worth
+of jewellery lay upon the pedestal at the foot of a bronze statuette of
+Pandora!
+
+"The list is closed!" called the spokesman. "Doors!"
+
+Open came the doors at his command, and revealed to those who could see
+outside, a double rank of evening-dress bandits.
+
+"The company," he resumed, "will pass out in single file to the white
+drawing-room. Mr. Rohscheimer--will you lead the way?"
+
+In sullen submission out went Rohscheimer, and after him his guests--or,
+rather, his wife's guests--until that whole brilliant company was packed
+into the small white room. Someone had thoughtfully closed the shutters
+of the windows giving on Park Lane, and securely screwed them; so that,
+when the last straggler had entered, and the door was shut, they were in
+a trap!
+
+"Listen, everybody!" came Haredale's voice. "Keep cool! You fellows by
+the door--get your shoulders to it!"
+
+At his words, the men standing nearest to the door turned to execute
+these instructions, and were confronted by the following type-written
+notice pinned upon the white panels:--
+
+     "A detailed subscription list will appear in the leading papers
+     to-morrow, and it will doubtless relieve and gratify subscribers to
+     learn that _the revolvers were not loaded_!"
+
+There was little delay after that. Within sixty seconds the door was
+open; within three minutes the wires were humming with the astounding
+news.
+
+Tom Sheard, his work completed, was about to leave the _Gleaner_ office,
+when--
+
+"Sheard!" shouted the news editor from an upper landing. "Amazing
+business at Rohscheimer's in Park Lane! Robbery! Brigands! Terrific! Off
+you go! Taxi!"
+
+And off went Sheard without delay.
+
+He entered Park Lane, to find that part of the thoroughfare adjacent to
+the financier's house packed with vehicles of all sorts and sizes. Women
+in full dress, pressmen, policemen, loafers, were pouring out and
+rushing in to Mr. Rohscheimer's residence! Never before was such a scene
+witnessed at that hour of the night in Park Lane.
+
+As he passed under the awning, pressing his way towards the steps, he
+encountered an excited young gentleman who wore a closed opera hat, but
+was evidently ignorant of his interesting appearance. This young
+gentleman he chanced to know, and having rectified the irregularity in
+his toilet, from him he secured some splendid copy.
+
+"You see, I just dropped in to take a look round, and as I strolled up a
+mob of jokers jumped out of a cab just in front of me, and we all
+crawled in together, sort of thing. I happened to notice a footman going
+upstairs and two of the jokers I spoke about behind him. They were
+laughing, and so forth, and he was just on the first landing, when they
+nabbed him from behind--positive fact!--and threw the chap down on his
+face! I'm thinking it's a poor kind of joke when the other two fellows
+jolly well nobble _me_! Before I know what's up, I'm pushed into an
+anteroom or somewhere, and I hear these chaps banging the front door and
+running upstairs! I should have sung out like steam, only they'd
+handcuffed me wrong way round and tied a beastly cork arrangement in my
+mouth!
+
+"Just before I burst a blood-vessel it occurred to me that I might as
+well keep quiet; so I sat on the floor listening; but I didn't hear
+anything for what seemed like an hour! Then there was a mob of fellows
+came downstairs--and the door opened. They seemed to slip out in twos
+and threes from what I could gather, and by the time they'd nearly all
+gone a perfect pandemonium broke out, upstairs and down!
+
+"The servants--who'd all been locked in the cellar--got out first. Then
+Haredale came bounding downstairs, and, luckily for me, heard me kicking
+at the door. Then everybody was rushing about! Rohscheimer was bawling
+in the telephone! Some other chap was rushing for a doctor--for Adeler,
+who got knocked on the head in the library. Now here's the wretched
+police arresting everybody who looks as though he'd been in the Army!
+That's all the beastly description anyone can give! They suspected Dick
+Langley the minute they saw him, because he's got a military appearance!
+And I shouldn't be surprised to hear that they'd arrested every fellow
+in the Guards' Club!
+
+"Here's the thing, though: they've all got clean away! With about forty
+thousand pounds' worth of jewellery! It's a preposterous sort of thing,
+isn't it?"
+
+Sheard agreed that it was the most preposterous sort of thing
+imaginable; and, leaving his excited acquaintance, he set out to seek
+further particulars. But very few were forthcoming.
+
+As to the manner in which the clique had obtained admission, that called
+for little explanation. They had simply presented themselves, armed with
+invitations, singly and in small parties, whilst dancing was in
+progress, and in a house open to such mixed society had been admitted
+without arousing suspicion. There was little that was obscure or
+inexplicable in the coup; it was an amazing display of _force majeure_,
+an act of stark audacity. It pointed to the existence in London of a
+hitherto unsuspected genius. Such was Sheard's opinion.
+
+From an American guest, who had kept perfectly cool during the
+"hold-up," and had quietly taken stock of the robbers, he learnt that,
+exclusive of the spokesman, they numbered exactly thirty; were much of a
+similar build, being well-set-up men of military bearing; and, most
+extraordinary circumstance, were facially all alike!
+
+"Gee! but it's a fact!" declared his informant. "They all had moderate
+fair hair, worn short and parted left-centre, neat blonde moustaches,
+and fresh complexions, and the whole thirty were like as beans!"
+
+Two other interesting facts Sheard elicited from Adeler, who wore a
+white bandage about his damaged skull. The whole of the guests
+victimised were compatriots of their host.
+
+"It is from those who are of my nation that they have taken all their
+booty," he said, smiling. "This daring robber has evidently strong
+racial prejudices! Then, each of the victims had received, during the
+past month threatening letters demanding money for various charities.
+These letters did not emanate from the institutions named, but were
+anonymous appeals. The point seems worth notice."
+
+And so, armed with the usual police assurance that several sensational
+arrests might be expected in the morning, Sheard departed with this
+enthralling copy hot for the machines that had been stopped to take it.
+
+When, thoroughly tired, he again quitted the _Gleaner_ office, it was to
+direct his weary footsteps towards the Embankment and the all-night car
+that should bear him home.
+
+Crossing Tallis Street, he became aware of a confused murmur proceeding
+from somewhere ahead, and as he approached nearer to the river this took
+definite form and proclaimed itself a chaotic chorus of human voices.
+
+As he came out on to the Embankment an extraordinary scene presented
+itself.
+
+Directly in his path stood a ragged object--a piece of social flotsam--a
+unit of London's misery. This poor filthy fellow was singing at the top
+of his voice, a music-hall song upon that fertile topic, "the girls,"
+was dancing wildly around a dilapidated hat which stood upon the
+pavement at his feet, and was throwing sovereigns into this same hat
+from an apparently inexhaustible store in his coat pocket!
+
+Seeing Sheard standing watching him, he changed his tune and burst into
+an extempore lyric, "_The quids! The quids! The golden quids--the
+quids!_" and so on, until, filled with a sudden hot suspicion, he
+snatched up his hat, with its jingling contents, hugged it to his
+breast, and ran like the wind!
+
+Following him with his eyes as he made off towards Waterloo Bridge, the
+bewildered pressman all but came to the conclusion that he was the
+victim of a weird hallucination.
+
+For the night was filled with the songs, the shouts, the curses, the
+screams, of a ragged army of wretches who threw up gold in the air--who
+juggled with gold--who played pitch-and-toss with gold--who ran with
+great handfuls of gold clutched to their bosoms--who pursued one another
+for gold--who fought to defend the gold they had gained--who wept for
+the gold they had lost.
+
+One poor old woman knelt at the kerb, counting bright sovereigns into
+neat little piles, and perfectly indifferent to the advice of a kindly
+policeman, who, though evidently half dazed with the wonders of the
+night, urged her to get along to a safer place.
+
+Two dilapidated tramps, one of whom wore a battered straw hat, whilst
+his friend held an ancient green parasol over his bare head, appeared
+arm-in-arm, displaying much elegance of deportment, and, hailing a
+passing cab, gave the address, "Savoy," with great aplomb.
+
+Fights were plentiful, and the available police were kept busy arresting
+the combatants. Two officers passed Sheard, escorting a lean, ragged
+individual whose pockets jingled as he walked, and who spoke of the
+displeasure with which this unseemly arrest would fill "his people."
+
+Presently a bewildered Salvation Army official appeared. Sheard promptly
+buttonholed him.
+
+"Don't ask me, sir!" he said, in response to the obvious question.
+"Heaven only knows what it _is_ about! But I can tell you this much: no
+less than forty thousand pounds has been given away on the Embankment
+to-night! And in gold! Such an incredible example of ill-considered
+generosity I've never heard of! More harm has been done to our work
+to-night than we can hope to rectify in a twelvemonth!
+
+"Of course, it will do good in a few, a very few, cases. But, on the
+whole, it will do, I may say, incalculable harm. How was it distributed?
+In little paper bags, like those used by the banks. It sent half the
+poor fellows crazy! Just imagine--a broken-down wretch who'd lived on
+the verge of starvation for, maybe, years, suddenly has a bag of
+sovereigns put into his hand! Good heavens! what madness!"
+
+"Who did the distributing?"
+
+"That's the curious part of it! The bags were distributed by a number of
+men wearing the dark overcoats and uniform caps of the Salvation Army!
+That's how they managed to get through with the business without
+arousing the curiosity of the police. I don't know how many of them
+there were, but I should imagine twenty or thirty. They were through
+with it and gone before we woke up to what they had done!"
+
+Sheard thanked him for his information, stood a moment, irresolute; and
+turned back once more to the _Gleaner_ office.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thus, then, did a strange personality announce his coming and flood the
+British press with adjectives.
+
+The sensation created, on the following day, by the news of the Park
+Lane robbery was no greater than that occasioned by the news of the
+extraordinary Embankment affair.
+
+"What do we deduce," demanded a talkative and obtrusively clever person
+in a late City train, "from the circumstance that all thirty of the Park
+Lane brigands were alike?"
+
+"Obviously," replied a quiet voice, "that it was a 'make-up.' Thirty
+identical wigs, thirty identical moustaches, and the same grease-paint!"
+
+A singularly handsome man was the speaker. He was dark, masterful, and
+had notably piercing eyes. The clever person became silent.
+
+"Being all made up as a very common type of man-about-town," continued
+this striking-looking stranger, "they would pass unnoticed anywhere. If
+the police are looking for thirty blonde men of similar appearance they
+are childishly wasting their time. They are wasting their time in any
+event--as the future will show."
+
+Everyone in the carriage was listening now, and a man in a corner asked:
+"Do you think there is any connection between the Park Lane and
+Embankment affairs, sir?"
+
+"Think!" smiled the other, rising as the train slowed into Ludgate Hill.
+"You evidently have not seen this."
+
+He handed his questioner an early edition of an evening paper, and with
+a terse "Good morning," left the carriage.
+
+Glaringly displayed on the front page was the following:
+
+     WHO IS HE?
+
+     "We received early this morning the following advertisement,
+     prepaid in cash, and insert it here by reason of the great interest
+     which we feel sure it will possess for our readers:
+
+     "'On Behalf of the Poor Ones of the Embankment, I thank the
+     following philanthropists for their generous donations:"
+
+     _(Here followed a list of those guests of Mrs. Rohscheimer's who
+     had been victimised upon the previous night, headed with the name
+     of Julius Rohscheimer himself; and beside each name appeared an
+     amount representing the value of the article, or articles,
+     appropriated.)_
+
+     "'They may rest assured that not one halfpenny has been deducted
+     for working expenses. In fact, when the donations come to be
+     realised the Operative may be the loser. But no matter. "Expend
+     your money in pious uses, either voluntarily or by constraint."
+
+     "'(Signed) Severac Bablon.'"
+
+The paper was passed around in silence.
+
+"That fellow seemed to know a lot about it!" said someone.
+
+None of the men replied; but each looked at the other strangely--and
+wondered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+MIDNIGHT--AND THE MAN
+
+
+The next two days were busy ones for Sheard, who, from a variety of
+causes--the chief being his intimacy with the little circle which,
+whether it would or not, gathered around Mr. Julius Rohscheimer--found
+himself involved in the mystery of Severac Bablon. He had interviewed
+this man and that, endeavouring to obtain some coherent story of the
+great "hold up," but with little success. Everything was a mysterious
+maze, and Scotland Yard was without any clue that might lead to the
+solution. All the Fleet Street crime specialists had advanced theories,
+and now, on the night of the third day after the audacious robbery,
+Sheard was contributing his theory to the Sunday newspaper for which he
+worked.
+
+The subject of his article was the identity of Severac Bablon, whom
+Sheard was endeavouring to prove to be not an individual, but a society;
+a society, so he argued, formed for the immolation of Capital upon the
+altars of Demos.
+
+The course of reasoning that he had taken up proved more elusive than he
+had anticipated.
+
+His bundle of notes lay before him on the table. The news of the latest
+outrage, the burning of the great Runek Mills in Ontario, had served to
+convince him that his solution was the right one; yet he could make no
+headway, and the labours of the last day or so had left him tired and
+drowsy.
+
+He left his table and sank into an arm-chair by the study fire, knocking
+out his briar on a coal and carefully refilling and lighting that
+invaluable collaborator. With his data presently arranged in better
+mental order, he returned to the table and covered page after page with
+facile reasoning. Then the drowsiness which he could not altogether
+shake off crept upon him again, and staring at the words "Such societies
+have existed in fiction, now we have one existing in fact," he dropped
+into a doze--as the clock in the hall struck one.
+
+When he awoke, with his chin on his breast, it was to observe, firstly,
+that the MS. no longer lay on the pad, and, secondly, on looking up,
+that a stranger sat in the arm-chair, opposite, reading it!
+
+"Who----" began Sheard, starting to his feet.
+
+Whereupon the stranger raised a white, protesting hand.
+
+"Give me but one moment's grace, Mr. Sheard," he said quietly, "and I
+will at once apologise and explain!"
+
+"What do you mean?" rapped the journalist. "How dare you enter my house
+in this way, and----" He broke off from sheer lack of words, for this
+calm, scrupulously dressed intruder was something outside the zone of
+things comprehensible.
+
+In person he was slender, but of his height it was impossible to judge
+accurately whilst he remained seated. He was perfectly attired in
+evening-dress, and wore a heavy, fur-lined coat. A silk hat, by an
+eminent hatter, stood upon Sheard's writing-table, a pair of gloves
+beside it. A gold-mounted ebony walking-stick was propped against the
+fireplace. But the notable and unusual characteristic of the man was his
+face. Its beauty was literally amazing. Sheard, who had studied
+black-and-white, told himself that here was an ideal head--that of
+Apollo himself.
+
+And this extraordinary man, with his absolutely flawless features
+composed, and his large, luminous eyes half closed, lounged in Sheard's
+study at half-past one in the early morning and toyed with an unfinished
+manuscript--like some old and privileged friend who had dropped in for a
+chat.
+
+"Look here!" said the outraged pressman, stepping around the table as
+the calm effrontery of the thing burst fully upon him. "Get out! _Now!_"
+
+"Mr. Sheard," said the other, "if I apologise frankly and fully for my
+intrusion, will you permit me to give my reasons for it?"
+
+Sheard again found himself inarticulate. He was angrily conscious of a
+vague disquiet. The visitor's suave courtesy under circumstances so
+utterly unusual disarmed him, as it must have disarmed any average man
+similarly situated. For a moment his left fist clenched, his mind swung
+in the balance, irresolute. The other turned back a loose page and
+quietly resumed his perusal of the manuscript.
+
+That decided Sheard's attitude, and he laughed.
+
+Whereat the stranger again raised the protestant hand.
+
+"We shall awake Mrs. Sheard!" he said solicitously. "And now, as I see
+you have decided to give me a hearing, let me begin by offering you my
+sincere apology for entering your house uninvited."
+
+Sheard, his mind filled with a sense of phantasy, dropped into a chair
+opposite the visitor, reached into the cabinet at his elbow, and
+proffered a box of Turkish cigarettes.
+
+"Your methods place you beyond the reach of ordinary castigation," he
+said. "I don't know your name and I don't know your business; but I
+honestly admire your stark impudence!"
+
+"Very well," replied the other in his quiet, melodious voice, with its
+faint, elusive accent. "A compliment is intended, and I thank you! And
+now, I see you are wondering how I obtained admittance. Yet it is so
+simple. Your front door is not bolted, and Mrs. Sheard, but a few days
+since, had the misfortune to lose a key. You recollect? I found that
+key! Is it enough?"
+
+"Quite enough!" said Sheard grimly. "But why go to the trouble? What do
+you want?"
+
+"I want to insure that one, at least, of the influential dailies shall
+not persistently misrepresent my actions!"
+
+"Then who----" began Sheard, and got no farther; for the stranger handed
+him a card--
+
+     SEVERAC BABLON
+
+"You see," continued the man already notorious in two continents, "your
+paper, here, is inaccurate in several important particulars! Your
+premises are incorrect, and your inferences consequently wrong!"
+
+Sheard stared at him, silent, astounded.
+
+"I have been described in the Press of England and America as an
+incendiary, because I burned the Runek Mills; as a maniac, because I
+compensated men cruelly thrown out of employment; as a thief, because I
+took from the rich in Park Lane and gave to the poor on the Embankment.
+I say that this is unjust!"
+
+His eyes gleamed into a sudden blaze. The delicate, white hand that held
+Sheard's manuscript gripped it so harshly that the paper was crushed
+into a ball. That Severac Bablon was mad seemed an unavoidable
+conclusion; that he was forceful, dominant, a power to be counted with,
+was a truth legible in every line of his fine features, in every vibrant
+tone of his voice, in the fire of his eyes. The air of the study seemed
+charged with his electric passion.
+
+Then, in an instant, he regained his former calm. Rising to his feet, he
+threw off the heavy coat he wore and stood, a tall, handsome figure,
+with his hands spread out, interrogatively.
+
+"Do I look such a man?" he demanded.
+
+Despite the theatrical savour of the thing, Sheard could not but feel
+the real sincerity of his appeal; and, as he stared, wondering, at the
+fine brow, the widely-opened eyes, the keen nostrils and delicate yet
+indomitable mouth and chin, he was forced to admit that here was no mere
+up-to-date cracksman, but something else, something more. "Is he mad?"
+flashed again through his mind.
+
+"No!" smiled Severac Bablon, dropping back into the chair; "I am as sane
+as you yourself!"
+
+"Have I questioned it?"
+
+"With your eyes and the left corner of your mouth, yes!" Sheard was
+silent.
+
+"I shall not weary you with a detailed exculpation of my acts,"
+continued his visitor; "but you have a list on your table, no doubt, of
+the people whom I forced to assist the Embankment poor?"
+
+Sheard nodded.
+
+"Mention but one whose name has ever before been associated with
+charity; I mean the charity that has no relation to advertisement! You
+are silent! You say"--glancing over the unfinished article--"that 'this
+was a capricious burlesque of true philanthropy.' I reply that it served
+its purpose--of proclaiming my arrival in London and of clearly
+demonstrating the purpose of my coming! You ask who are my accomplices!
+I answer--they are as the sands of the desert! You seek to learn who I
+am. Seek, rather, to learn _what_ I am!"
+
+"Why have you selected me for this--honour?"
+
+"I overheard some remarks of yours, contrasting a restaurant supper-room
+with the Embankment which appealed to me! But, to come to the point, do
+you believe me to be a rogue?"
+
+Sheard smiled a trifle uneasily.
+
+"You are doubtful," the other continued. "It has entered your mind that
+a proper course would be to ring up Scotland Yard! Instead, come with
+me! I will show you how little you know of me and of what I can do. I
+will show you that no door is closed to me! Why do you hesitate? You
+shall be home again, safe, within two hours. I pledge my word!"
+
+Possessing the true journalistic soul, Sheard was sorely tempted; for to
+the passion of the copy-hunter such an invitation could not fail in its
+appeal. With only a momentary hesitation, he stood up.
+
+"I'll come!" he said.
+
+A smart landaulette stood waiting outside the house; and, without a word
+to the chauffeur, Severac Bablon opened the door and entered after
+Sheard. The motor immediately started, and the car moved off silently.
+The blinds were drawn.
+
+"You will have to trust yourself implicitly in my hands," said Sheard's
+extraordinary companion. "In a moment I shall ask you to fasten your
+handkerchief about your eyes and to give me your word that you are
+securely blindfolded!"
+
+"Is it necessary?"
+
+"Quite! Are you nervous?"
+
+"No!"--shortly.
+
+There was a brief interval of silence, during which the car, as well as
+it was possible to judge, whirled through the deserted streets at a
+furious speed.
+
+"Will you oblige me?" came the musical voice.
+
+The journalist took out his pocket-handkerchief, and making it into a
+bandage, tied it firmly about his head.
+
+"Are you ready?" asked Severac Bablon.
+
+"Yes."
+
+A click told of a raised blind.
+
+"Can you see?"
+
+"Not a thing!"
+
+"Then take my hand and follow quickly. Do not speak; do not stumble!"
+
+Cautiously feeling his way, Sheard, one hand clasping that of his guide,
+stepped out into the keen night air, and was assisted by some third
+person--probably the chauffeur--on to the roof of the car!
+
+"Be silent!" from Severac Bablon. "Fear nothing! Step forward as your
+feet will be directed and trust implicitly to me!"
+
+As a man in a dream Sheard stood there--on the roof of a motor-car, in a
+London street--and waited. There came dimly to his ears, and from no
+great distance, the sound of late traffic along what he judged to be a
+main road. But immediately about him quiet reigned. They were evidently
+in some deserted back-water of a great thoroughfare. A faint scuffling
+sound arose, followed by that of someone lightly dropping upon a stone
+pavement.
+
+Then an arm was slipped about him and he was directed, in a whisper, to
+step forward. He found his foot upon what he thought to be a flat
+railing. His ankle was grasped from below and the voice of Severac
+Bablon came, "On to my shoulders--so!"
+
+Still with the supporting arm about him, he stepped gingerly
+forward--and stood upon the shoulders of the man below.
+
+"Stand quite rigidly!" said Severac Bablon.
+
+He obeyed; and was lifted, lightly as a feather, and deposited upon the
+ground! It was such a feat as he had seen professional athletes perform,
+and he marvelled at the physical strength of his companion.
+
+A keen zest for this extravagant adventure seized him. He thought that
+it must be good to be a burglar. Then, as he heard the motor re-started
+and the car move off, a sudden qualm of disquiet came; for it was
+tantamount to burning one's boats.
+
+"Take my hand!" he heard; and was led to the head of a flight of steps.
+Cautiously he felt his way down, in the wake of his guide.
+
+A key was turned in a well-oiled lock, and he was guided inside a
+building. There was a faint, crypt-like smell--vaguely familiar.
+
+"Quick!" said the soft voice--"remove your boots and leave them here!"
+
+Sheard obeyed, and holding the guiding hand tightly in his own,
+traversed a stone-paved corridor. Doors were unlocked and re-locked. A
+flight of steps was negotiated in phantom silence; for his companion's
+footsteps, like his own, were noiseless. Another door was unlocked.
+
+"Now!" came the whispered words: "Remove the handkerchief!"
+
+Rapidly enough, Sheard obeyed, and, burning with curiosity, looked about
+him.
+
+"Good heavens!" he muttered.
+
+A supernatural fear of his mysterious cicerone momentarily possessed
+him. For he thought that he stood in a lofty pagan temple!
+
+High above his head a watery moonbeam filtered through a window, and
+spilled its light about the base of a gigantic stone pillar. Towering
+shapes, as of statues of gods, loomed, awesomely, in the gloom. Behind
+the pillar dimly he could discern a painted procession of deities upon
+the wall. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the tall figure of
+Severac Bablon was at his elbow.
+
+"Where do you stand?" questioned his low voice.
+
+And, like an inspiration, the truth burst in upon Sheard's mind.
+
+"The British Museum!" he whispered hoarsely.
+
+"Correct!" was the answer; "the treasure-house of your modern Babylon!
+Wait, now, until I return; and, if you have no relish for arrest as a
+burglar, do not move--do not breathe!"
+
+With that, he was gone, into the dense shadows about; and Henry Thomas
+Sheard, of the _Gleaner_, found himself, at, approximately, a
+quarter-past two in the morning, standing in an apartment of the British
+Museum, with no better explanation to offer, in the event of detection,
+than that he had come there in the company of Severac Bablon.
+
+He thought of the many printing-presses busy, even then, with the
+deductions of Fleet Street theorists, regarding this man of mystery. All
+of their conclusions must necessarily be wrong, since their premises
+were certainly so. For which of them who had assured his readers that
+Severac Bablon was a common cracksman (on a large scale) would not have
+reconsidered his opinion had he learned that the common cracksman held
+private keys of the national treasure-house?
+
+His eyes growing more accustomed to the darkness, Sheard began to see
+more clearly the objects about him. A seated figure of the Pharaoh Seti
+I. surveyed him with a scorn but thinly veiled; beyond, two towering
+Assyrian bulls showed gigantic in the semi-light. He could discern, now,
+the whole length of the lofty hall--a carven avenue; and, as his gaze
+wandered along that dim vista, he detected a black shape emerging from
+the blacker shadows beyond the bulls.
+
+It was Severac Bablon. In an instant he stood beside him, and Sheard saw
+that he carried a bag.
+
+"Follow me--quickly!" he said. "Not a second to spare!"
+
+But too fully alive to their peril, Sheard slipped away in the wake of
+this greatly daring man. The horror of his position was strong upon him
+now.
+
+"This way!"
+
+Blindly he stumbled forward, upstairs, around a sharp corner, and then a
+door was unlocked and re-locked behind them. "Egyptian Room!" came a
+quick whisper. "In here!"
+
+A white beam cut the blackness, temporarily dazzling him, and Sheard saw
+that his companion was directing the light of an electric torch into a
+wall-cabinet--which he held open. It contained mummy cases, and, without
+quite knowing how he got there, Sheard found himself crouching behind
+one. Severac Bablon vanished.
+
+Darkness followed, and to his ears stole the sound of distant voices.
+
+The voices grew louder.
+
+Behind him, upon the back of the cabinet, danced a sudden disc of light,
+and, within it, a moving shadow! Someone was searching the room!
+
+Muffled and indistinct the voices sounded through the glass and the
+mummy-case; but that the searchers were standing within a foot of his
+hiding-place Sheard was painfully certain. He shrank behind the
+sarcophagus lid like a tortoise within its shell, fearful lest a hand,
+an arm, a patch of clothing should protrude.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE HEAD OF CAESAR
+
+
+The voices died away. A door banged somewhere.
+
+Then Sheard all but cried out; for a hand was laid upon his arm.
+
+"_Ssh!_" came Severac Bablon's voice from the next mummy-case; and a
+creak told of the cabinet door swinging open. "This way!"
+
+Sheard followed immediately, and was guided along the whole length of
+the room. A door was unlocked and re-locked behind them. Downstairs they
+passed, and along a narrow corridor lined with cases, as he could dimly
+see. Through another door they went, and came upon stone steps.
+
+"Your boots!" said his companion, and put them into his hands.
+
+Rapidly enough he fastened them. A faint creak was followed by a draught
+of cool air; and, being gently pushed forward, Sheard found himself
+outside the Museum and somewhere in the rear of the building. The place
+lay in deep shadow.
+
+"_Sss! Sss!_" came in his ear. "Quiet!"
+
+Whilst he all but held his breath, a policeman tramped past slowly
+outside the railings. As the sound of his solid tread died away, Severac
+Bablon raised something to his lips and blew a long-sustained, minor
+note--shrill, eerie.
+
+A motor-car appeared, as if by magic, stopped before them, and was
+backed right on to the pavement. The chauffeur, mounting on the roof,
+threw a short rope ladder across the railings.
+
+"Up!" Sheard was directed, and, nothing loath, climbed over.
+
+He was joined immediately by his companion in this night's bizarre
+adventures; and, almost before he realised that they were safe, he found
+himself seated once more in the swiftly moving car.
+
+"What's the meaning of it?" he demanded rapidly.
+
+"Fear nothing!" was the reply. "You have my word!"
+
+"But to what are you committing me?"
+
+"To nothing that shall lie very heavily upon your conscience! You have
+seen, to-night, something of my opportunities. With the treasures of the
+nation thus at my mercy, am I a common cracksman? If I were, should I
+not ere this have removed the portable gems of the collection? I say to
+you again, that no door is closed to me; yet never have I sought to
+enrich myself. But why should these things lie idle, when they are such
+all-powerful instruments?"
+
+"I don't follow you."
+
+"To-morrow all will be clear!"
+
+"Why did you blindfold me?"
+
+"Should you have followed had you seen where I led? I wish to number you
+among my friends. You are not of my people, and I can claim no fealty of
+you; but I desire your friendship. Can I count upon it?"
+
+The light of a street-lamp flashed momentarily into the car, striking a
+dull, venomous green spark from a curious ring which Severac Bablon
+wore. In some strange fashion it startled Sheard, but, in the ensuing
+darkness, he sought out the handsome face of his companion and found the
+big, luminous eyes fixed upon him. Something about the man--his daring,
+perhaps, his enthusiasm, his utterly mysterious purpose--appealed,
+suddenly, all but irresistibly.
+
+Sheard held out his hand. And withdrew it again.
+
+"To-morrow----" he began.
+
+"To-morrow you will have no choice!"
+
+"How so? You have placed yourself in my hands. I can now, if I desire,
+publish your description!--report all that you have told me--all that I
+have seen!"
+
+"You will not do so! You will be my friend, my defender in the Press. Of
+what you have seen to-night you will say nothing!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"No matter! It will be so!"
+
+A silence fell between them that endured until the car pulled up before
+Sheard's gate.
+
+With ironic courtesy, he invited Severac Bablon to enter and partake of
+some refreshment after the night's excitement. With a grace that made
+the journalist slightly ashamed of his irony, that incomprehensible man
+accepted.
+
+Leaving him in the same arm-chair which he had occupied when first he
+set eyes upon him, Sheard went to the dining-room and returned with a
+siphon, a decanter, and glasses. He found Severac Bablon glancing
+through an edition of Brugsch's "Egypt Under the Pharaohs." He replaced
+the book on the shelf as Sheard entered.
+
+"These Egyptologists," he said, "they amuse me! Dissolve them all in a
+giant test-tube, and the keenest analysis must fail to detect one single
+grain of imagination!"
+
+His words aroused Sheard's curiosity, but the lateness of the hour
+precluded the possibility of any discussion upon the subject.
+
+When, shortly, Severac Bablon made his departure, he paused at the gate
+and proffered his hand, which Sheard took without hesitation.
+
+"Good-night--or, rather, good-morning!" he said smilingly. "We shall
+meet again very soon!"
+
+The other, too tired to wonder what his words might portend, returned to
+the house, and, lingering only to scrawl a note that he was not to be
+awakened at the usual time, hastened to bed. As he laid his weary head
+upon the pillow the cold grey of dawn was stealing in at the windows and
+brushing out the depths of night's blacker shadows.
+
+It was noon when Sheard awoke--to find his wife gently shaking him.
+
+He sat up with a start.
+
+"What is it, dear?"
+
+"A messenger boy. Will you sign for the letter?"
+
+But half awake, he took the pencil and signed. Then, sleepily, he tore
+open the envelope and read as follows.
+
+     "DEAR MR. SHEARD,--
+
+     "You were tired last night, so I did not further weary you with a
+     discourse upon Egyptology; moreover, I had a matter of urgency to
+     attend to; but you may remember I hinted that the initiated look
+     beyond Brugsch.
+
+     "I should be indebted if you could possibly arrange to call upon
+     Sir Leopold Jesson in Hamilton Place at half-past four. You will
+     find him at home. It is important that you take a friend with you.
+     In your Press capacity, desire him to show you his celebrated
+     collection of pottery. Seize the opportunity to ask him for a
+     subscription (not less than L10,000) towards the re-opening of the
+     closed ward of Sladen Hospital. He will decline. Offer to accept,
+     instead, the mahogany case which he has in his smaller Etruscan
+     urn. When you have secured this, decide to accept a cheque also.
+     Arrange to be alone in your study at 12.40 to-night.
+
+     "By the way, although Brugsch's book is elementary, there is
+     something more behind it. Look into the matter.--S.B."
+
+This singular communication served fully to arouse Sheard, and,
+refreshed by his bath, he sat down to a late breakfast. Propping the
+letter against the coffee-pot, he read and re-read every line of the
+small, neat, and oddly square writing.
+
+The more he reflected upon it the more puzzled he grew. It was a link
+with the fantastic happenings of the night, and, as such, not wholly
+welcome.
+
+Why Severac Bablon desired him to inspect the famous Jesson collection
+he could not imagine; and that part of his instructions: "Decide to
+accept a cheque," seemed to presume somewhat generously upon Sheard's
+persuasive eloquence. The re-opening of the closed ward was a good and
+worthy object, and the sum of ten, or even twenty thousand pounds, one
+which Sir Leopold Jesson well could afford. But he did not remember to
+have heard that the salving of derelict hospitals was one of Sir
+Leopold's hobbies.
+
+Moreover, he considered the whole thing a piece of presumption upon the
+part of his extraordinary acquaintance. Why should he run about London
+at the behest of Severac Bablon?
+
+"Eleven-thirty results!" came the sing-song of a newsboy. And Sheard
+slipped his hand in his pocket for a coin. As he did so, the boy paused
+directly outside the house.
+
+"Robbery at the British Museum! Eleven-thirty!"
+
+His heart gave a sudden leap, and he cast a covert glance towards his
+wife. She was deep in a new novel.
+
+Without a word, Sheard went to the door, and walking down to the gate,
+bought a paper. The late news was very brief.
+
+     BRITISH MUSEUM MYSTERY
+
+     "An incredibly mysterious burglary was carried out last night at
+     the British Museum. By some means at present unexplained the Head
+     of Caesar has been removed from its pedestal and stolen, and the
+     world-famous Hamilton Vase (valued at L30,000) is also missing. The
+     burglar has left no trace behind him, but as we go to press the
+     police report an important clue."
+
+Sheard returned to the house.
+
+Seated in his study with the newspaper and Severac Bablon's letter
+before him, he strove to arrange his ideas in order, to settle upon a
+plan of action--to understand.
+
+That the "important clue" would lead to the apprehension of the real
+culprit he did not believe for a moment. Severac Bablon, unless Sheard
+were greatly mistaken, stood beyond the reach of the police measures.
+But what was the meaning of this crass misuse of his mysterious power?
+How could it be reconciled with his assurances of the previous night?
+Finally, what was the meaning of his letter?
+
+He wished him to interview Sir Leopold Jesson, for some obscure reason.
+So much was evident. But by what right did he impose that task upon him?
+Sheard was nonplussed, and had all but decided not to go, when the
+closing lines of the letter again caught his eye. "Although Brugsch's
+book is elementary, there is something more behind it----"
+
+A sudden idea came into his head, an unpleasant idea, and with it, a
+memory.
+
+His visitor of the night before had brought a mysterious bag (which
+Sheard first had observed in his hand as they fled from the Museum) into
+the house with him. It was evidently heavy; but to questions regarding
+it he had shaken his head, smilingly replying that he would know in good
+time why it called for such special attention. He remembered, too, that
+the midnight caller carried it when he departed, for he had rested it
+upon the gravel path whilst bidding him good-night.
+
+Frowning uneasily, he stepped to the bookcase.
+
+It was a very deep one, occupying a recess. With nervous haste he
+removed "Egypt Under the Pharaohs," and his painful suspicion became a
+certainty.
+
+Why, he had asked himself, should he run about London at the behest of
+Severac Bablon? And here was the answer.
+
+Placed between the books and the wall at the back, and seeming to frown
+upon him through the gap, was the stolen Head of Caesar!
+
+Sheard hastily replaced the volume, and with fingers that were none too
+steady filled and lighted his pipe.
+
+His reflections brought him little solace. He was in the toils. The
+intervening hours with their divers happenings passed all but unnoticed.
+That day had space for but one event, and its coming overshadowed all
+others. The hour came, then, all too soon, and punctually at four-thirty
+Sheard presented himself in Hamilton Place.
+
+Sir Leopold Jesson's collection of china and pottery is one of the three
+finest in Europe, and Sheard, under happier auspices, would have enjoyed
+examining it. Ralph Crofter, the popular black-and-white artist who
+accompanied him, was lost in admiration of the pure lines and exquisite
+colouring of the old Chinese ware in particular.
+
+"This piece would be hard to replace, Sir Leopold?" he said, resting his
+hand upon a magnificent jar of delicate rose tint, that seemed to blush
+in the soft light.
+
+The owner nodded complacently. He was a small man, sparely built, and
+had contracted, during forty years' labour in the money market, a
+pronounced stoop. His neat moustache was wonderfully black, blacker than
+Nature had designed it, and the entire absence of hair upon his high,
+gleaming crown enabled the craniologist to detect, without difficulty,
+Sir Leopold's abnormal aptitude for finance.
+
+"Two thousand would not buy it, sir!" he answered.
+
+Crofton whistled softly and then passed along the room.
+
+"This is very beautiful!" he said suddenly, and bent over a small vase
+with figures in relief. "The design and sculpture are amazingly fine!"
+
+"That piece," replied Sir Leopold, clearing his throat, "is almost
+unique. There is only one other example known--the Hamilton Vase!"
+
+"The stolen one?"
+
+"Yes. They are of the same period, and both from the Barberini Palace."
+
+"Of course you have read the latest particulars of that extraordinary
+affair? What do you make of it?"
+
+Jesson shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"The vase is known to every connoisseur in Europe," he said. "No one
+dare buy it--though," he added smiling, "many would like to!"
+
+Sheard coughed uneasily. He had a task to perform.
+
+"Your collection represents a huge fortune, Sir Leopold," he said.
+
+"Say four hundred thousand pounds!" answered the collector comfortably.
+
+"A large sum. Think of the thousands whom that amount would make happy!"
+
+Having broken the ice, Sheard found his enforced task not altogether
+distasteful. It seemed wrong to him, unjust, and in strict disaccordance
+with the views of the _Gleaner_, that these thousands should be locked
+up for one man's pleasure, while starvation levied its toll upon the
+many. Moreover, he nurtured a temperamental distaste for the whole
+Semitic race--a Western resentment of that insidious Eastern power.
+
+Crofter looked surprised, and clearly thought his friend's remark in
+rather bad taste. Sir Leopold faced round abruptly, and a hard look
+crept into his small bright eyes.
+
+"Mr. Sheard," he said harshly. "I began life as a pauper. What I have, I
+have worked for."
+
+"You have enjoyed excellent health."
+
+"I admit it."
+
+"Had you, in those days of early poverty, been smitten down with
+sickness, of what use to you would your admittedly fine commercial
+capacity have been? You would then, only too gladly, have availed
+yourself of such an institution as the Sladen Hospital, for instance."
+
+Sir Leopold started.
+
+"What have you to do with the Sladen Hospital?"
+
+"Nothing. It has accomplished great work in the past."
+
+"Do you know anything of _this_?"
+
+Jesson's manner became truculent. He pulled some papers from his pocket,
+and selecting a plain correspondence card, handed it to Sheard.
+
+The card bore no address, being headed simply: "Final appeal." It read:
+
+     "Your cheque toward the re-opening of the Out-Patient's Wing of
+     Sladen Hospital has not been forwarded."
+
+Sheard failed to recognise the writing, and handed the card back,
+shaking his head.
+
+"Oh!" said Jesson suspiciously; "because I've had three of these
+anonymous applications--and they don't come from the hospital
+authorities."
+
+"Why not comply?" asked Sheard. "Let me announce in the _Gleaner_ that
+you have generously subscribed ten thousand pounds."
+
+"_What!_" rapped Sir Leopold. "Do you take me for a fool?" He glared
+angrily. "Before we go any farther, sir--is this touting business the
+real object of your visit?"
+
+The pressman flushed. His conduct, he knew well, was irreconcilable with
+good form; but Jesson's tone had become grossly offensive. Something
+about the man repelled Sheard's naturally generous instincts, and no
+shade of compunction remained. A score of times, during the past quarter
+of an hour, he had all but determined to throw up this unsavoury affair
+and to let Severac Bablon do with him as he would. Now, he stifled all
+scruples and was glad that the task had been required of him. He would
+shirk no more, but would go through with the part allotted him in this
+strange comedy, lead him where it might.
+
+"Yes, and no!" he answered evasively. "Really I have come to ask you for
+something--the mahogany case which is in your smaller Etruscan urn!"
+
+Jesson stared; first at Sheard, and then, significantly, at Crofter.
+
+"I begin to suspect that you have lunched unwisely!" he sneered.
+
+Sheard repressed a hot retort, and Crofter, to cover the embarrassment
+which he felt at this seeming contretemps, hummed softly and instituted
+a painstaking search for the vessel referred to. He experienced little
+difficulty in finding it, for it was one of two huge urns standing upon
+ebony pedestals.
+
+"The smaller, you say?" he called with affected cheeriness.
+
+Sheard nodded. It was a crucial moment. Did the pot contain anything? If
+not, he had made a fool of himself. And if it did, in what way could its
+contents assist him in his campaign of extortion?
+
+The artist, standing on tiptoe, reached into the urn--and produced a
+mahogany case, such as is used for packing silver ware.
+
+"What's that?" rapped Jesson excitedly. "I know nothing of it!"
+
+"You might open it, Crofter!" directed Sheard with enforced calm.
+
+Crofter did so--and revealed, in a nest of black velvet, a small piece
+of exquisite pottery.
+
+A passage hitherto obscure in Severac Bablon's letter instantly
+explained itself in Sheard's mind. "I did not further weary you with a
+discourse upon Egyptology; moreover, _I had a matter of urgency to
+attend to_!"
+
+Sir Leopold Jesson took one step forward, and then, with staring eyes,
+and face unusually pale, turned on the journalist.
+
+"The Hamilton Vase! You villain!"
+
+"Sir Leopold!" cried Sheard with sudden asperity, "be good enough to
+moderate your language! If you can offer any explanation of how this
+vase, stolen only last night from the national collection, comes to be
+concealed in your house, I shall be interested to hear it!"
+
+Jesson looked at Crofter, who still held the case in his hands; the
+artist's face expressed nothing but blank amazement. He looked at
+Sheard, who met his eyes calmly.
+
+"There is roguery here!" he said. "I don't know if there are two of
+you----"
+
+"Sir Leopold Jesson!" cried Crofter angrily, "you have said more than
+enough! Your hobby has become a mania, sir! How you obtained possession
+of the vase I do not know, nor do I know how my friend has traced the
+theft to you; least of all how this scandal is to be hushed up. But have
+the decency to admit facts! There is no defence, absolutely!"
+
+"What do you want?" said Jesson tersely. "This is a cunning trap--and
+I've fallen right into it!"
+
+"You have!" said Crofter grimly. "I must congratulate my friend on a
+very smart piece of detective work!"
+
+"What do you want?" repeated Jesson, moistening his dry lips.
+
+His quick mind had been at work since the stolen vase was discovered in
+his possession, and although he knew himself the victim of an amazing
+plot, he also recognised that rebellion was out of the question. As
+Crofter had said, there was no defence.
+
+"Suppose," suggested Sheard, "you authorise the announcement in the
+_Gleaner_ to which I have already referred? I, for my part, will
+undertake to return the vase to the proper authorities and to keep your
+name out of the matter entirely. Would you agree to keep silent,
+Crofter?"
+
+"Can you manage what you propose?"
+
+"I can!" answered Sheard, confidently.
+
+"All right!" said Crofter slowly. "It's connivance, but in a good
+cause!"
+
+"I shall make the cheque payable to the hospital!" said Jesson,
+significantly.
+
+Sheard stared for a moment, then, as the insinuation came home to his
+mind: "How dare you!" he cried hotly. "Do you take us for thieves?"
+
+"I hardly know what to take you for," replied the other. "Your
+proceedings are unique."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A MYSTIC HAND
+
+
+"It amounts," said J. J. Oppner, the lord of Wall Street, "to a panic.
+No man of money is safe. I ain't boilin' over with confidence in
+Scotland Yard, and I've got some Agency boys here in London with me."
+
+"A panic, eh?" grunted Baron Hague, Teutonically. "So you vear this
+Bablon, eh?"
+
+"A bit we do," drawled Oppner, "and then some. After that a whole lot,
+and we're well scared. He held me up at my Canadian mills for a pile;
+but I've got wise to him, and if he crowds me again he's a full-blown
+genius."
+
+Mrs. Rohscheimer's dinner party murmured sympathetically.
+
+"Of course you have heard, Baron," said the hostess, "that in his
+outrage here--here, in Park Lane!--he was assisted by no fewer than
+thirty accomplices?"
+
+"Dirty aggomblices, eh? Dirty?"
+
+"Dirty's the word!" growled Mr. Oppner.
+
+"The wonder is," said Sir Richard Haredale, "that a rogue with so many
+assistants has not been betrayed."
+
+To those present at the Rohscheimer board this subject, indeed, was one
+of quite extraordinary interest, in view of the fact that it was only a
+few days since the affair of the dramatic ball. Sixteen diners there
+were, and in order to appreciate the electric atmosphere which prevailed
+in the airy salon, let us survey the board. Reading from left to right,
+as in the case of society wedding groups, the diners were:
+
+    Mrs. Julius Rohscheimer.[1]
+    Baron Hague.[1]
+    Miss Zoe Oppner.[1]
+    Sir Richard Haredale.
+    Mrs. Maurice Hohsmann.[1]
+    Mr. J. J. Oppner.[1]
+    Mrs. Wellington Lacey.
+    Mr. Sheard (Press).
+    Miss Salome Hohsmann.[1]
+    Sir Leopold Jesson.[1]
+    Lady Vignoles.[1]
+    Mr. Julius Rohscheimer.[1]
+    Lady Mary Evershed.
+    Lord Vignoles.
+    Miss Charlotte Hohsmann.[1]
+    Mr. Antony Elschild.[1]
+
+[Footnote 1: Representatives of capital.]
+
+"I understand that the man holds private keys to the British Museum!"
+cried Mrs. Hohsmann.
+
+"Nobody would be surprised to hear," came the thick voice of Julius
+Rohscheimer, "that he'd got a private subway between his bedroom and the
+Bank of England!"
+
+Extravagant though this may appear, it would not indeed, at this time,
+have surprised the world at large to learn _anything_--however amazing
+in an ordinary man--respecting Severac Bablon. The real facts of his
+most recent exploit were known only to a select few; but it was
+universal property how, at about half-past eleven one morning shortly
+after the theft from the British Museum, and whilst all London, together
+with a great part of the Empire, was discussing the incredibly
+mysterious robbery, a cab drove up to the main entrance of that
+institution, containing a District Messenger and a large box.
+
+The box was consigned to the trustees of the Museum, and the boy, being
+questioned, described the consigner as "a very old gentleman, with long,
+white hair."
+
+It contained, carefully and scientifically packed, the Hamilton Vase and
+the Head of Caesar!
+
+Furthermore, it contained the following note:
+
+     "GENTLEMEN,--
+
+     "I beg to return, per messenger, the Head of Caesar and the Hamilton
+     Vase. My reason for taking the liberty of borrowing them was that I
+     desired to convince a wealthy friend that a rare curio is a
+     powerful instrument for good, and that to allow of great wealth
+     lying idle when thousands sicken and die in poverty is a misuse of
+     a power conferred by Heaven.
+
+     "I trust that you will forgive my having unavoidably occasioned you
+     so much anxiety.
+
+     "SEVERAC BABLON."
+
+The contents of the note were made public with the appearance of the
+3.30 editions; nor was there a news-sheet of them all that failed to
+reprint, from the _Gleaner_, a paragraph announcing that Sir Leopold
+Jesson had made the magnificent donation of L10,000 to the Sladen
+Hospital. But the link that bound these items together was invisible to
+the eyes of the world. Two persons at Rohscheimer's table, however, were
+aware of all the facts; and although Sheard often glanced at Jesson, he
+studiously avoided meeting his eyes.
+
+Severac Bablon's activities had not failed to react upon the temperature
+of the Stock Exchange. Loudly it was whispered that influential and
+highly-placed persons were concerned with him. No capitalist felt safe.
+No man trusted his staff, his solicitor, his broker. It was felt that
+minions of Severac Bablon were everywhere; that Severac Bablon was
+omnipresent.
+
+"You've gone pretty deep into the case, Sheard," said Rohscheimer. "What
+do you know about these cards he sends to people he's goin' to rob?"
+
+Sheard cleared his throat somewhat nervously. All eyes sought him.
+
+"The authorities have established the fact," he replied, "that all those
+whom Severac Bablon has victimised have received--due warning."
+
+Sir Leopold Jesson was watching him covertly.
+
+"What do you mean by 'due warning'?" he snapped.
+
+"They have been requested, anonymously," Sheard explained, "to subscribe
+to some worthy object. When they have failed voluntarily to comply they
+have been _compelled_, forcibly, to do so!"
+
+Julius Rohscheimer began to turn purple. He spluttered furiously, ere
+gaining command of speech.
+
+"Is this a free country?" came in a hoarse roar. "If a man ain't out
+buildin' hospitals for beggars does he have to be held up----"
+
+He caught Mrs. Rohscheimer's glance, laden with entreaty.
+
+"Good Lord!" he concluded, weakly. "Isn't it funny!"
+
+Baron Hague was understood to growl that he should no longer feel safe
+until back to Berlin he had gone.
+
+"I am told," said Mr. Antony Elschild, "that a new Severac Bablon
+outrage is anticipated by the authorities."
+
+That loosed the flood-gates. A dozen voices were asking at once: "Have
+_you_ received a card?"
+
+It seemed that this was a matter which had lain at the back of each
+mind; that each had feared to broach; that each, now, was glad to
+discuss. An extraordinary and ominous circumstance, then, was now
+brought to light.
+
+A note had been received by each of the capitalists present, stating
+that L1,000,000 was urgently needed by the British Government for the
+establishment of an aerial fleet. That was all. But the notes all bore a
+certain seal.
+
+"How many of us"--Julius Rohscheimer's coarse voice rose above them
+all--"have got these notes?"
+
+A moment's silence, wherein it became evident that five of the gentlemen
+present had received such communications. Mrs. Hohsmann stated that her
+husband had been the recipient of a note also.
+
+"With Hohsmann," resumed Rohscheimer, "six of us."
+
+"It appears to me," the soft voice was Antony Elschild's, "that no time
+should be lost in ascertaining how many of these notes have been
+sent----"
+
+"Why?" asked Rohscheimer.
+
+"Because, from what we know of Severac Bablon, it is evident that he
+intends to raise this sum, or a great part of it, for this highly
+patriotic purpose, amongst our particular set. One is naturally anxious
+to learn the amount of one's share in the responsibility!"
+
+Baron Hague inquired, in stentorian but complicated English, whether
+_he_ was to be expected to contribute towards the establishment of a
+British aerial fleet.
+
+"You have British interests, Baron!" said Sheard, smiling.
+
+"What about me?" said Mr. Oppner.
+
+Replied his beautiful daughter, laughing:
+
+"You've got Canadian interests, Pa!"
+
+So the impending outrage--for all present felt that these notes presaged
+an outrage--was treated lightly enough, and the question, serious though
+it was felt to be, might well have given place to topics less exciting,
+when a buzz of conversation arose at the lower end of the table.
+
+"Exactly the same," came Miss Salome Hohsmann's voice, "as the one
+father received!"
+
+She was observed to be passing something to her neighbour--Mr. Sheard.
+He examined it curiously, and passed it on to Mrs. Lacey. Thus, from
+hand to hand it performed a circuit of the table and came to Julius
+Rohscheimer.
+
+"That's one of 'em!" He threw it down upon the cloth--a small, square
+correspondence card. It bore the words:
+
+     "L1,000,000 is required by His Majesty's Government, immediately,
+     in order to found an aerial service commensurate with Great
+     Britain's urgent requirements. A fund for the purpose (under the
+     patronage of the Marquess of Evershed and the Lord Mayor) has been
+     opened by the _Gleaner_."
+
+At the foot was a seal, designed in the form of two triangles crossed.
+
+"Whose is this?" continued Rohscheimer, and turned the card over.
+
+He read what was neatly type-written upon the other side, and his gross,
+empurpled face was seen to change, to assume a patchy greyness.
+
+The superscription was:
+
+     "To Baron Hague, Sir Leopold Jesson, Messrs. Julius Rohscheimer,
+     John Jacob Oppner, and Antony Elschild.
+
+     _"Second Notice"_
+
+He clutched the arms of his chair, and stood up. A dead silence had
+fallen.
+
+"Where"--Rohscheimer moistened his lips--"did this come from?"
+
+A moment more of silence, then:
+
+"Sir Leopold passed it to me," came Salome Hohsmann's frightened voice.
+
+Rohscheimer stared at Jesson. Jesson turned and stared at Miss Hohsmann.
+
+"You are mistaken," he replied slowly. "I have not had the card in my
+hand!"
+
+Miss Hohsmann's fine, dark eyes grew round in wonder.
+
+"But, Sir Leopold!" she cried. "I _took_ it from your hand!"
+
+Jesson's face was a study in perplexity.
+
+"I can only say," contributed Sheard, who sat upon the other side of the
+girl, "that I saw Miss Hohsmann looking at the card and I asked to be
+allowed to examine it. I then passed it on to Mrs. Lacey. I may
+add"--smiling--"that it does not emanate from the _Gleaner_ office, and
+is in no way official!"
+
+"Mrs. Lacey passed it along to me," came Oppner's parched voice.
+
+"But," Sir Leopold's incisive tones cut in upon the bewildering
+conversation, "Miss Hohsmann is in error in supposing that she received
+the card from me. I have not handled it--neither, I believe, has Lady
+Vignoles?" He turned to the latter.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"No, sir," she said transatlantically, "I saw Mr. Rohscheimer take it
+from Mary" (Lady Mary Evershed).
+
+"I mean to say, Sheila"--Lord Vignoles leant forward in his chair and
+looked along to his wife--"I mean to say, _I_ had it from Miss Charlotte
+Hohsmann, on my left."
+
+Rohscheimer's protruding eyes looked from face to face. Wonder was
+written upon every one.
+
+"Where the----" Mrs. Rohscheimer coughed.
+
+The great financier sat down. Let us conclude his sentence for him:
+
+_Where had the ominous "second notice" come from?_
+
+Amid a thrilling silence, the guests sought, each in his or her own
+fashion, for the solution to this truly amazing conundrum. The order may
+be seen from a glance at the foregoing list of guests. It has only to be
+remembered that they were seated around a large oval table and their
+relative positions become apparent.
+
+"It appears to me," said Sir Leopold Jesson, "that the mystery has its
+root here. Miss Hohsmann is under the impression that I handed the card
+to her. I did not do so. Miss Hohsmann, as well as myself, has been
+victimised by this common enemy, so that"--he smiled dryly--"we cannot
+suspect her, and you cannot suspect me, of complicity. Was there any
+servant in the room at the time?"
+
+A brief inquiry served to show that there had been no servant on that
+side of the room at the time.
+
+"Did you pick it up from the table, dear," cried Mrs. Hohsmann, "or
+actually take it from--someone's hand?"
+
+Amid a tense silence the girl replied:
+
+"From--someone's hand!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE SHADOW OF SEVERAC BABLON
+
+
+The mystery of personality is one which eludes research along the most
+scientific lines. It is a species of animal magnetism as yet
+unclassified. Personality is not confined to the individual: it clings
+to his picture, his garments, his writing; it has the persistency of a
+civet perfume.
+
+From this slip of cardboard lying upon Rohscheimer's famous oval table
+emanated rays--unseen, but cogent. The magnetic words "Severac Bablon"
+seemed to glow upon the walls, as of old those other words had glowed
+upon a Babylonian wall.
+
+There were those present to whom the line "Who steals my purse steals
+trash" appealed, as the silliest ever written. And it was at the purses
+of these that the blow would be struck--_id est_, at the most vital and
+fonder part of their beings.
+
+"That card"--Julius Rohscheimer moistened his lips--"can't have dropped
+from the ceiling!"
+
+But he looked upward as he spoke; and it was evident that he credited
+Severac Bablon with the powers of an Indian fakir.
+
+"It would appear," said Antony Elschild, "that a phantom hand appeared
+in our midst!"
+
+The incident was eerie; a thousand times more so in that it was
+associated with Severac Bablon. Rohscheimer gave orders that the outer
+door was on no account to be opened, until the house had been thoroughly
+searched. He himself headed the search party--whilst Mrs. Rohscheimer
+remained with the guests.
+
+All search proving futile, Rohscheimer returned and learnt that a new
+discovery had been made. He was met outside the dining-room door by
+Baron Hague.
+
+"Rohscheimer!" cried the latter, "my name on that card, it is underlined
+in red ink!"
+
+Rohscheimer's rejoinder was dramatic.
+
+"The diamonds!" he whispered.
+
+Indeed, this latest discovery was significant. Baron Hague had brought
+with him, for Rohscheimer's examination, a packet of rough diamonds.
+Rohscheimer had established his fortunes in South Africa; and, be it
+whispered, there were points of contact between his own early history
+and the history of the packet of diamonds which Hague carried to-night.
+In both records there were I.D.B. chapters.
+
+The two men stared at each other--and sometimes glanced into the shadows
+of the corridor.
+
+"He must be in league with the devil," continued Rohscheimer, "if he has
+got to know about those stones! But it certainly looks as though----"
+
+"Where can I hide them from _him_--from this man who I hear cannot be
+kept out of anywhere?"
+
+"Hague," said Rohscheimer, shakily, "you'd be safer at your hotel than
+here. He's held people up in my house once before!"
+
+As may be divined, Rohscheimer's chiefest fear was that _his_ name,
+_his_ house, should be associated with another mysterious outrage. He
+knew Baron Hague to have about his person stones worth a small fortune,
+and he was all anxiety--first, to save them from Severac Bablon, the
+common enemy; second, if Baron Hague _must_ be robbed, to arrange that
+he be robbed somewhere else!
+
+"I have not ordered my gar until twelve o'clock," said the Baron.
+
+"Mine can be got ready in----"
+
+"I won't wait! Gall me a gab!"
+
+That proposal fell into line with Rohscheimer's personal views, and he
+wasted not a moment in making the necessary arrangements.
+
+The library door opening, and Adeler, his private secretary, appearing,
+with a book under his arm, Mr. Rohscheimer called to him:
+
+"Adeler!"
+
+Adeler approached, deferentially. His pale, intellectual face was quite
+expressionless.
+
+"If you're goin' downstairs, Adeler, tell someone to call a cab for the
+Baron: Heard nothing suspicious while you've been in the library, have
+you?"
+
+"Nothing," said Adeler--bowed, and departed.
+
+The two plutocrats rejoined the guests. Sir Leopold Jesson was standing
+in a corner engaged in an evidently interesting conversation with Salome
+Hohsmann.
+
+"You positively saw the hand?"
+
+"Positively!" the girl assured him. "It just slipped the card into mine
+as Mr. Sheard leaned over and asked me if my diamond aigrette had been
+traced--the one that was stolen from me here, in this house, by Severac
+Bablon."
+
+Sheard was standing near.
+
+"I saw you take the card, Miss Hohsmann!" he said; "though I was unable
+to see from whose hand you took it. Sir Leopold sat on your left,
+however, and there was no one else near at the time."
+
+Sir Leopold Jesson stared hard at Sheard. Sheard stared back
+aggressively. There was that between them that cried out for open
+conflict. Yet open conflict was impossible!
+
+"Now then, you two!" Rohscheimer's coarse voice broke in, "what's the
+good o' fightin' about it?"
+
+But the atmosphere of uneasiness prevailed throughout the gilded salon.
+Mrs. Rohscheimer, clever hostess though admittedly she was, found
+herself hard put to it to keep up the spirits of her guests--or those of
+her guests whose names had appeared upon the mysterious "second notice."
+
+Lady Mary Evershed and Sir Richard Haredale sat under a drooping palm
+behind a charming statuette representing Pandora in the familiar
+attitude with the casket.
+
+"It was through that door, yonder," said Haredale, pointing, "that the
+masked man came."
+
+"Yes," assented the girl. "I was over there--by the double doors."
+
+"You were," replied Haredale; "I saw you first of all, when I looked
+up!"
+
+A short silence fell, then:
+
+"Do you know," said Lady Mary, "I cannot sympathise with any of the
+people who lost their property. They were all of them people who never
+gave a penny away in their lives! In fact, Mr. Rohscheimer's particular
+set are all dreadfully mean! When you come to think of it, isn't it
+funny how everybody visits here?"
+
+When he came to think of it, Haredale did not find it amusing in the
+slightest degree. Julius Rohscheimer was an octopus whose tentacles were
+fastened upon the heart of society. Haredale was so closely in the coils
+that, short of handing in his papers, he had no alternative but to
+appear as Rohscheimer's social _alter ego_. Lord and Lady Vignoles were
+regular visitors to the house in Park Lane; and although the Marquess of
+Evershed did not actually visit there, he countenanced the appearance of
+his daughter, chaperoned by Mrs. Wellington Lacey, at the millionaire's
+palace. Moreover, Haredale knew why!
+
+What a wondrous power is gold!
+
+Haredale was watching the fleeting expressions which crossed Lady Mary's
+beautiful face as, with a little puzzled frown, she glanced about the
+room.
+
+Baron Hague came to make his _adieux_. He was a man badly frightened.
+When finally he departed, Julius Rohscheimer conducted him downstairs.
+
+"Take care of yourself, Hague," he said with anxiety. "First thing in
+the morning I should put the parcel in safe deposit till it's wanted."
+
+The Baron assured him that he should follow his advice.
+
+Outside, in Park Lane, a taxi-cab was waiting, and Adeler held the door
+open. Baron Hague made no acknowledgment of the attention, ignoring the
+secretary as completely as he would have ignored a loafer who had opened
+the door for him.
+
+Adeler seemed to expect no thanks, but turned and walked up the steps to
+the house again.
+
+"Good-bye, Hague!" called Rohscheimer. "Don't forget what I told you
+about the one with the brown stain!"
+
+The cab drove off.
+
+A cloud of apprehension had settled upon the house, it seemed. Several
+others of the party determined, upon one pretence or another, to return
+home earlier than they had anticipated doing. From this Julius
+Rohscheimer did nothing to discourage them.
+
+A family party was the next to leave, then, consisting of Lord and Lady
+Vignoles, Mr. J. J. Oppner and Zoe. Mrs. Hohsmann and the Misses
+Hohsmann followed very shortly. Mrs. Wellington Lacey, with Lady Mary
+Evershed, departed next, Sir Richard Haredale escorting them.
+
+"Half a minute, though, Haredale!" called the host.
+
+Haredale, in the hall-way, turned.
+
+"I suppose," continued Rohscheimer, half closing his eyes from the
+bottom upward--"you haven't got any sort of idea how the card trick was
+done, Haredale? Do you think I ought to let the police know?"
+
+"I haven't the slightest idea," was the reply. "In regard to the police,
+I should most certainly ring them up at once. Good night."
+
+Haredale escaped, well aware that Rohscheimer was seeking some excuse to
+detain him. Even at the risk of offending that weighty financier he was
+not going to be deprived of the drive, short though it was, with Mary
+Evershed, with the possibility of a delightful little intimate chat at
+the end of it.
+
+"I endorse what Haredale says," came Sheard's voice.
+
+Rohscheimer turned. A footman was assisting the popular Fleet Street man
+into his overcoat. Mr. Antony Elschild, already equipped, was lighting a
+cigarette and evidently waiting for Sheard.
+
+"What's the name of the man who has the Severac Bablon case in hand?"
+asked the host.
+
+"Chief Inspector Sheffield."
+
+"Right-oh!" said Rohscheimer. "I'll give him a ring."
+
+Upstairs Sir Leopold Jesson was waiting for a quiet talk with
+Rohscheimer.
+
+"Come into the library," said the latter. "Adeler's finished, so there's
+no one to interrupt us."
+
+The pair entered the luxuriously appointed library, with its rows of
+morocco-bound, unopened works. Jesson stood before the fire looking down
+at Rohscheimer, who had spread himself inelegantly in a deep arm-chair,
+and lay back puffing at the stump of a cigar.
+
+"I distrust Sheard!" snapped Jesson suddenly.
+
+"Eh," grunted the other. "Pull yourself together! It ain't likely that a
+man who gets his livin', you might say, by keepin' in with the right
+people" (he glanced down at his diamond studs) "is goin' to be mixed up
+with a brigand like Bablon!"
+
+"I'm not so sure!" persisted Jesson. "My position is a peculiar one; but
+I'll go so far as to say that I don't trust him, and I won't go a step
+farther. I don't expect you," he added, "to quote my opinion to
+anybody."
+
+"I shan't," said Rohscheimer. "It's too damn silly! What would he have
+to gain? He ain't one of us."
+
+"I'll say no more!" declared Jesson. "But keep your eyes open!"
+
+"I'll do that!" Rohscheimer assured him. "I suppose you haven't any idea
+who worked the card trick?"
+
+"As to that--yes! I _have_ an idea--but I can only repeat that I'll say
+no more."
+
+"I hope Hague is all right," growled Rohscheimer. "He's got some good
+rough stuff on him to-night. Brought it over to show me. I didn't like
+that red line under his name. Looked as if he was sort of number one on
+the list!"
+
+"That's how it struck me. By the way, what became of the card?"
+
+"Don't know," was the reply. "Push that bell. I want a whisky and soda."
+
+Jesson pressed the bell, and Rohscheimer, tossing the stump into the
+grate, dipped two fat fingers into his waistcoat pocket in quest of a
+new cigar. It was his custom to carry two or three stuck therein.
+
+"Hallo!"
+
+Jesson turned to him--and saw that he held a card in his hand.
+
+"Have you got the card?"
+
+"Yes," said Rohscheimer, and turned it over.
+
+Whereupon his face changed colour, and became an unclean grey.
+
+"What's the matter?" cried Jesson.
+
+His hand shaking slightly, Rohscheimer passed him the card. Jesson
+peered at it anxiously.
+
+The message which it bore was the same as that borne by the mysterious
+card which had caused such a panic at the dinner table, but, upon the
+other side, only one name appeared.
+
+It was that of Julius Rohscheimer, and it was heavily underlined in red!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE RING
+
+
+As the cab containing Baron Hague drove off along Park Lane, the Baron
+heaved a sigh of relief. This incomprehensible Severac Bablon who had
+descended like a simoon upon London was a perturbing presence--a breath
+of hot fear that parched the mind! And the house in Park Lane, too,
+recently had been made the scene of a unique outrage by this most
+singular robber to afford any sense of security.
+
+The Baron was glad to be away from that house, and, as the cab turned
+the corner by the Park, was glad to be away from Park Lane. A man with
+several thousand pounds' worth of diamonds upon him may be excused a
+certain nervousness.
+
+Baron Hague was not intimately acquainted with London; but it seemed to
+him, now, that the taxi-driver was pursuing an unfamiliar route. Had he
+made some error? Perhaps that fool Adeler had directed him wrongly.
+
+The Baron took up the speaking-tube.
+
+"Hi!" he called. "Hi, you! Is it the Hotel Astoria you take me?"
+
+No notice did the man vouchsafe; looking neither to right nor to left,
+but driving straight ahead. Baron Hague snorted with anger. Again he
+raised the tube.
+
+A cloud of something seemed to strike him in the face.
+
+He dropped the tube, and reached out towards a window. Vaguely he
+wondered to find it immovable. The lights of the thoroughfare--the sound
+of the traffic, were fading away, farther, farther, to a remote
+distance. He clutched at the cushions--slipping--slipping----
+
+His next impression was of a cell-like room, the floor composed of
+blocks of red granite, the walls smoothly plastered. An unglazed window
+made a black patch in one wall; and upon a big table covered with books
+and papers stood a queer-looking lamp. It was apparently silver, and in
+the form of a clutching hand. Within the hand rested a globe of light,
+above which was attached a coloured shade. The table was black with
+great age, and a carven chair, equally antique, stood by it upon a
+coarse fibre mat. The place was the abode of an anchorite, save for a
+rich Damascene curtain draped before a recess at one end.
+
+The Baron found himself to be in a heavily cushioned chair, gazing
+across at this table--whereat was seated a very dark and singularly
+handsome man who wore a garment like an Arab's robe.
+
+This stranger had his large, luminous eyes set fixedly upon the Baron's
+face.
+
+"I am dreaming!"
+
+Baron Hague stood up, unsteadily, raising his hand to his head.
+
+There was a faint perfume in the air of the room; and now Hague saw that
+the man who sat so attentively watching him was smoking a yellow-wrapped
+cigarette. His brain grew clearer. Memory began to return; and he knew
+that he was not dreaming. Frantically he thrust his hand into the inside
+breast pocket.
+
+"Do not trouble yourself, Baron," the speaker's voice was low and
+musical; "the packet of diamonds lies here!"
+
+And as he spoke the man at the table held up the missing packet.
+
+Hague started forward, fists clenched.
+
+"You have robbed me! Gott! you shall be sorry for this! Who the devil
+are you, eh?"
+
+"Sit down, Baron," was the reply. "I am Severac Bablon!"
+
+Baron Hague paused, in the centre of the room, staring, with a sort of
+madness, at this notorious free-booter--this suave, devilishly handsome
+enemy of Capital.
+
+Then he turned and leapt to the door. It was locked. He faced about.
+Severac Bablon smoked.
+
+"Sit down, Baron," he reiterated.
+
+The head of the great Berlin banking house looked about for a weapon.
+None offered. The big, carven, chair was too heavy to wield. With his
+fingers twitching, he approached again, closer to the table.
+
+Severac Bablon stood up, keeping his magnetic gaze upon the
+Baron--seeming to pierce to his brain.
+
+"For the last time--sit down, Baron!"
+
+The words were spoken quietly enough, and yet they seemed to clamour
+upon the hearer's brain--to strike upon his consciousness as though it
+were a gong. Again Hague paused, pulled up short by the force of those
+strange eyes. He weighed his chances.
+
+From all that he had heard and read of Severac Bablon, his accomplices
+were innumerable. Where this cell might be situate he could form no
+idea, nor by whom or what surrounded. Severac Bablon apparently was
+unarmed (save that his glance was a sword to stay almost any man);
+therefore he had others near to guard him. Baron Hague decided that to
+resort to personal violence at that juncture would be the height of
+unwisdom.
+
+He sat down.
+
+"Now," said Severac Bablon, in turn resuming his seat, "let us consider
+this matter of the million pounds!"
+
+"I will not----" began Hague.
+
+Severac Bablon checked him, with a gesture.
+
+"You will not contribute to a fund designed to aid in the defence of
+England? That is unjust. You reap large profits from England, Baron. To
+mention but one instance--you must draw quite twenty thousand pounds per
+annum from the firm of Romilis and Imer, Hatton Garden!"
+
+Baron Hague stared in angry bewilderment.
+
+"I have nothing to do with Romilis and Imer!"
+
+"No? Then you can have no objection to my placing in the proper hands
+particulars--which, you will find, have been abstracted from your
+notebook--of the manner in which this parcel of diamonds reached Hatton
+Garden! I have the letter from your agent in Cape Town, addressed to the
+firm, and I have one signed 'Geo. Imer,' addressed to _you_! Finally, I
+am a telephone subscriber, and De Beers' number is Bank 5740! Shall I
+ring up the London office in the morning and draw their attention to
+this parcel, and to the interesting correspondence bearing upon it?"
+
+Baron Hague's large features grew suddenly pinched in appearance. He
+leant forward, his hands resting upon his knees. Roles were reversed.
+The great banker found himself seeking for a defence--one that might
+satisfy the rogue for whom the police of Europe were seeking!
+
+"Why do you make a victim of _me_?" he gasped. "Antony Elschild is----"
+
+"Mr. Antony Elschild is a member of one of the greatest Jewish families
+in Europe, you would say? And his interests are wholly British? He has
+recognised that, Baron. I have his cheque for fifty thousand pounds!"
+
+"For _how much_?"
+
+"For fifty thousand pounds! Should you care to see it? I am forwarding
+it immediately to the _Gleaner_. Mr. Elschild is my friend. He it was
+who proposed that this fund be started by the great capitalists so as to
+stimulate smaller subscribers. His name is never absent from such lists,
+Baron."
+
+The Baron gulped.
+
+"In Berlin--they would say I was mad!"
+
+"And what will they say in Berlin if I call up De Beers in the morning?
+Which reputation is preferable, Baron?"
+
+Hague sat staring, fascinated, at the man in the long robe, who smoked
+yellow cigarettes and filled the air with their peculiar fumes. It
+seemed to him, suddenly, that he had taken leave of his senses, and that
+this cell--this pungent perfume--this man with the soul-searching eyes,
+the incisive voice--all were tricks of his senses.
+
+What had he preserved the secret of his connection with the Hatton
+Garden firm for all these long years--each year determining to quit
+whilst safe, but each year lured on by the prospect of vaster gain--only
+to lay it at the feet of this Severac Bablon, who would ruin him?
+
+Faintly, sounds of occasional traffic penetrated. From a place of
+half-shadows beyond the table, Severac Bablon's luminous eyes watched.
+Save for those distant sounds which told of a thoroughfare near by,
+silence lay like a fog upon the place, and upon the mind of Baron Hague.
+
+It grew intolerable, this stillness; it bred fear. Who was Severac
+Bablon? What was the secret of his power?
+
+Hague looked up.
+
+"Gott im Himmel!" he said hoarsely. "Who are you? Why do you persecute
+those who are Jewish?"
+
+Severac Bablon stretched his hand over the great carved table, holding
+it, motionless, beneath the lamp. From the bezel of the solitary ring
+which he wore gleamed iridescent lights, venomous as those within the
+eye of a serpent.
+
+A device, which seemed to be formed of lines of fire within the stone,
+glowed, redly, through the greenness. The ring was old--incalculably
+old--as anyone could see at a glance. And, in some occult fashion, it
+_spoke_ to Baron Hague; spoke to that which was within him--stirred up
+the Jewish blood and set it leaping madly through his veins.
+
+Back to his mind came certain words of a rabbi, long since gone to his
+fathers; before his eyes glittered words which he had had impressed upon
+his mind more recently than in those half-forgotten childish days.
+
+And now, he feared. Slowly, he rose from the big cushioned chair. He
+feared the man whom all the world knew as Severac Bablon, and his fear,
+for once, was something that did not arise from his purse. It was
+something which arose from the green stone--and from the one who
+possessed it--who dared to wear it. Hague backed yet farther from the
+table, squarely, whereupon, beneath the globular lamp, lay the long
+white hand.
+
+"_Gott!_" he muttered. "I am going mad! You cannot be--you----"
+
+"I am _he_!"
+
+Baron Hague's knees began to tremble.
+
+"It is impossible!"
+
+"Israel Hagar," continued the other sternly. "Those before you changed
+your ancient name to Hague; but to me you are Israel Hagar! You doubt,
+because you dare not believe. But there is that within your soul--that
+which you inherit from forefathers who obeyed the great King, from
+forefathers who toiled for Pharaoh--there is that within your soul which
+tells you _who I am_!"
+
+The Baron could scarcely stand.
+
+"Ach, no!" he groaned. "What do you want? I will do anything--anything;
+but let me go!"
+
+"I want you," continued Severac Bablon, "since you deny the ring, to
+draw aside yonder curtain and look upon what it conceals!"
+
+But Hague drew back yet further.
+
+"Ach, no!" he said, huskily. "I deny nothing! I dare not!"
+
+"By which I know that you have recognised in whose presence you stand,
+Israel Hagar! Knowing yourself at heart to be a robber, a liar, a
+hypocrite, you dare not, being also a Jew, raise that veil!"
+
+Baron Hague offered no defence; made no reply.
+
+"You are found guilty, Israel Hagar," resumed the merciless voice, "of
+dragging through the mire of greed--through the sloughs of lust of
+gold--a name once honoured among nations. It is such as you that have
+earned for the Jewish people a repute it ill deserves. Save for such as
+Mr. Antony Elschild, you and your like must have blotted out for ever
+all that is glorious in the Jewish name. Despite all, you have succeeded
+in staining it--and darkly. I have a mission. It is to erase that stain.
+Therefore, when the list appears of those who wish to preserve intact
+the British Empire, your name shall figure amongst the rest!"
+
+Hague groaned.
+
+"It will be explained, for the benefit of the curious, and to the glory
+of the Jews, that in some measure of recognition of those vast profits
+reaped from British ventures, you are desirous of showing your interest
+in British welfare!"
+
+"It will be my ruin in Berlin!"
+
+"I should regret to think so. Had you, in the whole of your career,
+during the entire period that you have been swelling your money-bags
+with British money, devoted one guinea--one paltry guinea--to any
+charitable purpose here, I had spared you the risk. As matters stand, I
+shall require your cheque for an amount equal to that subscribed by Mr.
+Elschild."
+
+"_Fifty thousand pounds!_" gasped Hague.
+
+"Exactly! Pen and ink are on the table. Your cheque book I have left in
+your pocket!"
+
+"I won't----"
+
+Hague met the eyes of the incomprehensible man who watched him from
+beyond the table; he saw the gleam of the ring, as Severac Bablon placed
+a pen within reach.
+
+"You--must be--mad!"
+
+"You will decidedly be mad, Baron, if you refuse, for I assure you, upon
+my word of honour, I shall lay those papers before those whom they will
+interest in the morning!"
+
+"And--if--I give you such a----"
+
+"Immediately your cheque is cleared I will return the papers."
+
+"And--the diamonds?"
+
+"I shall consider my course in regard to the diamonds."
+
+"This--is robbery!"
+
+"And your mode of obtaining the diamonds, Baron--what should you term
+that?"
+
+"You mean to ruin me!"
+
+"Be good enough either to draw the cheque, payable to the editor of the
+_Gleaner_--who will act in this matter, since I cannot appear--or to
+decline definitely to do so."
+
+"It will ruin me."
+
+"To decline? I admit that!"
+
+Very shakily, having taken his cheque book from his pocket, Baron Hague
+drew and signed a cheque for the fabulous, the atrocious sum of L50,000.
+
+A heavy smell--overpowering--crept to his nostrils as he bent forward
+over the table. He mentally ascribed it to the yellow cigarettes.
+
+He laid down the pen with trembling fingers. That same sense of
+increasing distances which had heralded the stupor in the cab was coming
+upon him again. The cell-like room seemed to be receding. Severac
+Bablon's voice reached him from a remote distance:
+
+"In future, Israel Hagar, seek to make--better use of
+your--opportunities."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Wake up, sir! Hadn't you better be getting home?"
+
+Baron Hague strove to stand. What had happened? Where was he?
+
+"Hold up, sir! Here's a cab waiting! What address, sir?"
+
+The Baron rubbed his eyes and looked dazedly about him. He was half
+supported by a police constable.
+
+"Officer! Where am I, eh?"
+
+"_I_ found you sitting on the step of the Burlington Arcade, sir! Where
+you'd been before that isn't for me to say! Come on, jump in!"
+
+Hague found himself bundled into the cab.
+
+"Hotel--Astoria!" he mumbled, and his head fell forward on his breast
+again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+IN THE DRESSING-ROOM
+
+
+The house was very quiet.
+
+Julius Rohscheimer stood quite motionless in his dressing-room listening
+for a sound which he expected to hear, but which he also feared to hear.
+The household in Park Lane slept now. Park Lane is never quite still at
+any hour of the night, and now as Rohscheimer listened, all but holding
+his breath, a hundred sounds conflicted in the highway below. But none
+of these interested him.
+
+He had been in his room for more than half an hour; had long since
+dismissed his man; and had sat down, arrayed in brilliant pyjamas (quite
+a new line from Paris, recommended by Haredale, a sartorial expert with
+a keen sense of humour), for a cigarette and a mental review of the
+situation.
+
+Having shown himself active in other directions, Severac Bablon had
+evidently turned his eyes once more toward Park Lane. Julius Rohscheimer
+mentally likened himself and his set to those early martyrs who,
+defenceless, were subjected to the attacks of armed gladiators. No
+precautions, it seemed, prevailed against this enemy of Capital. Police
+protection was utterly useless. Thus far, not a solitary arrest had been
+made. So, now, in his own palatial house, but with a strip of cardboard
+lying before him bearing his name, underlined in red, Rohscheimer
+anticipated mysterious outrage at any moment--and knew, instinctively,
+that he would be unable to defend himself against it.
+
+Again came that vague stirring; and it seemed to come, not from beyond
+the walls, but from somewhere close at hand--from----
+
+Rohscheimer turned, stealthily, in his chair. The cigarette dropped from
+between his nerveless fingers, and lay smouldering upon the Persian
+carpet.
+
+His bulging eyes grew more and more prominent, and his adipose jaw
+dropped. And he sat, quivering fatly, his gaze upon the doors of the big
+wardrobe which occupied the space between the windows. Distinctly he
+remembered that these doors had been closed. But now they were open.
+
+Palsied with fear of what might be within, he sat, watched, and grew
+pale.
+
+The doors were opening slowly!
+
+No move he made toward defence. He was a man inert from panic.
+
+Something gleamed out of the dark gap--a revolver barrel. Two fingers
+pushed a card into view. Upon it, in red letters, were the words:
+
+_"Do not move!"_
+
+The warning was, at once, needless and disregarded. Rohscheimer shook
+the chair with his tremblings.
+
+A smaller card was tossed across on to the table.
+
+The fat hand which the financier extended toward the card shook
+grotesquely; the diamonds which adorned it sparkled and twinkled
+starrily. Before his eyes a red mist seemed to dance; but, through it,
+Rohscheimer made out the following:
+
+"There is a cheque-book in your coat pocket, and your coat hangs beside
+me in the wardrobe. I will throw the book across to you. You will make
+out a cheque for L100,000, payable to the editor of the _Gleaner_, and
+also write a note explaining that this is your contribution towards the
+fund for the founding, by patriotic Britons, of a suitable air fleet."
+
+Rohscheimer, out of the corner of his eye, was watching the gleaming
+barrel, which pointed straightly at his head. From the dark gap between
+the wardrobe doors sped a second projectile, and fell before him on the
+table.
+
+It was his cheque-book. Mechanically he opened it. Within was stuck
+another card. Upon it, in the same evidently disguised handwriting,
+appeared:
+
+"A fountain pen lies on the table before you. Do not hesitate to follow
+instructions--or I shall shoot you. All arrangements are made for my
+escape. Throw the cheque and the note behind you and do not dare to look
+around again until you have my permission. If you do so once, I may only
+warn you; if you do so twice, I shall kill you."
+
+Perfect silence ruled. Even the traffic in Park Lane outside seemed
+momentarily to have ceased. From the wardrobe behind Julius Rohscheimer
+came no sound. He took up the pen; made out and signed the preposterous
+cheque.
+
+To the ruling but silent intelligence concealed behind those double
+doors he had no thought of appeal. He dared not even address himself to
+that invisible being. Such idea was as far from his mind as it must have
+been of old from the mind of him who listened to a Sybilline oracle
+delivered from the mystic tripod.
+
+Sufficiently he controlled his twitching fingers to write a note, as
+follows--(what awful irony!):
+
+
+     "To the Editor of the _Gleaner_,
+
+     "SIR,--I enclose a cheque for L100,000" (as he wrote these dreadful
+     words, Rohscheimer almost contemplated rebellion; but the
+     silence--the fearful silence--and the thought of the one who
+     watched him proved too potent for his elusive courage. He wrote
+     on). "I desire you to place it at the disposal of the Government
+     for purposes of ariel" (Rohscheimer was no scholar) "defence. I
+     hope others will follow suit." (He _did_. It was horrible to be
+     immolated thus, a solitary but giant sacrifice, upon the altar of
+     this priest of iconoclasm)--"I am, sir, yours, etc.
+
+     "JULIUS ROHSCHEIMER."
+
+Cheque and note he folded together, and stretching his hand behind him,
+threw them in the direction of the haunted wardrobe. His fear that, even
+now, he might be assassinated, grew to such dimensions that he came near
+to swooning. But upon no rearward glance did he venture.
+
+Several heavy vehicles passed along the Lane. Rohscheimer listened
+intently, but gathered no sound from amid those others that gave clue to
+the enemy's movements.
+
+Clutching at the table-edge he sat, and tasted of violent death, by
+anticipation.
+
+The traffic sounds subsided again. A new stillness was born. Within the
+great house nothing moved. But still Julius Rohscheimer shook and
+quivered. Only his mind was clearing; and already he was at work upon a
+scheme to save his money.
+
+One hundred thousand pounds. Heavens above! It was ruination!
+
+A faint creak.
+
+"Do not dare to look around again until you have my permission," read
+the card before his eyes. "If you do so once I _may_ only warn you; if
+you do so twice, I shall kill you."
+
+One hundred thousand pounds! He could have cried. But, after all, he was
+a rich man--a very rich man; not so rich as Oppner, nor even so rich as
+Hague; but a comfortably wealthy man. Life was very good in his eyes.
+There were those little convivial evenings--those week-end motoring
+trips. He would take no chances. Life was worth more than one hundred
+thousand pounds.
+
+He did not glance around.
+
+So, the minutes passed. They passed, for the most part, in ghostly
+silence, sometimes broken by the hum of the traffic below, by the horn
+of a cab or car. Nothing from within the house broke that nerve-racking
+stillness.
+
+If only there had been a mirror, so placed that by moving his eyes only
+he could have obtained a glimpse of the wardrobe. But there was no
+mirror so placed.
+
+Faintly to his ears came the striking of a clock. He listened intently,
+but could not determine if it struck the quarter, half, three-quarters,
+or hour. Certainly, from the decrease of traffic in Park Lane, it must
+be getting very late, he knew.
+
+His limbs began to ache. Cautiously he changed the position of his
+slippered feet. The clock in the hall began to strike. And Rohscheimer's
+heart seemed to stand still.
+
+It struck the half-hour. So it was half-past one! He had been sitting
+there for an hour--an agonised hour!
+
+What could the Unseen be waiting for?
+
+Gradually his heart-beats grew normal again, and his keen mind got to
+work once more upon the scheme for frustrating the audacious plan of
+this robber who robbed from incredible motives.
+
+An air fleet! What rot! What did he care about air fleets? One hundred
+thousand pounds! But if he presented himself at the _Gleaner_ office as
+soon as it opened that morning, and explained, before the editor (curse
+him!) had had time to deal with his correspondence, that by an oversight
+(late night; the editor, as a man of the world, would understand) he had
+been thinking of a hundred and had written a hundred thousand, and also
+had written too many noughts after the amount of his subscription to the
+_Gleaner_ fund, what then? The editor could not possibly object to
+returning him his cheque and accepting one for a thousand. A thousand
+was bad enough; but a hundred thousand!
+
+He was growing stiff again.
+
+Two o'clock!
+
+Beneath his eyes lay the card which read:
+
+"If you do so once, I _may_ only warn you----"
+
+A sudden burst of courage came to Julius Rohscheimer. Anything, he now
+determined, was preferable to this suspense.
+
+He began to turn his head.
+
+It was a ruse, he saw it all; a ruse to keep him there, silent,
+prisoned, whilst his cheque, his precious cheque, was placed in the
+hands of the _Gleaner_ people.
+
+Around he turned--and around. The corner of the wardrobe came within his
+field of vision. Still farther he moved. The doors, now, were visible.
+
+And the gleaming barrel pointed truly at his head!
+
+"No; no!" he whispered tremulously, huskily. "Ah, God! no! Spare me! I
+swear--I swear--I will not look again. I won't move. I'll make no
+sound."
+
+He dropped his head into his hands--quaking; the lamp, the table, were
+swimming about him; he had never passed through ten such seconds of
+dread as those which followed his spell of temerity.
+
+Yet he lived--and knew himself spared. Not for _five_ hundred thousand
+pounds would he have looked again.
+
+The minutes wore on--became hours. It seemed to Julius Rohscheimer that
+all London slept now; all London save one unhappy man in Park Lane.
+
+Three o'clock, four o'clock, five o'clock struck. His head fell forward.
+He aroused himself with a jerk. Again his head fell forward. And this
+time he did not arouse himself; he slept.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Mr. Rohscheimer! Mr. Rohscheimer!"
+
+There were voices about him. He could distinguish that of his wife.
+Adeler was shaking him. Was that Haredale at the door?
+
+Shakily, he got upon his feet.
+
+"Why, Mr. Rohscheimer!" exclaimed Adeler, in blank wonderment, "have you
+not been to bed?"
+
+"What time?" muttered Rohscheimer, "what time----"
+
+Sir Richard Haredale, who evidently thought that the financier had had
+one of his "heavy nights," smiled discreetly.
+
+"Pull yourself together, Rohscheimer!" he said. "Just put your head
+under the tap and jump into a dressing-gown. The green one with golden
+dragons is the most unique. You'll have to hold an informal reception
+here in your dressing-room. We can't keep the Marquess waiting."
+
+"The Marquess?" groaned Rohscheimer, clutching at his head. "The
+Marquess?"
+
+It had been his social dream for years to behold a real live Marquess
+beneath that roof. He had gone so far as to offer Haredale five hundred
+pounds down if he could bring one to dinner. But Haredale's best
+achievement to date had been Lord Vignoles.
+
+Rohscheimer's mind was a furious chaos. Had the horrors of the night
+been no more than a dream, after all?
+
+Sheard, of the _Gleaner_, pressed forward and grasped both his hands.
+Rohscheimer became ghastly pale.
+
+"Mr. Rohscheimer," said the pressman, "England is proud of you! On such
+occasions as this, all formality--_all_ formality--is swept away. A
+great man is great anywhere--at any time, any place, in any garb! I have
+Mrs. Rohscheimer's permission, and therefore am honoured to introduce to
+this apartment the Premier, the Most Honourable the Marquess of
+Evershed!"
+
+Trembling wildly, fighting down a desire to laugh, to scream,
+Rohscheimer stood and looked toward the door.
+
+The Marquess entered.
+
+He wore the familiar grey frock-coat, with the red rose in his
+buttonhole, as made famous by _Punch_. His massive head he carried very
+high, looking downward through the pebbles of the gold-rimmed pince-nez.
+
+"No apologies, Mr. Rohscheimer!" he began, hand raised forensically.
+"Positively I will listen to no apologies! This entire absence of
+formality--showing that you had not anticipated my visit--delights me,
+confirms me in my estimation of your character. For it reveals you as a
+man actuated by the purest motive which can stir the human heart. I
+refer to love of country--patriotism."
+
+He paused, characteristically thrusting two fingers into his
+watch-pocket. Sheard wrote furiously. Julius Rohscheimer fought for air.
+
+"The implied compliment, Mr. Rohscheimer," continued the Premier, "to
+myself, is deeply appreciated. I am, of course, aware that the idea of
+this fund was suggested to its promoters by my speech at Portsmouth
+regarding England's danger. The promptitude of the _Gleaner_ newspaper
+in opening a subscription list is only less admirable than your own in
+making so munificent a donation.
+
+"My policy during my present term of office, as you are aware, Mr.
+Rohscheimer, has been different, wholly different, from that of my
+immediate predecessor. I have placed the necessity of Britain's ruling,
+not only the seas, but the air, in the forefront of my programme----"
+
+"Hear, hear!" murmured Sheard.
+
+"And this substantial support from such men as yourself is very
+gratifying to me. I cannot recall any incident in recent years which has
+afforded me such keen pleasure. It is such confirmation of one's hopes
+that he acts for the welfare of his fellow-countrymen which purifies and
+exalts political life. And in another particular where my policy has
+differed from that of my friends opposite--I refer to my _encouragement_
+of foreign immigration--I have been nobly confirmed.
+
+"Baron Hague, in recognition of the commercial support and protection
+which our British hospitality has accorded to him, contributes fifty
+thousand pounds to the further safeguarding of our national, though most
+catholic, interests. At an early hour this morning, Mr. Rohscheimer, I
+was aroused by a special messenger from the _Gleaner_ newspaper, who
+brought me this glorious news of your noble, your magnificent, response
+to my--to our--appeal. Casting ceremony to the winds, I hastened hither.
+Mr. Rohscheimer--your hand!"
+
+At that, Rohscheimer was surrounded.
+
+"Socially," Haredale murmured in his ear, "you are made!"
+
+"Financially," groaned Rohscheimer, "I'm broke!"
+
+Mrs. Rohscheimer, in elegant _decolletee_, appeared among the excited
+throng. She was anxious for a sight of her husband, whom she was
+convinced had gone mad. Sheard thrust his way to the financier's side.
+
+"Is there anything you would care to say for our next edition?" he
+enquired, a notebook in his hand. "We're having a full-page photograph,
+and----"
+
+Crash! Crackle! Crackle! Crackle! A blinding light leapt up.
+
+"My God! What's that?"
+
+"All right," said Sheard. "Only our photographer doing a flash. If
+there's anything you'd like to say, hurry up, because I'm off to
+interview Baron Hague."
+
+"Say that I believe I've gone mad!" groaned the financier, clutching his
+hair, "and that I'm damn sure Hague has!"
+
+Sheard laughed, treating the words as a witticism, and hurried away.
+Mrs. Rohscheimer approached and bent over her husband.
+
+"Have you pains in your head, dear?" she inquired anxiously.
+
+"No!" snapped Rohscheimer. "I've got a pain in my pocket! I'm a ruined
+man! I'll be the laughing-stock of the whole money market!"
+
+Adeler reappeared.
+
+"Adeler," said Rohscheimer, "get the rest of the people out of the
+house! And, Adeler"--he glanced about him--"what did you do with those
+cards that were on the table, here?"
+
+Adeler stared.
+
+"Cards, Mr. Rohscheimer? I saw none."
+
+"Who came in here first this morning? Who woke me up?"
+
+"I."
+
+Rohscheimer studied the pale, intellectual face of his secretary with
+uneasy curiosity.
+
+"And there were no cards on the table--no cheque-book?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Sure you were first in?"
+
+"I am not sure, but I think so. I found you fast asleep, at any rate."
+
+"Why do you ask, dear?" said Mrs. Rohscheimer in growing anxiety.
+
+"Just for a lark!" snapped her husband sourly. "I want to make Adeler
+laugh!"
+
+Haredale, who, failing Rohscheimer or Mrs. Rohscheimer, did the honours
+of the house in Park Lane, returned from having conducted the Marquess
+to his car. He carried a first edition copy of the _Gleaner_.
+
+"They've managed to get it in, even in this one," he said. "When did you
+send the cheque--early last evening?"
+
+"Don't talk about it!" implored Rohscheimer.
+
+"Why?" inquired Haredale curiously. "You must have seen your way to
+something big before you spent so much money. It was a great idea!
+You're certain of a knighthood, if not something bigger. But I wonder
+you kept it dark from me."
+
+"Ah!" said Rohscheimer. "Do you?"
+
+"Very much. It's a situation that calls for very delicate handling.
+Hitherto, because of certain mortgages, the Marquess has not prohibited
+his daughter visiting here, with the Oppners or Vignoles; but you've
+forced him, now, to recognise you _in propria persona_. He cannot very
+well withhold a title; but you'll have to release the mortgage
+gracefully."
+
+"I'll do it gracefully," was the reply. "I'm gettin' plenty of practice
+at chuckin' fortunes away, and smilin'!"
+
+His attitude puzzled Haredale, who glanced interrogatively at Mrs.
+Rohscheimer. She shook her head in worried perplexity.
+
+"Go and get dressed, dear," said Rohscheimer, with much irritation. "I'm
+not ill; I've only turned patriotic."
+
+Mrs. Rohscheimer departing, Haredale lingered.
+
+"Leave me alone a bit, Haredale," begged the financier. "I want to get
+used to bein' a bloomin' hero! Send Lawson up in half an hour--and you
+come too, if you wouldn't mind."
+
+Haredale left the room.
+
+As the door closed, Rohscheimer turned and looked fully at the wardrobe.
+
+From the gap pointed a gleaming tube!
+
+_"Ah!"_
+
+He dropped back in his chair. Nothing moved. The activity of the
+household stirred reassuringly about him. He stood up, crossed to the
+wardrobe, and threw wide its doors.
+
+In the pocket of a hanging coat was thrust a nickelled rod from a patent
+trousers-stretcher, so that it pointed out into the room.
+
+Rohscheimer stared--and stared--and stared.
+
+"My God!" he whispered. "He slipped out directly he got the cheque, and
+I sat here all night----"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+ES-SINDIBAD OF CADOGAN GARDENS
+
+
+Upon the night following the ill-omened banquet in Park Lane was held a
+second dinner party, in Cadogan Gardens. Like veritable gourmets, we
+must be present.
+
+It is close upon the dining hour.
+
+"Zoe is late!" said Lady Vignoles.
+
+"I think not, dear," her husband corrected her, consulting his
+celebrated chronometer. "They have one minute in which to demonstrate
+the efficiency of American methods!"
+
+"Thank you--Greenwich!" smiled her vivacious ladyship, whose husband's
+love of punctuality was the only trace of character which six months of
+marital intimacy had enabled her to discover in him.
+
+"You know," said Lord Vignoles to Zimmermann, the famous _litterateur_
+of the Ghetto, "she is proud of Yankee smartness. Only natural." And his
+light blue eyes followed his wife's pretty figure as she flitted
+hospitably amongst her guests. Admiration beamed through his monocle.
+
+"Lady Vignoles is a staunch American," agreed the novelist. "I gather
+that your opinion of that nation differs from hers?"
+
+"Well, you know," explained his host, "I don't seriously contend--that
+is, when Sheila is about--I don't contend that their methods aren't
+smart. But it seems to me that their smartness is all--just--well, d'you
+see what I mean? Look at these Pinkerton fellows!"
+
+"Those who you were telling me called upon you this morning?"
+
+"Yes. They came over with Oppner to look for this Severac Bablon."
+
+"What is your contention?"
+
+"Well," said Vignoles, rather flustered at being thus pinned to the
+point, "I mean to say--they haven't caught him!"
+
+"Neither has Scotland Yard!"
+
+"No, by Jove, you're right! Scotland Yard hasn't!"
+
+"Do you think it likely that Scotland Yard will?" asked the other.
+
+But Lord Vignoles, having caught his wife's eye, was performing a
+humorous grimace, and, watch in hand, delivering a pantomimic indictment
+of American unpunctuality. At which moment Miss Oppner was announced,
+and Lady Vignoles made a pretty _moue_ of triumph.
+
+Zoe Oppner entered the room, regally carrying her small head crowned
+with the slightly frizzy mop of chestnut hair, conscious of her fine
+eyes, her perfect features, and her pretty shoulders, happy in her slim
+young beauty, and withal wholly unaffected. Therein lay her greatest
+charm. A beautiful woman, fully aware of her loveliness, she was too
+sensible to be vain of a gift of the gods--to pride herself upon a
+heavenly accident.
+
+"Why, Zoe!" said Lady Vignoles, "what's become of uncle?"
+
+"Pa couldn't get," announced Zoe composedly; "so I came along without
+him. Told me to apologise, but didn't explain. I've promised to rejoin
+him early, so I shall have to quit directly after dinner. The car is
+coming for me."
+
+Lord Vignoles looked amused.
+
+"_Les affaires!_" he said resignedly. "These Americans!"
+
+Dinner was announced.
+
+The usual air of slightly annoyed surprise crept over the faces of the
+company at the announcement, so that to the uninitiate it would have
+seemed that no one was hungry. However, they accepted the inevitable.
+
+Then Vignoles made a discovery.
+
+"I say, Sheila," he exclaimed, "where is your American efficiency? We're
+thirteen!"
+
+His wife made a rapid mental calculation and flushed slightly.
+
+"Anybody might do it!" she pouted; "and it's uncle's fault, anyway!"
+
+"Why!" exclaimed Zoe Oppner, "you're surely not going to make a fuss
+over a silly thing like that!"
+
+"A lot of people don't like it," declared Lady Vignoles hurriedly. "I
+shouldn't mind, of course, if it happened at somebody else's house."
+
+Zimmermann strolled up to the group.
+
+"I gather that we number thirteen?" he said.
+
+"That is so," replied Vignoles; "but," dropping his voice, "I don't
+think anyone else has noticed it yet."
+
+"A romantic idea occurs to me!" smiled the novelist. "I submit it in all
+deference----"
+
+"Oh, go on, Mr. Zimmermann!" cried Zoe, with sparkling eyes.
+
+"Why not, upon the precedent of our ancient Arabian friend, Es-Sindibad
+of the Sea, summon to the feast some chance wayfarer?"
+
+"Oh, I say!" protested the host mildly. "Do you mean to go outside in
+Cadogan Gardens and stop anybody that comes along?"
+
+"Well," said Zimmermann, "it should, strictly, be some pious person who
+tarries there to extol Allah! But if we waited for such a traveller I
+fear the soup would be spoiled! You are a gentleman short, I think? So
+make it, simply, the first gentleman."
+
+"But he might be a tramp or a taxi-driver, or worse!" protested
+Vignoles.
+
+"That is true," agreed the other. "So let us determine upon a criterion
+of respectability. Shall we say the first man, provided he be agreeable,
+who wears a dress-suit?"
+
+"That's just grand!" cried Zoe Oppner enthusiastically. "It's too cute
+for anything! Oh, Jerry, let's! Make him do it, Sheila!"
+
+Jerry, otherwise Lord Vignoles, clearly regarded the projected Oriental
+experiment with no friendly eye.
+
+"I mean to say----"
+
+"That's settled, Zoe!" said the pretty hostess calmly. "Never mind him!
+Alexander!"
+
+The footman addressed came forward.
+
+"You will step out on the front porch, Alexander, and say to the first
+gentleman who passes, if he's in evening dress: 'Lady Vignoles requests
+the pleasure of your company at dinner.' If he says he doesn't know me,
+reply that I am quite aware of that! Do you understand?"
+
+Alexander was shocked.
+
+"I mean to say, Sheila----" began his lordship.
+
+"Did you hear me, Alexander?"
+
+"I've got to stand out in Cadogan Gardens, my lady----"
+
+"Shall I repeat it again, slowly?"
+
+"I heard you, my lady."
+
+"Very well. Show the gentleman into the library. You have only five
+minutes."
+
+With an appealing look towards Lord Vignoles, who, having ostentatiously
+removed and burnished his eyeglass, seemed to experience some difficulty
+in replacing it, Alexander departed.
+
+"_I_ claim him!" cried Zoe, as the footman disappeared. "Whoever he is
+or whatever he's like, he shall take me in to dinner!"
+
+"What I mean to say is," blurted Vignoles, "that it would be all right
+at a country-house party at Christmas, say----"
+
+"It's going to be all right here, dear!" interrupted his wife,
+affectionately squeezing his arm. "Why, think of the possibilities! New
+York would just go crazy on the idea!"
+
+A silence fell between them as, with Zoe Oppner and the Zimmermanns,
+they made their way to the library. Only a few minutes elapsed, to their
+surprise, ere Alexander reappeared. Martyr-like, he had performed his
+painful duty, and a beatific consciousness of his martyrdom was writ
+large upon him. In an absolutely toneless voice he announced:
+
+"Detective-Inspector Pepys!"
+
+"Here! I mean to say--we can't have a policeman----" began Vignoles, but
+his wife's little hand was laid upon his lips.
+
+Zoe Oppner, with brimming eyes, made a brave attempt, and then fled to a
+distant settee, striving with her handkerchief to stifle her laughter.
+
+The guest entered.
+
+From her remote corner Zoe Oppner peeped at him, and her laughter
+ceased. Lady Vignoles looked pleased; her husband seemed surprised.
+Zimmermann watched the stranger with a curious expression in his eyes.
+
+Detective-Inspector Pepys was a tall man of military bearing, bronzed,
+and wearing a slight beard, trimmed to a point. He was perfectly
+composed, and came forward with an easy smile upon his handsome face.
+His clothes fitted him faultlessly. Even Lord Vignoles (a sartorial
+connoisseur) had to concede that his dress-suit was a success. He looked
+a wealthy Colonial gentleman.
+
+"This pleasure is the greater in being unexpected, Lady Vignoles!" he
+said. "I gather I am thus favoured that I may take the place of an
+absentee. Shall I hazard a guess? Your party numbered thirteen?"
+
+His infectious smile, easy acceptance of a bizarre situation, and
+evident good breeding, bridged a rather difficult interval. Lord
+Vignoles had had an idea that detective-inspectors were just ordinary
+plain-clothes policemen, and had determined, a second before, to assert
+himself, give the man half-a-sovereign, and put an end to this
+ridiculous extravaganza. Now he changed his mind. Detective-Inspector
+Pepys was a revelation.
+
+Vignoles (to his own surprise) offered his hand.
+
+"It is very good of you," he said, rather awkwardly. "You are sure you
+have no other dinner engagement, Inspector?"
+
+"None," replied the latter. "I am, strictly speaking, engaged upon
+official duty; but bodily nutriment is allowed--even by Scotland Yard!"
+
+"You don't mind my presenting you to--the other guests--in
+your--ah--unofficial capacity--as plain Mr. Pepys? They might--think
+there was something wrong!"
+
+He felt vaguely confused, as though he were insulting the visitor by his
+request, and with the detective's disconcerting eyes fixed upon his face
+was more than half ashamed of himself.
+
+"Not in the least, Lord Vignoles. I should have suggested it had you not
+done so."
+
+The host was resentfully conscious of a subtle sense of inward gratitude
+for this concession. Of the easy assumption of equality by the detective
+he experienced no resentment whatever. The circumstances possibly
+warranted it, and, in any event, it was assumed so quietly and naturally
+that he accepted it as a matter of course.
+
+Since Lord Vignoles' marriage with an American heiress the atmosphere of
+his establishments had grown very transatlantic; so much so, indeed,
+that someone had dubbed the house in Cadogan Gardens "The Millionaires'
+Meeting House," and another wit (unknown) had referred to his place in
+Norfolk as "The Week-end Synagogue." Furthermore, Lady Vignoles had a
+weakness for "odd people," for which reason the presence of a guest
+hitherto socially unknown occasioned no comment.
+
+Mr. Pepys having brought in Zoe Oppner, everyone assumed the late
+arrival to be one of Lady Vignoles' odd people, and everyone was
+pleasantly surprised to find him such a charming companion.
+
+Zoe Oppner, for her part, became so utterly absorbed in his conversation
+that her cousin grew seriously alarmed. Zoe was notoriously eccentric,
+and, her cousin did not doubt, even capable of forming an attachment for
+a policeman.
+
+In fact, Lady Vignoles, who was wearing the historic Lyrpa Diamond--her
+father's wedding-present--was so concerned that she had entirely lost
+track of the general conversation, which, from the great gem, had
+drifted automatically into criminology.
+
+Zimmermann was citing the famous case of the Kimberley mail robbery in
+'83.
+
+"That was a big haul," he said. "Twelve thousand pounds' worth of rough
+diamonds!"
+
+"Fifteen!" corrected Bernard Megger, director of a world-famed mining
+syndicate.
+
+"Oh, was it fifteen?" continued Zimmermann. "No doubt you are correct.
+Were you in Africa in '83?"
+
+"No," replied Megger; "I was in 'Frisco till the autumn of '85, but I
+remember the affair. Three men were captured--one dead. The
+fourth--Isaac Jacobsen--got away, and with the booty!"
+
+"Never traced, I believe!" asked the novelist.
+
+"Never," confirmed Megger; "neither the man nor the diamonds."
+
+"It was a big thing, certainly," came Vignoles' voice; "but this Severac
+Bablon has beaten all records in that line!"
+
+The remark afforded his wife an opportunity, for which she had sought,
+to break off the too confidential _tete-a-tete_ between Zoe and the
+detective.
+
+"Zoe," she said, "surely Mr. Pepys can tell us something about this
+mysterious Severac Bablon?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" replied Zoe. "He has been telling me! He knows quite a lot
+about him!"
+
+Now, the dinner-table topic all over London was the mystery of Severac
+Bablon, and Lady Vignoles' party was not exceptional in this respect. It
+had already been several times referred to, and at Miss Oppner's words
+all eyes were directed towards the handsome stranger, who bore this
+scrutiny with such smiling composure.
+
+"I cannot go into particulars, Lady Vignoles," he said; "but, as you are
+aware, I have a kind of official connection with the matter!"
+
+This was beautifully mysterious, and everyone became intensely
+interested.
+
+"Of such facts as have come to light you all know as much as I, but
+there is a certain theory which seems to have occurred to no one." He
+paused impressively, throwing a glance around the table. "What is the
+notable point in regard to the victims of Severac Bablon?"
+
+"They are Jews--or of Jewish extraction," said Zoe Oppner promptly. "Pa
+has noticed that! He's taken considerable interest since his mills were
+burned in Ontario!"
+
+"And what is the conclusion?"
+
+"That he hates Jews!" snapped Bernard Megger hotly. "That he has a
+deadly hatred of all the race!"
+
+"You think so?" said Pepys softly, and turned his eyes upon the gross,
+empurpled face of the speaker. "It has not occurred to you that he might
+himself be a Jew?"
+
+That theory was so new to them that it was received in silent
+astonishment. Lady Vignoles, though her mother was Irish, had a marked
+leaning towards her father's people, and, as was usually the case, that
+ancient race was fairly represented at her dinner-table. Lord Vignoles,
+on the contrary, was not fond of his wife's Semitic friends--in fact,
+was ashamed of them; and he accordingly felt the present conversation to
+be drifting in an unpleasant direction.
+
+"Consider," resumed Pepys, before the host could think of any suitable
+remark, "that this man wields an enormous and far-reaching influence. No
+door is locked to him! From out of nowhere he can summon up numbers of
+willing servants, who obey him blindly, and return--whence they came!
+
+"He would seem, then, to be served by high and low, and--a notable
+point--no one of his servants has yet betrayed him! His wealth clearly
+is enormous. He invites the rich to give--as _he_ gives--and if they
+decline he takes! For what purpose? That he may relieve the poor! No
+friend of the needy yet has suffered at the hands of Severac Bablon."
+
+"I believe that's a fact!" agreed Zoe Oppner. "He's my own parent, but
+Pa's real mean, I'll allow!"
+
+Her words were greeted with laughter; but everyone was anxious to hear
+more from this man who spoke so confidently upon the topic of the hour.
+
+"You may say," he continued, "that he is no more than a glorified Claude
+Duval, but might he not be one who sought to purge the Jewish name of
+the taint of greed--who forced those responsible for fostering that
+taint to disburse--who hated those mean of soul and loved those worthy
+of their ancient line? It is thus he would war! And the price of defeat
+would be--a felon's cell! Whom would he be--this man at enmity with all
+who have brought shame upon the Jewish race? Whom could he be, save a
+monarch with eight millions of subjects--a royal Jew? I say that such a
+man exists, and that Severac Bablon, if not that man himself, is his
+chosen emissary!"
+
+More and more rapidly he had spoken, in tones growing momentarily louder
+and more masterful. He burned with the enthusiasm of the specialist.
+Now, as he ceased, a long sigh arose from his listeners, who had hung
+breathless upon his words, and one lady whispered to her neighbour, "Is
+he something to do with the Secret Service?"
+
+"Mr. Bernard Megger is wanted on the telephone!"
+
+"How annoying!" ejaculated Lady Vignoles at this sudden interruption.
+
+"Oh, I have said my say," laughed Pepys. "It is a pet theory of mine,
+that's all! I am alone in my belief, however, save for a writer in the
+_Gleaner_, who seems to share it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+KIMBERLEY
+
+
+Dessert was being placed upon the table when Bernard Megger went out to
+the telephone, and a fairly general conversation upon the all-absorbing
+topic had sprung up when he returned--pale, flabby--a stricken man!
+
+"Vignoles!" he said hoarsely. "A word with you."
+
+The host, who did not care for the society of Mr. Megger, rose in some
+surprise and stepped aside with his wife's guest.
+
+"I am a ruined man!" said Megger. "My chambers have been entered and my
+safe rifled!"
+
+"But----" began Vignoles, in bewilderment.
+
+"You do not understand!" snapped the other, "and I cannot explain. It is
+Severac Bablon who has robbed me!"
+
+"Severac Bablon?"
+
+"Yes! I must be off at once and learn exactly what has happened. I shall
+call at Scotland Yard----"
+
+"_Ssh!_" whispered Vignoles. "There is no need for that! The man
+speaking to Miss Oppner there is Detective-Inspector Pepys!"
+
+"Detective-Inspector Pepys! But what----"
+
+"Never mind now, Megger; he is--that's the point. I'll bring him into
+the billiard-room. No doubt he can arrange to accompany you."
+
+Too perturbed in mind to wonder greatly at the presence of a police
+officer at Lord Vignoles' dinner-table, Bernard Megger strode hurriedly
+into the billiard-room, his obese body quivering with his suppressed
+emotions, and was almost immediately joined by his host, accompanied by
+Pepys. The latter began at once:
+
+"I understand that your chambers have been burgled by Severac Bablon? By
+a curious instance of what literary critics term the long arm of
+coincidence I am in charge of the Severac Bablon case--I and Inspector
+Sheffield."
+
+"Before we go any further," said Megger rudely, "I don't share your
+tomfool ideas about the rogue!"
+
+"No?" replied Pepys blandly. "Well, never mind. You must not suppose
+that, because of them, I am any less anxious to apprehend my man. Tell
+me, when was the burglary committed?"
+
+"While Simons, my servant, was out on an errand. He returned to find the
+safe open--and empty. He immediately rang me up here."
+
+"I believe you have already communicated with Scotland Yard in regard to
+Severac Bablon?"
+
+"Yes, I have. He has threatened me."
+
+"In what form?"
+
+"He endeavoured to extort money."
+
+"By what means?"
+
+Bernard Megger frowned, angrily. His flabby cheeks were twitching
+significantly.
+
+"The point is," he said sharply, "that he has rifled my safe."
+
+"Did it contain valuables?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Diamonds?"
+
+"It contained valuable papers."
+
+"Where is the safe situated?"
+
+"It is concealed, I thought securely, at the back of a bookcase. No one
+else holds a key. No one--not even my man--knows of its location.
+_Curse_ Severac Bablon! How, in Heaven's name, has he discovered it? I
+thought it secure from the fiend himself!"
+
+Detective-Inspector Pepys scratched his chin thoughtfully, and Bernard
+Megger seemed to experience some difficulty in meeting the disconcerting
+gaze of his eyes.
+
+"Possibly," said the inspector slowly, "an examination of your chambers
+may afford a clue. With your permission, Lord Vignoles, we will start at
+once."
+
+"Certainly," said Vignoles. "I fear I have no car in readiness, so
+someone shall call a cab."
+
+He moved to the bell.
+
+"What's that, Jerry?" came a musical American voice. "Someone want a
+lift?"
+
+The three men looked towards the door and saw there Zoe Oppner, a
+bewitching picture in her motor-furs.
+
+"I was coming to say good-night," she explained. "I'm off to pick up Pa.
+But I've got time to run as far as Brighton and back, say. Nearly half
+an hour anyway!"
+
+"You will not be called upon to create that amazing record, Zoe,"
+responded Lord Vignoles. "Inspector Pepys and Mr. Megger are merely
+proceeding to Victoria Street."
+
+"Is it something exciting?" asked Zoe, her bright eyes glancing from one
+to another of the three.
+
+"Very!" replied the inspector. "A robbery at Mr. Megger's chambers!"
+
+"Come right along!" said Zoe. "I'm glad I didn't miss this!" And the odd
+trio departed forthwith.
+
+"Can I come in?" she asked, with characteristic disregard of the
+conventional, as her luxuriously appointed car pulled up in Victoria
+Street.
+
+"I should greatly prefer that you did not, Miss Oppner!" said Pepys
+quietly.
+
+"That's unkind! Why mayn't I?"
+
+"I have a reason, believe me. If you will carry out your original plan
+and go on to join Mr. Oppner, it will be better."
+
+She met the gaze of his earnest eyes frankly.
+
+"All right!" she agreed. "But will you come to the hotel to-morrow,
+Inspector, and tell me all about it?"
+
+"If you will inform no one of the appointment and arrange to be
+alone--yes, at eleven o'clock!"
+
+Zoe's big eyes opened widely.
+
+"You are mysterious!" she said; "but I shall expect you at eleven
+o'clock!"
+
+"I shall be punctual!"
+
+With that he turned and passed quickly through the door behind Bernard
+Megger. Up the stairs he ran and reached the first floor in time to see
+the other entering his chambers.
+
+"Simons!" cried Megger, loudly.
+
+But there was no reply.
+
+"He must have gone at once to Scotland Yard," said Pepys. "Where is the
+safe?"
+
+Megger switched on the light and unlocked a door on his immediate left.
+It gave access to a study. In the dim glow of the green shaded lamps the
+place looked quiet and reposeful. Everything was neatly arranged, as
+befits the sanctum of a business man. Nothing seemed out of place.
+
+"There are no signs of burglars here!" said Pepys, in a surprised
+manner.
+
+"Simons may have reclosed the safe door," replied Megger.
+
+His voice trembled slightly.
+
+Wheeling a chair across the thick carpet, he placed it by a tall,
+unglazed bookcase and mounted upon the seat.
+
+"The safe is not open," he muttered excitedly.
+
+And the man watching him saw that his puffy hand shook like a leaf in
+the breeze.
+
+Removing a small oil-painting from the wall adjoining, he tore at his
+collar and produced a key attached to a thin chain about his neck. This
+he inserted in the cunning lock which the picture served to conceal. The
+next moment a hoarse cry escaped him.
+
+"It hasn't been opened at all!" he shouted.
+
+Snatching at the cord of a hanging lamp, he wildly hurled books about
+the floor and directed the light into a cavity that now had revealed
+itself. The other observed him keenly.
+
+"Are you certain _nothing_ is gone?" he asked.
+
+Megger plunged his hand inside and threw out several boxes and some
+bundles of legal-looking documents. Leaning yet farther forward, he
+touched a hidden spring that operated with a sharp _click_.
+
+"_That_ hasn't gone, Inspector!" he cried triumphantly, and held out a
+large envelope, sealed in several places.
+
+His eyes were feverish. His features worked.
+
+"You are wrong, Isaac Jacobsen!" rapped Pepys, and snatched the packet
+in a flash. "It has!"
+
+The man on the chair lurched. Every speck of colour fled from his
+naturally florid face, leaving it a dull, neutral grey. He threw out one
+hand to steady himself, and with the other plunged to his hip.
+
+"Both up!" ordered Pepys crisply.
+
+And Mr. Bernard Megger found himself looking down a revolver barrel that
+pointed accurately between his twitching eyebrows, nor wavered one
+hair's breadth!
+
+Unsteadily he raised his arms--staring, with dilated pupils, at this
+master of consummate craft.
+
+"It is by such acts of fatuity as your careful preservation of these
+proofs of identity," came in ironic tones, "that all rogues are bowled
+out, Jacobsen! I will admit that you had them well hidden. It was good
+of you to find them. I had despaired of doing so myself!" With that the
+speaker backed towards the open door.
+
+"Inspector Pepys!" gasped Bernard Megger, swallowing between the words,
+"I shall remember you!"
+
+"You will be wasting grey matter!" replied the man addressed, and was
+gone.
+
+Megger, dropping heavily into the chair, saw that the departing visitor
+had thrown a slip of pasteboard upon the carpet.
+
+As the key turned in the lock, and the dim footsteps sounded upon the
+stair, he lurched unsteadily to his feet, and, stooping, picked up the
+card.
+
+Simons, his man, returned half an hour later, having been detained in
+his favourite saloon by a chance acquaintance who had conceived a
+delirious passion for his society. He found his master locked in the
+study--with the key on the wrong side--and, furthermore, in the grip of
+apoplexy, with a crumpled visiting-card crushed in his clenched right
+hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+MR. SANRACK VISITS THE HOTEL ASTORIA
+
+
+Mr. J. J. Oppner and his daughter sat at breakfast the next morning at
+the Astoria. Oppner was deeply interested in the _Gleaner_.
+
+"Zoe," he said suddenly. "This is junk--joss--ponk!"
+
+His voice had a tone quality which suggested that it had passed through
+hot sand.
+
+Zoe looked up. Zoe Oppner was said to be the prettiest girl in the
+United States. Allowing that discount necessary in the case of John
+Jacob Oppner's daughter, Zoe still was undeniably very pretty indeed.
+She looked charming this morning in a loose wrap from Paris, which had
+cost rather more than an ordinary, fairly well-to-do young lady,
+residing, say, at Hampstead, expends upon her entire toilette in twelve
+months.
+
+"What's that, Pa?" she inquired.
+
+"What but this Severac Bablon business!"
+
+Assisted by her father, she had diligently searched that morning through
+stacks of daily papers for news of the robbery in Victoria Street. But
+in vain.
+
+"Guess it's a false alarm, Zoe!" Mr. Oppner had drawled, in his dusty
+fashion. "Some humorist got a big hustle on him last night. Like enough
+Mr. Megger was guyed by the same comic that sent _me_ on a pie-chase!"
+
+Zoe thought otherwise, preferring to believe that Inspector Pepys had
+suppressed the news; now she wondered if, after all, they had overlooked
+it.
+
+"Is there something about Severac Bablon in the paper?" she asked
+interestedly. "_I_ can't find anything."
+
+"Nope?" drawled Oppner. "Nope? H'm! Then what about all this front page,
+with Julius Rohscheimer sitting in his _pie_-jams and the Marquess of
+Evershed talking at him? Ain't that Severac Bablon? Sure! Did you think
+that Julius found it good for his health to part up a cool hundred
+thou.? And look at Hague up in the corner--and Elschild in the other
+corner! There's only one way to open the cheque-books of either of them
+guys; with a gun!"
+
+"Oh!" cried Zoe--"how exciting!"
+
+"I'm with you," drawled her father. "It's as thrilling as having all
+your front teeth out."
+
+"Do you mean, Pa, that this is something to do with the card----"
+
+"There's me and Jesson to shell out yet. That's what I mean! He's raised
+two hundred thousand. I'm richer'n any of 'em and he'll mulct me on my
+Canadian investments for the balance of half a million! Or maybe he'll
+split it between me and Jesson and Hohsmann!"
+
+"Oh!" said Zoe, "what a pity! And I was going to ask you to buy me two
+new hats!"
+
+Her father looked at her long and earnestly.
+
+"You haven't got any proper kind of balance where money is concerned,
+Zoe," he drawled. "Your brain pod ain't burstin' with financial genius.
+You don't seem to care worth a baked bean that I'm bein' fleeced of
+thousands! That hog Bablon cleaned me out a level million dollars when
+he burned the Runek Mills, and now I know, plain as if I saw him, he's
+got me booked for another pile! Where d'you suppose money comes from?
+D'you think I can grab out like a coin manipulator, and my hand comes
+back full of dollars?"
+
+Zoe made no reply. She was staring, absently, over her father's head,
+into a dream-world. Had Mr. Oppner been endowed with the power to read
+from another's eyes, he would have found a startling story written in
+the beautiful book fringed by Zoe's dark lashes. She was thinking of
+Severac Bablon; thinking of him, not as a felon, but as he had been
+depicted to her by the strange man whom she had met at Lord
+Vignoles'--the man who pursued him, yet condoned his sins.
+
+Her father's sandy voice broke in upon her reverie:
+
+"Where I'm tied up--same with Rohscheimer and the rest--I don't know
+this thief Bablon when I see him."
+
+"No," said Zoe. "Of course."
+
+Mr. Oppner stared. His daughter's attitude was oddly unemotional, wholly
+detached and impersonal.
+
+"H'm!" he grunted dryly. "I've got to see Alden, the Agency boy,
+upstairs. I'll be pushing off."
+
+He "pushed off."
+
+Almost immediately afterwards, Zoe's maid entered. There was a gentleman
+to see her. He would not give his card.
+
+"Show him into the next room," said Zoe, full of excitement, "and if Mr.
+Oppner comes back, tell him I am engaged."
+
+She entered the cosy reception-room, feeling that she was about to be
+admitted behind the scenes, and, woman-like, delightfully curious. A
+moment later, her visitor arrived.
+
+"I have kept my promise, Miss Oppner!"
+
+She turned, to greet him--and a little, quick cry escaped her.
+
+For this was not Detective-Inspector Pepys who stood, smiling, in the
+doorway!
+
+It was a man who was, or who seemed to be, taller than he; a slim man,
+having but one thing in common with the detective: his black
+morning-coat fitted him as perfectly as the dress-coat had fitted the
+inspector. An irreproachably attired man is a greater rarity than most
+people realise; and Zoe Oppner wondered why, even in that moment of
+amazement, she noted this fact.
+
+Her visitor was singularly handsome. She knew, instantly, that she had
+never seen one so handsome before. He was of a puzzling type, wholly
+unlike any European she had met, though no darker of complexion than
+many Americans. With his waving black hair, extraordinarily perfect
+features, and the light of conscious power in his large eyes, he awoke
+something within her that was half memory--yet not wholly so.
+
+She was vaguely afraid, but strongly attracted towards this mysterious
+stranger.
+
+"But," she said, staring the while as one fascinated, "you--are not
+Inspector Pepys!"
+
+"True!" he answered smilingly. "I am not Inspector Pepys; nor is there
+any such person!"
+
+The voice was different, yet somehow reminiscent. Only now, a faint,
+indefinable accent had crept into it.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Zoe, at the idea that she had been imposed upon, grew regally indignant.
+She was a lovely woman, and accustomed to the homage which mankind pays
+to beauty. Her naturally frank, laughter-loving nature made her a
+charming companion; but she could be distant, scornful--could crush the
+most presumptuous with a glance of her eyes.
+
+Now she looked at her strange visitor with frigid dignity, and he merely
+smiled amusedly, as one smiles at a pretty child.
+
+"Be good enough to explain yourself. If you dared to impose upon Lady
+Vignoles last night--if you are not really a detective--what are you?"
+
+"That question would take too long to answer, Miss Oppner!"
+
+"I demand an answer! Who are you?"
+
+"That is another question," replied the stranger, in his soft, musical
+voice, "and I will try to answer it. At dinner last night I told you of
+a man whose fathers saw the Great Pyramid built, whose race was old when
+that pyramid was new. I told you of an unbroken line of kings--of kings
+who wore no crowns, whose throne was lost in the long ago."
+
+She closed and re-opened her right hand nervously, and a new light came
+into her eyes. His words had touched again, as the night before, the
+hidden deeps of her nature, quickening into life the mysticism that lay
+there. She would have spoken, but he quietly motioned her to
+silence--and she was silent.
+
+"I said that the time approached when that ancient line again should
+claim place among the monarchies of the world. I said that millions of
+men and women, in every habitable quarter of the globe, owed allegiance
+to that man who was, by divine right, their king!"
+
+His face lighted up with a wild enthusiasm. To the beautiful girl who
+listened, spell-bound, he seemed as one inspired.
+
+"Upon his people lay a cloud--a tainting shadow grown black through the
+centuries. He must disperse it, proclaiming to the world that his was a
+noble people, a nation with a mighty soul! The evil came not from
+without but from within. The worst enemies of the Jews are the Jews. In
+attacking those enemies of his people, inevitably he would come into
+collision with many governments. But he would do them no wrong, save in
+showing them powerless to protect the traitors from his righteous
+wrath!"
+
+For a long moment she watched him, and no words came to her. That this
+splendid man was mad flashed through her mind as a possible thing; but
+that thought she dismissed, and remained bewildered.
+
+"Is it true?" she asked, in a pleading voice; "or are you jesting with
+me?"
+
+He smiled, having resumed his habitual calm.
+
+"It is true!" he answered. "Upon the word of a rogue--a thief--upon the
+honour of Severac Bablon!"
+
+Zoe started, yet she was not afraid; for something had told her almost
+from his entrance that this was he--the man whose name at that very hour
+glared from countless placards, upon a great part of the civilised
+world; whose deeds at that moment were being babbled of in every tongue
+from Chinese to Italian.
+
+"But, if you are that man, and----" She hesitated. "You are wrong, I am
+sure! Oh! indeed, truly, I think you are wrong! Not in your aims, but in
+making so many new enemies! You have placed yourself outside all laws!
+You may be arrested at any hour!"
+
+"That phase of my campaign will pass. I shall meet the Ministers of all
+the Powers upon equality--as the plenipotentiary of eight million
+people! All that I have done will be forgotten in the light of what I
+_shall_ do!"
+
+"I cannot understand about last night. Your presence was an
+accident----"
+
+He laughed softly.
+
+"I knew that Lady Vignoles' party numbered fourteen. I caused your
+father to be detained. One of my friends--I will not name him--suggested
+a novel mode of seeking a guest: I caused Megger's man to be absent
+whilst another of my friends, imitating his speech, sent the telephone
+message! Is that accident?"
+
+"It is----"
+
+"Unworthy, you would say? The work of a common cracksman? But, by those
+lowly means I secured proof that Bernard Megger, director of the Uitland
+Rands Consolidated Mines Syndicate, and Isaac Jacobsen, the Kimberley
+mail robber, were one and the same! He has escaped the laws of England,
+but he cannot escape me!"
+
+She shrank involuntarily, her now frightened eyes fixed upon the face of
+this man, whose patriotism, whose zeal, whose incredibly lofty purpose
+she did not, could not, doubt, but whose methods she could, not
+condone--by whose will her own father had suffered. Then, in a quickly
+imperious yet kindly manner, he placed both his hands upon her
+shoulders, looking, with earnest, searching eyes, deep into her own.
+
+"What would you desire me to do that half a million pounds can compass?"
+he asked.
+
+"Return it to those it belongs to, if you can, and, with any that you
+cannot return, endow homes by the shore for sick slum children!"
+
+He moved his left hand, and she saw dully gleaming upon his finger, a
+great green stone, bearing a strange device. In some weird fashion it
+seemed to convey a message to her--intimate, convincing. Within those
+green depths there dwelt a mystery. She felt that the ring was
+incalculably old, and that its wearer must wield almost limitless power.
+It was an uncanny idea, but she lived to know that her instincts had not
+wholly misled her.
+
+"It shall be done!" said Severac Bablon. "And you will be my friend?"
+
+"I will try!" whispered Zoe, "if you wish. But, oh, believe me! You are
+wrong! You are wrong! There is, there _must_ be some better way!"
+
+As he removed his hands from her shoulders she turned aside and glanced
+through the open window, seeing nothing of the panorama of London below,
+but seeing only a great throne, and upon it a regal figure, his head
+crowned with the ancient crown of the Jewish kings. When she turned
+again her father stood behind her. But Severac Bablon was gone!
+
+"Thought you had a visitor, Zoe?" said Mr. Oppner. "There's a gentleman
+here would like to have a look at him!"
+
+He turned to a big, burly man, dressed in neat serge, who bowed
+awkwardly and immediately took a sharp look around the room. Mr. Oppner
+eyed his daughter with grim suspicion.
+
+"Inspector Sheffield would like to ask you something!"
+
+"Sorry to trouble you, miss," said the inspector, misinterpreting the
+sudden, strained look that had come into her eyes, and smiling in kindly
+fashion. "But I've been following a man all the morning, and I rather
+think he came into this hotel! Also--please excuse me if I'm wrong--I
+rather fancy he came up here!"
+
+"What is he like--this--man?" she asked mechanically, looking away from
+the detective.
+
+"This morning he was like the handsomest gentleman in Europe, miss! But
+he may have altered since I saw him last! He's the latest thing in
+quick-change artists I've met to date!"
+
+"What do you want him for?"
+
+Sheffield raised his eyebrows.
+
+"He's Severac Bablon!" he said simply. "Does your late visitor answer to
+the description?"
+
+"My visitor was a gentleman who wanted funds for building a home for
+invalid children!"
+
+"You're sure it wasn't our man, miss?"
+
+("And you will be my friend" he had asked. "I will try," had been her
+promise.)
+
+"I am quite sure my visitor was not a criminal of any kind!" she
+answered. "You have made a strange mistake!"
+
+The inspector bowed and quitted the room immediately. Mr. Oppner stood
+for some moments watching his daughter--and then followed the officer.
+Zoe went to her room, and allowed her maid to dress her, without
+proposing a solitary alteration in the scheme. She was very preoccupied.
+In the lounge she found her father deep in conversation with a
+clean-shaven man who had the features and complexion of a Sioux, and
+wore a tweed suit which to British eyes must have appeared several sizes
+too large for him. His Stetson was tilted well to the rear of his skull,
+and he lay back smoking a black cheroot. This was Aloys X. Alden of
+Pinkerton's. Zoe hesitated. The conversation clearly was a business one.
+
+And, at that moment, a tall figure appeared beside her.
+
+Zoe drew a sharp breath--almost a breath of pain. She glanced toward the
+group of two in the distant corner. They were discussing, as she knew
+quite well, various plans for the apprehension of the man who had become
+a nightmare to certain capitalists. They were devising, or seeking to
+devise, schemes for penetrating the secret of his real identity--for
+peering beneath the mask of the real man.
+
+And here, by her side, stood Severac Bablon!
+
+"Pray, pray go!" she whispered tremulously. "I thought you had left the
+hotel. For your own sake, if not for mine, you should have done so."
+
+"But if it happens that I am staying here?"
+
+"Please go! There--with my father--is a detective----"
+
+"I know him well!" was the reply. Severac Bablon's melodious voice was
+calm. He smiled serenely. "But, fortunately, he does not know me! My
+name, then, for the present, is Mr. Sanrack; and I have taken this
+risk--though believe me it is not so great as you deem it--because I
+have something more to say. I was interrupted by the arrival of
+Inspector Sheffield."
+
+"He may come in at any moment!"
+
+"Then, _I_ shall go out! But first I wish to tell you that I consider it
+my duty to force your father's hand in regard to a large sum of money!"
+
+Zoe's little foot tapped the floor nervously.
+
+"How do you dare?" she said. "How do you dare to tell _me_ such a
+thing?"
+
+"I dare, because what I do is right and just," he resumed; "and because,
+although I know that its justice will be apparent to you, I am anxious
+to have your personal assurance upon that point."
+
+"My assurance that I think you are right in robbing my father!"
+
+"I could scarcely expect that; I certainly should not ask for it. But
+you know that despite enormous benefactions, the Jews as a race bear the
+stigma of cupidity and meanness. It is wholly undeserved. The sums
+annually devoted to charitable purposes, by such a family as the
+Elschilds--my very good friends--are truly stupendous. But the Elschilds
+do not seek the limelight. Mr. Rohscheimer, Baron Hague, Sir Leopold
+Jesson, Mr. Hohsmann--and your father, are celebrated only for their
+unscrupulous commercial methods in the formation of combines. They do
+not distribute their wealth. Is it not true?"
+
+Zoe nodded. Vaguely, she felt indignant, but Severac Bablon was entirely
+unanswerable. Then:
+
+"Heavens!" she whispered--"here comes my father!"
+
+It was true. Mr. Oppner and the detective were approaching.
+
+"I wish to meet your father," whispered Severac Bablon. "Remember, I am
+Mr. Sanrack!"
+
+As he spoke, he watched her keenly. It was a crucial test, and both knew
+it. Zoe was slightly pale. She fully realised that to conform now to
+Severac Bablon's wishes was tantamount to becoming a member of his
+organisation (which operated against her father!)--was to take a
+possibly irrevocable step in the dark.
+
+Whilst in many respects she disagreed with Severac Bablon's wildly
+unlawful methods, yet, knowing something of his exalted aims she could
+not--despite all--withhold her sympathy. In some strange fashion, the
+wishes of this fugitive from the law partook of the nature of commands.
+But she could have wished to be spared this trial.
+
+Oppner came up.
+
+"Oh, father," began Zoe, striving to veil her confusion, "I don't think
+you have met Mr. Sanrack before? This is my father, Mr. Sanrack--Mr.
+Alden."
+
+The millionaire stared, ere nodding shortly. The detective showed no
+emotion whatever.
+
+"There is something which I am particularly anxious to explain to you,
+Mr. Oppner," began Sanrack, having acknowledged the introductions with
+easy courtesy. "It has reference to Severac Bablon!"
+
+Zoe held her breath. Alden moved his cheroot from the left corner of his
+mouth to the right. Mr. Oppner wrinkled up his eyes and scrutinised the
+speaker with a blank astonishment.
+
+"I hold no brief for Severac Bablon," continued the fascinating voice.
+
+"Nope?" drawled Oppner.
+
+"His deeds must speak for themselves. But on behalf of an important
+financial group I have a proposition to make."
+
+Mr. Oppner took a step forward.
+
+"What group's that?"
+
+"Shall I say, simply, the most influential in Europe?"
+
+"The Elschilds?"
+
+"If you consider them to be so, you may construe my words in that way."
+
+"Mr. Antony Elschild has been pulling my leg with some fool proposition
+about whitewashing the millionaire, or something to that effect. It's
+always seemed to me he's got more money than sense. He's passed out a
+cheque to this _Gleaner_ fund big enough to build a soap factory!"
+
+"So has Mr. Rohscheimer, and so has Baron Hague!"
+
+"I'm not laughin'! They were held up! Why they don't say so, straight
+out, is their business. Jesson and Hohsmann will part out next, I
+suppose, if it ain't me. But if I subscribe it will be because I had a
+gun screwed in my ear while I wrote the cheque!"
+
+"That is what my friends so deeply lament!"
+
+"It is, eh? Yep? They'd like to see me paperin' all the workhouses with
+ten-dollar bills, I reckon? Mr. Ransack, I've got better uses for my
+money. It ain't my line of business buyin' caviare for loafers, and I
+don't consider it's up to me to buy airships for Great Britain! When you
+see me start in buyin' airships it's time to smother me! It means I'm
+too old and silly to be trusted with money!"
+
+"My friends and myself--for I take a keen interest in everything
+appertaining to the Jewish nation--are anxious to save you from the
+ignominy of being compelled to subscribe!"
+
+"That's thoughtful! Can your friends and yourself find any reason why a
+United States citizen should buy airships for England? If I got a rush
+of dollars to the head and was anxious to be bled of half a million, I
+might as well buy submarines for China, for all the good it'd do me!"
+
+"On the contrary! So far as my knowledge goes you derive no part of your
+income from China, whereas your interests throughout Greater Britain are
+extensive. Thus, by becoming a subscriber, you would be indirectly
+protecting yourself, in addition to establishing a reputation which,
+speaking sordidly, would be of inestimable value to you throughout the
+British dominions."
+
+Mr. Oppner nodded.
+
+"It's good of you to drop in and deputise for my Dutch uncle!" he said.
+"Though no more than I might expect from a friend of my daughter's. But
+your arguments strike me as the foolishest I ever heard out of any man's
+mouth. As an old advertiser, I reckon your proposition ain't worth a
+rat's whiskers!"
+
+Mr. Sanrack smiled. Alden was closely observing him.
+
+"You are quite entitled to your opinion. My friends are anxious to learn
+if there be any purely philanthropic cause you would prefer to support.
+The mere interest on your capital, Mr. Oppner, is more than you can ever
+hope to spend, however lavish your mode of living."
+
+"Thanks," drawled Oppner. "For a brand-new acquaintance you're nice and
+chatty and confidential. Your friends are such experts at spending their
+own money that it's not surprisin' they'd like to teach me a thing or
+two. But during the last forty years I haven't found any cause better
+worthy of support than my own. Give my love to Mr. Elschild. Good
+morning!"
+
+He moved off, with the stoical Alden.
+
+"You see," said Severac Bablon to Zoe, who lingered, "your father is
+impervious to the demands of Charity!"
+
+"Is that why you did this? Were you anxious to bring out Pa's meanness
+as a sort of excuse for what you contemplate?"
+
+"Partly, that was my motive. A demand upon an American citizen to found
+a British air fleet is extravagant--in a sense, absurd. But I was
+anxious to offer Mr. Oppner one more opportunity of distributing some of
+the vast sum which he has locked up for his own amusement--financial
+chess."
+
+"You have placed me in an impossible situation."
+
+"Why? If you consider me to be what I have been accused of being--a
+thief--an incendiary--an iconoclast--denounce me--to whom you will! At
+any time I will see you, and any friend you may care to bring, be it
+Inspector Sheffield of New Scotland Yard, at Laurel Cottage, Dulwich
+Village. I impose no yoke upon you that you cannot shake off!"
+
+But as Zoe Oppner looked into the great luminous eyes she knew that he
+had imposed upon her the yoke of a mysterious sovereignty.
+
+From the foyer came a sound, unfamiliar enough in the Astoria--the sound
+of someone whistling. Even as Zoe started, wondering if she could trust
+her ears, Severac Bablon took both her hands, in the impulsive and
+strangely imperious way she knew.
+
+"Good-bye," he said. "Perhaps I am wrong and you are right. Time will
+reveal that. If you ever wish to see me, you know where I may be found.
+Good-bye!"
+
+He turned abruptly and ascended the stairs. He had but just disappeared
+when Inspector Sheffield entered!
+
+Zoe felt that her face turned pale; but she bravely smiled as the
+Scotland Yard man approached her.
+
+"You see, I am back again, Miss Oppner! Do you know if Mr. Oppner has
+gone out?"
+
+"I am not sure. But I think he went out with Mr. Alden."
+
+Sheffield's face clouded. This employment of a private detective was a
+sore point with the Inspector. It seemed strangely like a slight upon
+the official service. Not that Sheffield was on bad terms with Alden. He
+was too keen a diplomat for that. But he went in hourly dread that the
+Pinkerton man would forestall Scotland Yard.
+
+To Sheffield it appeared impossible that Severac Bablon could much
+longer evade arrest. In fact, it was incomprehensible to him how this
+elusive character had thus far remained at large. Slowly, and by painful
+degrees, Sheffield was learning that Severac Bablon's organisation was
+more elaborate and far-reaching, and embraced more highly placed
+persons, than at one time he could have credited.
+
+It would appear that there were Government officials in the group which
+surrounded this man, pointing to ramifications which sometimes the
+detective despaired of following. News from Paris, received only that
+morning, would seem to indicate that a similar state of affairs
+prevailed in the French capital. With whom, Sheffield asked himself, had
+he to deal? Who _was_ Severac Bablon? That he was in some way associated
+with Jewish people and Jewish interests the Yard man was convinced. But
+he could not determine, to his own satisfaction, if Severac Bablon's
+activities were inimical to Juda or otherwise. It was a bewildering
+case.
+
+"I hope Mr. Oppner hasn't gone out," he said, after a pause. "I
+particularly wanted to see him again."
+
+"Is there some new clue?" asked Zoe eagerly.
+
+Inspector Sheffield was nonplussed. Here was the daughter of J. J.
+Oppner, the last girl in the world whom any sane man would suspect of
+complicity in the Severac Bablon outrages; yet, for reasons of his own,
+Sheffield wondered if she were as wholly ignorant of Bablon's identity
+as the rest of the world. He distrusted everyone. He had said to
+Detective-Sergeant Harborne, who was associated with him in the case,
+"Where Severac Bablon is concerned, I wouldn't trust the Lord Mayor of
+London--no, nor the Archbishop of Canterbury."
+
+Accordingly, he replied, "I think not, Miss Oppner. I'll just run
+upstairs and see if there's anybody about."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+LOVE, LUCRE AND MR. ALDEN
+
+
+Zoe was waiting for Lady Mary Evershed. Lady Mary was late--an
+unremarkable circumstance, since Lady Mary was a woman, and less
+remarkable than ordinarily for the reason that Lady Mary had met Sir
+Richard Haredale on the way. At the time she should have been at the
+Astoria she was pacing slowly through St. James's Park, beside Haredale.
+
+"My position is becoming impossible, Mary," he said, with painful
+distinctness. "Every day seems to see the time more distant, instead of
+nearer, when I can say good-bye to Mr. Julius Rohscheimer. My situation
+is little better than that of his secretary. By hard work, and it _is_
+hard work to act as Rohscheimer's social Virgil!--and by harder
+self-repression, I have struggled to earn enough to enable me to cry
+quits with the other rogues who preyed upon me, when--before I knew you.
+I've scarcely a shred of self-respect left, Mary!"
+
+She looked down at the gravelled path and made no answer to his
+self-accusation.
+
+"It is only my sense of humour that has saved me. But one day I shall
+break out! It is inevitable. I cannot pander for ever to Rohscheimer's
+social ambitions. Yet, if I show fight, he will break me! Saving the
+prospect--with a hale and hearty uncle intervening, and one of the best;
+may he live to be a hundred!--of the title, and all that goes with it,
+what have I to offer you, Mary? I am a man sailing under false colours.
+Practically, I am a salaried servant of Rohscheimer's. I don't actually
+draw my salary; but in recognition of my services in popularising his
+wife's entertainments, he keeps the vultures at bay! Bah! I despise
+myself!"
+
+Mary looked up to him, tenderly reproachful.
+
+"You silly boy!" she said. "There is nothing dishonourable in what you
+do!"
+
+"Possibly not. But how would your father like to know of my position."
+
+She lowered her eyes again.
+
+"Is my father indebted to Julius Rohscheimer in any way, Dick?" she
+asked suddenly.
+
+Haredale laughed nervously.
+
+"Rohscheimer does not honour me with the whole of his confidence in
+financial matters," he replied. "It is a question Adeler would be better
+able to answer."
+
+"Mr. Adeler, yes. What a singular man! Do you know, Dick, in spite of
+father's ideas respecting our old English aristocracy, I have sometimes
+felt, in Mr. Adeler's presence, that he, though a Jew, was a thousand
+times more of an aristocrat than I?"
+
+Haredale glanced at her oddly.
+
+"I have at times been conscious of a similar feeling!" he said. "No
+doubt one's instincts are true enough. Adeler's pedigree conceivably may
+go back to Jewish nobles who entertained monarchs in their marble
+palaces when the Eversheds and Haredales considered several streaks of
+red ochre an adequate costume for the most important functions."
+
+He laughed boyishly at his own words.
+
+"Oh, Dick!" said Mary. "How absurd of you. It is impossible to imagine
+an Evershed in such a condition. But yet, you are right. How singular
+that most people should overlook so obvious a fact; that there is a
+Jewish aristocracy, possibly one of the most ancient in the world."
+
+"The Jews are an Eastern people," replied Haredale. "That is the fact
+which is generally overlooked. They are, excepting one, the most
+remarkable people in the modern world."
+
+"Do you know," said the girl, unconsciously lowering her voice, "I have
+sometimes thought that Severac Bablon was in some way connected----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"With the ancient history of the Jews!"
+
+"What do you mean exactly?"
+
+"I can hardly explain. But at the Rohscheimers, on the night of the
+ball, Severac Bablon was masked, of course; yet it seemed to me----"
+
+"Mary," interrupted Haredale, "don't tell me that you believe the
+romantic stories circulating about the man!"
+
+"What stories, Dick?"
+
+"Why, about his holding the Seal of Suleyman, whatever that may be----"
+
+"But Mrs. Elschild says he _does_!"
+
+Haredale started.
+
+"How can she possibly know?"
+
+A flush tinged Lady Mary's clear complexion for a moment, and left it
+paler than it was wont to be. She despised a woman who could not
+preserve a secret (and therefore must have had a poor opinion of her
+sex), yet she had nearly allowed her own tongue to betray her. Whatever
+Mrs. Elschild had told her had been told in confidence, and under the
+seal of friendship.
+
+"Perhaps she does not know. Someone may have told her."
+
+"It's all over London," said Haredale; "in the clubs, everywhere! I
+wonder you have not heard it before. There seems to be an organised
+attempt to glorify this man, who, after all, is no more than an
+up-to-date highwayman. Someone has spread the absurd story that he is of
+Jewish royal blood; whereas the royal line of the Jews must have been
+extinct for untold generations!"
+
+"Why must it? You have just said that the Jews are an Eastern people.
+And all Eastern peoples are subtle and secretive. I invariably lose half
+of my self-importance in Egypt, for instance. There is something in the
+eye of the meanest _fellah_ which is painfully like patronage!"
+
+Haredale shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"What a thing it is," he said humorously, "to be born with black hair,
+flashing eyes and an olive skin! One can then be any kind of mountebank
+or robber, and yet rest assured of the ladies' homage."
+
+They walked on in silence for awhile. Then--
+
+"Heaven knows what happened to Rohscheimer," said Haredale abruptly, "to
+have frightened him into writing such a stupendous cheque! I may hear,
+later, but thus far he is too sore to touch upon the matter!"
+
+"My father has visited him."
+
+"At last--yes! Do you remember when Rohscheimer offered me five hundred
+pounds if I could induce the Marquess to come to dinner? Gad! He came
+perilously near to a just retribution that day! I think if I had been in
+uniform I should have run him through!"
+
+"These extraordinary donations of course are the sequel to the
+mysterious business of the card and the unseen hand?"
+
+"Certainly. Severac Bablon is at the bottom of the whole business. I
+described the device, introducing two triangles, do you remember, which
+appeared on the cards, to a chap at the club who is rather a learned
+Orientalist, and he assured me that, so far as he could judge from my
+description, it corresponded with that of the supposed seal of Solomon.
+I was unable to remember part of the design, of course. But, at any
+rate, this merely goes to prove that Bablon is an accomplished showman."
+
+"I am afraid I must be going, Dick. I have to meet Zoe Oppner."
+
+"Let's go and find a cab, then. But it was so delightful to have you all
+to myself, Mary, if only for a very little while."
+
+The boyishness had gone out of his voice again, and Lady Mary knew all
+too well of what he was thinking. She took his arm and pressed it hard.
+
+"I don't think anyone was ever in such a dreadful position in the world
+before, Dick!" she declared. "To tolerate it seems impossible, seems
+wrong. But to defy Rohscheimer, with your affairs as they are,
+means--what does it mean, Dick?"
+
+"I dare not think what it means, Mary," he replied. "Not when _you_ are
+with me. But one day--soon, I am afraid--it will all be taken out of my
+hands. I shall tell Mr. Julius Rohscheimer exactly what I think of him,
+and there will be an end of the whole arrangement."
+
+They said no more until the girl was entering the cab. Then:
+
+"_I_ understand, Dick," she whispered, "and nobody else knows, so try to
+be diplomatic for a little longer."
+
+Holding her hand, he looked into her eyes. Then, without another word
+between them, the cab moved off, and Haredale stood looking after it
+until it was lost amid the traffic. He started to walk across to Park
+Lane.
+
+At the Astoria Zoe was waiting patiently. But when, at last, Mary found
+herself in her friend's room, the gloomy companionship of the thoughts
+with which she had been alone since leaving Haredale, proved too
+grievous to be borne alone. She threw herself on to a cushioned settee,
+and her troubles found vent in tears.
+
+"Mary, dear!" cried Zoe, all that was maternal protective in her nature,
+asserting itself. "Tell me all about it."
+
+The unruly mop of her brown hair mingled with the gold of her friend's,
+and presently, between sobs, the story was told--an old, old story
+enough.
+
+"He will have to resign his commission," she sobbed. "And then he will
+have to go abroad! Oh, Zoe! I know it must come soon. Even _I_ cannot
+expect him, nor wish him to dance attendance on that odious Julius
+Rohscheimer for ever! And he makes so little headway."
+
+Zoe's little foot beat a soft tatoo upon the carpet.
+
+"I wonder--will there always be a Julius Rohscheimer for him to dance
+attendance upon!" she said softly.
+
+Mary raised her tearful eyes.
+
+"What do you mean, Zoe?"
+
+"Has it never occurred to you that--Severac Bablon will ultimately make
+a poor man of Rohscheimer?"
+
+"Oh! I should not like to think that, because----"
+
+"If he went that far, he might do the same for Pa. I can't believe that,
+Mary. Pa's awful mean, but after all his money is cleaner than
+Rohscheimer's."
+
+Mary dried her eyes.
+
+"I hardly know whether to regard that strange man, Severac Bablon, as a
+friend or a foe," she said. "He certainly seems to confine his outrages
+to those who have plenty but object to spending it."
+
+"Except on themselves! He's a friend right enough, Mary. I believe he is
+anxious to reveal all these rich people in a new light, to whitewash
+them. If only they would change their ideas and do some good with their
+money, I don't think they would be troubled any more by Severac Bablon.
+You never hear of Mr. Elschild being robbed by him--nor any of the
+family suffering in any way."
+
+"Mr. Elschild received one of the mysterious cards, and he has sent a
+big cheque to the _Gleaner_ fund."
+
+"He has to keep up appearances, Mary, don't you see? But it is certain
+that he sent the money quite voluntarily. He did not wait to be
+squeezed. I wish Pa would come to his senses. If, instead of spending a
+small fortune on private detectives, he would start to use his money for
+good, he would have no further need for the Pinkerton men. Certainly he
+would not be made to buy airships for England!"
+
+A smile dawned upon Lady Mary's face.
+
+"Isn't it preposterous!" she said. "The idea of raising money for such a
+purpose from people like Baron Hague!"
+
+"Baron Hague left for Berlin this morning. We shall probably never know
+under what circumstances he issued his cheque for fifty thousand pounds!
+Doesn't it seem just awful, with all this money floating about, that
+poor Sir Richard is nearly stranded for quite a trifle!"
+
+"Oh, it is dreadful! And I can see no way out."
+
+"No," murmured Zoe. "Yet there must be a way."
+
+She walked to the window, and stood looking out thoughtfully upon the
+Embankment far below.
+
+What a strange, complex drama moved about her! It was impossible even to
+determine for what parts some of the players were cast. Where, she
+wondered, was Inspector Sheffield now? And where was Severac Bablon? So
+far as she was aware, both were actually in the Astoria. There was
+something almost uncanny in the elusiveness of Severac Bablon. His
+disdain of all attempts to compass his downfall betokened something more
+than bravado. He must _know_ himself immune.
+
+Why?
+
+If what he had rather hinted than declared were true--and never for a
+moment did she doubt his sincerity--then his accomplices, his friends,
+his subjects (she knew not how to name them), must be numberless. Was
+she, herself, not of their ranks?
+
+Of the thousands who moved beneath her, upon trams, in cabs, in cars, on
+foot, how many were servants of that mysterious master? It was
+fascinating, yet terrifying, this inside knowledge of a giant
+conspiracy, of which, at that moment, the civilised world was talking.
+Mary Evershed's voice broke in upon her musing:
+
+"Come along, Zoe. We shall never be back in time for lunch if we don't
+hurry."
+
+They descended in the lift and walked out to where Mr. Oppner's big car
+awaited them. A moment later, as the man turned out into the Strand,
+Sheard passed close by upon the pavement. He raised his hat to the two
+pretty travellers. Clearly, he was bound for the Astoria.
+
+And a few yards further on, unobtrusively walking behind a very large
+German tourist, appeared the person of Mr. A. X. Alden.
+
+"Why!" whispered Zoe. "I believe he is following Mr. Sheard."
+
+Her surmise was correct. The astute Mr. Alden had found himself at a
+loss to account for some of the exclusive items respecting the doings of
+Severac Bablon which latterly had been appearing in the _Gleaner_. By
+dint of judiciously oiling the tongue of a chatty compositor, he had
+learned that the unique copy was contributed by Mr. H. T. Sheard. Mr.
+Oppner had advised him to keep a close watch upon the movements of Mr.
+Antony Elschild. Although Alden found it hard to credit the idea that
+the great Elschild family should be in any way associated with the
+campaign of brigandage, Mr. Oppner was more open-minded.
+
+Now Alden, too, was beginning to wonder. There seemed to be a friendship
+between Elschild and the pressman; and Sheard, from some source
+evidently unopen to his fellow copy-hunters, obtained much curious
+information anent Severac Bablon. One of Alden's American colleagues
+accordingly was devoting some unobtrusive attention to whomsoever came
+and went at the Elschild establishment in Lombard Street, whilst Alden
+addressed himself to the task of shadowing Sheard.
+
+When the latter walked into the lobby of the Astoria, Mr. Alden was not
+far away.
+
+"Has Mr. Gale of New York arrived yet?" was the pressman's inquiry.
+
+Yes. Mr. Gale of New York had arrived.
+
+Upon learning which, Sheard seemed to hesitate, glancing about him as if
+suspicious of espionage. Mr. Alden, deeply engaged, or so it appeared,
+in selecting a cigar at the stall, was all ears--and through a mirror
+before which he had intentionally placed himself, he could watch
+Sheard's movements whilst standing with his back towards him.
+
+At last Sheard took out his notebook and hastily scribbled something
+therein. Tearing out the leaf, he asked for an envelope, which the boy
+procured for him. With the closed book as a writing-pad, he addressed
+the envelope. Then, enclosing the note, carefully sealed up the message,
+and handed it to the boy, glancing about him the while with a palpable
+apprehension.
+
+Finally, lighting a cigarette with an air of nonchalance but ill
+assumed, Sheard strolled out of the hotel.
+
+He had not passed the door ere Alden was clamouring for an hotel
+envelope. The boy was just about to enter a lift as the detective darted
+across the lobby and entered with him. Short as the time at his disposal
+had been, Mr. Alden had scrawled some illegible initial followed by
+"Gale, Esq.," upon the envelope, and had stuck down the flap.
+
+The boy quitted the lift on the fourth floor. So did Alden. One or two
+passengers joined at that landing, but the unsuspecting boy went on his
+way along the corridor, turned to the right and rapped on a door
+numbered 63.
+
+"Come in," he was instructed.
+
+He entered, tray in hand. A tanned and bearded gentleman who was busily
+engaged unpacking a large steamer trunk, looked up inquiringly.
+
+"Gentleman couldn't wait, sir," said the boy, and proffered the message.
+
+The bearded man took the envelope, drew his brows together in an
+endeavour to recognise the scrawly handwriting; failed, and tore the
+envelope open.
+
+It was empty!
+
+"See here, boy! What's the game?"
+
+He threw the envelope on the floor beside him and stared hard at the
+page.
+
+"Excuse me, sir"--the boy was frightened--"excuse me, sir; but I saw the
+gentleman put a note in!"
+
+"Did you!" laughed the American, readily perceiving that whoever the
+joker might be the boy was innocent of complicity. "You mean, you
+thought you did! See here, what was he like?"
+
+The boy described Sheard, and described him so aptly that he was
+recognised.
+
+"That's Sheard," muttered the recipient of the empty envelope. "It's
+Sheard, sure! Right oh! I'll ring him up at the office in a minute and
+see what sort of game he's playing. Here boy, stick that in your pocket;
+you might make a descriptive writer, but you'll never shine at sleight
+of hand! You didn't watch that envelope half close enough!"
+
+Thus, the man to whom the note was addressed. Let us glance at Mr. Alden
+again.
+
+Having effected the substitution with the ease of a David Devant, he
+hastened to a quiet corner to inspect his haul. He was not unduly
+elated. He had been prompt and clever, but in justice to him, it must be
+admitted that he was a clever man. Therefore he regarded the incident
+merely as part of the day's work. His success wrought no quickening of
+the pulse.
+
+In a little palmy balcony which overlooked the lobby he took the
+envelope from his pocket. It bore the inscription:
+
+     RADLEY GALE, ESQ.
+
+Quietly, his cheroot stuck in a corner of his mouth, he opened
+it--tearing the end off as all Americans do. He pulled out the scribbled
+note, and read as follows:
+
+     "MY DEAR GALE,--Don't forget that we're expecting your wife and
+     yourself along about 7. I will say no more as I rather think an
+     impudent American detective (?) is going to purloin this note.
+
+     "SHEARD."
+
+Mr. Alden carefully replaced the torn leaf in the envelope, and the
+envelope in his case. He rolled his smoke from the left corner of his
+mouth to the right, and, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, walked
+slowly downstairs. He was not offended. Mr. Aloys. X. Alden was a Stoic
+who had known for many years that he was not the only clever man in the
+world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE LISTENER
+
+
+Sheard sat with both elbows resting upon his writing-table. A suburban
+quietude reigned about him, for the hour was long past midnight. Before
+him was spread out the final edition of the _Gleaner_ and prominent upon
+the front page appeared:--
+
+    SIR LEOPOLD JESSON AND
+         MR. HOHSMANN
+        FALL INTO LINE
+
+With a tact which was inspired by private information from a certain
+source, the _Gleaner_ had pooh-poohed the story of the mysterious cards
+received by the guests at Julius Rohscheimer's. The story had leaked
+out, of course, but Sheard was in no way responsible for the leakage.
+
+Frantically, representatives of the _Gleaner's_ rivals had sought for
+confirmation from the lips of the victims; but, as had been foreseen by
+the astute Sheard, no confirmation was forthcoming. There had been an
+informal council held at the urgent request of Rohscheimer, whereat it
+had been decided that for the latter to appear, now, in the light of a
+victim of Severac Bablon, would be for him to throw away such advantages
+as might accrue--to throw a potential peerage after his lost L100,000!
+
+Baron Hague had been coerced into silence, and had left for Berlin
+without seeing a single newspaper man. Mr. Elschild had persisted that
+his donation was entirely a voluntary one. Jesson had been most urgent
+for placing the true facts before Scotland Yard, but had finally fallen
+in with Rohscheimer's wishes.
+
+"You see, Jesson," the latter had argued, "I'll never get my money back.
+It's gone as completely as if I'd burnt it! All I've got to hope for is
+a peerage; and I'd lose that if I started crying."
+
+"I agree," Antony Elschild had contributed, "Rohscheimer had suddenly
+become a popular hero! So that a title is all the return he is ever
+likely to get for his money. It is popularly expected that Hohsmann and
+yourself will also subscribe. You must remember that owing to the
+attitude of a section of the Press it is not generally believed that
+Severac Bablon has anything to do with this burst of generosity!"
+
+Jesson had muttered something about "the _Gleaner_," and a decision had
+been arrived at to organise a private campaign against Severac Bablon
+whilst professing, publicly, that he was in no way concerned in the
+swelling of the _Gleaner_ fund.
+
+Now, Jesson and Hohsmann had both sent huge cheques to the paper, and
+interviews with the philanthropic and patriotic capitalists appeared
+upon the front page. Sheard had not done either interview.
+
+Encouraged by their amazing donations, the general public was responding
+in an unheard-of manner to the _Gleaner's_ appeal. The Marquess of
+Evershed had contributed a long personal letter, which was reproduced in
+the centre of the first page of every issue. The Imperialistic spirit
+ran rampant throughout Great Britain.
+
+Meanwhile, Mr. Oppner's detectives were everywhere. Inspector Sheffield,
+C.I.D., was not idle. And Sheard found his position at times a dangerous
+one.
+
+He stood up, walked to the grate, and knocked out his pipe. Having
+refilled and lighted it, he tiptoed upstairs, and from a convenient
+window surveyed the empty road. So far as he could judge, its emptiness
+was real enough. Yet on looking out a quarter of an hour earlier, he had
+detected, or thought he had detected, a lurking form under the trees
+some hundred yards beyond his gate.
+
+His visit to the Astoria, the morning before, had been in response to an
+invitation from Severac Bablon, but divining that he was closely
+watched, he had sent the message to Gale--an American friend whom he
+knew to have just arrived--which had fallen into the hands of Mr. Aloys.
+X. Alden. Sheard had actually had an appointment with Gale, and had rung
+him up later in the morning--gaining confirmation of his suspicions, in
+the form of Gale's story of the empty envelope.
+
+Then, at night, his American friend had been followed to the house and
+followed back again to the hotel. This had been merely humorous; but
+to-night there existed more real cause of apprehension. Sheard had
+received a plain correspondence card, bearing the following, in a small
+neat hand:
+
+     "Do not bolt your front door. Expect me at about one o'clock A.M."
+
+For a time it had been exciting, absorbingly interesting, to know
+himself behind the scenes of this mystery play which had all the world
+for an audience. But it was a situation of quite unique danger. Severac
+Bablon was opposed to tremendous interests. Apart from the activity of
+the ordinary authorities, there were those in the field against this man
+of mystery to whom money, in furtherance of their end, was no object.
+
+Sheard realised, at times--and these were uncomfortable times--that his
+strange acquaintance with Severac Bablon quite conceivably might end in
+Brixton Prison.
+
+Yet there are some respects wherein the copy-hunter and the scalp-hunter
+tally. The thrill of the New Journalism has enlisted in the ranks of the
+Fleet Street army some who, in a former age, must have sought their
+fortune with the less mighty weapon. A love of adventure was some part
+of the complement of Sheard; and now, suspecting that a Pinkerton man
+lurked in the neighbourhood, and uncertain if his wife slept, he awaited
+his visitor, with nerves tensely strung. But there was an exquisite
+delight tingling through his veins--an appreciation of his peril wholly
+pleasurable.
+
+Faintly, he heard a key grate in the lock of the front door. The door
+was opened, and gently closed.
+
+Sheard stood up.
+
+Into the study walked Severac Bablon.
+
+He was perfectly attired, as usual; wore evening-dress, and a heavy
+fur-lined coat. His silk hat he held in his hand. As he stood within the
+doorway, where the rays from the shaded lamp failed to touch his
+features, he seemed, in the semi-light, a man more than humanly
+handsome.
+
+"The house is watched," began Sheard--and broke off.
+
+A shadow had showed, momentarily, upon the cream of the drawn
+casement-curtains. Someone was crouching on the lawn, under the study
+window.
+
+"Did you see that?" jerked the pressman. "Somebody looked in! The
+curtain isn't quite drawn to at that corner."
+
+"My dear Sheard"--Severac Bablon's musical voice was untroubled by any
+trace of apprehension--"there is no occasion to worry! Mr. Aloys. X.
+Alden looked in!"
+
+"But----"
+
+"Had it been Inspector Sheffield there had been some cause for
+excitement. Inspector Sheffield, if I am rightly informed, holds a
+warrant for my arrest. Mr. Alden is an unofficial investigator."
+
+"But he can call a constable!"
+
+"Reflect, Sheard. If he calls a constable, what happens?"
+
+"You are arrested!"
+
+"Not so; but I will grant you that much for the sake of argument. To
+whom would the credit fall?"
+
+"Patently, Mr. Alden."
+
+"Wrong! You know that it is wrong! The official service would reap every
+gain! Believe me, Sheard, Mr. Alden will not reveal my presence here to
+a living soul! He may try to trap me when I leave, but there will be no
+clamouring on the door by members of the Metropolitan Police force, as
+you seemingly apprehend!"
+
+Severac Bablon threw himself into the big arm-chair, and lighted a
+cigarette--a yellow cigarette.
+
+"The trick you played upon Alden yesterday was such as no man with a
+sense of humour could well have resisted," he said. "But it was
+indiscreet."
+
+"I know."
+
+"Suspicion pointed to you as the perpetrator of the card trick at
+Rohscheimer's. You must not run unnecessary risks."
+
+"It was a thrilling moment for me, when I leant over to Miss Hohsmann,
+my right hand extended for the salt or something of the kind, and my
+left stretched behind her chair!"
+
+"Jesson, of course, was looking in the opposite direction?"
+
+"I selected a moment when he was talking to Lady Vignoles, and those
+shaded table lights helped me very much. I could just reach the table,
+and I intentionally touched Salome's hand with mine, in laying down the
+card."
+
+"She actually saw your hand!"
+
+"I fancy not. She felt my fingers touch hers, I think. She turned so
+quickly that Jesson turned, too, and just as she was taking the card
+up."
+
+"Critical moment."
+
+"Not in the least. My object would have been as well served if the card
+had gone no further. But my infernal sense of humour prompted me to make
+a bid for complicating the mystery. I dropped my arm, of course, as
+Jesson turned to her, and it never occurred to Salome that the hand
+which had placed the card beside her was any other than that of her
+neighbour on the left, Jesson. Before she could address him, or he
+address her, I inquired if I might examine the card. Jesson continued
+his conversation with Lady Vignoles, and the 'second notice' passed all
+around the table."
+
+"Excellent! Do you know, Sheard, these childish little conjuring tricks
+help me immensely! Can you picture Julius Rohscheimer cowering
+throughout a whole night before the rod of a trousers-stretcher
+projecting from a wardrobe door!"
+
+"Was that the solution of the 'patriotic' mystery?"
+
+"Certainly. Adeler, who was concealed in the wardrobe, armed with the
+necessary written threats, made his escape directly Rohscheimer's cheque
+was in his hand--leaving the rod to mount guard whilst you got the
+announcement into print and induced the Marquess to pay an early morning
+visit."
+
+Severac Bablon's handsome face looked almost boyish as he related how
+the financier had been forced to play the part of a patriot. Sheard,
+watching him, found new matter for wonderment.
+
+This was the man who claimed to command the destinies of eight million
+people--the man who claimed to wield the power of a Solomon. This was
+Severac Bablon, the most inscrutably mysterious being who had ever sown
+wonderment throughout the continents, the man who juggled with vast
+fortunes as Cinquevalli juggles with billiard-balls! This was the man
+whose great velvety eyes could gleam with uncanny force, whose will
+could enthrall hypnotically, for whom the police of the world searched,
+for whose apprehension huge rewards were offered, whose abode was
+unknown, whose accomplices were unnumbered, to whom no door was locked,
+from whose all-seeing gaze no secret was secret!
+
+It was difficult, all but impossible, to realise.
+
+"Yet I am he," said the melodious voice.
+
+Sheard started as though a viper had touched him. He stared at his
+visitor in wide-eyed amazement.
+
+"Heavens! Was I thinking aloud?"
+
+"Practically. Your mind was so intensely concentrated upon certain
+incidents in my career--see, your pipe is out--that, in a broad sense, I
+could hear you thinking!"
+
+Sheard laughed dryly, and relighted his pipe. Severac Bablon's trick of
+replying to unspoken questions was too singular to be forgotten lightly.
+
+"Mr. Hohsmann is now of my friends," continued the strange visitor. "You
+received the paragraph? Ah! I see it appears in your later edition."
+
+"But Jesson?"
+
+"Sir Leopold can never be my friend, nor do I desire it. There is an
+incident in his career----You understand? I do not reproach him with it.
+It should never have been recalled to him had he held his purse-strings
+less tightly. But it served as a lever. It was a poor one, for, though
+he does not know it, I would cast stones at no man. But it served. He
+has made his contribution. I begin to achieve something, Sheard. The
+_Times_ has a leader in the press showing how the Jews are the backbone
+of British prosperity, and truer patriots than any whose fathers crossed
+with Norman William."
+
+He ceased speaking, abruptly, and with his eyes, drew Sheard's attention
+again to the window. Since Severac Bablon's arrival, indeed, the
+journalist had glanced thither often enough. But, now, he perceived
+something which made him wonder.
+
+There was a street lamp at the corner of the road, and, his own
+table-lamp leaving the further window in shade, it was possible to
+detect the presence of anything immediately outside by its faint shadow.
+
+Something round was pressed upon a corner of the lower pane.
+
+Severac Bablon stepped to the table and scribbled upon a sheet of
+paper:--
+
+"He has some kind of portable telephonic arrangement designed for the
+purpose, attached to the glass. No doubt he can follow our conversation.
+He may attempt to hold me up as I leave the house. He cannot enter, of
+course, or we could arrest him on a charge of housebreaking! You have a
+back gate. If you will permit me to pass through your domestic offices
+and your garden, I will leave by that exit. Continue to talk for some
+minutes after I am gone. Do not fear that there is any evidence of my
+having been here. Alden can prove nothing."
+
+Replacing the pencil on the tray:
+
+"I want you to join me at a little supper on Wednesday evening," said
+Severac Bablon. "Practically all our influential friends will be
+present----"
+
+He ignored Sheard's head-shakes and expressive nods directed towards the
+window.
+
+"There is an old house which I have rented for a time at Richmond. It is
+known as 'The Cedars,' and overlooks the Thames. The grounds are fairly
+extensive, and bordered by two very quiet roads. In fact, it is an ideal
+spot for my purpose. I will send you further particulars"--he glanced
+towards the window--"in writing. We meet there on Wednesday at
+nine-thirty. Can I rely upon you?"
+
+"Yes," said Sheard, wondering at the other's indiscretion, "unless I
+wire you to the contrary. I might be unable to turn up at the last
+moment, of course."
+
+"You are nervous!" Severac Bablon smiled, and slipped from the room.
+
+"On the contrary," said Sheard, addressing the window. "There is nothing
+I enjoy better than an evening in a haunted house!"
+
+(Perhaps, he argued, Alden was not absolutely certain of his visitor's
+identity. He did not know at what point in the conversation the
+telephone device had come into action. It was a pity to waste words; he
+might as well endeavour to throw the eavesdropper off the scent, in
+addition to covering Severac Bablon's retreat.)
+
+"Let us hope, Professor," he resumed, with this laudable intention,
+"that the Society for Psychical Research will be the richer in knowledge
+for our experiment on Wednesday evening!"
+
+Mr. Aloys. X. Alden, with his ear to the ingenious little "electric
+eavesdropper," experienced an unpleasant chill upon hearing the visitor
+within addressed as "Professor."
+
+He had conceived the idea that Sheard--whom he strongly suspected, might
+hold interviews with the mysterious and elusive Severac Bablon in the
+small hours of the morning, at his own house, when the rest of the
+household were retired.
+
+Mr. Alden had watched for five nights when he knew the pressman to be at
+home. On four of them Sheard's light had been extinguished before
+midnight. To-night, the fifth, it had remained burning, and long
+vigilance had been rewarded.
+
+A car had drawn up at some distance from the house, and its occupant had
+proceeded forward on foot. He had been admitted so rapidly that Alden
+had been unable to ascertain by whom. The car, too, had been driven off
+immediately. He had had no chance of taking the number; but was astute
+enough to know that in any event it would have availed him little,
+since, if the car were Bablon's the number would almost certainly be a
+false one.
+
+For once in a way, Mr. Alden became excited. Whom could so late a
+visitor be, save one who wished to keep secret his visit? In attaching
+his eavesdropper he had clumsily raised his head above the level of the
+window-ledge, but he had hoped that this gross error of strategy had
+passed unnoticed. For a time he had failed to pick up the conversation
+until his ear became attuned to the subdued tone in which it was
+conducted. Thus, he had lost the key to its purport and had had to
+improvise one.
+
+But, even so, words had passed which had amply confirmed his suspicions;
+so much so that, whilst he listened, all but breathlessly, he was
+devising a scheme for capturing Sheard's visitor, single-handed, as he
+left the house. Furthermore, he was devising a way out of the difficulty
+in the event of the captive proving to be another than Severac Bablon.
+
+The latter part of the duologue had puzzled him badly. The visitor
+seemed to have ceased talking altogether, and Sheard's remarks had in
+some inexplicable way drifted into quite a different channel. They
+appeared to appertain to what had preceded them but remotely. The
+relation seemed forced.
+
+Still the visitor said nothing. Sheard continued to talk, and in upon
+the mind of the detective shone a light of inspiration.
+
+He detached the cunning little instrument, crawled across the lawn and
+slunk out at the gate. Then he _ran_ around to the rear of the house. A
+narrow lane there was, and into its black mouth he plunged without
+hesitation.
+
+The gate of the tradesmen's entrance was unbolted.
+
+Alden was perfectly familiar with the nightly customs of the Sheard
+establishment, and knew this to be irregular. He tilted his hat back and
+scratched his head reflectively.
+
+Then, from somewhere down the road, on the other side of the house, came
+the sound of a curious whistle, an eerie minor whistle.
+
+Like an Indian, Alden set off running. He rounded the corner as a car
+whirled into view five hundred yards further along, and from the next
+turning on the right. It stopped. One of its doors slammed.
+
+It was off again. It had vanished.
+
+Mr. Alden carefully extracted a cheroot from his case and lighted it
+with loving care.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+ZOE DREAMS
+
+
+If you know the Astoria, you will remember that all around the
+north-west side of the arcade-like structure, which opens on the Old
+Supper Room, the Rajah Suite, the Louis Ballroom, the Edwardian
+Banqueting Hall, and the Persian Lounge, are tiny cosy-corners. In one
+of these you may smoke your secluded cigar, cigarette or pipe, wholly
+aloof from the bustle, with its marked New Yorkist note, which
+characterises the more public apartments of the giant _caravanserai_.
+
+There is a nicely shaded light, if you wish to read, or to write, at
+night. But you control this by a switch, conveniently placed, so that
+the darkness which aids reflection is also at your command. Then there
+is the window, opening right down to the floor, from which, if it please
+you, you may study the activity of the roofless ant-hill beneath, the
+restless febrility of West End London.
+
+To such a nook Zoe Oppner retired, after a dinner but little enjoyed in
+solitary splendour amid the gaiety of one of the public dining-rooms.
+Her father had been called away by some mysterious business, too late in
+the evening for her to make other arrangements. So she had descended and
+dined, a charming, but lonely figure, at the little corner table.
+
+In some strange way, she had more than half anticipated that Severac
+Bablon would be there. But, although there were a number of people
+present whom she knew, the audacious Mr. Sanrack was not one of them.
+
+Zoe had nodded to a number of acquaintances, but had not encouraged any
+of them to disturb her solitude. The long and tiresome meal dealt with,
+she had fled to the nook I have mentioned, and, with an Egyptian
+cigarette between her lips, lay back watching, from the perfumed
+darkness, the lights of London below.
+
+The idea of calling upon Mary Evershed had occurred to her. Then she had
+remembered that Mary was at some semi-official function of her uncle's,
+Mr. Belford's. Sheila Vignoles would be at home, but Zoe began to feel
+too deliciously lazy to think seriously of driving even so short a
+distance.
+
+In a big, cane lounge-chair packed with cushions she curled up
+luxuriously and began to reflect.
+
+Her reflections, it is needless to say, centred around Severac Bablon.
+Why, she asked herself, despite his deeds, did she admire and respect
+him? Her mind refused to face the problem, but she felt a hot blush rise
+to her cheeks. She was a traitor to her father; she could not deny it.
+But at any rate she was a frank traitor, if such a state be possible.
+Only that morning she had explained her position to him.
+
+"Severac Bablon," she had maintained, "only makes you rich men do what
+you ought to do with some of your money! Even if the object weren't a
+good one, even were it a ridiculous one, like making Dutchmen and
+Americans buy British airships, it does make you _spend_ something. And
+that's a change!"
+
+Mr. Oppner was used to these outspoken critcisms from his daughter. He
+had smiled grimly, wryly.
+
+"I guess," had been his comment, "you'd stand up for the Bablon man,
+then, if he ever came your way?"
+
+"Sure!" Zoe had cried. "You spend too much on me, and on Pinkertons, and
+not enough on people who really want it."
+
+"You ought to join the staff of the _Gleaner_, Zoe! They specialise in
+that brand of junk, and they're in the popular market at the moment,
+too. They'll win the next election hands down, I'm told."
+
+"Why don't you start a fund for Canadian emigrants?" Zoe had proceeded.
+"You've made a heap of money out of Canada. Then you wouldn't have to
+buy any airships, maybe!"
+
+"I don't have to! No Roman Emperor was watched closer'n me! If that guy
+gets me held up he's earnin' his money! Zoe, you're a durned unnatural
+daughter!"
+
+The thought of that conversation made her smile. To her it seemed so
+ridiculous that her father should guard his expenditure like one who has
+but a few dollars between himself and starvation. The gold fever was an
+incomprehensible disease to the daughter of the man who was more
+savagely bitten with it than almost any other living plutocrat.
+
+Musing upon these matters, Zoe slept, and dreamed.
+
+She dreamed that she stood in the gateway of an ancient city, amid a
+throng of people attired in the picturesque garb of the East. About her,
+the city was _en fete_. Before her stretched the desert, an undulating
+ocean of greyness, a dry ocean parched by a merciless sun.
+
+Barbaric music sounded; the clashing of cymbals and quiver of strange
+instruments rendering it unlike any music she had ever heard. A
+procession was issuing from the gateway with much pomp. There were
+venerable, white-bearded priests, and there were girls, too, arrayed in
+festive garb, their hair bedecked with flowers. Their gay ranks, amid
+which the slow-pacing patriarchs struck a sombre note, passed out across
+the sands.
+
+They were met by what seemed to be the advance guard of a great army. A
+man whose golden armour glittered hotly in the blazing sun descended
+from a chariot to receive them.
+
+Then, amid music and shouting and the beating of drums, the procession
+returned, surrounding the chariot in which the golden one rode. It was
+filled to the brim with flowers.
+
+As it passed in at the gate, the occupant stooped, took up a huge lily
+and threw it to Zoe. His eyes met hers. And, amid that panoply of
+long-ago, she recognised Severac Bablon.
+
+She dreamed on.
+
+She lay in a huge temple, prone upon its marble floor, in the shadow of
+a pillar curiously carven. The lily lay beside her. Two men stood upon
+the other side of the pillar. She was invisible from where they were,
+and in low voices they spoke together, and Zoe listened.
+
+"It overlooks the river," said one. "Two sides of the garden are on
+streets as lonely as the middle of the Atlantic. A narrow lane joins and
+runs right down the back. We want six or eight men, as well as you and
+I."
+
+"What," inquired the other (his voice seemed strangely familiar), "is
+the matter with Scotland Yard?"
+
+A moment's silence followed. Then:
+
+"I didn't want to call them in. Largely, I'm out for reputation."
+
+"Mostly," came a drawling reply, "I'm out for business!"
+
+A veil seemed to have taken the place of the carven pillar, a thin,
+dream-veil. Although, in her curious mental state, Zoe could not know
+it, this was the veil which separated dreamland from reality.
+
+"Martin can come with us. The other two boys will have to hang on to the
+tails of Mr. Elschild and Sheard. We mustn't neglect the rest of the
+programme because this item looks like a top-liner. I asked Sullivan if
+he could draft me half-a-dozen smart boys for Wednesday evening, and he
+said yep."
+
+"More expense! What do you want to go and get men from a private
+detective agency for, when there's official police whose business it is
+to do it for nothing?"
+
+"I thought there'd be people there, maybe, with big names. If we're in
+charge we can hush up what we like. If Scotland Yard had the job in hand
+there'd be a big scandal."
+
+"You weren't thinkin' of that so much as huggin' all the credit! This
+blame man'll ruin me anyway. I can see it. What have you found out about
+this house?"
+
+"It's called 'The Cedars' and it fronts on J---- Road. It's just been
+leased to a Dr. Ignatius Phillips, who's supposed to be a brain
+specialist. I've weighed up every inch of ground and my plan's this: Two
+boys come along directly after dusk, and take up their posts behind the
+hedge of the back lane; ten minutes after, two more make themselves
+scarce on the west side and two more on the towing-path. There's a thick
+clump of trees with some railings around, right opposite the door. You
+and I will hide there with Martin. We'll see who goes in. There's just a
+short, crescent-shaped drive, and only a low hedge. When everybody has
+arrived, _we_ march up to the front door. As soon as it's opened, in we
+go, a whole crush of us! The house will be surrounded----"
+
+"It sounds a bit on the dangerous side!"
+
+"There'll be plenty of us--four or five."
+
+"Make it six. He's got such a crowd of accomplices!"
+
+"Six of us, then----"
+
+"I wish you'd let Scotland Yard take it in hand."
+
+"As you please. It's for you to say. But they have made so many
+blunders----"
+
+"You're right! Hang the expense! I'll see to this business myself!"
+
+"Then we shall want rather more men than I'd arranged for. Suppose we go
+and ring up Sullivan's?"
+
+Zoe was wide awake now. A door shut. She sat up with a start. The
+darkness was redolent of strong tobacco-smoke, the smoke of a cheroot.
+She realised, instantly, what had happened--
+
+Her father and Alden had entered the little room for an undisturbed chat
+and had not troubled to switch the light on. Many people like to talk in
+the dark; J.J. Oppner was one of them. Hidden amid the cushions of the
+big chair, she had not been seen. Since they had found the room in
+darkness, her presence had not been suspected. And what had she thus
+overheard?
+
+A plot to capture Severac Bablon!
+
+Now, indeed, she was face to face with the hard facts of her situation.
+What should she do? What _could_ she do?
+
+He must be warned. It was impossible to think of seeing him a
+prisoner--seeing him in the dock like a common felon. It was impossible
+to think of meeting his eyes, his grave, luminous eyes, and reading
+reproach there!
+
+But how should she act? This was Tuesday, and they had spoken of
+Wednesday as the day when the attempt was to be made. If only she had a
+confidant! It was so hard to come, unaided, to a decision respecting the
+right course to follow.
+
+Laurel Cottage, Dulwich Village, that was the address which he had
+confided to her. But how should she get there? To go in the car was
+tantamount to taking the chauffeur into her confidence. She must go,
+then, in a cab.
+
+Zoe was a member of that branch of American society which laughs at the
+theory of chaperons. There was nothing to prevent her going where she
+pleased, when she pleased, and how she pleased. Her mind, then, was made
+up very quickly.
+
+She ran to her room, and without troubling her maid, quickly changed
+into a dark tweed costume and put on one of those simple, apparently
+untrimmed hats which the masculine mind values at about three-and-nine,
+but which actually cost as much as a masculine dress suit.
+
+Fearful of meeting her father in the lifts, she went down by the stair,
+and slipped out of the hotel unnoticed.
+
+"A cab, madam?"
+
+She nodded. Then, just as the man raised his whistle, she shook her
+head.
+
+"No thanks," she said. "I think I'll walk."
+
+She passed out across the courtyard and mingled with the stream of
+pedestrians. Right at the beginning of her adventure she had nearly
+blundered. She laughed, with a certain glee. It was novel and
+exhilarating, this conspiracy against the powers that be. There was
+something that appealed to the adventurous within her in thus being
+under the necessity of covering her tracks.
+
+Certainly, she was a novice. It would never have done to lay a trail
+right from the hotel door to Laurel Cottage.
+
+She walked into Charing Cross Station and approached the driver of the
+first vacant taxi that offered.
+
+"I want to go to Dulwich Village."
+
+The man pulled a wry face. If he undertook that journey it would mean
+that he would in all probability have to run back empty, and then he
+would miss the theatre people.
+
+"Sorry, miss. But I don't think I've got enough petrol!"
+
+"Oh, how tiresome."
+
+The American accent, now suddenly pronounced, induced him to change his
+mind.
+
+"Should you want me to bring you back, miss?"
+
+"Sure! I don't want to be left there!"
+
+"All right, miss. Jump in."
+
+"But I thought you hadn't enough petrol?"
+
+The man grinned.
+
+"I didn't want to be stranded right out there with no chance of a fare,
+miss!" he confessed.
+
+Zoe laughed, good-naturedly, and entered the cab.
+
+The man set off, and soon Zoe found herself upon unfamiliar ground.
+Through slummish localities they passed, and through popular suburbs,
+where all the activity of the West End prevailed without its
+fascinating, cosmopolitan glitter.
+
+Dulwich Village was reached at last, and the cab was drawn up on a
+corner bearing a signpost.
+
+"Which house did you want, miss?"
+
+"I want Laurel Cottage."
+
+The taxi-man scratched his head.
+
+"You see, some of the houses in the village aren't numbered," he said;
+"and I don't know this part very well. I never heard of Laurel Cottage.
+Any idea which way it lies?"
+
+"Not the slightest. Do you think you could find out for me?"
+
+A policeman was standing on the opposite corner, and, crossing, the
+taxi-man held some conversation with him. He returned very shortly.
+
+"It's round at the back of the College buildings, miss," he reported.
+
+Again the cab proceeded onward. This was a curiously lonely spot, more
+lonely than Zoe could have believed to exist within so short a distance
+from the ever-throbbing heart of London. She began to wish that she had
+shared her secret with another; that she had a companion. After all, how
+little, how very little, she knew of Severac Bablon. With all her
+romantic and mystic qualities Zoe was at heart a shrewd American girl,
+and not one to be readily beguiled by any man, however fascinating. She
+was not afraid, but she admitted to herself that the expedition was
+compromising, if not dangerous. If she ever had occasion to come again,
+she would confide in Mary and come in her company.
+
+"This road isn't paved, miss. I don't think I can get any further."
+
+The cab, after jolting horribly, had come to a stand-still. Zoe got out.
+
+"Is Laurel Cottage much farther on?"
+
+"It stands all alone, on the left, about a hundred yards along."
+
+"Thank you. Please wait here."
+
+Zoe walked ahead. It was a very lonely spot. The cab had stopped before
+some partially-constructed houses. Beyond that lay vacant lots, on
+either side. In front, showed a clump of trees, and, at the back of them
+on a slight acclivity, a big house.
+
+The night was fine but moonless. Save for the taxi-man and herself, it
+would seem that nothing moved anywhere about. She came up level with the
+trees. There was a kind of very small lodge among them, closely invested
+with ragged shrubs and overshadowed by heavier foliage.
+
+Beyond, farther along the road, showed nothing but uninviting darkness,
+solitude and vacancy. This then must be the place.
+
+Zoe peered between the bars of the gate. No light was anywhere to be
+seen. The house appeared to be deserted. Could the cabman have made a
+mistake or have been misinformed?
+
+Zoe carried a little case, containing, amongst a number of other things,
+a tiny matchbox. She extracted and lighted a match. There was no breeze,
+or she must certainly have failed to accomplish the operation.
+
+Shading the light with her gloved hands, she bent and examined some
+half-defaced white characters which adorned the top bar of the gate; by
+which means she made out the words:--
+
+     LAUREL COTTAGE
+
+There had been no mistake, then. She opened the gate, and by a narrow,
+moss-grown path through the bushes, came to the door. All was still. It
+was impossible to suppose the place inhabited.
+
+No bell was to be found, but an iron knocker hung upon the low door.
+
+Zoe knocked.
+
+The way in which the sound echoed through the little cottage almost
+frightened her. It seemed to point to emptiness. Surely Laurel Cottage
+must be unfurnished.
+
+There was no reply, no sign of life.
+
+She knocked again. She knocked a third time.
+
+Then the stillness of the place, and the darkness of the long avenue
+away up where the trees met in a verdant arch, became intolerable. She
+turned and walked quickly out on to the road again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+AT "THE CEDARS"
+
+
+Zoe was nonplussed. She was unable to believe that this deserted place
+was the spot referred to by Severac Bablon. She still clung to the idea
+that there must be some mistake, though she had the evidence of her own
+eyes that the cottage was called Laurel Cottage.
+
+The notion of writing a note and slipping it through the letter-box came
+to her. But she remembered that there was no letter-box. Then, such a
+course might be dangerous.
+
+She looked gratefully towards the beam of light from the cab lamps. The
+solitude was getting on her nerves. Yes, she determined, she _would_
+write a note, and put it under the door. She need not sign it.
+
+With that determination, she returned to where the taxi-man waited.
+
+"Find it all right, miss?"
+
+"Yes, but there's no one at home. I want to write a note and I should
+like you to go and slip it under the door for me. It is so lonely there,
+it has made me feel quite nervous. I can mind the cab!"
+
+The man smiled and touched his cap. Taxi-men are possessed of
+intuitions; and this one knew perfectly well that he had a good fare and
+one that would pay him well enough for his trouble.
+
+"Certainly, miss, with pleasure."
+
+"Have you a piece of paper and a pencil?"
+
+The man tore a leaf from a notebook and handed Zoe a pencil. Using the
+book as a pad, she, by the light of the near-side lamp, wrote:
+
+"Your meeting at The Cedars known to Mr. Alden. Don't go."
+
+"It is such a tiny piece of paper," she said. "He--they may not see it."
+
+"I believe I've got an envelope somewhere, miss. It's got the company's
+name and address printed on it, and it won't be extra clean, but----"
+
+"Oh, thank you! If you could find it----"
+
+It was found, and proved to be even more dirty than the man's words had
+indicated. Zoe enclosed the note, wetted a finger of her glove, and
+stuck down the lapel.
+
+"Will you please put it under the door?"
+
+"Yes, miss. Shan't be a minute."
+
+He was absent but a few moments.
+
+"Back to Charing Cross Station," directed Zoe, and got into the cab
+again.
+
+She had done her best. But, throughout the whole of the journey to the
+Strand, her mind was occupied with dire possibilities. It almost alarmed
+her, this too keen interest which she found herself taking in the
+fortunes of Severac Bablon.
+
+At Charing Cross the taxi-man received a sovereign. It was more than
+double his fare. He knew, then, that his professional instincts had not
+misled him, but that he had been driving an American millionairess.
+
+In the foyer of the Astoria, Mary Evershed was waiting, with Mrs.
+Wellington Lacey in stately attendance. Mary was simply radiant. She
+sprang forward to meet Zoe, both hands outsretched.
+
+"Wherever have you been?" she cried.
+
+"Picture show!" said Zoe, with composed mendacity, glancing at the
+aristocratic chaperon.
+
+"I could not possibly wait until the morning," Mary ran on, her eyes
+sparkling with excitement. "I had to run along here straight from
+horrid, stuffy Downing Street to tell you. Dick has inherited a
+fortune."
+
+"What!" said Zoe, and grasped both her friend's hands. "Inherited a
+fortune!"
+
+"Well--not quite a fortune, perhaps--five thousand pounds."
+
+And John Jacob Oppner's daughter, a real chum to the core, never even
+smiled. For she knew what five thousand pounds meant to these two, knew
+that it meant more than five _hundred_ thousands meant to her; since it
+meant the difference between union and parting, between love and loss,
+meant that Sir Richard Haredale could now shake off the fetters that
+bound him, and look the world in the face.
+
+"Oh, Mary," she said, and her pretty eyes were quite tearful. "How very,
+very glad I am! Isn't it just great! It sounds almost too good to be
+true! Come right upstairs and tell me all about it!"
+
+In Zoe's cosy room the story was told, not a romantic one in its
+essentials, but romantic enough in its potential sequel. A remote aunt
+was the benefactress; and her death, news of which had been communicated
+to Sir Richard that evening, had enriched him by five thousand pounds
+and served to acquaint him, at its termination, with the existence of a
+relation whom he had never met and rarely heard of.
+
+Mr. Oppner came in towards the close of the story, and offered dry
+congratulations in that singular voice which seemed to have been
+preserved, for generations, in sand.
+
+"He ought to invest it," he said. "Runeks are a good thing."
+
+"You see," explained Mary. "He hasn't actually got it yet, only the
+solicitor's letter. And he says he will be unable to believe in his good
+luck until the money is actually in the bank!"
+
+"Never let money lie idle," preached Oppner. "Banks fatten on such
+foolishness. Look at Hague. Ain't _he_ fat?"
+
+Though it must have been imperceptible to another, Zoe detected, in her
+father's manner, a suppressed excitement; and augured from it a belief
+that the capture of Severac Bablon was imminent.
+
+However, when Mary was gone, Mr. Oppner said nothing of the matter
+which, doubtless, occupied his mind, and Zoe felt too guilty to broach
+the subject. They retired at last, without having mentioned the name of
+Severac Bablon.
+
+Zoe found sleep to be impossible, and lay reading until long past one
+o'clock. But when the book dropped from her hands, she slept soundly and
+dreamlessly.
+
+In the morning she scanned her mail anxiously. But there was nothing to
+show that her warning had been received. Could it be that Severac Bablon
+had suddenly deserted the cottage for some reason, and that he would
+to-night walk, blindly, into the trap prepared for him?
+
+She was anxious to see her father. And his manner, at breakfast, but
+dimly veiled an evident exultation. He ate very little, leaving her at
+the table, with one of his dry though not unkindly apologies, to go off
+with the stoical Mr. Alden.
+
+If only she had a friend in whom she might confide, whose advice she
+might seek. Zoe laughed a little to think how excited she was on behalf
+of Severac Bablon and how placidly she surveyed the possibility of her
+father's being relieved of a huge sum of money.
+
+"That's the worst of knowing Pa's so rich!" she mused philosophically.
+
+The morning dragged wearily on. Noon came. Nothing and nobody interested
+Zoe. She went to be measured for a gown and could not support the tedium
+of the operation.
+
+"Send someone to the Astoria to-morrow," she said. "I just can't stand
+here any longer."
+
+In the afternoon she called upon Sheila Vignoles, but everyone, from
+Lord Vignoles to the butler, irritated her. She came away with a
+headache. With the falling of dusk, her condition grew all but
+insupportable. Her father had been absent all day. She had met no one
+who would be likely to know anything about the night's expedition.
+
+She sat looking out from her window at the Embankment, where lights were
+now glowing, point after point, through the deepening gloom.
+
+It was as she stood there, vainly wondering what was going forward, that
+her father, his spare figure enveloped in a big motor coat, his cap
+pulled down upon his brow, walked along Richmond High Street beside Mr.
+Alden.
+
+"By the time we get there," said the latter, rolling the inevitable
+cheroot from one corner of his mouth to the other, "it will be dark
+enough for our purpose. It's a warm night, and dry, which is fortunate,
+and I've marked a place right opposite the gate where we can lie all
+snug until we're wanted."
+
+"Can you rely on Sullivan's men?"
+
+"He's sending eight of the best. At his office, this afternoon I went
+over a plan of the place with them. It's impossible to march a troop up
+to the house to reconnoitre. They know exactly what they've got to do.
+It will be covered all around. A cat won't be able to come out of The
+Cedars, sir, without being noted!"
+
+"Yep. And when we march up to the door?"
+
+"Directly it's opened," explained Alden patiently, "I'll _hold_ it open!
+Then, in go five Sullivan men, Martin and you. But there'll still be a
+man covering every egress from the house. If anybody tries to get out
+there'll be someone to hold him up and to whistle for more help if it's
+needed."
+
+"Seems all right," said Oppner; "if we don't get loaded up with lead. Is
+this place much further? We seem to have been walkin' up this blame hill
+for hours."
+
+"See that white milestone? Well, the first gate is fifty yards beyond,
+on the right."
+
+"Have the crowd arrived yet?"
+
+"Some of them. They're drafting up singly and in couples. There ought to
+be four on the river side of the place by now, and Martin waiting
+somewhere around the front."
+
+"Four to come, yet?"
+
+"Yep. Two for the other gate of the drive, and two for the lane that
+leads down to the river."
+
+They plodded on in silence. Abreast of the milestone, but without
+stopping, Alden whistled softly.
+
+He was answered from somewhere among the trees bordering the left of the
+road.
+
+"That's Martin!" he said. "Come on, Mr. Oppner, through this gap in the
+fence."
+
+Mr. Oppner crawled, in undignified silence, through the gap indicated.
+
+"You see," explained Alden's voice out of the gloom, "farther along are
+open rails and dense bushes. That's where we're going to watch from.
+We'll see every soul that comes up."
+
+"You're stone sure it's to-night they arranged?"
+
+Patiently, Alden replied: "Stone sure."
+
+"Because," drawled Oppner, stumbling along in the darkness, "this is not
+in my line."
+
+"_Sss!_" came from close at hand.
+
+Mr. Oppner started.
+
+"That you, Martin?" from Alden.
+
+"Yes; no one has gone in yet. But a ground floor room is lighted up, and
+also the conservatory."
+
+"Right."
+
+There was a momentary faint gleam of light. Mr. Alden was consulting his
+electrically-lighted watch.
+
+"Time they were all posted," he said. "Martin, do the rounds. Hustle!"
+
+Martin was heard slipping away through the bushes. Then came silence.
+Oppner and Alden were now at a point directly opposite a gate, and in
+full view of the house. Many of the windows were illuminated.
+
+"Does the lawn slope down to the towpath?" came Oppner's voice.
+
+"Sure. There are men on the towpath."
+
+Silence fell once more. From somewhere down the road, in the direction
+of Richmond, was wafted a faint tinkling sound. Oppner heard Alden
+moving.
+
+"I'll have to leave you for a minute," said the detective. "Don't be
+scared if Martin comes back."
+
+Without waiting for a reply, Alden departed. Mr. Oppner heard him
+brushing against the bushes in passing. Crouching there uncomfortably,
+and looking out across the road to the gateway of The Cedars, Oppner saw
+a singular thing, a thing that made him wonder.
+
+He saw Alden run swiftly across from the gap in the fence by which they
+had entered their hiding-place, to the gate opposite. He saw him run in.
+Then he disappeared. Whilst Oppner was thrashing his brains for a
+solution to this man[oe]uvre, a faint rattling sound drew his gaze down
+the hill.
+
+Someone was approaching on a bicycle!
+
+Almost holding his breath, he watched. Nearer came the rider, and
+nearer. Immediately before the gate of The Cedars he dismounted. He was
+a telegraph messenger.
+
+At that moment Alden came strolling out, smoking his cigar and pulling
+on a pair of gloves.
+
+"Hullo, boy!" he said; his voice was clearly audible to the listening
+Oppner. "Got a wire for me? I've been expecting it all the evening."
+
+The boy opened his wallet, but with some hesitation.
+
+"Dr. Phillips," continued Alden, "that right?"
+
+The boy hesitated no longer.
+
+"Phillips, yes, sir," he said, and handed the telegram to Alden.
+
+With a nonchalant air which excited Mr. Oppner's admiration, Alden
+walked to a lamp some little distance away, tore open the yellow
+envelope, and read the message.
+
+"All right, boy," he said. "No reply. Here, catch!"
+
+He tossed the boy a coin, and with a touch of genius which showed him to
+be a really great detective, halted a moment, scratched his chin, and as
+the boy again mounted his bicycle, re-entered the gate of The Cedars.
+
+"That's real cute!" murmured Oppner.
+
+The boy having ridden off, Alden slipped warily out on to the road, ran
+across, and was lost to view. Presently a rustling in the bushes told of
+his return to Oppner's side.
+
+"It's from Sheard," whispered the detective. "Our man must have written
+him further particulars, same as he said he'd do. It just reads:
+'Detained. S.' But it was handed in at Fleet Street, and I haven't any
+doubt who sent it."
+
+"He's smart, is Sheard," said Mr. Oppner. "He smelled trouble, or maybe
+he got wise to us----"
+
+_"Sss!"_
+
+"That you, Martin?"--from Alden.
+
+"All right. Everybody seems to be posted. They're all finely out of
+sight, too."
+
+"Good. The newspaper man isn't coming. See me get the wire?"
+
+"Yes. I wonder if the rest will come."
+
+"Hope so. I don't want to have to open the ball, because until some
+visitors have gone in we haven't got any real evidence that Severac
+Bablon is there himself."
+
+"Quiet," said Martin.
+
+A measured tread proclaimed itself, drew nearer, and a policeman passed
+their hiding-place. When the regular footsteps had died away again:
+
+"If _he_ knew who's leased The Cedars," murmured Alden, "he'd be a
+sergeant sooner than he expects."
+
+Which remark was the last contributed by any of the party for some
+considerable time. Alden's description of the road before The Cedars as
+a lonely one was fully justified. From the time of Martin's return until
+that when the big car drove up and turned into the drive, not a solitary
+pedestrian passed their hiding-place.
+
+A laggard moon sailed out from a cloud-bank and painted the road white
+as far as the eye could follow it. Then came a breeze from the river, to
+sing drearily through the trees. In the intervals, when the breeze was
+still, its absence seemed in some way, to stimulate the watchers' power
+of hearing, so that they could detect vague sounds which proceeded from
+the river. The creak of oars told of a late rower on the stream--a voice
+was wafted up to them, to be drowned in the sighing of the leaves set
+swaying by the new breeze.
+
+Then came the car.
+
+The whirr of the motor announced its coming from afar off; but, so
+swiftly did it travel, that it was upon them a moment later. As it swung
+around and on to the drive of The Cedars its number showed clearly.
+
+"3509," said Martin. "That's Mr. Antony Elschild!"
+
+"Gee!" said Oppner, and his sandy voice shook somewhat, perhaps owing to
+the chill of the breeze. "This is getting real exciting!"
+
+The car was delayed some little time before the door of the house, then
+driven around, and out at the further gate of the drive. It returned by
+the way it had come, racing down the hill at something considerably
+exceeding the legal speed. The _thud-thud-thud_ of the motor died away,
+and became inaudible.
+
+"I'm glad the police aren't with us, and yet sorry," said Oppner. "This
+is a whole-hog conspiracy properly. No wonder he was so hard to catch;
+look at the class of people he's got in with him! Think of Elschild!
+Gee! There's goin' to be a scene in a minute."
+
+"For the present," said Alden, "we'll make no move; we'll just sit
+tight. There's maybe a lot to arrive yet."
+
+Just before the breeze came creeping up from the river again,
+_thud-thud-thud_ was borne to their ears. Another car was approaching.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE LAMP AND THE MASK
+
+
+"10761," said Alden. "I wonder whose car that is."
+
+None of the watchful trio had any idea. But whomever was within it, the
+second car performed exactly the same man[oe]uvres as the first, and, a
+few moments after its appearance, was lost to sight and hearing once
+more.
+
+But a matter of seconds later, came the familiar _thud-thud-thud_; and a
+third car plunged up the hill and went swinging around the drive. Again,
+no one of the three was able to recognise the number. Out by the further
+gate of the drive it passed, turned, and flashed by them in the
+darkness, to go leaping down the slope.
+
+"Three," said Alden. "I wonder if there's any more."
+
+His tone was thoughtful.
+
+"Say," began Mr. Oppner, "we'd better get on with it now, because----"
+
+"I know," Alden interrupted, "there may be only one more to come? You're
+thinking that, after all those expected have arrived, there'll be
+trouble in getting the door to open?"
+
+"I was thinking that, too," said Martin. "Maybe they're all arrived as
+it is; but we stand a still worse chance if we wait."
+
+"Come on," said Mr. Oppner, with a rising excitement evident in his
+voice. "We know there's one big fish in the net, anyway!"
+
+_Thud-thud-thud!_
+
+"There's another car coming," cried Alden. "Hurry up, Mr. Oppner! This
+way. Mind your head through this broken part. We'll be on the steps as
+the car comes around the drive!"
+
+They crept through the gap below and ran across the road, Oppner as
+actively as either of his companions. Already, the white beam of the
+headlight was cutting-the gloom, below, where the road was heavily
+bordered with trees.
+
+"Just in time!"
+
+Past the gate they ran, and pattered on to the drive. Behind them, a big
+car was just spinning past the gate. As it came leaping along the drive
+Alden ran up the four stone steps to the door and jammed his thumb hard
+against the bell button.
+
+At the same moment, Martin whistled shrilly, three times.
+
+Whereupon affairs began to move in meteoric fashion.
+
+Several people came bundling out of the car. From the gloom all about it
+there sounded the scamper of hurrying feet.
+
+The door was thrown open, and a blaze of light swept the steps.
+
+Alden leapt over the threshold, pistol in hand, yelling at the same
+time:
+
+"Follow me, boys!"
+
+Like the swoop of heated play to a goal burst a human wave upon the
+steps. Oppner and Martin were swept irresistibly upward and inward. They
+were surrounded, penned in. Then:
+
+"Break away, you goldarned idiot!" rose Alden's angry voice ahead.
+
+The lights went out. The door slammed.
+
+"Alden!" cried Mr. Oppner. "Alden!"
+
+Someone pinioned him from behind.
+
+"There's a mistake, you blamed ass!" he screamed. "I ain't one of 'em!
+Alden! Martin!"
+
+A hand was pressed firmly over his mouth, and with veins swelling up and
+eyes starting from his head in impotent fury, Mr. Oppner was hustled
+forward through the darkness.
+
+Around him a number of people seemed to be moving, and when he found his
+feet upon stairs, several unseen hands were outstretched to thrust him
+upward. The darkness was impenetrable.
+
+Apparently the stair was uncarpeted, as likewise was the corridor along
+which he presently found himself proceeding. The echo of many footsteps
+rang through the house. It sounded shell-like, empty. Then it seemed to
+him that not so many were about him. He felt his revolver slide from his
+hip-pocket. He was pushed gently forward, and a door closed behind him.
+The sound of footsteps died away with that of whispering voices.
+
+Came a sudden angry roar, muffled, distant, he thought in the voice of
+Alden. It was stifled, cut off ere it had come to full crescendo, in a
+very significant manner. Silence, then, fell about him, the chill
+silence of an empty house.
+
+Cautiously he turned and felt for the door, which he knew to be close
+behind him. He was obsessed by a childish, though not unnatural, fear of
+falling through some trap.
+
+He touched the door-knob, turned it. As he had anticipated, the door was
+locked. He wondered if there were any windows to this strangely dark
+apartment. With his fingers touching the wall, he crept slowly forward,
+halting at every other step to listen; but the night gave up no sound.
+
+The tenth pace brought him to a corner. He turned off at right angles,
+still pursuing the wall, and came upon shutters, closely barred. He
+pressed on, came to another corner; proceeded, another; and finally
+touched the door-knob again.
+
+This was a square room, apparently, and unfurnished. But what might not
+yawn for him in the middle of the floor? He remembered that the river
+ran at the end of the garden.
+
+Pressing his ear to the door, he listened intently.
+
+Without, absolutely nothing stirred. He drew a quick, sibilant breath,
+and turned, planting his back against the door and clenching his fists.
+
+Suddenly it had been borne in upon his mind that something, someone, was
+in the room with him!
+
+Vainly he sought to peer through the darkness. His throat was parched.
+
+A dim glow was born in the heart of the gloom. Scarce able to draw
+breath, fearing what he might see, yet more greatly fearing to look
+away, even for an instant, Mr. Oppner stared and stared. His eyes ached.
+
+Brighter became the glow, and proclaimed itself a ball of light. It
+illuminated the face that was but a few inches removed from it. In the
+midst of that absolute darkness the effect was indescribably weird.
+Nothing for some moments was visible but just that ball of light and the
+dark face with the piercing eyes gleaming out from slits in a silk mask.
+
+Then the ball became fully illuminated, and Oppner saw that it was some
+unfamiliar kind of lamp, and that it rested in a sort of metal tripod
+upon a plain deal table, otherwise absolutely bare.
+
+Save for this table, the lamp, and a chair, the room was entirely
+innocent of furniture. Upon the chair, with his elbows resting on the
+table, sat a man in evening dress. He was very dark, very well groomed,
+and seemingly very handsome; but the black silk half-mask effectually
+disguised him. His eyes were arresting. Mr. Oppner did not move, and he
+could not look away.
+
+For he knew that he stood in the presence of Severac Bablon.
+
+The latter pushed something across the table in Oppner's direction.
+
+"Your cheque-book," he said, "and a fountain pen."
+
+Mr. Oppner gulped; did not stir, did not speak. Severac Bablon's voice
+was vaguely familiar to him.
+
+"You are the second richest man in the United States," he continued,
+"and the first in parsimony. I shall mulct you in one hundred thousand
+pounds!"
+
+"You'll never get it!" rasped Oppner.
+
+"No? Well let us weigh the possibilities, one against the other. There
+have been protests, from rival journals, against the _Gleaner's_
+acceptance of foreign money for British national purposes. This I had
+anticipated, but such donations have had the effect of stimulating the
+British public. If the cheques already received, and your own, which you
+are about to draw, are not directly devoted to the purpose for which
+they are intended, I can guarantee that you shall not be humiliated by
+their return!"
+
+"Ah!" sighed Oppner.
+
+"The _Gleaner_ newspaper has made all arrangements with an important
+English firm to construct several air vessels. The materials and the
+workmanship will be British throughout, and the vessels will be placed
+at the disposal of the authorities. The source of the _Gleaner's_ fund
+thus becomes immaterial. But, in recognition of the subscribers, the
+vessels will be named 'Oppner I.,' 'Oppner II.,' 'Hague I.,' etc."
+
+"Yep?"
+
+"At some future time we may understand one another better, Mr. Oppner.
+For the present I shall make no overtures. I have no desire unduly to
+mystify you, however. The men whom Mr. Martin of Pinkerton's, found
+surrounding this house were not the men from Sullivan's Agency, but
+friends of my own. Sullivans were informed at the last moment that the
+raid had been abandoned. The car, again, which you observed, is my own.
+I caused it to be driven to and fro between here and Richmond Bridge for
+your especial amusement, altering the number on each occasion. Finally,
+any outcry you may care to raise will pass unnoticed, as The Cedars has
+been leased for the purpose of a private establishment for the care of
+mental cases."
+
+"You're holding me to ransom?"
+
+"In a sense. But you would not remain here. I should remove you to a
+safer place. My car is waiting."
+
+"You can't hold me for ever." Mr. Oppner was gathering courage. This
+interview was so very businesslike, so dissimilar from the methods of
+American brigandage, that his keen, commercial instincts were coming to
+the surface. "Any time I get out I can tell the truth and demand my
+money back."
+
+"It is so. But on the day that you act in that manner, within an hour
+from the time, your New York mansion will be burned to a shell, without
+loss of life, but with destruction of property considerably exceeding in
+value the amount of your donation to the _Gleaner_ fund. I may add that
+I shall continue to force your expenditures in this way, Mr. Oppner,
+until such time as I bring you to see the falsity of your views. On that
+day we shall become friends."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"You may wonder why I have gone to the trouble to make a captive of you,
+here, when by means of such a menace alone I might have achieved my
+object; I reply that you possess that stubborn type of disposition which
+only succumbs to _force majeure_. Your letter to the _Gleaner_
+explaining your views respecting the Dominion, and proposing that an
+air-vessel be christened 'The Canada,' is here, typed; you have only to
+sign it. The future, immediate, and distant is entirely in your own
+hands, Mr. Oppner. You will remain my guest until I have your cheque and
+your signature to this letter. You will always be open to sudden demands
+upon your capital, from me, so long as you continue, by your wrongful
+employment of the power of wealth, to blacken the Jewish name. For it is
+because you are a Jew that I require these things of you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE DAMASCUS CURTAIN
+
+
+The British public poured contributions into the air-fleet fund with a
+lavishness that has never been equalled in history. For, after the
+stupendous sums, each one a big fortune in itself, which the Jewish
+financiers had subscribed, every man who called himself a Britisher (and
+who thought that Britain really needed airships) came forward with his
+dole.
+
+There was a special service held at the Great Synagogue in Aldgate, and
+Juda was exalted in public estimation to a dizzy pinnacle.
+
+One morning, whilst the enthusiasm was at its height, Mr. Oppner rose
+from the breakfast table upon hearing the 'phone bell ring.
+
+"Zoe," he said, "if that's a reporter, tell him I'm ill in bed."
+
+He shuffled from the room. Since the night of the abortive raid upon The
+Cedars he had showed a marked aversion from the society of newspaper
+men. Regarding the facts of his donation to the fund he had vouchsafed
+no word to Zoe. Closely had the story of his doings at Richmond been
+hushed up; as closely as a bottomless purse can achieve such silencing,
+but, nevertheless, Zoe knew the truth.
+
+Sheard was shown in.
+
+"Excuse me," he said hastily, "but I wanted to ask Mr. Oppner if there
+is anything in this article"--he held out a proof slip--"that he would
+like altered. It's for the _Magazine of Empire_. They're having
+full-page photographs of all the Aero Millionaires, that's what they
+call them now!"
+
+"Can you leave it?" asked Zoe. "He is dressing--and not in a very good
+temper."
+
+"Right!" said Sheard promptly, and laid the slip on the table. "'Phone me
+if there is anything to come out. Good-bye."
+
+Zoe was reading the proof when her father came in again.
+
+"Newspaper men been here?" he drawled. "Thought so. What a poor old
+addle-pated martyr I am."
+
+"Listen," began Zoe, "this is an article all about you! It quotes Dr.
+Herman Hertz, that is to say, it represents you as quoting him! It
+says:--
+
+"'The true Jew is an integral part of the life and spiritual endeavour
+of every nation where Providence has allotted his home. And as for the
+Jews of this Empire, which is earth's nearest realisation hitherto of
+justice coupled with humanity, finely has a noble Anglo-Jewish soldier,
+Colonel Goldschmidt, expressed it: "Loyalty to the flag for which the
+sun once stood still can only deepen our devotion to the flag on which
+the sun never sets."' Is that all right?"
+
+"H'm!" said Oppner. "Have Rohscheimer and Jesson seen this article?"
+
+"Don't know!" answered Zoe.
+
+"Because," explained Oppner, "they've showed their blame devotion to the
+flag on which the sun don't set, same as me, and if _they_ can stand it,
+my hide's as tough as theirs, I reckon."
+
+It was whilst Mr. Oppner was thus expressing himself that Sheard, who,
+having left the proof at the Astoria, had raced back to the club to keep
+an appointment, quitted the club again (his man had disappointed him),
+and walked down the court to Fleet Street.
+
+Mr. Aloys. X. Alden, arrayed in his capacious tweed suit, a Stetson felt
+hat, and a pair of brogues with eloquent Broadway welts, liquidated the
+business that had detained him in the "Cheshire Cheese" and drifted idly
+in the same direction.
+
+A taxi-driver questioned Sheard with his eyebrows, but the pressman,
+after a moment's hesitancy, shook his head, and, suddenly running out
+into the stream of traffic, swung himself on a westward bound bus.
+Pausing in the act of lighting a Havana cigarette, Alden hailed the
+disappointed taxi-driver and gave him rapid instructions. The
+broad-brimmed Stetson disappeared within the cab, and the cab darted off
+in the wake of the westward bound bus.
+
+Such was the price that Mr. Thomas Sheard must pay for the reputation
+won by his inspired articles upon Severac Bablon. For what he had learnt
+of him during their brief association had enabled that clever journalist
+to invest his copy with an atmosphere of "exclusiveness" which had
+attracted universal attention.
+
+As a less pleasant result, the staff of the _Gleaner_--and Sheard in
+particular--were being kept under strict surveillance.
+
+Sheard occupied an outside seat, and as the bus travelled rapidly
+westward, Fleet Street and the Strand offered to his gratified gaze one
+long vista of placards:
+
+     "M. DUQUESNE IN LONDON."
+
+That item was exclusive to the _Gleaner_, and had been communicated to
+Sheard upon a plain correspondence card, such as he had learnt to
+associate with Severac Bablon. The _Gleaner_, amongst all London's
+news-sheets, alone could inform a public, strung to a tense pitch of
+excitement, that M. Duquesne, of the Paris police, was staying at the
+Hotel Astoria, in connection with the Severac Bablon case.
+
+As the bus stopped outside Charing Cross Station, Sheard took a quick
+and anxious look back down the Strand. A taxi standing near the gates
+attracted his attention, for, although he could not see the Stetson
+inside, he noted that the cab was engaged, and, therefore, possibly
+occupied. It was sufficient, in these days of constant surveillance, to
+arouse his suspicion; it was more than sufficient to-day to set his
+brain working upon a plan to elude the hypothetical pursuer. He had
+become, latterly, an expert in detecting detectives, and now his wits
+must be taxed to the utmost.
+
+For he had a correspondence card in his pocket which differed from those
+he was used to, in that it bore the address, 70A Finchley Road, and
+invited him to lunch with Severac Bablon that day!
+
+With the detectives of New York and London busy, and, now, with the
+famous Duquesne in town, Sheard well might survey the Strand behind,
+carefully, anxiously, distrustfully.
+
+Severac Bablon, so far as he was aware, no longer had any actual hold
+upon him. There was no substantial reason why he should not hand the
+invitation--bearing that address which one man, alone, in London at that
+hour cheerfully would have given a thousand pounds to know--to the
+proper authorities. But Severac Bablon had appealed strongly,
+irresistibly, to something within Sheard that had responded with warmth
+and friendship. Despite his reckless, lawless deeds, the pressman no
+more would have thought of betraying him than of betraying the most
+sacred charge. In fact, as has appeared, he did not hesitate to aid and
+abet him in his most outrageous projects. But yet he wondered at the
+great, the incredible audacity of this super-audacious man who now had
+entrusted to him the secret of his residence.
+
+Hastily descending from the bus, he walked quickly forward to the
+nearest tobacconist's and turned in the entrance to note if the man who
+might be in the taxi would betray his presence.
+
+He did.
+
+The Stetson appeared from the window, and a pair of keen grey eyes fixed
+themselves upon the door wherein Sheard was lurking.
+
+A rapid calculation showed the pressman where lay his best chance.
+Darting across the road, he dived, rabbit-like, into the burrow of the
+Tube, got his ticket smartly, and ran to the stairway. With his head on
+a level with the floor of the booking-offices he paused.
+
+An instant later the canoe-shaped brogues came clattering down from
+above. The American took in the people in the hall with one
+comprehensive glance, got a ticket without a moment's delay, and jumped
+into a lift that was about to descend.
+
+Two minutes afterwards Sheard was in a cab bound for the house of
+Severac Bablon. The New Journalism is an exciting vocation.
+
+He discharged the cabman at the corner of Finchley Road, and walked
+along to No. 70A.
+
+Opening the monastic looking gate, he passed around a trim lawn and
+stood in the porch of one of those small and picturesque houses which
+survive in some parts of red-brick London.
+
+A man who wore conventional black, but who looked like an Ababdeh Arab,
+opened the door before he had time to ring. He confirmed Sheard's guess
+at his Eastern nationality by the manner of his silent salutation.
+Without a word of inquiry he conducted the visitor to a small room on
+the left of the hall and retired in the same noiseless fashion.
+
+The journalist had anticipated a curious taste in decoration, and he was
+not disappointed. For this apartment could not well be termed a room; it
+was a mere cell.
+
+The floor was composed of blocks--or perhaps only faced with layers of
+red granite; the walls showed a surface of smooth plaster. An unglazed
+window which opened on a garden afforded ample light, and, presumably
+for illumination at night, an odd-looking antique lamp stood in a niche.
+A littered table, black with great age and heavily carved, and a chair
+to match, stood upon a rough fibre mat. There was no fireplace. The only
+luxurious touch in the strange place was afforded by a richly Damascened
+curtain, draped before a recess at the farther end.
+
+From the table arose Severac Bablon, wearing a novel garment strangely
+like a bernouse.
+
+"My dear Sheard," he said warmly and familiarly, "I am really delighted
+to see you again."
+
+Sheard shook his hand heartily. Severac Bablon was as irresistible as
+ever.
+
+"Take the arm-chair," he continued, "and try to overlook the
+peculiarities of my study. Believe me, they are not intended for mere
+effect. Every item of my arrangements has its peculiar note of
+inspiration, I assure you."
+
+Sheard turned, and found that a deep-seated, heavily-cushioned chair,
+also antique, and which he had overlooked, stood close behind him. An
+odd perfume hung in the air.
+
+"Ah," said Severac Bablon, in his softly musical voice, "you have
+detected my vice."
+
+He passed an ebony box to his visitor, containing cigarettes of a dark
+yellow colour. Sheard lighted one, and discovered it possessed a
+peculiar aromatic flavour, which he found very fascinating. Severac
+Bablon watched him with a quizzical smile upon his wonderfully handsome
+face.
+
+"I am afraid there is opium in them," he said.
+
+Sheard started.
+
+"Do not fear," laughed the other. "You cannot develop the vice, for
+these cigarettes are unobtainable in London. Their history serves to
+disprove the popular theory that the use of tobacco was introduced from
+Mexico in the sixteenth century. These were known in the East
+generations earlier."
+
+And so, with the mere melody of his voice, he re-established his
+sovereignty over Sheard's mind. His extraordinary knowledge of
+extraordinary matters occasioned the pressman's constant amazement. From
+the preparations made for the reception of the Queen of Sheba at
+Solomon's court in 980 B.C. he passed to the internal organisation of
+the Criminal Investigation Department.
+
+"I should mention," said Sheard at this point, "that an attempt was made
+to follow me here."
+
+Severac Bablon waved a long white hand carelessly.
+
+"Never mind," he replied soothingly. "It is annoying for you, but I give
+you my word that you shall not be compromised by _me_--come, luncheon is
+waiting. I will show you the only three men in Europe and America who
+might associate the bandit, the incendiary, with him who calls himself
+Severac Bablon."
+
+He stood up and gazed abstractedly in the direction of the garden. In
+silence he stood looking, not at the garden, but beyond it, into some
+vaster garden of his fancy. Sheard studied him with earnest curiosity.
+
+"Will you never tell me," he began abruptly, "who you are really, what
+is the source of your influence, and what is your aim in all this wild
+business?"
+
+Severac Bablon turned and regarded him fixedly.
+
+"I will," he said, "when the day comes--if ever it does come." A shadow
+crept over his mobile features.
+
+"I am a dreamer, Sheard," he continued, "and perhaps a trifle mad. I am
+trying to wield a weapon that my fathers were content to let rust in its
+scabbard. For the source of the influence you speak of--its emblem lies
+there."
+
+He pointed a long, thin finger to the recess veiled with its heavy
+Damascus curtain.
+
+"May I see it?"
+
+The quizzical smile returned to the fine face.
+
+"Oh, thou of the copy-hunting soul," exclaimed Severac Bablon. "A day
+may come. But it is not to-day."
+
+He seized Sheard by the arm and led him out into the hall.
+
+"Look at these three portraits," he directed. "The three great practical
+investigators of the world. Mr. Brinsley Monro, of Dearborn Street,
+Chicago; Mr. Paul Harley, of Chancery Lane; and last, but greatest, M.
+Victor Lemage, of Paris."
+
+"Is Duquesne acting under his instructions?"
+
+"M. Lemage took charge of the case this morning."
+
+Sheard looked hard at Severac Bablon. Victor Lemage, inventor of the
+anthroposcopic system of identification, the greatest living authority
+upon criminology, was a man to be feared.
+
+Severac Bablon smiled, clapped both hands upon his shoulders, and looked
+into his eyes.
+
+"It is the lighter side of my strange warfare," he said. "I revel in it,
+Sheard. It refreshes me for more serious things. This evening you must
+arrange to meet me for a few moments. I shall have a 'scoop' to offer
+you for the _Gleaner_. Do not fail me. It will leave you ample time to
+get on to Downing Street afterwards. You see, I knew you were going to
+Downing Street to-night! Am I not a magician? I shall wire you. If, when
+you ring at the door of the house to which you will be directed, no one
+replies, go away at once. I will then communicate the news later. And
+now--lunch."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+A WHITE ORCHID
+
+
+Whoever could have taken a peep into a certain bare-looking room at
+Scotland Yard some three hours after Sheard had left Finchley Road must
+have been drawn to the conclusion that the net was closing more tightly
+about Severac Bablon than he supposed.
+
+Behind a large, bare table, upon which were some sheets of foolscap, a
+metal inkpot, and pens, sat Chief Inspector Sheffield. On three
+uncomfortable-looking chairs were disposed Detective Sergeant Harborne,
+he of the Stetson and brogues, and M. Duquesne, of Paris. Stetson and
+brogues, as became a non-official, observed much outward deference
+towards the Chief Inspector in whose room he found himself.
+
+"We may take it, then," said Sheffield, with a keen glance of his
+shrewd, kindly eyes towards the American and the celebrated little
+Frenchman, "that Bablon, when he isn't made up, is a man so extremely
+handsome and of such marked personality that he'd be spotted anywhere.
+We have some reason to believe that he's a Jew. The head of the greatest
+Jewish house in Europe has declined to deny, according to M. Duquesne,
+that he knows who he is, and"--consulting a sheet of foolscap--"Mr.
+Alden, here, from New York, volunteers the information that H. T.
+Sheard, of the _Gleaner_, went to see Bablon this morning. We are aware,
+from information by Sir Leopold Jesson, that this newspaper man is
+acquainted with B. But we can't act on it. We understand that Bablon has
+a house in or near to London. None of us"--looking hard at Alden--"have
+any idea of the locality. There are two rewards privately offered,
+totalling L3,000--which is of more interest to Mr. Alden than to the
+rest of us--and M. Duquesne is advised this morning that his Chief is
+coming over at once. Now, we're all as wise as one another"--with a
+second hard look at his French confrere and Alden--"so we can all set
+about the job again in our own ways."
+
+After this interesting conference, whereof each member had but sought to
+pump the others, M. Duquesne, entering Whitehall, almost ran into a tall
+man, wearing a most unusual and conspicuous caped overcoat, silk lined;
+whose haughty, downward glance revealed his possession of very large,
+dark eyes; whose face was so handsome that the little Frenchman caught
+his breath; whose carriage was that of a monarch or of one of the
+musketeers of Louis XIII.
+
+With the ease of long practice, M. Duquesne formed an unseen escort for
+this distinguished stranger.
+
+Arriving at Charing Cross, the latter, without hesitation, entered the
+telegraph office. M. Duquesne also recollected an important matter that
+called for a telegram. In quest of a better pen he leaned over to the
+compartment occupied by the handsome man, but was unable to get so much
+as a glimpse of what he was writing. Having handed in his message in
+such a manner that the ingenious Frenchman was foiled again, he strode
+out, the observed of everyone in the place, but particularly of M.
+Duquesne.
+
+To the latter's unbounded astonishment, at the door he turned and raised
+his hat to him ironically.
+
+Familiar with the characteristic bravado of French criminals, that
+decided the detective's next move. He stepped quickly back to the
+counter as the polite stranger disappeared.
+
+"I am Duquesne of Paris," he said in his fluent English to the clerk who
+had taken the message, and showed his card. "On official business I wish
+to inspect the last telegram which you received."
+
+The clerk shook his head.
+
+"Can't be done. Only for Scotland Yard."
+
+Duquesne was a man of action. He wasted not a precious moment in
+feckless argument. It was hard that he should have to share this
+treasure with another. But in seven minutes he was at New Scotland Yard,
+and in fifteen he was back again to his great good fortune, with
+Inspector Sheffield.
+
+The matter was adjusted. In the notebooks of Messrs Duquesne and
+Sheffield the following was written:
+
+"Sheard, _Gleaner_, Tudor Street. Laurel Cottage, Dulwich Village, eight
+to-night."
+
+Returning to the Astoria to make arrangements for the evening's
+expedition, Duquesne upon entering his room, found there a large-boned
+man, with a great, sparsely-covered skull, and a thin, untidy beard. He
+sat writing by the window, and, at the other's entrance, cast a slow
+glance from heavy-lidded eyes across his shoulder.
+
+M. Duquesne bowed profoundly, hat in hand.
+
+It was the great Lemage.
+
+There were overwhelming forces about to take the field. France, England
+and the United States were combining against Severac Bablon. It seemed
+that at Laurel Cottage he was like to meet his Waterloo.
+
+At twenty-five minutes to seven that evening a smart plain-clothes
+constable reported in Chief Inspector Sheffield's room.
+
+"Well, Dawson?" said the inspector, looking up from his writing.
+
+"Laurel Cottage, Dulwich, was let by the Old College authorities, sir,
+to a Mr. Sanrack a month ago."
+
+"What is he like, this Mr. Sanrack?"
+
+"A tall, dark gentleman. Very handsome. Looks like an actor."
+
+"Sanrack--Severac," mused Sheffield. "Daring! All right, Dawson, you can
+go. You know where to wait."
+
+Fifteen minutes later arrived M. Duquesne. He had been carpeted by his
+chief for invoking the aid of the London police in the matter of the
+telegram.
+
+"Five methods occur to me instantly, stupid pig," the great Lemage had
+said, "whereby you might have learnt its contents alone!"
+
+Heavy with a sense of his own dull powers of invention--for he found
+himself unable to conceive one, much less five such schemes--M. Duquesne
+came into the inspector's room.
+
+"Does your chief join us to-night?" inquired Sheffield, on learning that
+the famous investigator was in London.
+
+"He may do so, m'sieur; but his plans are uncertain."
+
+Almost immediately afterwards they were joined by Harborne, and all
+three, entering one of the taxi-cabs that always are in waiting in the
+Yard, set out for Dulwich Village.
+
+The night was very dark, with ample promise of early rain, and as the
+cab ran past Westminster Abbey a car ahead swung sharply around
+Sanctuary Corner. Harborne, whose business it was to know all about
+smart society, reported:
+
+"Old Oppner's big Panhard in front. Going our way--Embankment is 'up.' I
+wonder what his Agency men are driving at? Alden's got something up his
+sleeve, I'll swear."
+
+"I'd like a peep inside that car," said Sheffield.
+
+Harborne took up the speaking-tube as the cab, in turn, rounded into
+Great Smith Street.
+
+"Switch off this inside light," he called to the driver, "and get up as
+close alongside that Panhard ahead as you dare. She's not moving fast.
+Stick there till I tell you to drop back."
+
+The man nodded, and immediately the gear snatched the cab ahead with a
+violent jerk. At a high speed they leapt forward upon the narrow road,
+swung out to the off-side to avoid a bus, and closed up to the
+brilliantly-lighted car.
+
+It was occupied by two women in picturesque evening toilettes. One of
+them was a frizzy haired soubrette and the other a blonde. Both were
+conspicuously pretty. The fair girl wore a snow white orchid, splashed
+with deepest crimson, pinned at her breast. Her companion, who lounged
+in the near corner, her cloak negligently cast about her and one rounded
+shoulder against the window, was reading a letter; and Harborne, who
+found himself not a foot removed from her, was trying vainly to focus
+his gaze upon the writing when the fair girl looked up and started to
+find the cab so close. The light of a sudden suspicion leapt into her
+eyes as, obedient to the detective's order, the taxi-driver slowed down
+and permitted the car to pass. Almost immediately the big Panhard leapt
+to renewed speed, and quickly disappeared ahead.
+
+Harborne turned to Inspector Sheffield.
+
+"That was Miss Zoe Oppner, the old man's daughter."
+
+"I know," said Sheffield sharply. "Read any of the letter?"
+
+"No," admitted Harborne; "we were bumping too much. But there's a
+political affair on to-night in Downing Street. I should guess she's
+going to be there."
+
+"Why? Who was the fair girl?"
+
+"Lady Mary Evershed," answered Harborne. "It's her father's 'do'
+to-night. We want to keep an eye on Miss Oppner, after the Astoria Hotel
+business. Wish we had a list of guests."
+
+"If Severac Bablon is down," replied Sheffield; grimly, "I don't think
+she'll have the pleasure of seeing him this evening. But where on earth
+is she off to now?"
+
+"Give it up," said Harborne, philosophically.
+
+"Oh, she of the golden hair and the white _odontoglossum_," sighed the
+little Frenchman, rolling up his eyes. "What a perfection!"
+
+They became silent as the cab rapidly bore them across Vauxhall Bridge
+and through south-west to south-east London, finally to Dulwich Village,
+that tiny and dwindling oasis in the stucco desert of Suburbia.
+
+Talking to an officer on point duty at a corner, distinguished by the
+presence of a pillar-box, was P.C. Dawson in mufti. He and the other
+constable saluted as the three detectives left the cab and joined them.
+
+"Been here long, Dawson?" asked Sheffield.
+
+"No, sir. Just arrived."
+
+"You and I will walk along on the far side from this Laurel Cottage,"
+arranged the inspector, "and M. Duquesne might like a glass of wine,
+Harborne, until I've looked over the ground. Then we can distribute
+ourselves. We've got a full quarter of an hour."
+
+It was arranged so, and Sheffield, guided by Dawson, proceeded to the
+end of the Village, turned to the left, past the College buildings, and
+found himself in a long, newly-cut road, with only a few unfinished
+houses. Towards the farther end a gloomy little cottage frowned upon the
+road. It looked deserted and lonely in its isolation amid marshy fields.
+In the background, upon a slight acclivity, a larger building might
+dimly be discerned. A clump of dismal poplars overhung the cottage on
+the west.
+
+"It's been a gate lodge at some time, sir," explained Dawson. "You can
+see the old carriage sweep on the right. But the big house is to be
+pulled down, and they've let the lodge, temporarily, as a separate
+residence. There's no upstairs, only one door and very few windows. We
+can absolutely surround it!"
+
+"H'm! Unpleasant looking place," muttered Sheffield, as the two walked
+by on the opposite side. "No lights. When we've passed this next tree,
+slip along and tuck yourself away under that fence on the left. Don't
+attempt any arrest until our man's well inside. Then, when you hear the
+whistle, close in on the door. I'll get back now."
+
+Ten minutes later, though Laurel Cottage presented its usual sad and
+lonely aspect, it was efficiently surrounded by three detectives and a
+constable.
+
+Sheffield's scientific dispositions were but just completed when a
+cursing taxi-man deposited Sheard half way up the road, having declined
+resolutely to bump over the ruts any further. Dismissing the man, the
+keenest copy-hunter in Fleet Street walked alone to the Cottage, all
+unaware that he did so under the scrutiny of four pairs of eyes. Finding
+a rusty bell-pull he rang three times. But none answered.
+
+It was at the moment when he turned away that Mr. Alden and an Agency
+colleague, who--on this occasion successfully--had tracked him since he
+left the _Gleaner_ office, turned the corner by the Village. Seeing him
+retracing his steps, they both darted up a plank into an unfinished
+house with the agility of true ferrets, and let him pass. As he
+re-entered the Village street one was at his heels. Mr. Alden strolled
+along to Laurel Cottage.
+
+With but a moment's consideration, he, taking a rapid glance up and down
+the road, vaulted the low fence and disposed himself amongst the unkempt
+laurel bushes flanking the cottage on the west. The investing forces
+thus acquired a fifth member.
+
+Then came the threatened rain.
+
+Falling in a steady downpour, it sang its mournful song through poplar
+and shrub. Soon the grey tiled roof of the cottage poured its libation
+into spouting gutters, and every rut of the road became a miniature
+ditch. But, with dogged persistency, the five watchers stuck to their
+posts.
+
+When Sheard had gone away again, Inspector Sheffield had found himself,
+temporarily, in a dilemma. It was something he had not foreseen. But,
+weighing the chances, he had come to the conclusion to give the others
+no signal, but to wait.
+
+At seven minutes past eight, by Mr. Alden's electrically lighted
+timepiece, a car or a cab--it was impossible, at that distance, to
+determine which--dropped a passenger at the Village end of the road. A
+tall figure, completely enveloped in a huge, caped coat, and wearing a
+dripping silk hat, walked with a swinging stride towards the ambush--and
+entered the gate of the cottage.
+
+M. Duquesne, who, from his damp post in a clump of rhododendrons on the
+left of the door had watched him approach, rubbed his wet hands
+delightedly. Without the peculiar coat that majestic walk was
+sufficient.
+
+"It is he!" he muttered. "The Severac!"
+
+With a key which he must have held ready in his hand, the new-comer
+opened the door and entered the cottage. Acting upon a pre-arranged
+plan, the watchers closed in upon the four sides of the building, and
+Sheffield told himself triumphantly that he had shown sound generalship.
+With a grim nod of recognition to Alden, who appeared from the laurel
+thicket, he walked up to the door and rang smartly.
+
+This had one notable result. A door banged inside.
+
+Again he rang--and again.
+
+Nothing stirred within. Only the steady drone of the falling rain broke
+the chilling silence.
+
+Sheffield whistled shrilly.
+
+At that signal M. Duquesne immediately broke the window which he was
+guarding, and stripping off his coat, he laid it over the jagged points
+of glass along the sashes and through the thickness of the cloth forced
+back the catch. Throwing up the glassless frame, he stepped into the
+dark room beyond.
+
+To the crash which he had made, an answering crash had told him that
+Detective-sergeant Harborne had effected an entrance by the east window.
+
+Cautiously he stepped forward in the darkness, a revolver in one hand;
+with the other he fumbled for the electric lamp in his breast pocket.
+
+As his fingers closed upon it a slight noise behind him brought him
+right-about in a flash.
+
+The figure of a man who was climbing in over the low ledge was
+silhouetted vaguely in the frame of the broken window.
+
+"_Ah!_" hissed Duquesne. "Quick! speak! Who is that?"
+
+"Ssh! my Duquesne!" came a thick voice. "Do you think, then, I can leave
+so beautiful a case to anyone?"
+
+Duquesne turned the beam of the lantern on the speaker.
+
+It was Victor Lemage.
+
+Duquesne bowed, lantern in hand.
+
+"Waste no moment," snapped Lemage. "Try that door!" pointing to the only
+one in the room.
+
+As the other stepped forward to obey, the famous investigator made a
+comprehensive survey of the little kitchen, for such it was. Save for
+its few and simple appointments, it was quite empty.
+
+"The door is locked."
+
+"Ah, yes. I thought so."
+
+"Hullo!" came Sheffield's voice through the window, "who's there,
+Duquesne?"
+
+"It is M. Lemage. M'sieur, allow me to make known the great Scotland
+Yard Inspector Sheffield."
+
+With a queer parody of politeness, Duquesne turned the light of his
+lantern alternately upon the face of each, as he mentioned his name.
+
+Sheffield bowed awkwardly. For he knew that he stood in the presence of
+the undisputed head of his profession--the first detective in Europe.
+
+"You have not left the front door unguarded, M'sieur the Inspector?"
+inquired Lemage sharply.
+
+"No, Mr. Lemage," snapped Sheffield, "I have not. My man Dawson is
+there, with an Agency man, too."
+
+"Then we surround completely the room in which he is," declared Lemage.
+
+Such was the case, as a glance at the following plan will show.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"There are, then, three ways," said Lemage. "We may break into the front
+room from here, or from the room where is m'sieur your colleague. There
+is, no doubt, a door corresponding to this one. The other way is to go
+in by the window of that front room, for I have made the observation
+that its other window, that opens on the old drive to the east, is
+barred most heavily. Do I accord with the views of m'sieur?"
+
+"Quite," said Sheffield crisply. "We'll work through the front window.
+Hullo, Harborne!"
+
+"Hullo!" came the latter's voice from the next room.
+
+"Nobody in there?"
+
+"No. Empty room. Door's locked. What's up on your side?"
+
+"Nothing. Mr. Lemage has joined us. Stand by for squalls. I'm going
+round to get in at the front-room window."
+
+He paused and listened. They all listened.
+
+The rain droned monotonously on the roof, but there was no other sound.
+
+Sheffield climbed out and passed around by the poplars and through the
+laurel bushes to the front. Dawson and Alden stood by the door. With a
+pair of handcuffs the inspector broke the glass, and, adopting the same
+method as the Frenchman, used his coat to protect his hands from the
+splintered pieces in forcing the catch. The rain came down in torrents.
+He was drenched to the skin.
+
+Seizing the yellow blind, he tore it from the roller, and also pulled
+down the curtains. By the light of the bull's-eye lantern which Dawson
+carried he surveyed the little sitting-room. Next, with a muttered
+exclamation, he leapt through and searched the one hiding-place--beneath
+a large sofa--which the room afforded.
+
+On the common oval walnut table lay a caped overcoat and a rain-soaked
+silk hat.
+
+The two doors--other than that guarded by Dawson and Alden--gave (1) on
+the room occupied by Harborne; (2) on the room occupied by Duquesne and
+Lemage. The keys were missing. The one window, other than that by which
+he had entered, was heavily barred, and in any case, visible from the
+front door of the cottage.
+
+All five had seen their man enter; all had heard the banging door when
+Sheffield knocked. No possible exit had been unwatched for a single
+instant.
+
+But the place was empty.
+
+When the others, having searched painfully every inch of ground, joined
+the inspector in the front room, Harborne, taking up the silk-lined
+caped overcoat, observed something lying on the polished walnut beneath.
+
+He uttered a hasty exclamation.
+
+"Damn!" cried Duquesne at his elbow, characteristically saying the right
+thing at the wrong time. "A white _odontoglossum crispum_, with crimson
+spots!"
+
+Across the table all exchanged glances.
+
+"He is very handsome," sighed the little Frenchman.
+
+"That is an extreme privilege," said his chief, shrugging composedly and
+lighting a cigarette. "It is so interesting to the women, and they are
+so useful. It was the women who restored your English Charles II.--but
+they were his ruin in the end. It is a clue, this white orchid, that
+inspires in me two solutions immediately."
+
+M. Duquesne suffered, temporarily, from a slight catarrh, occasioned, no
+doubt, by his wetting. But he lacked the courage to meet the drooping
+eye of his chief.
+
+They were some distance from Laurel Cottage when Harborne, who carried
+the caped coat on his arm, exclaimed:
+
+"By the way, who _has_ the orchid?"
+
+No one had it.
+
+"M. Duquesne," said Lemage calmly, "of all the stupid pigs you are the
+more complete."
+
+Sheffield ran back. Dawson had been left on duty outside the cottage.
+The inspector passed him and climbed back through the broken window. He
+looked on the table and searched, on hands and knees, about the floor.
+
+"Dawson!"
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"You have heard or seen nothing suspicious since we left?"
+
+Dawson, through the window, stared uncomprehendingly.
+
+"Nothing, sir."
+
+The white orchid was missing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THREE LETTERS
+
+
+Sheard did not remain many minutes in Downing Street that night. The
+rooms were uncomfortably crowded and insupportably stuffy. A vague idea
+which his common sense was impotent to combat successfully, that he
+would see or hear from Severac Bablon amidst that political crush proved
+to be fallacious--as common sense had argued. He wondered why his
+extraordinary friend--for as a friend he had come to regard him--had
+been unable to keep his appointment. He wondered when the promised news
+would be communicated.
+
+That one of the Americans, or two, to whose presence he was becoming
+painfully familiar, had followed him since he had left the office he was
+well aware. But, as he had thrown off the man who had tried to follow
+him to Finchley Road, he was untroubled now. They had probably secured
+the Dulwich address; but that was due to no fault of his own, and, in
+any case, Bablon seemed to regard all their efforts with complete
+indifference. So, presumably, it did not matter.
+
+On his way out he met two hot and burly gentlemen, rather ill-dressed,
+who were hastening in. Instinctively he knew them for detective
+officers. Hailing a cab at the corner, he sank restfully into the seat
+and felt in his pocket for his cigarette-case. There was a letter there
+also, which he did not recollect to have been there before he entered
+Downing Street.
+
+In some excitement he took it out and opened the plain envelope.
+
+It contained a correspondence-card and a letter. Both of these, and a
+third letter which reached its destination on the following morning,
+whilst all England and all France were discussing the amazing
+circumstances set forth in No. 2, are appended in full.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     No. 1
+
+     "MY DEAR SHEARD,--I enclose the promised 'exclusive to the
+     _Gleaner_.' It will appear in no other paper of London, but in two
+     of Paris, to-morrow. Forgive me for sending you to Dulwich. I did
+     so for a private purpose of my own, and rely upon your generous
+     friendship to excuse the liberty. I write this prior to visiting
+     Downing Street, where it will be quite impossible, amongst so many
+     people, to speak to you. Do not fear that there exists any evidence
+     of complicity between us. I assure you that you are safe."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     No. 2
+
+     "To the Editor of the _Gleaner_.
+
+     "SIR,--I desire to show myself, as always, a man of honour, and
+     presume to request the freedom of your most valuable columns for
+     that purpose. I address myself to the British public through the
+     medium of the _Gleaner_ as the most liberal journal in London, and
+     that most opposed to government by plutocracy.
+
+     As the inventor of the digital system of identification, of the
+     anthroposcopic method, and of the _Code_ which bears my name, I am
+     known to your readers, as well as for my years of labour against
+     criminals of all classes and of all nations. I have been called the
+     head of my profession, and shall I be accused of vanity if, with my
+     hand upon my heart, I acknowledge that tribute and say, 'It is well
+     deserved'?
+
+     "Under date as above, I am resigning my office as Chief of that
+     department which I have so long directed, being no more in a
+     position to perform my duties as a man of honour, since I have been
+     instructed to take charge of what is called 'the Severac Bablon
+     case.'
+
+     "It is the first time that my duty to France has run contrary to my
+     duty to the great, the marvellous man whom you know by that name,
+     and to whom I owe all that I have, all that I am; whose orders I
+     may not and would not disregard.
+
+     "By his instructions I performed to-day a little deception upon the
+     representatives of English law and upon one of my esteemed
+     colleagues--a most capable and honourable man, for whom I cherish
+     extreme regard, and whom I would wish to see in the office I now
+     resign. He is not one of Us, and in every respect is a suitable
+     candidate for that high post.
+
+     "I was honoured, then, by instructions to impersonate my Leader. No
+     reference here to my powers of disguise is necessary. I took the
+     place of him you call Severac Bablon at a certain Laurel Cottage in
+     Dulwich. I entered with the key he had entrusted to me, too quickly
+     to be arrested, if any had tried, and none made the attempt, which
+     was an error of strategy (see _Code_, pp. 336-43). All in the dark
+     I placed his coat and hat upon the table. I overlooked something in
+     the gloom, but no matter. I correct my errors; it is the Secret. I
+     was not otherwise disguised. It was not necessary. I waited until
+     one of those watching broke into the little room at the back. I
+     stood beside the window. Noiseless as the leopard I stepped behind
+     him as he entered. I could have slain him with ease. I did not do
+     so. I proclaimed myself. _I_ was entering, too!
+
+     "Why should I name the man to whom I thus offered the one great
+     chance of a lifetime? No, I am so old at this game. He overlooked
+     no more than another must have done--any more than I.
+
+     "But, although outside it poured with rain, my clothes were scarce
+     wet. How had I watched and kept dry?
+
+     "He did not ask himself. No matter. I gave him his chance. We
+     French, to-day, are sportsmen!
+
+     "I understand that my Leader brought about this _contretemps_ with
+     deliberation, in order to terminate my false position, and make
+     prominent this statement, and I am instructed to remind my
+     authorities that State secrets of international importance are in
+     my possession and thus in his. But, lastly, I would assure France
+     and the world that no blot of dishonour is upon my name because I
+     have served two masters. My great Leader never did and never will
+     employ this knowledge to any improper end. But he would have my
+     Government know something--so very little--of his influence and of
+     his power. He would have them recall those warrants for his
+     apprehension that place him on a level with the Apache, the
+     ruffian; that are an _insult_ to a man who has never done wrong to
+     a living soul, but who only has exercised the fundamental, the
+     Divine, the Mosaic Law of _Justice_.
+
+     "I loved my work and I love France. But I grieve not. Other work
+     will be given to me. I make my bow; I disappear. Adieu!
+
+     "I am, sir,
+
+    "Your obedient servant,
+    "VICTOR LEMAGE
+    "(late _Service de Surete_)."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     No. 3
+
+     (Received by Lady Mary Evershed)
+
+     "When, in your brave generosity, you accompanied your friend and
+     mine on her perilous journey to warn me that Mr. Oppner's
+     detectives had a plan for my capture, I knew, on the instant when
+     you stepped into Laurel Cottage, that Miss Oppner had made a wise
+     selection in the companion who should share her secret. I did not
+     regret having confided that address to her discretion. The warning
+     was unnecessary, but I valued it none the less. By an oversight,
+     for which I reproach myself, a clue to your presence was left
+     behind, when, but a few minutes before the police arrived, we left
+     the cottage--which had served its purpose. But another of my good
+     friends secured it, and I have it now. It is a white orchid. I have
+     ventured to keep it, that it may remind me of the gratitude I owe
+     to you both."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+CLOSED DOORS
+
+
+"Why can't they open the doors? I can see there are people inside!"
+
+A muffled roar, like that of a nearing storm at sea, drowned the
+querulous voice.
+
+"Move along here, please! Move on! Move on!"
+
+The monotonous orders of the police rose above the loud drone of the
+angry crowd.
+
+Motor-buses made perilous navigation through the narrow street. The
+hooting of horns on taxi-cabs played a brisk accompaniment to the
+mournful chant. Almost from the Courts to the trebly guarded entrance of
+the Chancery Legal Incorporated Credit Society Bank stretched that deep
+rank of victims. For, at the corner of Chancery Lane, the contents-bill
+of a daily paper thus displayed, in suitable order of precedence, the
+vital topics of the moment:
+
+     MISS PAULETTE DELOTUS _NOT_ MARRIED
+
+     Australians' Plucky Fight
+
+     IS SEVERAC BABLON IN VIENNA?
+
+     BIG CITY BANK SMASH
+
+     SLUMP IN NICARAGUAN RAILS
+
+To some, those closed doors meant the sacrifice of jewellery, of some
+part of the luxury of life; to others, they meant--the drop-curtain that
+blacked out the future, the end of the act, the end of the play.
+
+"Move along here, please! Move on! Move on!"
+
+"All right, constable," said Sir Richard Haredale, smiling unmirthfully;
+"I'll move on--and move out!"
+
+He extricated himself from the swaying, groaning, cursing multitude, and
+stepped across to the opposite side of the street. Lost in unpleasant
+meditation, he stood, a spruce, military figure, bearing upon his
+exterior nothing indicative of the ruined man. He was quite unaware of
+the approach of a graceful, fair girl, whose fresh English beauty
+already had enslaved the imaginations of some fifty lawyers' clerks
+returning from lunch. As ignorant of her train of conquests as Haredale
+was ignorant of her presence, she came up to him--and tears gleamed upon
+her lashes. She stood beside him, and he did not see her.
+
+"Dick!"
+
+The voice aroused him, and a flush came upon his tanned, healthy-looking
+face. A beam of gladness and admiration lost itself in a cloud, as
+mechanically he raised his hat, and, holding the girl's hand, glanced
+uneasily aside, fearing to meet the anxious tenderness in the blue eyes
+which, now, were deepened to something nearer violet.
+
+"It is true, then?" she asked softly.
+
+He nodded, his lips grimly compressed.
+
+"Who told you," he questioned in turn, "that I had my poor scrapings in
+it?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know," she said wearily. "And it doesn't matter much, does
+it?"
+
+"Come away somewhere," Haredale suggested. "We can't stand here."
+
+In silence they walked away from the clamouring crowd of depositors.
+
+"Move along here, please! Move on! Move on!"
+
+"Where can we go?" asked the girl.
+
+"Anywhere," said Haredale, "where we can sit down. This will do."
+
+They turned into a cheap cafe, and, finding a secluded table, took their
+seats there, Haredale drearily ordering tea, without asking his
+companion whether she wanted it or not. It was improbable that Lady Mary
+Evershed had patronised such a tea-shop before, but the novelty of the
+thing did not interest her in the least. It was only her pride, the
+priceless legacy of British womanhood, which enabled her to preserve her
+composure--which checked the hot tears that burned in her eyes. For the
+mute misery in Haredale's face was more than he could hide. With all his
+sang-froid, and all his training to back it, he was hard put to it to
+keep up even an appearance of unconcern.
+
+Presently she managed to speak again, biting her lips between every few
+words.
+
+"Had you--everything--there, Dick?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"I was a fool, of course," he said. "I never did have the faintest idea
+of business. There are dozens of sound investments--but what's the good
+of whining? I have acted as unofficial secretary to Mr. Julius
+Rohscheimer for two years, and eaten my pride at every meal. But--I
+_cannot_ begin all over again, Mary. I shall have to let him break
+me--and clear out."
+
+He dropped his clenched fists upon his knees, and under the little table
+a hand crept to his. He grasped it hard and released it.
+
+Mary, with a strained look in her eyes, was drumming gloved fingers on
+the table.
+
+"I detest Julius Rohscheimer!" she flashed. "He is a perfect octopus.
+Even father fears him--I don't know why."
+
+Haredale smiled grimly.
+
+"But there is _someone_ who could prevent him from ruining your life,
+Dick," she continued, glancing down at the table.
+
+She did not look up for a few moments. Then, as Haredale kept silent,
+she was forced to do so. His grey eyes were fixed upon her face.
+
+"Severac Bablon? What do you know of him, Mary?"
+
+She grew suddenly pale.
+
+"I only know"--hesitating--"that is, I _think_, he is a man who, however
+misguided, has a love of justice."
+
+Haredale watched her.
+
+"He is an up-to-date Claude Duval," he said harshly. "It hurts me,
+rather, Mary, to hear you approve of him. Why do you do so? I have
+noticed something of this before. Do you forget that this man, for all
+the romance and mystery that surround him, still is no more than a
+common thief--a criminal?"
+
+Mary's lips tightened.
+
+"He is not," she said, meeting his eyes bravely. "That is a very narrow
+view, Dick-"
+
+Then, seeing the pain in the grey eyes, and remembering that this man
+with whom she disputed had just lost his hopes in life--his hopes of
+_her_--she reached out impulsively and grasped his arm.
+
+"Oh, Dick!" she said; "forgive me! But I am so utterly miserable, dear,
+that any poor little straw seems worth grasping at."
+
+So we must leave them; it was a situation full of poor human pathos. The
+emotions surging within these two hearts would have afforded an
+interesting study for the magical pen of Charles Dickens.
+
+But we cannot pause to essay it; the tide of our narrative bears us
+elsewhere.
+
+Mr. J. J. Oppner, the pride of Wall Street, when, his fascinating
+daughter, Zoe, beside him, he rose to address his guests at the Hotel
+Astoria that evening, would have provided a study equally interesting to
+Charles Dickens or to the late Professor Darwin. It would have puzzled
+even the distinguished biologist to reconcile the two species,
+represented by Mr. Oppner and Zoe, with any common origin. The
+millionaire's seamed and yellow face looked like nothing so much as a
+magnified section of a walnut. Whilst the girl, with her cloud of
+copper-dusted brown hair trapped within an Oriental head-dress, her
+piquant beauty enhanced, if that were possible, by the softly shaded
+lights, and the bewitching curves revealed by her evening gown borrowing
+a more subtle witchery from their sombre environment of black-coated
+plutocrats, justified the most inspired panegyric that ever had poured
+from the fountain-pen of a New York reporter. Mr. Oppner said:
+
+"Gentlemen,--We have met this evening for _a_ special purpose. With
+everyone's _per_mission, we will _ad_journ to another room and see how
+we can fix things up for Mr. Severac Bablon."
+
+He led the way without loss of time, his small, dried figure lost
+between that of John Macready ("the King of Coolgardie"), a stalwart,
+iron-grey Irishman, and the unshapely bulk of Baron Hague, once more
+perilously adventured upon English soil.
+
+Sir Leopold Jesson, trim, perfectly groomed, his high, bald cranium
+gleaming like the dome of Solomon's temple, followed, deep in
+conversation with a red, raw-boned Scotsman, whose features seemed badly
+out of drawing, and whose eyebrows suggested shrimps. This was Hector
+Murray, the millionaire who had built and endowed more public baths and
+institutions than any man since the Emperor Vespasian. Last of all, went
+Julius Rohscheimer, that gross figurehead of British finance, saying,
+with a satirish smile, to Haredale, who had made an eighth at dinner:
+
+"You won't mind amusing Miss Oppner, Haredale, till we're through with
+this little job? It's out of your line; you'll be more at home here, I'm
+sure."
+
+The room chosen for this important conference was a small one, having
+but a single door, which opened on a tiny antechamber; this, in turn,
+gave upon the corridor. When the six millionaires had entered, and Mr.
+Oppner had satisfied himself that suitable refreshments were placed in
+readiness, he returned to the corridor. Immediately outside the door
+stood Mr. Aloys. X. Alden.
+
+"You'll sit right there," instructed Oppner. "The man's bringing a chair
+and smokes and liquor, and you'll let nobody in--_nobody_. We can't be
+heard out here, with the anteroom between and both doors shut; there's
+only one window, and this is the sixth storey. So I guess our Bablon
+palaver will be private, some."
+
+Alden nodded, bit off the end of a cheroot, and settled himself against
+the wall. Mr. Oppner returned to his guests. In another room Zoe and Sir
+Richard Haredale struggled with a conversation upon sundry matters
+wherein neither was interested in the least. Suddenly Zoe said, in her
+impulsive, earnest way:
+
+"Sir Richard, I know you won't be angry, but Mary is my very dearest
+friend; we were at school together, too; and--she told me all about it
+this afternoon. I understand what this loss means to you, and that it's
+quite impossible for you to remain with Mr. Rohscheimer any longer; that
+you mean to resign your commission and go abroad. It isn't necessary for
+me to say I am sorry."
+
+He thanked her mutely, but it was with a certain expectancy that he
+awaited her next words. Rumour had linked Zoe Oppner's name with that of
+Severac Bablon, extravagantly, as it seemed to Haredale; but everything
+connected with that extraordinary man _was_ extravagant. He recalled how
+Mary, on more than one occasion, had exhibited traces of embarrassment
+when the topic was mooted, and how she had hinted that Severac Bablon
+might be induced to interest himself in his, Haredale's, financial loss.
+Could it be that Mary--perhaps through her notoriously eccentric
+American friend--had met the elusive wonder-worker? Haredale, be it
+remembered, was hard hit, and completely down. This insane suspicion had
+found no harbourage in his mind at any other time; but now, he hugged it
+dejectedly, watching Zoe Oppner's pretty, expressive face for
+confirmatory evidence.
+
+"Of course, the bank has failed for more than three millions," said the
+girl earnestly; "but, in your own case, can nothing be done?"
+
+Haredale lighted a cigarette, slightly shaking his head.
+
+"I shall have to clear out. That's all"
+
+"Oh!--but--it's real hard to say what I want to say. But--my father has
+business relations with Mr. Rohscheimer. May I try to do something?"
+
+Haredale's true, generous instincts got the upper hand at that. He told
+himself that he was behaving, mentally, like a cad.
+
+"Miss Oppner," he said warmly, "you are all that Mary has assured me.
+You are a real chum. I can say no more. But it is quite impossible,
+believe me."
+
+There was such finality in the words that she was silenced. Haredale
+abruptly changed the subject.
+
+An hour passed.
+
+Two hours passed.
+
+Zoe began to grow concerned on her father's behalf. He was in poor
+health, and his physician's orders were imperative upon the point of
+avoiding business.
+
+Half-way through the third hour she made up her mind.
+
+"He has wasted his time long enough," she pronounced firmly--and the
+expression struck Haredale as oddly chosen. "I am going to inform him
+that his 'conference' is closed."
+
+She passed out into the corridor to where Mr. Alden, his chair tilted at
+a comfortable angle, and his brogue-shod feet upon a coffee-table which
+bore also a decanter, a siphon, and a box of cigars, contentedly was
+pursuing his instructions. He stood up as she appeared.
+
+"Mr. Alden," she said, "I wish to speak to Mr. Oppner."
+
+The detective spread his hands significantly.
+
+"I respect your scruples, Mr. Alden," Zoe continued, "but my father's
+orders did not apply to me. Will you please go in and request him to see
+me for a moment?"
+
+Perceiving no alternative, Alden opened the door, crossed the little
+anteroom, and knocked softly at the inner door.
+
+He received no reply to his knocking, and knocked again. He knocked a
+third, a fourth time. With a puzzled glance at Miss Oppner he opened the
+door and entered.
+
+An unemotional man, he usually was guilty of nothing demonstrative. But
+the appearance of the room wrenched a hoarse exclamation from his stoic
+lips.
+
+In the first place, it was in darkness; in the second, when, with the
+aid of the electric lantern which he was never without, he had dispersed
+this darkness--he saw that _it was empty_!
+
+The scene of confusion that ensued upon this incredible discovery defies
+description.
+
+All the telephones in the Astoria could not accommodate the frantic
+people who sought them. Messenger boys in troops appeared. Hundreds of
+guests ran upstairs and hundreds of guests ran downstairs. Every
+groaning lift, ere long, was bearing its freight of police and pressmen
+to the scene of the most astounding mystery that ever had set London
+agape.
+
+Soon it was ascertained that the current had been disconnected in some
+way from the room where the six magnates had met. But how, otherwise
+than through the door, they had been spirited away from a sixth floor
+apartment, was a problem that no one appeared competent to tackle; that
+they had not made their exit via the door was sufficiently proven by the
+expression of stark perplexity which dwelt upon the face of Mr. Aloys.
+X. Alden.
+
+Whilst others came and went, scribbling hasty notes in dog-eared
+notebooks, he, a human statue of Amaze, gazed at the open window,
+continuously and vacantly. Jostled by the crowds of curious and
+interested visitors, he stood, the most surprised man in the two
+hemispheres.
+
+Short of an airship, he could conceive no device whereby the missing six
+could have made their silent departure. He was shaken out of his stupor
+by Haredale.
+
+"Pull yourself together, Mr. Alden," cried the latter. "Can't we _do_
+something? Here's half Scotland Yard in the place and nobody with an
+intelligent proposal to offer."
+
+Mr. Alden shook himself, like a heavy sleeper awakened.
+
+"Where's Miss Oppner?" he jerked.
+
+Haredale started.
+
+"I don't know," was his reply; "but I can go and see."
+
+He forced his way past the knot of people at the door, ignoring
+Inspector Sheffield, who sought to detain him. Rapidly he ran through
+the rooms composing the suite. In one he met Zoe's maid, wringing her
+hands with extravagant emotion.
+
+"Where is your mistress?"
+
+"She has gone out, m'sieur. I cannot tell where. I do not know."
+
+Haredale's heart gave a leap--and seemed to pause.
+
+He ran to the stairs, not waiting for the overworked lift, and down into
+the hall.
+
+"Has Miss Oppner gone out?" he demanded of the porter.
+
+"Two minutes ago, sir."
+
+"In her car?"
+
+"No, sir. It was not ready. In a cab."
+
+"Did you hear her directions?"
+
+"No, sir. But the boy will know."
+
+The boy was found.
+
+"Where was Miss Oppner going, boy?" rapped Haredale.
+
+"Eccleston Square, sir," was the prompt reply.
+
+The Marquess of Evershed's. Then his suspicions had not been unfounded.
+He saw, in a flash of inspiration, the truth. Zoe Oppner had seen in
+this disappearance the hand of Severac Bablon--if, indeed, if she did
+not _know_ it for his work. She was anxious about her father. She wished
+to appeal to Severac Bablon upon his behalf. And she had gone--not
+direct to the man--but to Eccleston Square. Why? Clearly because it was
+Lady Mary, and not herself, who had influence with him.
+
+Hatless, Haredale ran out into the courtyard. Rohscheimer's car was
+waiting, and he leapt in, his grey eyes feverish. "Lord Evershed's," he
+called to the man; "Eccleston Square."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+A CORNER IN MILLIONAIRES
+
+
+At the moment that Julius Rohscheimer's car turned into the Square, a
+girl, enveloped in a dark opera wrap, but whose fair hair gleamed as she
+passed the open door, came alone, out of Lord Evershed's house, and
+entering a waiting taxi-cab, was driven away.
+
+"Stop!" ordered Haredale hoarsely through the tube.
+
+The big car pulled up as the cab passed around on the other side.
+
+"Follow that cab."
+
+With which the pursuit commenced. And Haredale found himself trembling,
+so violent was the war of emotions that waged within him. His deductions
+were proving painfully correct. Through Mayfair and St. John's Wood the
+cab led the way; finally into Finchley Road. Fifty yards behind,
+Haredale stopped the car as the cab drew up before a gate set in a high
+wall.
+
+Lady Mary stepped out, opened the gate, and disappeared within. Heedless
+of the taxi-driver's curious stare, Haredale, a conspicuous figure in
+evening dress, with no overcoat and no hat, entered almost immediately
+afterwards.
+
+Striding up to the porch, he was searching for bell or knocker when the
+door opened silently, and an Arab in spotless white robes saluted him
+with dignified courtesy.
+
+"Take my card to your master," snapped Haredale, striving to exhibit no
+surprise, and stepped inside rapidly.
+
+The Arab waved him to a small reception room, furnished with a wealth of
+curios for which the visitor had no eyes, and retired. As the man
+withdrew Haredale moved to the door and listened. He admitted to himself
+that this was the part of a common spy; but his consuming jealousy would
+brook no restraint.
+
+From somewhere farther along the hall he heard, though indistinctly, a
+familiar voice.
+
+Without stopping to reflect he made for a draped door, knocked
+peremptorily, and entered.
+
+He found himself in a small apartment, whose form and appointments, even
+to his perturbed mind, conveyed a vague surprise. It was, to all intents
+and purposes, a cell, with stone-paved floor and plaster walls. An
+antique lamp, wherein rested what appeared to be a small ball of light,
+unlike any illuminant he had seen, stood upon a massive table, which was
+littered with papers. Excepting a chair of peculiar design and a
+magnificently worked Oriental curtain which veiled either a second door
+or a recess in the wall, the place otherwise was unfurnished.
+
+Before this curtain, and facing him, pale but composed, stood Lady Mary
+Evershed, a sweet picture in a bizarre setting.
+
+"Has your friend run away, then?" said Haredale roughly.
+
+The girl did not reply, but looked fully at him with something of scorn
+and much of reproach in her eyes.
+
+"I know whose house this is," continued Haredale violently, "and why you
+have come. What is he to you? Why do you know him--visit him--shield
+him? Oh! my God! it only wanted this to complete my misery. I have, now,
+not one single happy memory to take away with me."
+
+His voice shook upon those last words.
+
+"Mary," he said sadly, and all his rage was turned to pleading--"what
+does it mean? Tell me. I _know_ there is some simple explanation----"
+
+"You shall hear it, Sir Richard," interrupted a softly musical voice.
+
+He turned as though an adder had bitten him; the blase composure which
+is the pride of every British officer had melted in the rays of those
+blue eyes that for years had been the stars of his worship. It was a
+very human young man, badly shaken and badly conscious of his display of
+weakness, who faced the tall figure in the tightly buttoned frock-coat
+that now stood in the open doorway.
+
+The man who had interrupted him was one to arrest attention anywhere and
+in any company. With figure and face cast in a severely classic mould,
+his intense, concentrated gaze conveyed to Haredale a throbbing sense of
+_force_, in an uncanny degree.
+
+"Severac Bablon!" flashed through his mind.
+
+"Himself, Sir Richard."
+
+Haredale, who had not spoken, met the weird, fixed look, but with a
+consciousness of physical loss--an indefinable sensation, probably
+mental, of being drawn out of himself. No words came to help him.
+
+"You have acted to-night," continued Severac Bablon, and Haredale,
+knowing himself in the presence of the most notorious criminal in
+Europe, yet listened passively, as a schoolboy to the admonition of his
+Head, "you have acted to-night unworthily. I had noted you, Sir Richard,
+as a man whose friendship I had hoped to gain. Knowing your trials,
+and"--glancing at the girl's pale face--"with what object you suffered
+them, I had respected you, whilst desiring an opportunity to point out
+to you the falsity of your position. I had thought that a man who could
+win such a prize as has fallen to your lot must, essentially, be above
+all that was petty--all that was mean."
+
+Haredale clenched his hands angrily. Never since his Eton days had such
+words been addressed to him. He glared at the over-presumptuous
+mountebank--for so he appraised him; he told himself that, save for a
+woman's presence, he would have knocked him down. He met the calm but
+imperious gaze--and did nothing, said nothing.
+
+"A woman may be judged," continued the fascinating voice, "not by her
+capacity for love, but by her capacity for that rarer thing, friendship.
+A woman who, at her great personal peril, can befriend another woman is
+a pearl beyond price. Knowing me, you have ceased to fear me as a rival,
+Sir Richard." (To his mental amazement something that was not of his
+mind, it seemed, told Haredale that this was so.) "It remains only for
+you to hear that simple explanation. Here it is."
+
+He handed a note to him. It was as follows:
+
+     "You have confided to me the secret of your residence, where I
+     might see or communicate with you, and I was coming to see you
+     to-night, but I have met with a slight accident--enough to prevent
+     me. Lady Mary has volunteered to go alone. I will not betray your
+     confidence, but our friendly acquaintance cannot continue unless
+     you _instantly_ release my father--for I know that you have done
+     this outrageous thing. He is ill and it is very, very cruel. I beg
+     of you to let him return at once. If you admire true friendship and
+     unselfishness, as you profess, do this to repay Mary Evershed, who
+     risks irretrievably compromising herself to take this note--
+
+     "ZOE OPPNER."
+
+"Miss Oppner, descending the stairs at Lord Evershed's in too great
+haste," explained Severac Bablon, and a new note, faint but perceptible,
+had crept into his voice, "had the misfortune to sustain a slight
+accident--I am happy to know, no more than slight. Lady Mary brought me
+her message. I commit no breach of trust in showing it to you. There is
+a telephone in the room at Lord Evershed's in which Miss Oppner remains
+at present, and, as you entered, I obtained her spoken consent to do
+what I have done."
+
+"Mary," Haredale burst out, "I know it is taking a mean advantage to
+plead that if I had not been so unutterably wretched and depressed I
+never could have doubted, but--will you forgive me?"
+
+Whatever its ethical merits or demerits, it was the right, the one
+appeal. And it served.
+
+Severac Bablon watched the reconciliation with a smile upon his handsome
+face. Though clearly but a young man, he could at will invest himself
+with the aloof but benevolent dignity of a father-confessor.
+
+"The cloud has passed," he said. "I have a word for you, Sir Richard.
+You have learnt to-night some of my secrets--my appearance, my
+residence, and the identities of two of my friends. I do not regret
+this, although I am a 'wanted man.' Only to-night I have committed a
+gross outrage which, with the circulation of to-morrow's papers, will
+cry out for redress to the civilised world. You are at liberty to act as
+you see fit. I would wish, as a favour, that you grant me thirty-six
+hours' grace--as Miss Oppner already has done. On my word--if you care
+to accept it--I shall not run away. At the end of that time I will again
+offer you the choice of detaining me or of condoning what I have done
+and shall do. Which is it to be?"
+
+Haredale did not feel sure of himself. In fact, the episodes of that
+night seemed, now, like happenings in a dream--a dream from which he yet
+was not fully awakened. He glanced from Mary to the incomprehensible man
+who was so completely different from anything he had pictured, from
+anything he ever had known. He looked about the bare, cell-like
+apartment, illuminated by the soft light of the globe upon the massive
+table. He thought of the Arab who had admitted him--of the entire
+absence of subterfuge where subterfuge was to be expected.
+
+"I will wait," he said.
+
+But in less than thirty-six hours the world had news of Severac Bablon.
+
+At a time roughly corresponding with that when Mr. Aloys. X. Alden was
+standing, temporarily petrified with astonishment, in a certain room of
+the Hotel Astoria, two gentlemen in evening attire burst into a
+Wandsworth police station. One was a very angry Irishman, the other a
+profane Scot, whose language, which struck respectful awe to the hearts
+of two constables, a sergeant, and an inspector--would have done credit
+to the most eloquent mate in the mercantile marine.
+
+He fired off a volley of redundant but gorgeously florid adjectives,
+what time he peeled factitious whiskers from his face and shook their
+stickiness from his fingers. His Irish friend, with brilliant but less
+elaborate comments, struggled to depilate a Kaiser-like moustache from
+his upper lip.
+
+"What are ye sittin' still for-r?" shouted the Scotsman, and banged a
+card on the desk. "I'm Hector Murray, and this is John Macready of
+Melbourne. We've been held up by the highwaym'n Bablon. Turrn out the
+forrce. Turrn out the dom'd diveesion. Get a move on ye, mon!"
+
+The accumulated power of the three names--Hector Murray, John Macready,
+and Severac Bablon--galvanised the station into sudden activity, and an
+extraordinary story, a fabulous story, was gleaned from the excited
+gentlemen. It appeared in every paper on the following morning, so it
+cannot better be presented here than in the comparatively simple form
+wherein it met the eyes of readers of the _Gleaner's_ next issue. Cuts
+have been made where the reporter's account overlaps the preceding, or
+where he has become purely rhetorical.
+
+     SIX FAMOUS CAPITALISTS KIDNAPPED
+
+     SEVERAC BABLON ACTIVE AGAIN
+
+     AMAZING OUTRAGE AT THE ASTORIA
+
+Under these heads appeared a full and finely descriptive account of the
+happenings already noticed.
+
+     DRAMATIC ESCAPE OF MR. MACREADY AND MR. HECTOR MURRAY
+
+     SPECIAL INTERVIEW WITH MR. MURRAY
+
+     WHERE ARE THE MISSING MAGNATES?
+
+     IS SCOTLAND YARD EFFETE?
+
+     From Mr. Hector Murray ... our special representative obtained a
+     full account of the outrage, which threw much light upon a mystery
+     that otherwise appeared insoluble. After ... they entered the room
+     at the Astoria, where they had agreed to discuss a plan of mutual
+     action against the common enemy of Capital, Mr. Murray informed our
+     representative that nothing unusual took place for some twenty
+     minutes or half an hour. Baron Hague had just risen to make a
+     proposal, when the lights were extinguished.
+
+     As it was a very black night, the room was plunged into complete
+     darkness. Before anyone had time to ascertain the meaning of the
+     occurrence, a voice, which our representative was informed seemed
+     to proceed from the floor, uttered the following words:
+
+     "Let no one speak or move. Mr. Macready place your revolver upon
+     the table." (Mr. Macready was the only member of the company who
+     was armed, and, curiously enough, as the voice commenced he had
+     drawn his revolver.) "Otherwise, your son's yacht, the _Savannah_,
+     will be posted missing. Hear me out, every one of you, lest great
+     misfortune befall those dear to you. Mr. Murray, your sister and
+     niece will disappear from the Villa Marina, Monte Carlo, within
+     four hours of any movement made by you without my express
+     permission. Mr. Oppner, you have a daughter. Believe me, she and
+     you are quite safe--at present. Baron Hague, Sir Leopold Jesson,
+     and Mr. Rohscheimer, my agents have orders, which only I can recall
+     to bring you to Carey Street. I threaten no more than I can carry
+     out. Give the alarm if it please you ... but I have warned."
+
+     During this most extraordinary speech shadowy shapes seemed to be
+     flitting about the room. The nature of the threats uttered had, for
+     the time, quite unmanned the six gentlemen, which is no matter for
+     surprise. Then, at a muttered command in what Mr. Murray informed
+     our representative to have been Arabic, four lamps--or, rather,
+     balls of fire--appeared at the four corners of the apartment. This
+     bizarre scene, suggestive of nothing so much as an Eastern romance,
+     was due to the presence of several Arabs in heavy robes, who had in
+     some way entered in the darkness, and who now stood around the
+     walls, four of their number holding in their brown hands these
+     peculiar globular lights, which were of a kind quite new to those
+     present. (An article by Mr. Pearce Baldry, of Messrs. Armiston,
+     Baldry & Co., dealing with the possible construction of these
+     lamps, appears on page 6.)
+
+     Immediately inside the open window stood a tall man in a closely
+     buttoned frock-coat. He carried no arms, but wore a black silk
+     half-mask. Mr. Rohscheimer at this juncture rendered the episode
+     even more dramatic by exclaiming:
+
+     "Good heavens! It's Severac Bablon!"
+
+     "It is, indeed, Mr. Rohscheimer," said that menace to civilised
+     society; "so that no doubt you will respect my orders. Mr.
+     Macready, I do not see your revolver upon the table. I have warned
+     you twice."
+
+     Mr. Macready, who is not easily intimidated, evidently concluding
+     that no good could come of resistance at that time, threw the
+     revolver on to the table and folded his arms.
+
+     "I give you my word," concluded Severac Bablon, "that no bodily
+     harm shall come to any one of you so long as you attempt no
+     resistance. What will now be done is done only by way of
+     precaution. Any sound would be fatal."
+
+     At a signal to the Arabs the four lights were hidden, and each of
+     the six gentlemen were seized in the darkness in such a manner that
+     resistance was impossible. Each had a hand clapped over his mouth,
+     whilst he was securely gagged and bound by men who evidently had
+     the arts of the Thug at their fingers' ends. Mr. Murray informed
+     our representative that so certain were they of Severac Bablon's
+     power to perform all that he had threatened that, in his opinion,
+     no one struggled, with the exception of Mr. Macready, who, however,
+     was promptly overpowered.
+
+     It was then that they learnt how the Arabs and their master had
+     entered. For each of the distinguished company, commencing with
+     Baron Hague, was lowered by a rope to a window on the fifth floor
+     and drawn in by men who waited there.
+
+     There is no doubt that access had been gained by means of a short
+     ladder from this lower window; indeed, Mr. Murray saw such a ladder
+     in use when, all having descended through the darkness, the last to
+     leave--an Arab--returned by that means. Such was the dispatch and
+     perfect efficiency of this audacious man's Eastern gang, that Mr.
+     Murray and his friends were all removed from the upper apartment to
+     the lower in less than seven minutes. It will be remembered that
+     the south wing of the Astoria has lately been faced with dark grey
+     granite, that it was a moonless night, and that the daring
+     operation could only have been visible, if visible at all, from the
+     distant Embankment. No hitch occurred whatever; Severac Bablon's
+     Arabs exhibited all the agility and quickness of monkeys. It is
+     illustrative of his brazen methods that he then removed the gags,
+     and invited his victims to partake of some refreshments, "as they
+     had a long drive before them."
+
+     Needless to say, they were all severely shaken by their perilous
+     adventure; and this led to an angry outburst from Mr. Macready, who
+     demanded a full explanation of the outrage.
+
+     "Sir," was the reply, "it is not for you to ask. As a final warning
+     to you and to your friends--for the provisions I have made in your
+     case are no more complete than those which I have made in the
+     others--permit me to tell you that eight of the twelve men manning
+     your son's boat including two officers--are under my orders. If any
+     obstacle be placed in my way by you a wireless message will carry
+     instructions, though I myself lie in detention, or dead, that the
+     _Savannah_ be laid upon a certain course. That course, Mr.
+     Macready, will not bring her into any port known to the Board of
+     Trade. Shall I nominate the crew? Or are your doubts dispersed?"
+
+     The insight thus afforded them to the far-reaching influence, the
+     all-pervading power, of this arch-brigand whose presence in our
+     midst is a disgrace to the police of the world, was sufficient to
+     determine them upon a passive attitude. A gentleman who seemed very
+     nervous then appeared, and skilfully disguised all six. Mr.
+     Rohscheimer mentioned later to Mr. Murray that in this man he had
+     recognised, beyond any shadow of doubt, a perruquier whose name is
+     a household word. But this doubtless was but another clever trick
+     of the master trickster.
+
+     In three parties of two, each accompanied by an Arab dressed in
+     European clothes, but wearing a tarboosh, they left the hotel.
+     Disguised beyond recognition, they were conducted to a roomy car of
+     the "family" pattern, which was in waiting; the blinds were drawn
+     down, and they were driven away.
+
+     At the end of a rapid drive of about an hour's duration, Messrs.
+     Murray and Macready were requested by one of the three accompanying
+     Arabs to alight, and were informed that Severac Bablon desired to
+     tender his sincere apologies for the inconvenience to which,
+     unavoidably, he had put them, and for the evils with which--though
+     only in the "most sacred interests"--he had been compelled to
+     threaten them. They were absolved from all obligations and at
+     liberty now to take what steps they thought fit. With which they
+     were set down in a lonely spot, and the car was driven away. As our
+     readers are already well aware, this lonely spot was upon
+     Wandsworth Common.
+
+     It is almost impossible to credit the fact that six influential men
+     of world-wide reputation could thus, publicly, be kidnapped from a
+     London hotel. But in this connection two things must be remembered.
+     Firstly, for reasons readily to be understood and appreciated, they
+     offered no resistance; secondly, the presence of so many Orientals
+     in the hotel occasioned no surprise. A Prince Said Abu-el-Ahzab had
+     been residing for some time in the apartments below those occupied
+     by Mr. J. J. Oppner, and the members of his numerous suite are
+     familiar to all residents. He and his following have disappeared,
+     but a cash payment of all outstanding accounts has been left
+     behind. It has been discovered that the light was cut off from one
+     of the rooms occupied by the ci-devant prince, and the police are
+     at work upon several other important clues which point beyond doubt
+     to the fact that "Prince Said Abu-el-Ahzab" was none other than
+     Severac Bablon.
+
+During the next twenty-four hours the entire habitable world touched by
+cable service literally gasped at this latest stroke of the notorious
+Severac Bablon. Despite the frantic and unflagging labours of every man
+that Scotland Yard could spare to the case nothing was accomplished. The
+wife or nearest kin of each of the missing men had received a typed
+card:
+
+     "Fear nothing. No harm shall befall a guest of Severac Bablon."
+
+These cards, which could be traced to no maker or stationer, all had
+been posted at Charing Cross.
+
+Then, in the stop press of the _Gleaner's_ final edition, appeared the
+following:
+
+     "Baron Hague, Sir L. Jesson, Messrs. Rohscheimer and Oppner have
+     returned to their homes."
+
+It is improbable that in the history of the newspaper business, even
+during war-time, there has ever been such a rush made for the papers as
+that which worked the trade to the point of general exhaustion on the
+following morning.
+
+Without pausing here to consider the morning's news, let us return to
+the Chancery Legal Incorporated Credit Society Bank.
+
+"Move along here, please. Move on. Move on."
+
+Again the street is packed with emotional humanity. But what a different
+scene is this, although in its essentials so similar. For every face is
+flushed with excitement--joyful excitement. As once before, they press
+eagerly on toward the bank entrance; but this morning the doors are
+_open_. Almost every member of that crushed and crushing assembly holds
+a copy of the morning paper. Every man and every woman in the crowd
+knows that the missing financiers have declined, firmly, to afford any
+information whatever respecting their strange adventure--that they have
+refused, all four of them, point blank either to substantiate or to deny
+the sensational story of Messrs. Macready and Murray. "The incident is
+closed," Baron Hague is reported as declaring. But what care the
+depositors of the Chancery Legal Incorporated? For is it not announced,
+also, that this quartet of public benefactors, with a fifth
+philanthropist (who modestly remains anonymous) have put up between them
+no less a sum than three and a half million pounds to salve the wrecked
+bank?
+
+"By your leave. Make way here. Stand back, _if_ you please."
+
+Someone starts a cheer, and it is feverishly taken up by the highly
+wrought throng, as an escorted van pulls slowly through the crowd. It is
+bullion from the Bank of England. Good red gold and crisp notes. It is
+dead hopes raised from the dust; happiness reborn, like a ph[oe]nix from
+the ashes of misery.
+
+"Hip, hip, hip, hooray!"
+
+Again and again, and yet again that joyous cheer awakes the echoes of
+the ancient Inns.
+
+It was as a final cheer died away that Haredale, on the rim of the
+throng, felt himself tapped upon the shoulder.
+
+He turned a flushed face and saw a tall man, irreproachably attired,
+standing smiling at his elbow. The large eyes, with their compelling
+light of command, held nothing now but a command to friendship.
+
+"Severac Bablon!"
+
+"Well, Haredale!" The musical voice made itself audible above all the
+din. "These good people would rejoice to know the name of that anonymous
+friend who, with four other disinterested philanthropists, has sought to
+bring a little gladness into a grey world. Here am I. And there, on the
+bank steps, are police. Make your decision. Either give me in charge or
+give me your hand."
+
+Haredale could not speak; but he took the outstretched hand of the most
+surprising bandit the world ever has known, and wrung it hard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE TURKISH YATAGHAN
+
+
+It was about a fortnight later that a City medical man, Dr. Simons, in
+the dusk of a spring evening, might have been seen pressing his way
+through the crowd of excited people who thronged the hall of Moorgate
+Place, Moorgate Street.
+
+Addressing himself to a portly, florid gentleman who exhibited signs of
+having suffered a recent nervous shock, he said crisply.
+
+"My name, sir, is Simons. You 'phoned me?"
+
+The florid gentleman, mopping his forehead with a Cambridge-blue silk
+handkerchief, replied rather pompously, if thickly:
+
+"I'm Julius Rohscheimer. You'll have heard of me."
+
+Everyone had heard of that financial magnate, and Dr. Simons bowed
+slightly.
+
+The two, followed by a murmuring chorus, ascended the stairs.
+
+"Stand back, please," rapped the physician tartly, turning upon their
+following. "Will someone send for the police and ring up Scotland Yard?
+This is not a peep-show."
+
+Abashed, the curious ones fell back, and Simons and Rohscheimer went
+upstairs alone. Most of the people employed in those offices left sharp
+at six, but a little group of belated workers from an upper floor were
+nervously peeping in at an open door bearing the words:
+
+     DOUGLAS GRAHAM
+
+They stood aside for the doctor, who entered briskly, Rohscheimer at his
+heels, and closed the door behind him. A chilly and indefinable
+something pervaded the atmosphere of Moorgate Place a something that
+floats, like a marsh mist, about the scene of a foul deed.
+
+The outer office was in darkness, as was that opening off it on the
+left; but out from the inner sanctum poured a flood of light.
+
+Douglas Graham's private office was similar to the private offices of a
+million other business men, but on this occasion it differed in one
+dread particular.
+
+Stretched upon the fur rug before the American desk lay a heavily built
+figure, face downward. It was that of a fashionably dressed man, one who
+had been portly, no longer young, but who had received a murderous
+thrust behind the left shoulder-blade, and whose life had ebbed in the
+grim red stream that stained the fur beneath him.
+
+With a sharp glance about him, the doctor bent, turned the body and made
+a rapid examination. He stood up almost immediately, shrugging slightly.
+
+"Dead!"
+
+Julius Rohscheimer wiped his forehead with the Cambridge silk.
+
+"Poor Graham! How long?" he said huskily.
+
+"Roughly, half an hour."
+
+"Look! look! On the desk!"
+
+The doctor turned sharply from the body and looked as directed.
+
+Stuck upright amid the litter of papers was a long, curved dagger, with
+a richly ornamented hilt. Several documents were impaled by its crimson
+point, and upon the topmost the following had roughly and shakily been
+printed:
+
+     "VENGENCE IS MINE!
+     "SEVERAC BABLON."
+
+Dr. Simons started perceptibly, and looked about the place with a sudden
+apprehension. It seemed to Julius Rohscheimer that his face grew pale.
+
+In the eerie silence of the dead man's room they faced one another.
+
+The doctor, his straight brows drawn together, looked, again and again,
+from the ominous writing to the poor, lifeless thing on the rug.
+
+"Then, indeed, his sins were great," he whispered.
+
+Rohscheimer, with his eyes fixed on the dagger, shuddered violently.
+
+"Let's get out, doctor," he quavered thickly. "My--my nerve's goin'."
+
+Dr. Simons, though visibly shaken by this later discovery, raised his
+hand in protest. He was looking, for the twentieth time, at the words
+printed upon the bloodstained paper.
+
+"One moment," he said, and opened his bag. "Here"--pouring out a draught
+into a little glass--"drink this. And favour me with two minutes'
+conversation before the police arrive."
+
+Rohscheimer drank it off and followed the movements of the doctor, who
+stepped to the telephone and called up a Gerrard number.
+
+"Doctor John Simons speaking," he said presently. "Come _at once_ to
+Moorgate Place, Moorgate Street. Murder been committed by--Severac
+Bablon. Most peculiar weapon used. The police, no doubt, would value an
+expert opinion. You _must_ be here within ten minutes."
+
+The arrival of a couple of constables frustrated whatever object Dr.
+Simons had had in detaining Mr. Rohscheimer, but the doctor lingered on,
+evidently awaiting whoever he had spoken to on the telephone. The police
+ascertained from Rohscheimer that he had held an interest in the
+"Douglas Graham" business, that this business was of an usurious
+character, that the dead man's real name was Paul Gottschalk, and that
+he, Rohscheimer, found the outer door fastened when he arrived at about
+seven o'clock, opened it with a key which he held, and saw Gottschalk as
+they saw him now. The office was in darkness. Apparently, valuables had
+been taken from the safe--which was open. The staff usually left at six.
+
+This was the point reached when Detective Harborne put in an appearance
+and, with professional nonchalance, took over the investigation. Dr.
+Simons glanced at his watch and impatiently strode up and down the
+outside office.
+
+A few minutes later came a loud knocking on the door. Simons opened it
+quickly, admitting a most strange old gentleman--tall and
+ramshackle--who was buttoned up in a chess-board inverness; whose
+trousers frayed out over his lustreless boots like much-defiled lace;
+whose coat-sleeves, protruding from the cape of his inverness, sought to
+make amends for the dullness of his footwear. He wore a turned-down
+collar and a large, black French knot. His hirsute face was tanned to
+the uniform hue of a coffee berry; his unkempt grey hair escaped in
+tufts from beneath a huge slouched hat; and his keen old eyes peered
+into the room through thickly pebbled spectacles.
+
+"Dr. Lepardo!" cried Simons. "I am glad to see you, sir."
+
+"Eh? Who's that?" said Harborne, looking out from the inner office,
+notebook in hand. "You should not have let anybody in, doctor."
+
+"Excuse me, Mr. Harborne," replied Simons civilly, "but I have taken the
+liberty of asking Doctor Emmanuel Lepardo, whom I chanced to know was in
+London, to give an opinion upon the rather odd weapon with which this
+crime was perpetrated. He is one of the first authorities in Europe, and
+I thought you might welcome his assistance at this early stage of your
+inquiry."
+
+"Oh," said the detective thoughtfully, "that's different. Thank you,
+sir," nodding to the new-comer. "I'm afraid your name isn't known to me,
+but if you can give us a tip or two I shall be grateful. I wish
+Inspector Sheffield were here. These cases are fair nightmares to me.
+And now it's got to murder, life won't be worth living at the Yard if we
+don't make an arrest."
+
+"Yes, yes," said Dr. Lepardo, peering about him, speaking in a most
+peculiar, rumbling tone, and with a strong accent. "I would not have
+missed such a chance. Where is this dagger? I have just returned from
+the Izamal temples of Yucatan. I have brought some fine specimens to
+Europe. Obsidian knives. Sacrificial. Beautiful."
+
+He shuffled jerkily into the private office, seemed to grasp its every
+detail in one comprehensive, peering glance, and pounced upon the dagger
+with a hoarse exclamation. The Scotland Yard man watched him with
+curiosity, and Julius Rohscheimer, in the open door, followed his
+movements with a newly awakened interest.
+
+"True Damascus!" he muttered, running a long finger up the blade. "Hilt,
+Persian--not Kultwork--Persian. Yes. Can I pull it out? Yes? Damascened
+to within three inches. Very early."
+
+He turned to the detective, dagger in hand.
+
+"This is a Turkish yataghan."
+
+No one appeared to be greatly enlightened.
+
+"When I say a Turkish yataghan I mean that from a broken Damascus
+sword-blade and a Persian dagger handle, a yataghan of the Turkish
+pattern has been made. There are stones incrusted in the hilt but the
+blade is worth more. Very rare. This was made in Persia for the Turkish
+market."
+
+"One of Severac Bablon's Arabs," burst in Rohscheimer hoarsely, "has
+done this."
+
+"Ah, yes. So? I read of him in Paris. He is in league with the chief of
+the Paris detective. Him? So. I meet him once."
+
+"Eh?" cried Harborne, "Severac Bablon?"
+
+Julius Rohscheimer's eyes grew more prominent than usual.
+
+"No, no. The great Lemage. Lemage of Paris--his accomplice. This dagger
+is worth two thousand francs. Let me see if a Turk has been in these
+rooms. I meet Victor Lemage on such another occasion with this. He say
+to me, 'Dr. Lepardo, come to the Rue So-and-such. A young person is
+stabbed with a new kind of knife.' I tell him, 'It is Afghan, M.
+Lemage.' He find one who had been in that country, arrest--and it is the
+assassin. There is no smell of a Turk here. Ah, yes. The Turk, he have a
+smell of his own, as have the negro, the Chinese, the Malay."
+
+Pulling a magnifying-glass from one bulging pocket of his inverness, Dr.
+Lepardo went peering over the writing desk, passing with a grunt from
+the bloodstained paper bearing the name of Severac Bablon to the other
+documents and books lying there; to the pigeon-holes; to the chair; to
+the rug; to the body. Crawling on all fours he went peering about the
+floor, scratching at the carpet with his long nails like some monstrous,
+restless cat.
+
+Harborne glanced at Dr. Simons and tapped his forehead significantly.
+
+"Humour my friend," whispered the physician. "He may appear mad, but he
+is a man of most curious information. Believe me, if any Oriental has
+been in these rooms within the last hour he will tell you so."
+
+Dr. Lepardo from beneath a table rumbled hoarsely:
+
+"There is a back stair. He went out that way as someone came in."
+
+Julius Rohscheimer started violently.
+
+"Good God! Then he was here when _I_ came in!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Who speaks?" rumbled Lepardo, crawling away into the outside office,
+and apparently following a trail visible only to himself.
+
+"It is Mr. Julius Rohscheimer," explained Simons. "He was a partner, I
+understand, of the late Mr. Graham's. He entered with a key about seven
+o'clock and discovered the murder."
+
+"As he came in our friend the assassin go out," cried Lepardo.
+
+Harborne gave rapid orders to the two constables, both of whom
+immediately departed.
+
+"Are you sure of that, sir?" he called.
+
+Against the promptings of his common sense, the eccentric methods of the
+peculiar old traveller were beginning to impress him.
+
+"Certainly. But look!"
+
+Dr. Lepardo re-entered the inner office, carrying several files.
+
+"See! He begins to destroy these letters. He has certainly taken many
+away. If you look you see that he has torn pages from the private
+accounts on the desk. He is disturbed by Mr. Someheimer. Can you know
+the address of his lady secretary-typist?"
+
+Harborne's eyes sparkled appreciatively.
+
+"You're pretty wide at this business, doctor," he confessed. "I'm
+looking after her myself. But Mr. Rohscheimer doesn't know, and all the
+staff have gone long ago."
+
+"Ah!" rumbled Dr. Lepardo, dropping his glass into the sack-like pocket.
+"No Arab or such person has done this. He was one who wore gloves. So I
+no longer am interested. Here"--placing a small object on the desk
+beside the yataghan--"is new evidence I find for you. It is a
+boot-button--foreign. Ah! if the great Lemage could be here. It is his
+imagination that makes him supreme. In his imagination he would murder
+again the poor Graham with the yataghan. He would lose his boot-button.
+He would run away--as Mr. Heimar comes in--to some hiding-place, taking
+with him the bills and the letters he had stolen, and the notes from the
+safe. Once in his secret retreat, he would arrest himself--and behold,
+in an hour--in ten minutes--his hand would be upon the shoulder of the
+other assassin. Ah! such a case would be joy to him. He would revel. He
+would gloat."
+
+Harborne nodded.
+
+"If Mr. Lemage would come and revel with me for half an hour I
+wouldn't say no to learning from him," he said. "But it isn't
+likely--particularly considering that this is a Severac Bablon case."
+
+"Ah!" rumbled Dr. Lepardo, "you should travel, my friend. You would
+learn much of the imagination in the desert of Sahara, in the forests of
+Yucatan."
+
+"You know," continued Harborne, turning to Simons, "these Severac Bablon
+cases--I don't mind admitting it--are over my weight. They bristle with
+clues. We get to know of addresses he uses--people he's acquainted
+with--and what good does it do us? Not a ha'p'orth. Of course, it's a
+fact that he's had influential friends up to now, but this job, unless
+I'm mistaken, will alter the complexion of things. What d'you think
+Victor Lemage will say to _this_, Dr. Lepardo?"
+
+But there was no one to answer, for the man from the forests of Yucatan
+had vanished.
+
+The charwoman of Moorgate Place was the next person to encounter Dr.
+Lepardo, and his kindly manner completely won her heart. She had seen
+Miss Maitland--the dead man's secretary--regularly go to lunch and
+sometimes to tea with a young lady from Messrs. Bowden and Ralph's. The
+staff at this firm of stockbrokers was working late, and it was unlikely
+that the young lady had left, even yet. Dr. Lepardo expressed his
+anxiety to make her acquaintance, and was conducted by the garrulous old
+charwoman to an office in Copthall Avenue. The required young lady was
+found.
+
+"My dear," said Dr. Lepardo, paternally, "I have a private matter of
+utmost importance to tell to Miss Maitland--to-night. Where shall I find
+her?"
+
+She lived, he was informed, at No. ---- Stockwell Road, S.W. He took his
+departure, leaving an excellent impression behind him and half a
+sovereign in the hand of the charwoman. A torpedo-like racing car was
+waiting near Lothbury corner, and therein, Dr. Lepardo very shortly was
+whirling southward. The chauffeur negotiated London Bridge in a manner
+that filled the hearts of a score of taxi drivers with awe and
+wonderment. Stockwell Road was reached in twelve and a half minutes.
+
+A dingy maid informed Dr. Lepardo that Miss Maitland had just finished
+her dinner. Would he walk up?
+
+Dr. Lepardo walked up and made himself known to the pretty brown-haired
+girl who rose to greet him. Miss Maitland clearly was surprised--and a
+little frightened--by this unexpected visit. Her glance strayed from the
+visitor to a silver-framed photograph on the mantelpiece and back again
+to Dr. Lepardo in a curiously wistful way.
+
+"My dear," he said, and his kindly, paternal manner seemed to reassure
+her somewhat, "I have come to ask your help in a----"
+
+He suddenly stepped to the mantelpiece and peered at the photograph. It
+was that of a rather odd-looking young man, and bore the inscription:
+"To Iris. Lawrence."
+
+"Why, yes," he burst out; "surely this is my old friend! Can it be my
+old friend--Gardener--Gaston--ah! I have no memory for his name. The
+good boy, Lawrence Greely?"
+
+The girl's eyes opened wildly.
+
+"Guthrie!" she said, blushing. "You mean Guthrie?"
+
+"Ah! Guthrie," cried the doctor, triumphantly. "You know my old friend,
+Lawrence Guthrie? He is in England?"
+
+"He has never left it, to my knowledge," said the girl with sudden
+doubt.
+
+"Foolish me," exclaimed Lepardo. "It was his father that lives abroad,
+in the East--Bagdad--Cairo."
+
+"Constantinople," corrected Miss Maitland.
+
+"Still the old foolish," rumbled her odd visitor. "Always the old fool.
+To be certain, it was Constantinople."
+
+A curious gleam had crept into the keen eyes that twinkled behind the
+pebbles.
+
+"He used to say to me, the Guthrie pere, 'I send that boy Turkish pipes
+and ornaments and curiosities for his room. I wonder if that bad
+fellow'"--Dr. Lepardo poked a jesting finger at the girl--"'I wonder if
+he sell them.'"
+
+"I'm _sure_ he wouldn't," flashed Miss Maitland. Then came a sudden
+cloud upon the young face. "That is--I don't think he would--if he could
+help it."
+
+"Ah, those money troubles," sighed the old doctor. "But I quite forgot
+my business, thinking of Lawrence. There has been an--accident at your
+office, my child. _He_ is quite well. Do not be afraid. Tell me--when
+did you leave to-night?"
+
+Iris Maitland retreated from him step by step, her eyes fixed
+affrightedly upon his face. She sank into an arm-chair. The pretty blush
+had fled now, and she was very pale.
+
+"Why," she said tensely, "why have you asked me those questions? You do
+not know Lawrence. What has happened? Oh, what has happened?"
+
+She was trembling now.
+
+"Oh," she said, "I am afraid of you, Dr. Lepardo. I don't know what you
+want. Who are you? But I see now that you have made me tell you all
+about him. I will tell you no more."
+
+"My dear," said Dr. Lepardo, and the rumbling of his voice was kindly,
+"a woman has that great gift, intuition. It is true. It is my rule, my
+dear, never to neglect opportunity, however slight. When I arrive,
+unexpected, you glance at his photograph. You associate him, then, with
+the unexpected. I experiment. Forgive me. It is by such leaps in the
+dark that great things are won. It is where a little intuition is worth
+much wisdom. You are a brave girl, and so I tell you--it is for you to
+save Lawrence. If the Scotland Yard Mr. Harborne knew so much as I,
+nothing, I fear, could save him. I can do it--_I_. You shall help me. I
+work, my child, as no man has worked before. For great things I work. I
+work against time--against the police. I aspire to do the all but
+impossible--the wonderful. Only what you call luck and what I call
+intuition can make me win. A bargain--you answer me my questions and I
+answer you yours?"
+
+The girl nodded. Her fingers were clutching and releasing the arms of
+the chair. Through the odd mask of peering benevolence worn by the brown
+old traveller another, inspired, being momentarily had peeped forth.
+
+"What time did you leave to-night?"
+
+"A quarter past six."
+
+"How many appointments had Mr. Graham afterwards? One with Lawrence.
+What other?"
+
+"With Mr. Rohscheimer."
+
+"No other?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What time Lawrence?"
+
+"Directly I left."
+
+"Mr. Graham did not know you two are acquainted, eh?"
+
+"He did not."
+
+"Had you access to his private accounts that he keep in his safe?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You keep the files?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who is the most important creditor filed under G? Lawrence?"
+
+The girl shook her head emphatically.
+
+"Why, he only owed about fifty pounds," she said. "There were none of
+importance under G, except Garraway, the Hon. Claude Garraway and Count
+de Guise."
+
+"Ah! Count de Guise. So quaint a name. He is rich, yes?"
+
+"Awfully rich. He is selling all the things in his flat and going abroad
+for good. There is an advertisement in to-day's paper. His pictures and
+things are valued at no less than thirty thousand pounds. I don't know
+how his business stood with Mr. Graham; latterly, it had not passed
+through my hands at all."
+
+"And his address?"
+
+"59b Bedford Court Mansions."
+
+"And I must see Lawrence too. Where shall I find him?"
+
+"At Bart's--St. Bartholomew's Hospital. He is studying there. You are
+sure to find him there to-night. He is engaged there, I know, up to ten
+o'clock."
+
+Dr. Lepardo took the girl's hand and pressed it soothingly.
+
+"Do not faint; be a brave girl," he said. "Your employer was killed
+shortly after you left."
+
+Deathly pale, she sat watching him.
+
+"By--whom?"
+
+"By Severac Bablon, so it is written on his desk. It is unfortunate that
+Lawrence was there to-night; but I--I am your friend, my child. Are you
+going to faint--no?"
+
+"No," said the girl, smiling bravely.
+
+"Then good-night."
+
+He pressed her hand again--and was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+M. LEVI
+
+
+The art of detection, in common with every other art, produces from time
+to time a genius; and a genius, whatever else he may be, emphatically is
+_not_ a person having "an infinite capacity for taking pains." Such
+masters of criminology as Alphonse Bertillon or his famous compatriot,
+Victor Lemage, whose resignation so recently had stirred the wide world
+to wonder--achieve their results by painstaking labours, yes, but all
+those labours would be more or less futile without that elusive element
+of inspiration, intuition, luck--call it what you will--which
+constitutes genius, which alone distinguishes such men from the other
+capable plodders about them. A brief retrospective survey of the
+surprising results achieved by Dr. Lepardo within the space of an hour
+will show these to have been due to brilliant imagination, deep
+knowledge of human nature, foresight, unusual mental activity, and--that
+other capacity so hard to define.
+
+Dr. Lepardo was studying the following paragraph marked by Miss
+Maitland:
+
+     FOR SALE.--Entire furniture, antique, of large flat, comprising
+     pieces by Sheraton, Chippendale, Boule, etc. Paintings by Greuze,
+     Murillo, Van Dyck, also modern masters. Pottery, Chinese, Sevres,
+     old English, etc. A collection of 500 pieces of early pewter, etc.,
+     etc., etc. The whole valued at over L30,000.
+
+The torpedo-like car had dropped him at Bedford Court Mansions, and,
+shuffling up the steps into the hall, he addressed himself to the
+porter.
+
+"Ah, my friend, has the Count de Guise gone out again?"
+
+"I have not seen him go out, sir."
+
+"Not since you saw him come in?"
+
+"Not since then, sir--no."
+
+"About half-past seven he came in, I think? Yes, about half-past."
+
+"Quite right, sir."
+
+Again the odd gleam came into the doctor's eyes, as it had come when, by
+one of his amazing leading questions he had learnt that Lawrence
+Guthrie's father resided in Constantinople. The doctor mounted to the
+first floor. He was about to ring the bell of No. 59b, when another idea
+struck him. He descended and again addressed the porter.
+
+"The Count must be resting. He does not reply. He has, of course,
+discharged his servants?"
+
+"Yes, sir. He leaves England next week."
+
+"Ah, he is alone."
+
+Upstairs once more.
+
+He rang three times before the door was opened to him by a tall, slight
+man, arrayed in a blue silk dressing-gown. He had a most pleasant face,
+and wore his moustache and beard according to the latest Parisian mode.
+He looked about thirty years of age, was fair, blue-eyed, and handsome.
+
+"I am sorry to trouble you so late, Count," said the old doctor, in
+perfect French; "but I think I can make you an offer for some, if not
+all, of your collection."
+
+He hunted, peering through a case which apparently contained some dozens
+of cards, finally handing the Count the following:
+
+    ISIDOR LEVI
+    Fine Art Expert
+    _London and Paris._
+
+Count de Guise hesitated, glanced at his caller, glanced at his watch,
+cleared his throat--and still hesitated.
+
+"If I approve," continued 'Isidor Levi,' "I will hand you a cheque on
+the Credit Lyonnais."
+
+The Count bowed.
+
+"Enter, M. Levi. Your name, of course, is known to me."
+
+Indeed it was a name familiar enough in art circles.
+
+Dr. Lepardo entered.
+
+The room into which the Count ushered him was most magnificently
+appointed. The visitor's feet sank into the carpet as into banked moss.
+Beautiful furniture stood about. Pictures by eminent artists graced the
+walls. Statuettes, vases, busts, choice antiques, were everywhere. It
+was the room of a wealthy connoisseur, of an aesthete whose delicacy of
+taste bordered upon the effeminate. The doctor stared hard at the Count
+without permitting the latter to observe that he did so. With his hands
+thrust deep in the sack-like pockets of his inverness he drifted from
+treasure to treasure--uninvited, from room to room--like some rudderless
+craft. The Count followed. In his handsome face it might be read that he
+resented the attitude of M. Levi, who behaved as though he found himself
+in the gallery of a dealer. Suddenly, before a Van Dyck portrait, the
+visitor cried:
+
+"Ah, a forgery, m'sieur! Spurious."
+
+Count de Guise leapt round upon him with perfect fury blazing in his
+blue eyes. The veins had sprung into prominence upon his forehead, and
+one throbbed--a virile blue cord--upon his left temple.
+
+"M'sieur!"
+
+He seemed to choke. His sudden passion was volcanic--terrible.
+
+Dr. Lepardo, still peering, seemed not to heed him; then quickly:
+
+"Ah, I apologise, I most sincerely apologise. I was misled by the
+unusual tone of the brown. But--no, it is undoubted. None other than Van
+Dyck painted that ruff."
+
+The Count glared and quivered, his fine nostrils distended, a while
+longer, but swallowed his rage and bowed in acknowledgment of the
+apology. Dr. Lepardo was off again upon his voyage of discovery,
+drifting from picture to vase, from statuette to buhl cabinet.
+
+"M'sieur," he rumbled, peering around at de Guise, who now stood by the
+fireplace of the room to which the visitor's driftings had led him, his
+hands locked behind him. "I think I can propose you for the entire
+collection. Is it agreeable?"
+
+The Count bowed.
+
+"Ah!"
+
+M. Levi seated himself at the writing-table--for the room was a
+beautifully appointed study--and produced a cheque-book.
+
+"Twenty thousand pounds, English?"
+
+The Count laughed contemptuously.
+
+"Twenty-two?"
+
+"Do not jest, m'sieur. Nothing but thirty."
+
+"Twenty-eight is final. It is the price I had determined upon."
+
+De Guise considered, bit his lip, glanced at the open
+cheque-book--always a potent argument--and bowed in his grand fashion.
+Lepardo changed his spectacles for a larger pair, reached for a pen,
+peering, and overturned a massive inkstand. The ink poured in an oily
+black stream across the leathern top of the table.
+
+"Ah, clumsy!" he cried. "Blotting-paper, quick."
+
+The other took some from a drawer and sopped up the ink. Lepardo rumbled
+apologies, and, when the ink had been dried up, made out a cheque for
+L28,000, payable to "The Count de Guise, in settlement for the entire
+effects contained in his flat, No. 59b Bedford Court Mansions," signed
+it "I. Levi," and handed it to de Guise, who was surveying his inky
+hands, usually so spotless, with frowning disfavour.
+
+The Count took the cheque, and Lepardo stood up.
+
+"One moment, m'sieur."
+
+Lepardo sat down again.
+
+"You have dated this cheque 1928."
+
+"Ah," cried the other, "always so absent. I had in mind the price,
+m'sieur. Believe me, I shall lose on this deal, but no matter. Give it
+back to me; I will write out another."
+
+The second cheque made out, correctly, Lepardo shuffled to the door,
+refusing de Guise's offer of refreshments. He was about to pass out on
+to the landing when:
+
+"Heavens! I am truly an absent fool. I wear my writing glasses and have
+left my street glasses on your table. One moment. No, I would not
+trouble you."
+
+He shuffled quickly back to the study, to return almost immediately,
+glasses in hand.
+
+"Will seven-thirty in the morning be too early for my men to commence an
+inventory?"
+
+"Not at all."
+
+"Good night, m'sieur le Comte."
+
+"Good night, M. Levi."
+
+So concluded an act in this strange comedy.
+
+Let us glance for a moment at Thomas Sheard, of the _Gleaner_, who sat
+in his study, his head resting upon his clenched hand, his pipe cold.
+
+Twelve o'clock, and the household sleeping. He had spent the early part
+of the night at Moorgate Place, had written his account of the murder,
+seen it consigned to the machines, and returned wearily home. Now, in
+the stillness, he was listening; every belated cab whose passing broke
+the silence of the night set his heart beating, for he was
+listening--listening for Severac Bablon.
+
+His faith was shaken.
+
+He had been content to know himself the confidant of the man who had
+taken from Park Lane to give to the Embankment; of the man who had
+kidnapped four great millionaires and compelled them each to bear an
+equal share with himself, towards salving a wrecked bank; of the man,
+who assisted by M. Lemage, the first detective in Europe, had hoodwinked
+Scotland Yard. But the thought that he had called "friend" the man who
+had murdered, or caused to be murdered, Douglas Graham--whatever had
+been the dead man's character--was dreadful--terrifying.
+
+It meant? It meant that if Severac Bablon did not come, and come that
+night, to clear himself, then he, Sheard, must confess to his knowledge
+of him--must, at whatever personal cost, give every assistance in his
+power to those who sought to apprehend the murderer.
+
+A key turned in the lock of the front door.
+
+Sheard started to his feet. A soft step in the hall--and Severac Bablon
+entered.
+
+The journalist could find no words to greet him; but he stood watching
+the fine masterful face. There was a new, eager look in the long, dark
+eyes.
+
+Severac Bablon extended his hand. Sheard shook his head and resting his
+elbow on the mantelpiece, looked down into the dying embers of the fire.
+
+"You, too, my friend?"
+
+Sheard turned impulsively.
+
+"Tell me you are in no way implicated in that ghastly crime!" he burst
+out. "Only tell me, and I shall be satisfied."
+
+Severac Bablon stepped quickly forward, grasped him by both shoulders
+and looked hard into his eyes with that strange, penetrating gaze that
+seemed to pierce through all pretence into the mind beyond.
+
+"Sheard, in the pursuit of what I--and my poor wisdom may be no better
+than a wiser man's folly--of what I consider to be Nature's one
+law--Justice, I have braved the laws of man, risked my honour and my
+liberty. I have dared to hold the scales, to weigh in the balance some
+of the affairs of men. But life, be it that of the lowliest insect, of
+the vilest sinner against every code of mankind, is sacred. I--with all
+my egotism, with all my poor human vanity--would not dare to rob a
+fellow creature of that gift which only God can give, which only God may
+take back."
+
+"Then----"
+
+"You, who knew me, doubted?"
+
+Sheard grasped the proffered hand.
+
+"Forgive my fears," he said warmly; "I should have known. But this
+horrible thing has shaken me. I cannot survey murdered corpses with the
+calmly professional eye of the Sheffields and Harbornes."
+
+"It was the work of an enemy, Sheard. There are men labouring, even now,
+piecing a false chain together, link by link; searching, spying, toiling
+in the dark to prove that the robber, the incendiary, the iconoclast, is
+also a murderer. I have need of all my friends to-night."
+
+With a weary gesture, almost pathetic, he ran his fingers through his
+black hair. The shaded light struck greenly venomous sparks from his
+ring.
+
+"This is such a coward's blow as I never had foreseen," he continued;
+"but, as I believe, my resources are equal even to this."
+
+"What! You know the murderer?"
+
+"If the wrong man is not arrested by some one of the agents of Scotland
+Yard, of Mr. Oppner, of Julius Rohscheimer, of Heaven alone knows how
+many others that seek, I have hopes that within a few hours, at most, of
+the world's learning I am an assassin, the world will learn that I am
+not. Can you be ready to accompany me at any hour after 5 A.M. that I
+may come for you?"
+
+Sheard stared.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Then--to bed, oh, doughty copy-hunter. You still are my friend. That is
+all I wished to know. For that alone I came like a thief in the night.
+Until I return, au revoir."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"V-E-N-G-E-N-C-E"
+
+
+At half-past seven on the morning following M. Levi's visit the Count de
+Guise opened the door of 59b Bedford Court Mansions to that eccentric
+old art expert. M. Levi was accompanied by his partner, a tall, heavily
+bearded man, who looked like a Russian, and by two other strangers, one
+an alert-eyed, clean-shaven person in a tweed suit, the other a younger
+man, evidently Scotch, who carried a little brown bag. These two would
+commence an inventory, m'sieur being agreeable.
+
+Entering the dining-room, with its massive old oak furniture, de Guise,
+who found something uncomfortably fascinating in the eye of the partner,
+lighted a cigarette and took up a position on the rug before the fire,
+hands characteristically locked behind him.
+
+"This is the Greuze," said Dr. Lepardo, pointing.
+
+The Count, with the others, turned to look at the picture.
+
+_Click! Click!_
+
+He was securely handcuffed.
+
+With an animal scream of rage the Count turned upon Lepardo, the vein
+throbbing on his temple, his eyes glaring in maniacal fury. He sought to
+speak, but only a slight froth rose to his lips; no word could he utter.
+
+"Sit down in that chair," said Dr Lepardo.
+
+With a gurgling scream de Guise's fury found utterance.
+
+"Release me immediately. What----"
+
+_"Sit down!"_
+
+De Guise ground his white teeth together. The pulsing vein on his brow
+seemed like to burst. He dropped into a chair, trembling and quivering
+with passionate anger.
+
+"You--shall--pay for--this!"
+
+"My friend," said Lepardo, turning to the man who had carried the bag,
+"this gentleman"--nodding at his companion in the tweed suit--"would
+like to hear who you are, and for what you visited Moorgate Place last
+evening."
+
+"I am Lawrence Guthrie," explained the young man, "and yesterday, much
+against my inclinations, but to prevent Graham's exposing the state of
+my affairs to my father, I was forced to leave with him, as security for
+fifty pounds, a Turkish yataghan worth considerably more."
+
+"Stop! When I came to your Bart's last night, what did I tell you?"
+
+"That Graham had been murdered with my yataghan."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"You said that the crime looked like the work of an old hand, for the
+murderer had worn gloves. You told me that you had recognised, in one of
+the victim's most important creditors, a notorious French criminal,
+Andre Legun----"
+
+The Count, deathly pale, his throbbing forehead wet as if douched, drew
+a long, hissing breath. His eyes stared glassily at Dr. Lepardo.
+
+"By what means?"
+
+"By certain facial peculiarities."
+
+"Rule 85."
+
+"And particularly by a vein in his left temple, only visible when he was
+roused. You had secured, by a trick----"
+
+"Article Six."
+
+"An imprint of his thumb upon a cheque. This you had compared with
+certain in your possession--and forwarded to Paris."
+
+"Unnecessary, but a usual form."
+
+"You had secured from the grate in his study a pocketful of ash, some
+scraps of torn leather--bloodstained--and some few other fragments.
+These you and I spent the night examining and arranging. Amongst the
+ashes was a patent glove button, also bloodstained."
+
+"What have I yet to find?"
+
+"A pair of boots."
+
+"I depart to find them."
+
+Dr. Lepardo quitted the room. Count de Guise followed him with his eyes
+until he had disappeared. No one spoke nor stirred until the brown old
+doctor returned, carrying a pair of glace kid boots.
+
+He placed them on the table beside the bag and pointed a long finger at
+a gap in one row of buttons.
+
+"Scotland Yard can complete the set, Andre," he said with grim humour.
+"In this bag are the results of our examination. In your grate are more
+ashes and fragments for the English Home Office to check us by. In this
+bag is a complete account of how you came to Moorgate Place, knocked at
+Gottschalk's door and were admitted. I do not know how you had _meant_
+to kill him, but the yataghan, left on his table by Mr. Guthrie, was
+tempting, eh? You then commenced to collect certain letters and papers,
+Andre. You tore from his private book the page containing your little
+account. Then you tore out others, to blind us all. You had begun upon
+the letter files when you were interrupted by one entering with a key.
+That was fortunate. It was file G you had commenced upon, Andre. And one
+of the torn pages was G. So I knew that you were a G, too, my friend.
+With what you took from the safe and with the letters and other papers,
+you slipped down the back stair you knew of into Copthall Avenue. By my
+great good luck, and not by my skill, I get upon your trail. But by my
+skill I trap you."
+
+The prisoner, whose handsome face now had assumed a leaden hue, whose
+eyes were set in a fixed stare of horror and hatred, spoke slowly,
+clearly.
+
+"You talk nonsense. You taunt me, to drive me mad. I ask you--who are
+you? You are not Levi, you are some spy."
+
+Dr. Lepardo, or M. Isidor Levi, removed a grey wig and a pair of
+spectacles and seemed by some relaxation of the facial muscles, to melt
+out of existence, leaving in his place a heavy-eyed man, with stained
+skin and thin, straggling hair.
+
+De Guise, as though an unseen hand pushed him, stepped back--and
+back--and back--until a heavy oak chair prevented further retreat.
+There--like a mined fortress, hitherto staunch, defiant--he seemed to
+crumble up.
+
+"The good God!" he whispered. "It is _Victor Lemage_!"
+
+"Andre Legun--Chevalier d'Oysan--Comte de Guise," said the famous
+criminologist, "Paris wants you, but London now has a better claim. So,
+when I have stolen back my cheque from your pocket-book, I hand you over
+to London."
+
+With the bravado of the true French criminal, Legun forced a smile to
+his lips.
+
+"It is finished, Victor," he said, dropping his affected manner and
+speaking with an exaggerated low Paris accent. "I am glad it was you,
+and not some stupid policeman of England who took me. Well, who cares? I
+have had a short life but a merry one. You know, Victor, that my
+misfortune in being the son of an aristocrat has pursued me always. I
+have such refined tastes, and such a skill with the cards. You recall
+the little house near the fortifications? But the inevitable run of bad
+luck came. One question. Why"--he glanced at the Russian-looking man
+with something like fear creeping again into his bold eyes--"why do you
+hunt me down?"
+
+The black beard and moustache were pulled off in a second by their
+wearer, revealing a face of severely classic beauty. Lawrence Guthrie
+stared hard.
+
+"Mr. Guthrie," said the whilom Russian, "behold me at your mercy. You
+know me innocent of one, at least, of the sins ascribed to me. I am
+Severac Bablon."
+
+Guthrie hesitated for one tremendous moment; he looked from the handsome
+face of the most notorious man in Europe to that of his companion who
+wore the tweed suit, and whom he knew to be H. T. Sheard, the well-known
+member of the _Gleaner_ staff. His decision was made. He stretched out
+his hand and took that of Severac Bablon.
+
+"You ask," said the latter sternly to Legun, "why we have hunted you
+down. I answer--first, in the sacred interest of Justice; second,
+because you imputed your vile crime to _me_."
+
+"What! To _you_? No! never!"
+
+Victor Lemage's eyelids lifted quickly.
+
+"Spell vengeance."
+
+"V-e-n-g-e-a-n-c-e."
+
+"My friends," said Lemage, reaching for the wide-brimmed hat of Dr.
+Lepardo, "I all but have spoiled this, my greatest case, by a stupid
+blunder. I have an early call to make. Advance your packing in my
+absence. I shall shortly return."
+
+And so it happened that Mr. Julius Rohscheimer, in Park Lane, was just
+arising when his man brought him a card:
+
+    _Detective-Inspector Sheffield_
+    _C.I.D.,_
+    _New Scotland Yard._
+
+Rohscheimer, who looked as though he had spent a poor night, ordered
+that Inspector Sheffield be shown up without delay. Immediately
+afterwards there came in a tall, black-bearded man, wearing blue
+spectacles, an old rain-coat, and a dilapidated silk hat. The drive,
+though short, had been long enough to enable Victor Lemage, secure from
+observation behind the drawn blinds of Severac Bablon's big car, to
+merge his personality into that of another man, distinct from Dr.
+Lepardo--unlike M. Levi.
+
+"Who are you?" blustered Rohscheimer, changing colour, and drawing a
+brilliant dressing-gown more closely about him. "Who the blazes are
+you?"
+
+"_Ssh!_ I am Inspector Sheffield--disguised. You will excuse me if, even
+here, I continue to impersonate an eccentric French character. You place
+yourself within the reach of the law, my friend. You lay yourself open
+to the suspicion of murder."
+
+Julius Rohscheimer swallowed noisily. His flabby face assumed a dingy
+hue; his eyes protruded to an unpleasant degree.
+
+"Here, upon this, my card, write the words, 'Vengeance is mine.'"
+
+Rohscheimer rose unsteadily; his puffy hands groped as if, feeling
+himself slipping, he sought for something to lay hold upon.
+
+"I swear----"
+
+"Write!"
+
+Rohscheimer shakily wrote the words, "_Vengence is mine._"
+
+"No 'a,'" cried Lemage triumphantly, "no 'a'! Of all the stupid pigs I
+am he. But I had not given you the credit of such nerve, M. Rohscheimer.
+I had forgotten how once you lived the rough life in South Africa. It is
+so? I did not think you had the courage to write--though wobbly--those
+lying words in presence of the dead Gottschalk. Why did you do it, you
+bad, foolish fellow? The yataghan already was stuck in the desk, eh?
+That Legun is a fury when the blood thirst is upon him, when the big
+vein throb. And you saw the blank paper? Yes? Or you feared that
+you--you--the mighty Julius might be suspect? Yes, a little? Principally
+you hope that this will spur the police and that _he_ will hang. You
+prefer that the real one--who slays your partner--shall go free, if _he_
+can be blackened. You throw sand in the eye of Justice, eh? Well--you
+have influence; you shall use it to get yourself made Scotch-free. Very
+good. You will now write in a few words how all this is. That or--I have
+men outside. It is a public removal to--Good, you will write."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At about that hour when, at thousands of breakfast tables, horrified
+readers learned that Severac Bablon's Arabs had committed a ghastly
+crime in Moorgate Street, a cart drove up to New Scotland Yard, and two
+green-aproned individuals both of whom would have been improved
+artistically by a clean shave, dragged a heavy packing-case into the
+office, said it contained curiosities from Bedford Court Mansions and
+was for Inspector Sheffield.
+
+When, half an hour later, the unwieldy box had been opened, out glared a
+bound and gagged man, upon whose left temple there pulsed and throbbed a
+dark blue vein!
+
+Detailed evidence proving that this was the murderer of Gottschalk, his
+record, his measurements, his thumb-prints, his boots, a number of tubes
+containing scraps of stained leather, a number containing ashes, and all
+neatly labelled together with a written confession, signed "Julius
+Rohscheimer," to the authorship of the words "Vengeance is mine" were
+also in this box. Finally, there was the following note:
+
+     "DEAR INSPECTOR SHEFFIELD,
+
+     "I enclose herewith Andre Legun, the man who murdered Paul
+     Gottschalk, together with sufficient evidence to ensure a
+     conviction, and completely to exculpate myself. I claim no credit.
+     We both are indebted to M. Victor Lemage, who not only has
+     surpassed his own brilliant records in the conduct of this case,
+     but who kindly assisted me to carry the result of his labours into
+     the office at New Scotland Yard. We both regretted our inability to
+     see you personally.
+
+     "SEVERAC BABLON."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+AN OFFICIAL CALL
+
+
+The Home Secretary sat before the red-leathern expanse of his
+writing-table. Papers of unique political importance were strewn
+carelessly about that diplomatic battlefield, for at this famous table
+the Right Honourable Walter Belford played political chess. To the right
+honourable gentleman the game of politics was a pursuit only second in
+its fascinations to the culture of rare orchids. It ranked in that fine,
+if eccentric, mind about equal with the accumulating of rare editions,
+early printed works, illuminated missals, palimpsests, and other MSS.,
+or with the delights of the higher photography--a hobby to which Mr.
+Belford devoted much attention.
+
+Visitors to a well-known Sussex coast resort will need no introduction
+to Womsley Old Place, the charming seat of that charming man, the Right
+Hon. Walter Belford. With a frowning glance at a number of letters
+pinned neatly together, Mr. Belford leant back in his heavily padded
+chair, and, through his gold-rimmed pince-nez, allowed himself the
+momentary luxury of surveying the loaded shelves of the noted Circular
+Study wherein he now was seated. The great writing-table, with its
+priceless bronze head of Cicero and its luxurious appointments; the
+morocco, parchment, the vellum backs of the rare works about; the busts
+above the belles-lettres, afforded him visible, if aesthetic enjoyment.
+In a gap between two tall bookcases a Persian curtain partially
+concealed the glass doors of a huge conservatory. Mr. Belford liked his
+orchids near him when at work and not, as lesser men, when at play.
+
+Sighing gently, he took up the bundle of letters, laid it down again,
+and pressed a button.
+
+"I will see Inspector Sheffield," he said to the footman who came.
+
+Almost immediately entered a big man, fresh complexioned and of modest
+bearing--a man, Mr. Belford determined after one shrewd glance, who,
+once he saw his duty clearly, would pursue it through fire and flood,
+but who frequently experienced some difficulty in this initial
+particular.
+
+"Sit down, inspector," said the politician genially, and with the
+appearance of wishing to hasten a distasteful business. "You would like
+to see the three communications which I have received from this man
+Bablon?"
+
+Sheffield, seated on the extreme edge of a big morocco-covered
+lounge-chair, nodded deferentially. Mr. Belford took up the bundle of
+letters.
+
+"This," he said, passing one to the man from Scotland Yard, "is that
+which I received upon the 28th ultimo."
+
+Chief-Inspector Sheffield bent forward to the shaded light and ran his
+eyes over the following, written in a neat hand upon a plain
+correspondence card:
+
+     "Severac Bablon begs to present his compliments to His Majesty's
+     Principal Secretary of State for the Home Department and to request
+     the honour of a private interview, which, he begs to assure the
+     right honourable gentleman, would be mutually advantageous. The
+     words, 'Safe conduct.--W. B.,' together with time and place
+     proposed, in the agony column of _The Times_, he will accept as a
+     sufficient guarantee of the right honourable gentleman's
+     intentions."
+
+"And this," continued Mr. Belford, selecting a second, "reached me upon
+the 7th instant":
+
+     "Severac Bablon begs to present his compliments to His Majesty's
+     Principal Secretary of State for the Home Department and to urge
+     upon him the absolute necessity of an immediate interview. He would
+     respectfully assure the right honourable gentleman that high issues
+     are at stake."
+
+"Finally," continued the politician, as Sheffield laid the second card
+upon the table, "I received this upon the 13th instant--yesterday":
+
+     "Severac Bablon begs to present his compliments to His Majesty's
+     Principal Secretary of State for the Home Department and to inform
+     the right honourable gentleman that he having failed to appoint a
+     time of meeting, Severac Bablon is forced by circumstances to make
+     his own appointment, and will venture to present himself at Womsley
+     Old Place on the evening of the 14th instant, between the hours of
+     8 and 9."
+
+Mr. Belford leant back in his chair, turning it slightly that he might
+face the detective.
+
+"My information is," he said, in his finely modulated voice, "that you
+are personally familiar with the appearance of this Severac
+Bablon"--Sheffield nodded--"but that no one else, or--ah--no one whom we
+may call upon--is in a position to identify him. Now, apart from the
+fact that I have reason to fear his taking some improper measures to see
+me here, this singular case is rapidly assuming a political
+significance!" He made the impressive pause of the cultured
+elocutionist. "Unofficially, I am advised that there is some wave of
+afflated opinion passing through the Semitic races of the Near East--if,
+indeed, it has not touched the Moslems. The Secretary for Foreign
+Affairs anticipates--I speak as a member of the public--anticipates a
+letter from a certain quarter respecting the advisablity of seizing the
+person of this man without delay. Had such a letter actually reached my
+friend, I had had no alternative but to place the matter in the hands of
+the Secret Service."
+
+Inspector Sheffield fidgeted.
+
+"Excuse me, sir," he said; "but the S.S. could do no more than we are
+doing."
+
+"That I grant you," replied the Home Secretary, with his genial smile;
+"but, in the event referred to, no choice would remain to me. Far from
+desiring the intervention of another agent, I should regret it,
+for--family reasons."
+
+"Ah!" said the inspector; "I was about to--to--approach that side of the
+matter, sir."
+
+Mr. Belford's emotions were under perfect control, but at those words he
+regarded the detective with a new interest.
+
+"You have my respectful attention," he said.
+
+"Well, sir,"--Sheffield was palpably embarrassed--"there's nothing to be
+gained by beating about the bush! Excuse me, sir! But I know, and you
+know, that Lady Mary Evershed--your niece, sir--and her American friend,
+Miss Zoe Oppner, are----"
+
+"Yes, inspector?"
+
+"Are acquainted with Severac Bablon!"
+
+Mr. Belford scrutinised Sheffield closely. There was more in the man
+than appeared at first sight.
+
+"Is this regrettable fact so generally known?" he asked rather coldly.
+
+"No, sir," replied the other; "but if the case went on the Secret
+Service Fund it might be compromising!"
+
+"Do I understand you to mean, inspector, that the discretion of our
+political agents is not to be relied upon?"
+
+"No, sir. But your--private information could hardly be withheld from
+them--as it has been withheld from us!"
+
+Even the politician's studied reserve was not proof against that thrust.
+He started. Chief-Inspector Sheffield, after all, was a man to be
+counted with. A silence fell between them--to be broken by the Home
+Secretary.
+
+"Your frankness pleases me, Inspector Sheffield."
+
+The other bowed awkwardly.
+
+"I perceive that you would make a bargain. I am to take you into my
+confidence, and you, in turn, hope to render any employment of the Fund
+unnecessary?"
+
+"Whatever you tell me, sir, will go no farther--not to one other living.
+Better confide in me than in a political agent. Then, you can't have
+anything more incriminating than this."
+
+He took a card from his pocket and placed it before Mr. Belford.
+
+     "TO LADY MARY EVERSHED.
+
+     "I shall always be indebted to you and to Miss Oppner, but I can
+     assure you of Sir Richard's safety.
+
+     "SEVERAC BABLON."
+
+"No one has seen that but myself," continued the detective. "I know
+better! But anything further you can let me have, sir, will help me to
+get them out of the tangle: that's what I'm aiming at!"
+
+Mr. Belford's expression had changed when the damning card was placed
+before him; but his decision was quickly come to. He opened a drawer of
+the writing table.
+
+"Here," he said, passing a sheet of foolscap to the inspector, "is the
+plan of international co-operation which--I will return candour for
+candour--the increasing importance of the case renders expedient. It was
+drawn up by my friend the Foreign Secretary. It ensures secrecy,
+dispatch, and affords no loophole by which Bablon can escape us."
+
+His manner had grown brisk. The dilettante was lost in the man of
+action.
+
+Inspector Sheffield read carefully through the long document and
+returned it to Belford, frowning thoughtfully.
+
+"Thank you, sir," he said; "and what else?"
+
+Mr. Belford smiled thoughtfully.
+
+"You are aware that, owing to the family complications referred to, I
+have been employing Mr. Paul Harley, the private detective?"
+
+Sheffield nodded.
+
+"He has secured other letters, incriminating a Mr. Sheard, of the staff
+of the _Gleaner_; Sir Richard Haredale, of the ---- Guards; Miss Zoe
+Oppner; and ... well--you know the worst--my niece, again!" The
+inspector drew a long, deep breath.
+
+"Next to Victor Lemage, who's also an accomplice," he said admiringly,
+"I don't mind admitting that Harley is the smartest man in the business.
+But in justice to us, sir, you must remember that our hands are tied. A
+C.I.D. man isn't allowed to do what Harley can do."
+
+"I grant it, inspector. Now, having given you my confidence, I rely upon
+you to work with me--not against me."
+
+"I am with you entirely, sir. May I have those letters?"
+
+Mr. Belford hesitated.
+
+"It is surely inconsistent with your duty to keep them private?"
+
+"What about the one in my pocket, sir? That alone is sufficient, if I
+wanted to make a scandal. No; I give you my word that no other eye shall
+see them."
+
+The Home Secretary shrugged his shoulders, and taking up the bundle from
+which already he had selected Severac Bablon's three communications, he
+placed it in the detective's hands.
+
+"I rely upon you to keep certain names out of the affair."
+
+"I give you my word that they shall never be mentioned in connection
+with it. You have taken the only course which could ensure that, sir.
+May I see the photographs?"
+
+If the Right Hon. Walter Belford had already revised his first estimate
+of Inspector Sheffield, this last request upset it altogether. He
+stared.
+
+"I am glad to enjoy your co-operation, inspector," he said. "I prefer to
+know that a man of your calibre is of my camp! You are evidently aware
+that Harley has secured an elaborate series of snapshots of persons
+known to Miss Oppner and to my niece. Of the several hundreds of persons
+photographed, only one negative proved to be interesting. I have
+enlarged the photograph myself. Here it is!"
+
+He took a photograph from the drawer.
+
+"This gentleman," he continued, "was taken in the act of bowing to Lady
+Mary and Miss Oppner at the corner of Bond Street."
+
+Sheffield glanced at the photograph. It represented a strikingly
+handsome man, with dark, curling hair and singularly flashing eyes, who
+was in the act of raising his hat.
+
+"It's Severac Bablon!" said the inspector simply.
+
+"Ah!" cried Belford. "So I thought! So I thought!"
+
+"May I take it with me?"
+
+"I think not, inspector. You know the man; it is scarcely necessary."
+And with a certain displeasure he laid the enlargement upon the table.
+
+The detective accepted his refusal with one of the awkward bows.
+
+"Regarding your protection to-night, sir," he said, standing up and
+buttoning his coat, "there are six men on special duty round the house,
+and no one can possibly get in unseen."
+
+The Home Secretary, smiling, glanced at his watch. "A quarter to nine!"
+he said. "He has fifteen minutes in which to make good his bluff. But I
+do not fear interruption."
+
+Sheffield awkwardly returned the statesman's bow of dismissal, and
+withdrew under the patronage of a splendid footman. As the door closed,
+Mr. Belford, with a long sigh of relief, stepped to a bookcase and
+selected Petronius Arbiter's "_Satyricon_."
+
+Book in hand, he slid back the noiseless glass doors of the
+conservatory. A close smell of tropical plant life crept into the room,
+but this was as frankincense and myrrh to his nostrils. He passed
+through and seated himself in a cushioned cane chair amid the rare
+flora. Switching on a shaded lamp conveniently hung in this retreat, he
+settled down to read.
+
+For it was a favourite relaxation of the right honourable gentleman's to
+bury himself amid exotic blooms, and in such congenial company as that
+of the Patrician aesthete, rekindle the torches of voluptuous Rome.
+
+A few minutes later:
+
+"Am I nowhere immune from interruption?" muttered Mr. Belford, with the
+nearest approach to irritability of which his equable temper was deemed
+capable.
+
+But the next moment his genial smile dawned, as the charming face of his
+niece, Lady Mary Evershed, peeped through the foliage.
+
+"Truman was afraid to interrupt you, uncle, as you were in your cell!
+But Inspector Sheffield is asking for you, and seems very excited."
+
+"Dear me!" said her uncle, glancing at his watch; "but I saw him fifteen
+minutes ago! It has just gone nine." Then, recalling Severac Bablon's
+boastful message: "He has not dared to attempt it! Unless--can it be
+that he is arrested? Tell Truman to send the inspector here, Mary."
+
+The girl, with a little puzzled frown on her forehead, withdrew, and
+almost immediately a heavy step sounded in the library, and
+Chief-Inspector Sheffield, pushing past the footman, burst
+unceremoniously into the conservatory. His face was flushed, and his
+eyes were angrily bright.
+
+"We've been hoaxed, sir!" he cried. "We've been hoaxed!"
+
+Mr. Belford raised a white hand.
+
+"My dear inspector," he said, "be calm, I beg of you! Will you not take
+a seat and explain this matter to me?"
+
+Sheffield dropped into a chair, but the flow of excited words would not
+be stayed nor dammed.
+
+"He's tricked us again!" he burst out. "I suspect what he wanted, sir,
+and I rely on you to give me all the help you can! I know Paul Harley
+has got hold of evidence that we couldn't get; but a C.I.D. man can't
+spend a week making love to Lady Mary Evershed's maid----"
+
+"But others are better able to devote that amount of time to my maid, I
+suppose?"
+
+The interruption startled Mr. Belford out of his habitual calm, and
+startled the detective into sudden silence.
+
+Lady Mary stood at the door of the conservatory.
+
+"I am sorry to appear as an eavesdropper," she continued; "but, as a
+matter of fact, I had never left the study!"
+
+"Er--Mary," began the Home Secretary, but for once in a way he was at a
+loss for words. He knew from experience that the most obstreperous
+friend "opposite" was easier to deal with than a pretty niece.
+
+"Zoe is here with me, too," said Mary, and the frizzy head of Zoe Oppner
+appeared over her friend's shoulder. "We are sorry to have overheard Mr.
+Sheffield's words, but I think we have heard too much not to ask to hear
+more. Do I understand, inspector, that someone has been spying on my
+maid?"
+
+Inspector Sheffield glanced at the Right Hon. Walter Belford, and read
+an appeal in the eyes behind the pince-nez. He squared his shoulders in
+a manner that had something admirably manly about it--and told a
+straightforward lie.
+
+"One of the Pinkerton men engaged by Mr. Oppner tried to get some
+letters from your maid, I believe; but there's not a scrap of evidence
+on the market, so he must have failed!"
+
+"Evidence of what?" asked Zoe Oppner sharply.
+
+Mr. Belford nervously tapped his fingers upon the chair-arm.
+
+"Of your friendship, and Lady Mary's with Severac Bablon!" replied the
+inspector boldly.
+
+Lady Mary was pale, and her eyes grew wide; but the American girl
+laughed with undisguised glee.
+
+"Severac Bablon has never done a dirty thing yet," she said. "If we knew
+him we should be proud of it! Come on, Mary! Mr. Belford, I'm almost
+ashamed of you! You're nearly as bad as pa!"
+
+They withdrew, and Mr. Belford heaved a great sigh of relief.
+
+"Thank you, inspector," he said. "Lady Mary would never understand that
+I sought only to save her from compromising herself. I am glad that the
+letters are in such safe hands as yours."
+
+"But they're not!" cried Sheffield, leaping excitedly to his feet.
+
+Gruffness had come into his voice, which the other ascribed to
+excitement.
+
+"How so?"
+
+An expression of blank wonderment was upon the politician's face.
+
+"Because I never had them! Because I've never had a scrap of anything in
+black and white! Because I've been tied up in an old tool-shed in a
+turnip field for the past half-hour! And because the man who marched
+through my silly troop a while ago and came in here and got back I don't
+know what important evidence--_was Severac Bablon_!"
+
+It was a verbal thunderbolt. Mr. Belford sat with his eyes upon the
+detective's face--speechless. And now he perceived minor differences.
+The difference in voice he already had noted: now he saw that the eyes
+of the real Inspector Sheffield were many shades lighter than those of
+the spurious; that the red face was heavier and more rounded. It was
+almost incredible, but not quite. He had seen Tree play Falstaff, and
+the art of Severac Bablon was only a shade greater.
+
+"He's had months to study me!" explained the detective tersely. Then:
+"I'm stopping at the 'Golden Tiger,' in the village. I'd been over the
+ground in daylight, and I sent the men along first. They were round the
+house by half-past seven. Just as I turned the corner out of the High
+Street a big grey car overtook me; out jumped two fellows and had a
+jiu-jitsu hold on in a second! They gagged me and tied me up inside, all
+the time apologising and hoping they weren't hurting me! They drove me
+to this shed and left me there. It was five minutes to nine when one of
+them came back and untied my hands, giving himself a start while I undid
+the rest of the knots. Here I am! Where's Severac Bablon?"
+
+The Right Hon. Walter Belford became the man of action again. He pulled
+out his watch.
+
+"Twenty-five minutes since he left the house," he said. "But he may not
+have taken the road at once."
+
+He rang.
+
+"Truman," he cried to the footman, "the limousine ready--immediately!
+This way, inspector!"
+
+Off he went through the Circular Study, Sheffield following. At the door
+Mr. Belford paused--and turned back.
+
+He bent over his writing-table, searching for his own careful
+enlargement of Severac Bablon's photograph.
+
+Severac Bablon had not taken it with him, nor had he returned to the
+room.
+
+But it was gone!
+
+"Rome divided! Treason in the camp!" he said, _sotto voce_. Then, aloud:
+"This way, inspector!"
+
+The tower of Womsley Old Place is a conspicuous landmark, to be seen
+from distant points in the surrounding country, and visible for some
+miles out to sea.
+
+Mr. Belford raced up the many stairs at a speed which belied the story
+of his silver-grey hair, and which left Inspector Sheffield hopelessly
+in the rear. When at last the Scotland Yard man dragged weary feet into
+the little square chamber at the summit, he saw the Home Secretary with
+his eyes to the lens of a huge telescope, sweeping the country-side for
+signs of the daring fugitive.
+
+An unclouded moon bathed the landscape in solemn light. To north, east,
+and west rolled the billows of the Downs, a verdant ocean. On the south
+the country was wooded, whilst in the south-east might be seen the
+gleaming expanse of the English Channel, a molten silver floor, its
+distant edge seemingly upholding the pure blue sky dome. Roads inland
+showed as white chalk lines, meadows as squares on a chess-board, houses
+and farmsteads as chess-men.
+
+"If he has made for Eastbourne we have lost him!" muttered Mr. Belford.
+"If for Newhaven or Lewes we may not be too late. But there is a
+possibility----ah! Yes; it is! They are making for Tunbridge
+Wells--perhaps for London! Quick, inspector! Don't move the telescope.
+On the straight road leading to the Norman church tower! Is that the
+car?"
+
+Sheffield lowered his eye to the glass, and after some little delay got
+a sight of a long-bodied, waspish, shape, creeping, insect-wise, along a
+white chalk mark. His eye growing more accustomed to the glass, he made
+it out for a grey car.
+
+"There's a chance, sir. It looks about the right cut."
+
+"This way, inspector! We will take the risk."
+
+Down the tower stairs they sped, Sheffield stumbling and delaying in the
+dark and making better going where the light from a window showed the
+stairs clearly.
+
+"If that is he," panted the Home Secretary, "the motor is not a powerful
+one. It is probably one hired for the occasion."
+
+They came out from the tower into the hall and passed Lady Mary--who
+glanced away with an odd expression--and Zoe Oppner. Zoe's pretty face
+was flushed, and her breast rose and fell quickly. Her eyes were
+sparkling, but she lowered them as the excited pair ran by.
+
+The chauffeur was ready to start, when Mr. Belford, hatless, leapt on to
+a footboard of the throbbing car with the agility of a sailor, Sheffield
+more slowly following suit, for he would have preferred an inside berth.
+
+A man in a blue serge suit touched the inspector's arm.
+
+"What shall we do, sir?"
+
+"Wait here."
+
+The limousine was off.
+
+"Left! left!" directed Mr. Belford, and the man swung sharply round the
+curve and into the lane bordering the gardens of Womsley Old Place.
+
+"Right!"
+
+They leapt about again, and were humming along a chalky white road.
+
+"Left! Straight ahead! Make for the church! Open her out!"
+
+The pursuit had commenced!
+
+Some dormant trait in the blood of His Majesty's Principal Secretary of
+State for the Home Department had risen above the surface of suave,
+polished courtesy which ordinarily passed for the character of the Right
+Hon. Walter Belford. The veneer was off, and this was a primitive
+Belford, kin of the Roger de Belfourd who had established the fortunes
+of the house. The eyes behind the pince-nez were hard and bright; the
+fine nostrils quivered with the joy of the chase; and the long, lean
+neck, protruding from the characteristically low collar, was strung up
+to whipcord tension.
+
+"Let her go!" he shouted, his silvern hair streaming out grotesquely.
+"Cut through Church Lane!"
+
+"It's an awful road, sir!" The chauffeur's voice was blown back in his
+teeth.
+
+"Damn the road!" said the Right Hon. Walter Belford.
+
+So, suddenly the powerful machine, spurning the solid earth like some
+huge, infuriated brute, leapt sideways, two tyres thrashing empty air,
+and went howling through an arch of verdure, between hedges which seemed
+to shrink to right and left from its devastating course.
+
+The man was understood to say something about "Overweighted on her
+head."
+
+"Scissors!" muttered Inspector Sheffield, wedging his bulk firmly
+against the front window and clutching at anything that offered. "I hope
+there are no police traps on this road!"
+
+"He delayed for something!" yelled Belford through trumpeted hands. "We
+shall catch him by Grimsdyke Farm!"
+
+Sheffield wondered what that vastly daring man had delayed for. Belford,
+with the fact of the missing photograph fresh in his mind, thought he
+knew.
+
+The old Norman church tower came rushing now to meet them; looked down
+upon them, each venerable, lichened stone a mockery of this snorting,
+ephemeral thing of the Speed Age; and dropped behind to join the other
+vague memories which represented six miles of Sussex.
+
+"Straight ahead now! Grimsdyke!"
+
+Down swept the white road into a great bowl. Down shrieked the quivering
+limousine, and Inspector Sheffield crouched back with an uncomfortable
+sinking in the pit of the stomach, such as he had not known since he had
+adventured his weighty person on a "joy-ride" at an exhibition.
+
+From the time they had left Womsley Old Place the speed had been
+consistently high, but now it rose to something enormous; increasing
+with every ten yards of the slope, it became terrific. The bottom was
+reached, and the climb began; but for some time little diminution was
+perceptible in their headlong progress. Then it began to tell, and
+presently they were mounting the long acclivity at what seemed a
+tortoise pace after the breathless drop into the valley.
+
+The car rose to the brow, and Mr. Belford mounted recklessly beside the
+chauffeur, peering ahead under arched palms over the moon-bathed
+country-side.
+
+"There they are! There they are! We shall overtake them at the old
+farm!"
+
+His excitement was intensely contagious. Sheffield, who had been wedged
+upon the footboard, rose unsteadily, and, supporting himself with
+difficulty, looked along the gleaming ribbon of road.
+
+There they were! The grey car was clearly discernible now, and even at
+that distance he could estimate something of her progress. He exulted to
+note that capture was becoming merely a question of minutes!
+
+Then came a doubt. Suppose it should prove to be the wrong car!
+
+Nearer they drew, and nearer.
+
+The fugitives topped a slope, and against the blue sky was silhouetted a
+figure which stood upright in the car--the figure of a big man with
+raised arms and out-turned elbows. He was peering back, just as Belford
+was peering forward.
+
+"Look at his bowler hat!" yelled Sheffield. "Why, it might be me!"
+
+"It might!" shouted Mr. Belford; "but it isn't! It's Severac Bablon!"
+
+A wood dipped down to the roadside, and its shadows ate up their quarry;
+a breathless, nervous interval, and its glooms enveloped Mr. Belford's
+party in turn. From out of the darkness the road ahead was clearly
+visible. Deserted farm buildings lay scattered in their path where the
+trees ended.
+
+The trees slipped behind, and the old farm rose in front.
+
+At the gate of the yard stood the grey car--empty!
+
+"Pull up! Pull up!" cried Mr. Belford.
+
+But long before the car became stationary he had precipitated himself
+into the road.
+
+Sheffield dropped heavily behind him, and grasped him by the arm.
+
+"One moment, sir!" he said.
+
+His voice was calm again. He was quite in his element now. A criminal
+had to be apprehended, and the circumstances, though difficult, were not
+unfamiliar. But strategy was called for; there must be no hot-headed
+blundering.
+
+"Yes? What is it?" demanded the Home Secretary excitedly.
+
+"It's this, sir: he'll give us the slip yet, if we don't go slow! Now,
+you take charge of the grey car. That's your post, sir. Here--have my
+revolver. Step out into the lane there, and see nobody rushes the car!"
+
+"Good--I agree!" cried Mr. Belford, and took the revolver.
+
+"You, young fellow," continued the inspector, addressing the chauffeur,
+"may know something of the ins and outs of this place. Do you know if
+there's a back door to the main building?"
+
+"There is--yes--down behind that barn."
+
+"Then pull out a big spanner, or anything handy, and go round there.
+When you reach the door, whistle. Stop there unless you hear my whistle
+inside or till I come through and join you. If he's not in the main
+building we can start on the outhouses. But his escape is cut off all
+the time by Mr. Belford--see?"
+
+"Quite right, inspector! Quite right!" cried Mr. Belford. "Go ahead! I
+will get to the car! Go ahead!"
+
+Off ran the agile politician to his appointed post; and the chauffeur,
+armed with a heavy spanner, disappeared in the shadow of the barn.
+Sheffield, taking from his breast-pocket an electric torch, strode up to
+the doorless entrance of the abandoned farm, and waited.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+GRIMSDYKE
+
+
+Not a sound disturbed the silence of the deserted place, save when the
+slight breeze sighed through the trees of the adjoining coppice, and
+swayed some invisible shutter which creaked upon its rusty hinges.
+
+An owl hooted, and the detective was on the alert in a moment. It was a
+well-known signal. Was the owl a feathered one or a human mimic?
+
+No other sound followed, until the breeze came again, whispered in the
+coppice, and shook the shutter.
+
+Then the chauffeur's whistle came, faintly, and with something tremulous
+in its note; for the adventure, though it offered little novelty to the
+experience of the Scotland Yard man, was dangerously unique from the
+mechanic's point of view. But where the Right Hon. Walter Belford led it
+was impolitic, if not impossible, to decline to follow. Yet, the whistle
+spoke of a man not over-confident. "Severac Bablon" was a disturbing
+name!
+
+Sheffield pressed the knob of the torch and stepped into the bare and
+dirty room beyond.
+
+The beam of the torch swept the four walls, with faded paper peeling in
+strips from the damp plaster; showed a grate full of rubbish, a battered
+pail, and a bare floor littered with debris of all sorts, great cavities
+gaping between many of the planks. A cupboard was searched, and proved
+to contain a number of empty cans and bottles--nothing else.
+
+Into the next room went the investigator, to meet with no better
+fortune. The third was a big kitchen, empty; the fourth a paved
+scullery, also empty--with the chauffeur at the door, holding his
+spanner in readiness for sudden assault.
+
+"Upstairs!" said Sheffield shortly.
+
+Up the creaking stairs they passed, their footsteps filling the place
+with ghostly echoes.
+
+A square landing offered four doors, all closed, to their consideration.
+
+Sheffield paused, and listened.
+
+The owl had hooted again.
+
+He directed the ray of the torch upon the door on the immediate right of
+the stairhead.
+
+"We're short-handed for this!" he muttered; "but it has to be risked
+now. Stay where you are and be on the alert. Watch those other doors."
+He tried the handle.
+
+The door was locked.
+
+To the next one he passed without hesitation. It yielded to his hand,
+and he flashed the light about a bare room, with half of the ceiling
+sloping down to the window. In the corner beyond this window a second
+door was partly concealed by the recess. The inspector stepped across
+the floor and threw the door open.
+
+Then events moved rapidly.
+
+Someone literally shot into the room behind him, falling with a crash
+that shook the place like thunder. _Bang!_ sounded through the house,
+and a key turned in a lock!
+
+Sheffield spun round like an unwieldy top, and saw the chauffeur
+struggling to his feet and rubbing his head vigorously.
+
+The detective made no outcry, nor did he waste energy by trying a door
+he knew to be locked. He stood, keenly alert, and listened.
+
+Footsteps rapidly receded down the stairs.
+
+"Who did it? How did he get behind me?" muttered the dazed chauffeur.
+
+"Out of one of the other rooms! I told you to watch them!"
+
+Inspector Sheffield was angry, but he had not lost his presence of mind.
+
+"We must get out--quick! The window!"
+
+He leapt to the low window, throwing it open.
+
+"Too far to drop! We've got to smash the door! Perhaps they've left the
+key in the lock! Set to on the panel with that bit of iron of yours!"
+
+The man began a vigorous assault upon the woodwork. It was old, but very
+tough, and yielded tardily to the blows of the instrument. Then a big
+crack appeared as the result of a stroke shrewdly planted.
+
+"Stand away!" directed Sheffield; and leaning back upon his left foot,
+he dashed his right upon the broken panel, shattering it effectually.
+
+At the moment that the chauffeur thrust his hand through the jagged
+aperture to seek for the key, _thud! thud! thud!_ came from the lane
+below.
+
+"That's the car!" cried the inspector. "My God! what have they done to
+Mr. Belford?"
+
+The other paused and listened intently.
+
+"It's the grey car," he said. "Why didn't they take the guv'nor's?"
+
+"Open the door!" cried Sheffield impatiently. "Is the key there?"
+
+"Yes," was the reply; "here we are!" And the door was opened.
+
+Sheffield started down the stairs with noisy clatter, and, the chauffeur
+a good second, raced through the rooms below and out into the yard.
+
+"Mr. Belford! Mr. Belford!" he cried.
+
+But no answer came, only a whisper from the coppice, followed by the
+squeak of the crazy shutter.
+
+They ran out to where they had left Belford on guard over the grey car;
+but no sign of him remained, nor evidence of a struggle. The hum of the
+retreating motor grew faint in the distance.
+
+"Ah!" cried Sheffield, and started running towards Mr. Belford's
+limousine on the edge of the coppice. "Quick! don't you see? _He's
+kidnapped!_ In you go! This just about sees me out at Scotland Yard if
+we don't overtake them!"
+
+"They've gone back the way we've just come!" said the chauffeur, hurling
+himself on board. "I can't make out where they're going--and I can't
+make out why they took the worst car! It's an old crock, hired from
+Lewes. We can run it down inside five minutes!"
+
+"Thank God for that!" said Sheffield, as, for the second time that
+night, he set out across moonlit Sussex on the front of the big car, in
+pursuit of the most elusive man who ever had baffled the Criminal
+Investigation Department.
+
+Visions of degradation to the ranks from which he so laboriously had
+risen occupied his mind to the exclusion of all else; for to have
+allowed the notorious Severac Bablon to kidnap the Home Secretary under
+his very eyes was a blunder which he knew full well could not be
+condoned.
+
+Even the breathless drop into the great bowl on the Downs did not serve
+to dispel his gloomy dreams. Then:
+
+"There they are! And, as I live, making straight for Womsley!" cried the
+chauffeur.
+
+Sheffield stood up unsteadily on his insecure perch, and there was the
+mysterious grey car, which now was become a veritable nightmare,
+mounting the hill in front.
+
+One minute passed, and Sheffield was straining his eyes to catch a
+glimpse of the occupants. But no one was visible. Two minutes passed,
+and the inspector began to think that his eyesight was failing, or that
+a worse thing portended. For, as far as he could make out, only one man
+occupied the car--the man who drove her!
+
+"What does it mean?" muttered the detective, clutching at the shoulder
+of the chauffeur to support himself. "It must be Severac Bablon!
+But--where's Mr. Belford?"
+
+Three minutes passed, and the brilliant moonlight set at rest all doubts
+respecting the identity of the man who drove the car.
+
+His silvern hair flowed out, gleaming on his shoulders, as he bent
+forward over the driving-wheel.
+
+It was the Right Hon. Walter Belford!
+
+"What in the name of murder does it mean?" cried Sheffield. "Has he gone
+mad? Mr. Belford! Mr. Belford! Hoy! ... _Hoy! ... hoy! Mr. Belford!_"
+
+But although he must have heard the cry, Mr. Belford, immovable at the
+wheel, drove madly ahead!
+
+"What shall I do?" asked the chauffeur in an awed voice.
+
+"Do?" rapped Sheffield savagely. "Pass him and block the road! He's
+stark, raving mad!"
+
+So, along that white road, under the placid moon, was enacted the
+strangest incident of this entirely bizarre adventure; for Mr. Belford,
+in the hired motor, was pursued and overtaken by his own car, which
+passed him, forged ahead, turned across the road, and blocked it.
+
+For one moment the Home Secretary, racing down upon them, seemed to
+contemplate leaving the path for the grassland, and thus proceeding on
+his way; but the chauffeur ran out to meet him, holding up his arms and
+crying:
+
+"Stop, sir! _Stop!_"
+
+Mr. Belford stopped the car and fixed his eyes upon the man with a look
+of real amazement.
+
+"You?" he said, and turned to Sheffield.
+
+"Who else?" rapped the inspector irritably. "What on earth are you
+doing, sir? Where's the quarry--where's Severac Bablon?"
+
+"What!" cried the Home Secretary, from the step of the car. "You have
+lost him?"
+
+"Lost him!" repeated Sheffield ironically. "I never had him!"
+
+"But," said Mr. Belford distinctly, and in his question-answering voice,
+"did you not return to where I was stationed and inform me that you had
+them all locked in an upper room? Did I not, myself, hear their attempt
+to break down the door? And did you not report that, their numbers being
+considerable, you could not, single-handed, hope to arrest them?"
+
+"Go on!" said Sheffield, in a tired voice. "What else did I tell you?"
+
+"You see," resumed the politician triumphantly, "this _impasse_ is due
+to no irregularity in my own conduct! You told me that my limousine had
+mysteriously been tampered with, and that the only course was for you
+and Jenkins to remain and endeavour to prevent the prisoners from
+escaping, whilst I, in their car, returned to Womsley Old Place for your
+men! Hearing you behind me, I naturally assumed that the prisoners had
+overpowered you and were in pursuit of me!"
+
+"I see!" said Sheffield, removing his hat and scratching his head
+viciously.
+
+"Finally," said Mr. Belford, with dignity, "you gave me this note for
+your principal assistant, Dawson"--and handed an envelope to the
+inspector.
+
+The latter, with the resignation of despair, accepted it, tore it open,
+and took out a card. Directing the ray of his pocket-torch upon it,
+though in the brilliant moonlight no artificial aid really was
+necessary, he read the following aloud:
+
+     "Severac Bablon begs to present his compliments to His Majesty's
+     Principal Secretary of State for the Home Department and to thank
+     him for according the privilege of a private interview. Whilst
+     deprecating the subterfuge rendered necessary by the right
+     honourable gentleman's attitude, he feels that it is justified by
+     results, and begs respectfully to repeat his assurance that no one
+     in whom the right honourable gentleman is interested shall be
+     compromised, now or at any future time."
+
+"You see," said the detective wearily, "that wasn't the real Inspector
+Sheffield who spoke to you. I thought you might have known him by this
+time, sir! That was Severac Bablon!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+YELLOW CIGARETTES
+
+
+In our pursuit of the fantastic being, about whom so many mysteries
+gathered, we have somewhat neglected the affairs of Sir Richard
+Haredale. Thanks to Mr. Belford's elusive visitor, these now ran
+smoothly.
+
+In order to learn how smoothly we have only to present ourselves at a
+certain important social function.
+
+"These military weddings are so romantic," gushed Mrs. Rohscheimer.
+
+"And so beastly stuffy," added her husband, mopping his damp brow with a
+silk handkerchief bearing, in gold thread, the monogram "J. R."
+
+"Doesn't Dick look real sweet?" whispered Lady Vignoles, following with
+admiring eyes the soldierly figure of the bridegroom, Sir Richard
+Haredale.
+
+Lord Vignoles shouldered his way through the scrum about the door.
+
+"I say, Sheila," he called to his wife, "where's Zoe?"
+
+"She was here a minute ago," replied Julius Rohscheimer, rolling his
+prominent eyes about in quest of the missing one.
+
+"I mean to say," explained Vignoles, "her father is asking----"
+
+"What! Has uncle turned up after all?" exclaimed Lady Vignoles, and
+looked quickly towards the door.
+
+Through the crowd a big red-faced man was forging, and behind him a
+glimpse might be had of the shrivelled shape of John Jacob Oppner.
+
+"Hallo," grunted Rohscheimer, "here's Inspector Sheffield, from Scotland
+Yard!"--and apprehensively he fingered tie-pin and watch-chain, and
+furtively counted the rings upon his fat fingers. "What's up?"
+
+The shrewd but not unkindly eyes of the C. I. D. man were scanning the
+packed rooms, over the heads of the crowd--keenly, suspiciously. With a
+brief nod he passed the group, and pressed on his way. Mr. Oppner
+halted.
+
+"What's the trouble, Oppner?" inquired Rohscheimer thickly. "Is there a
+thief here or something?"
+
+"Worse!" drawled the other. "Severac Bablon's here!"
+
+"Oh, Lord!" groaned Rohscheimer, and surreptitiously slipped all his
+rings off and into his trousers pocket. "Let's get out before we're all
+held up!"
+
+"He don't figure on a hold-up," replied Oppner; "it ain't a strong line
+at a matinee. A hop-parade is the time for the crystals. We don't know
+what he's layin' for, but it's a cinch he's here."
+
+"How do you know?" asked a brother officer of Haredale's, who had joined
+the group.
+
+Mr. Oppner took a cigarette-case from his tail-pocket and held up
+between finger and thumb a cigarette stump of an unusual yellow colour.
+
+"We've got on his trail at last!" he said. "He sheds these cigs. like a
+moulting chicken sheds feathers. This one was in the tray inside a
+taxi--and the taxi dropped his fare right here!"
+
+He returned the cigarette stump to the case, the case to his pocket, and
+pushed on after Sheffield. As his stooping form disappeared from view
+Sheard entered the room. Immediately he was claimed by Mr. Rohscheimer.
+
+"Hallo, Sheard!" called the financier, and for the moment even the
+imminence of the Severac Bablon peril was forgotten--"what's the latest?
+Is war declared?"
+
+"There was nothing official up to the time I left," replied the
+pressman; "but we are expecting it every minute. Mr. Belford and Lord
+Evershed have just been summoned to Buckingham Palace. I met them going
+as I came in."
+
+Rohscheimer confidently seized the lapel of the journalist's coat.
+
+"What do you think that means, now?" he asked cunningly.
+
+"It means," replied Sheard, "that within the hour Europe may be in arms!
+Haredale is on duty this evening--so there will be no honeymoon!
+Everything is at sixes and sevens. I have a couple of cubs watching; and
+if Baron Hecht, when he leaves the conference at the Palace, proceeds
+home, there may be no war. If he starts for Victoria Station--war is
+declared!"
+
+An excited young lady wearing pince-nez, through which she peered
+anxiously in quest of someone, tapping her rather prominent front teeth
+the while with an HB pencil, sighted Sheard.
+
+"Oh, there you are!" she cried, in evident relief. "Really, Mr. Sheard,
+I was despairing of finding _anyone_ to tell me--but you always know
+everything."
+
+Sheard bowed ironically. The lady represented one of the oldest families
+in Warwichshire and the Fashionable Intelligence of quite the smartest
+morning journal in London.
+
+"Sir Richard's best man----" she began again.
+
+"Didn't you know?" burst in Lord Vignoles. "Bally nuisance--I mean to
+say, inconsiderate of Roxborough; he could have sent some other
+messenger, and need not have picked Anerly."
+
+"Oh! I know all about that!" snapped the lady impatiently; "but who was
+the distinguished-looking man who took Maurice's place?"
+
+The Hon. Maurice Anerly, who should have officiated as best man, had
+received instructions an hour before the ceremony to proceed to the
+capital of the Power with whom Britain was on the verge of war. Sheard
+would have given a hundred pounds for a glimpse of the dispatch he
+carried.
+
+"No idea," said Vignoles; "most amazing thing! Friend of Haredale's, who
+turned up at the last minute and vanished directly the ceremony was
+over. Perfect record! Don't suppose it's ever happened before."
+
+"But he came to the house here; several people saw him here. You don't
+want me to believe that Dick Haredale didn't tell anybody who his best
+man was!"
+
+"I was not present," said Sheard; "so I cannot help you."
+
+"It's preposterous!" cried the lady. "I never heard of such a thing!"
+
+"What was the gentleman like, miss?" came a quiet voice.
+
+The eyes of all in the little group turned, together. Chief Inspector
+Sheffield had joined them.
+
+The lady addressed eyed the big man apprehensively. He was outside the
+experience of Fashionable Intelligence, but there was a quiet authority
+in his voice and manner which seemed to call for a reply.
+
+"He was the most handsome man I have ever seen!" she answered briefly.
+
+"Thank you!" said Sheffield, with even greater brevity, and turned on
+his heel.
+
+He went up to a footman, who looked more like a clean-shaven
+policeman--possibly because he was one.
+
+"You are certain that Miss Oppner and the man I have described actually
+entered this house?"
+
+"They were talking together in that room by the statue, sir."
+
+"And Miss Oppner came out?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"But not the man?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+Inspector Sheffield made his way to the little anteroom indicated. It
+was quite a tiny apartment, with a divan, two lounge-chairs and a
+Persian coffee-table. There was no one there.
+
+A faint but very peculiar perfume hung in the air. Turkish tobacco went
+to the making of it, but something else too. Sheffield bent over the
+table.
+
+In a little bronze ash-tray lay a cigarette end--yellow in colour.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At about the same moment that Chief Inspector Sheffield was trying to
+get used to the idea of the notorious Severac Bablon's having actually
+officiated as best man at the wedding of the only daughter of the
+Marquess of Evershed, Mr. Thomas Sheard also had that astounding fact
+brought home to him.
+
+For, in the wide publicity of Eccleston Square, the observed of many
+curious observers, Zoe Oppner stood shaking hands with this master of
+audacity.
+
+Sheard joined them hurriedly.
+
+"This is the height of indiscretion!" he exclaimed, glancing
+apprehensively about him. "You compromise others----"
+
+Severac Bablon checked him with a quiet smile.
+
+"Have I ever compromised another?"
+
+"But now you cannot avoid doing so. Sheffield is inside! What madness
+brings you here?"
+
+"In the absence of the Hon. Maurice Anerly, I acted as Haredale's best
+man."
+
+Sheard literally gasped.
+
+"But you are not----"
+
+"A Christian? My religious beliefs, Sheard, do not preclude my
+attendance at a wedding ceremony. Some day I may explain this to you."
+
+"You must have been recognised!"
+
+"Who knows Severac Bablon?"
+
+"At least four people now in that house!"
+
+"Possibly. But no one of those four has seen me. No one of them was
+present at the ceremony; and, I assure you, I made myself scarce
+afterwards."
+
+"You must hurry. You have been traced----"
+
+"Never fear; I shall hurry. But, before I go, Sheard, take this
+envelope. It is the last 'scoop' that I have to offer to the _Gleaner_,
+but it is the biggest of all! Good-bye."
+
+"Do I understand that you are leaving England?"
+
+So sincere was the emotion in the pressman's voice that Severac Bablon's
+own had changed when he replied:
+
+"We may never meet again; I cannot tell."
+
+He laid his hands upon the other's shoulders in a characteristic
+gesture, and to Sheard, as he met the glance of those fine eyes, this
+was no criminal flying from justice; rather, a ruler of peoples, an
+enthusiast, a fanatic perhaps, but a royal man--and his friend.
+
+"Good-bye!" said Severac Bablon, and clasped Sheard's hand in both his
+own.
+
+He turned to Zoe Oppner, who, very pale, was glancing back at the house.
+
+"Good-bye again!"
+
+A cab waited, and Severac Bablon, lighting a cigarette, leapt in and was
+driven away. Sheard did not hear his directions to the man; and Zoe
+Oppner left him abruptly and ran into the house again. Before he had
+time to move, to collect his thoughts, a heavy hand was laid upon his
+shoulder.
+
+He started. Inspector Sheffield stood beside him.
+
+"Who was in that cab?" he rapped.
+
+Sheard realised that the moment to which he had long looked forward with
+dread was come. He had been caught red-handed. At last Severac Bablon
+had dared too greatly, and he, Sheard, must pay the price of that
+indiscretion.
+
+"Why do you ask--and in that tone?"
+
+"Mr. Sheard," said the detective grimly, "I've had my eye on you for a
+long while, as you must be well aware. You may not be aware that but for
+me you'd have been arrested long ago! I'm past the time when sensational
+arrests appeal to me, though. I'm out to hide scandals, not to turn the
+limelight on 'em. You're a well-known man, and it would break you, I
+take it, if I hauled you up for complicity? But I've got my
+responsibilities, too, remember; and I warn you--I warn you solemnly--if
+you bandy words with me now, I'll have you in Marlborough Street inside
+ten minutes!"
+
+The buttons were off, and Sheard felt the point at his throat. For there
+was no mistaking the grim earnestness of the man from Scotland Yard. The
+kindly blue eyes were grown hard as steel, and in them the pressman read
+that upon his next words rested his whole career. A lie could avail his
+friend nothing; it meant his own ruin.
+
+"Severac Bablon!" he said.
+
+"I knew that!" replied Sheffield; "you did well to admit it! Where has
+he gone?"
+
+"I have no idea."
+
+"Don't take any chances, sir! I'm tired of the responsibility of
+shielding the fools who know him! If you give me your word on that, I'll
+take it."
+
+"I give you my word. I was unable to hear his directions to the driver."
+
+"Very good. There are other things I might ask you--but I know you'd
+refuse to answer, and then I'd have no alternative. So I won't.
+Good-day."
+
+"Good-day, Inspector. And thank you." Sheffield nodded shortly and
+walked up to the driver of the next waiting cab.
+
+"What number was the man who drove away last?"
+
+"LH-00896, sir."
+
+"Know where he went?"
+
+"No, sir; but not far. He told a pal o' mine--the chauffeur of Mr.
+Rohscheimer's car, there, sir--that he'd be back in seven minutes."
+
+"Good!" said Sheffield.
+
+Matters were befalling as well as he could have hoped; for he had come
+out too late to have followed the cab. He glanced at his watch. Provided
+the man picked up no fare on his way back, he was due in three minutes.
+The detective strolled off towards Belgrave Road. Inside the three
+minutes a cab turned into the other end of the square.
+
+Inspector Sheffield retraced his steps hurriedly.
+
+Without a word to the man, he opened the cab door. A faint, familiar
+perfume reached his nostrils. He glanced at the ash-trays, but neither
+contained a cigarette end. He turned to the driver.
+
+"Where did you take the gentleman you picked up here, my man?"
+
+A newsboy came racing along the pavement, with an armful of sheets, wet
+from the press. The journal was the _Gleaner's_ most powerful opponent.
+
+"War de-clared, piper! War de-clared, speshul!"
+
+His shrill cries drowned the taximan's reply. As the boy ran on crying
+his mendacious "news" (for the front-page article was not headed "War
+declared," but "Is war declared?"), Sheffield repeated his question.
+
+"To Buckingham Palace, sir!" he was answered.
+
+The detective stared incredulously.
+
+"I mean a tall gentleman, clean shaven, and very dark, with quite black
+hair----"
+
+"Smoked some sort of Russian smokes, sir--yellow?"
+
+"That one--yes!"
+
+"That's the one I mean, sir--Buckingham Palace!"
+
+Sheffield continued to stare.
+
+"Where did you actually drop him?"
+
+"At the gate."
+
+"Well? Where did he go?"
+
+"He went in, sir!"
+
+"Went in! He was admitted?"
+
+"Yes, sir; I saw him pass the sentry!"
+
+Chief Inspector Sheffield leapt into the cab with a face grimly set.
+
+"Buckingham Palace!" he snapped.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile, Detective-Sergeant Harborne, following back the clue of the
+yellow cigarettes, in accordance with the instructions of his superior,
+who had elected to follow it forward, made his way to a cab-rank at the
+end of Finchley Road.
+
+To a cab-minder he showed a photograph. It was from that unique negative
+which the Home Secretary had shown to the pseudo-Inspector Sheffield at
+Womsley Old Place; moreover, it was the only copy which the right
+honourable gentleman had authorised to be printed.
+
+"Does this person often take cabs from this rank, my lad?"
+
+The man surveyed it with beer-weakened eyes.
+
+"Mr. Sanrack it is, guv'nor! Yes, he's often here!"
+
+Harborne, who was a believer in the straightforward British methods, and
+who scorned alike the unnecessary subtlety of the French school, as
+represented by Lemage or Duquesne, and the Fenimore-Cooper-like tactics
+dear to the men of the American agencies, showed his card.
+
+"What's his address?" he snapped.
+
+"It's farther down on this side; I can't think of the number, sir,"
+replied the other shakily. (The proximity of a police officer always
+injuriously affected his heart.) "But I can show you the 'ouse."
+
+"Come on!" ordered Harborne. "Walk behind me; and when I pass it,
+whistle."
+
+Off went the detective without delay, and walked briskly along the
+Finchley Road. He had proceeded more than half-way, when, as he came
+abreast of a gate set in a high wall, from his rear quavered a moist
+whistle.
+
+"70A," he muttered. "Right-oh!"
+
+He thrilled with the joy of the chase, anticipating the triumph that
+awaited him. Inspector Sheffield's pursuit was more than likely to prove
+futile, but Severac Bablon, he argued, was practically certain to return
+to his head-quarters sooner or later.
+
+He thought of the weeks and months during which they had sought for this
+very house in vain; of the useless tracking of divers persons known to
+be acquainted with the man of mystery; of the simple means--the yellow
+cigarettes--by which, at last, they had come to it.
+
+Mr. Aloys. X Alden had been very reticent of late--and Mr. Oppner knew
+of the cigarette clue. At that reflection the roseate horizon grew
+darkened by the figure of a triumphant American holding up Severac
+Bablon with a neat silver-plated model by Smith and Wesson. If Alden
+should forestall him!
+
+Harborne, who had been pursuing these reflections whilst, within sight
+of No. 70A, he stood slowly loading his pipe, paused, pouch in hand. On
+one memorable occasion, the super-subtlety of Sheffield (who was tainted
+with French heresies) had led to a fiasco which had made them the
+laughing-stock of Scotland Yard. Harborne felt in his breast pocket,
+where there reposed a copy of the warrant for the arrest of Severac
+Bablon. And before he withdrew his hand his mind was made up. He was a
+man of indomitable pluck.
+
+Walking briskly to the gate in the high wall, he opened it, passed
+around a very neat little lawn, and stood in the porch of 70A. As he
+glanced about for bell or knocker, and failed to find either, the door
+was opened quietly by a tall man in black--an Arab.
+
+"I have important business with Mr. Sanrack," said Harborne quietly, and
+handed the Arab a card which simply bore the name: "Mr. Goodson."
+
+"He is not at home, but expected," replied the man, in guttural English.
+"Will Mr. Goodson await?"
+
+"Yes," said Harborne, "if Mr. Sanrack won't be long."
+
+The Arab bowed, and conducted him to a small but cosy room, furnished
+simply but with great good taste--and withdrew. Harborne congratulated
+himself. The simple and direct, if old-fashioned, methods were, after
+all, the best.
+
+It was a very silent house. That fact struck him at once. Listen
+intently as he would, no sound from within could he detect. What should
+be his next move?
+
+He stepped to the door and looked out into the hall. This was rather
+narrow, and, owing to the presence of heavy Oriental drapings, very
+dark. It would suit his purpose admirably. Directly "Mr. Sanrack" came
+in he would spring upon him and get the handcuffs fast, then he could
+throw open the front door, if there had been time for anyone to reclose
+it, and summon assistance with his whistle.
+
+He himself must effect the actual arrest--single-handed. He cared
+nothing who came upon the scene after that. He placed the handcuffs in a
+more convenient pocket, and buttoned up his double-breasted blue serge
+coat.
+
+Sheffield was certain to be Superintendent before long; and it only
+required one other big case, such as this, to insure Harborne's
+succession to an Inspectorship. From thence to the office vacated by
+Sheffield was an easy step for a competent and ambitious man.
+
+How silent the house was!
+
+Harborne glanced at his watch. He had been waiting nearly five minutes.
+Scarce another two had elapsed--when a brisk step sounded on the gravel.
+The detective braced himself for a spring. Would he have the Arab to
+contend with too?
+
+No. A key was slipped into the well-oiled lock. The door opened.
+
+With something of the irresistible force of a charging bull,
+Detective-Sergeant Harborne hurled himself upon his man.
+
+Human strength had been useless to oppose that attack; but by subtlety
+it was frustrated. The man stepped agilely aside--and Harborne reclosed
+the door with his head! That his skull withstood that crashing blow was
+miraculous; but he was of tough stock. Perhaps the ruling passion helped
+him, for dazed and dizzy as he was, he did the right thing when his
+cunning opponent leapt upon him from behind.
+
+He threw his hands above his shoulders and grasped the man round the
+neck--then--slowly--shakily--his head swimming and the world a huge
+teetotum--he rose upon his knees. Bent well forward, he rose to his
+feet. The other choked, swore, struck useless blows, but hung limply,
+helpless, in that bear-like, awful grip.
+
+At the exact moment--no second too soon, no second too late--down went
+Harborne's right hand to the wriggling, kicking, right foot of the man
+upon whom he had secured that dreadful hold. A bend forward--a turn of
+the hip--and his man fell crashing to the floor.
+
+"That's called the Cornish grip!" panted the detective, dropping all his
+heaviness upon the recumbent form.
+
+_Click! Click!_
+
+The handcuffed man wriggled into a sitting posture.
+
+"You goddarned son of a skunk!" he gurgled--and stopped short--sat,
+white-faced, manacled, looking up at his captor.
+
+"Jumpin' Jenkins!" he whispered--"it's that plug-headed guy, Harborne!"
+
+"Alden!" cried Harborne. "Alden! What the----!"
+
+"Same to you!" snarled the Agency man. "Call yourself a detective! I
+reckon you'd make a better show as a coal-heaver!"
+
+When conversation--if not civil conversation, at least conversation
+which did not wholly consist in mutual insult--became possible, the two
+in that silent hall compared notes.
+
+"Where in the name of wonder did you get the key?" demanded Harborne.
+
+"House agent!" snapped the other. "I work on the lines that I'm after a
+clever man, not trying to round up a herd of bullocks!"
+
+Revolvers in readiness, they searched the house. No living thing was to
+be found. Only one room was unfurnished. It opened off the hall, and was
+on a lower level. The floor was paved and the walls plastered. An
+unglazed window opened on a garden, and a deep recess opposite to the
+door held only shadows and emptiness.
+
+"It's a darned pie-trap!" muttered Mr. Aloys. X. Alden. "And you and me
+are the pies properly!"
+
+"But d'you mean to say he's going to leave all this furniture----!"
+
+"Hired!" snapped the American. "Hired! I knew that before I came!"
+
+Detective-Sergeant Harborne raised a hand to his throbbing head--and
+sank dizzily into a cushioned hall-seat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+AT THE PALACE--AND LATER
+
+
+How self-centred is man, and how darkly do his own petty interests
+overshadow the giant things of life. Thrones may totter and fall,
+monarchs pass to the limbo of memories, whilst we wrestle with an
+intractable collar-stud. Had another than Inspector Sheffield been
+driving to Buckingham Palace that day, he might have found his soul
+attuned to the martial tone about him; for "War! War!" glared from
+countless placards, and was cried aloud by countless newsboys. War was
+in the air. Nothing else, it seemed, was thought of, spoken of, sung of.
+
+But Sheffield at that time was quite impervious to the subtle influences
+which had inspired music-hall song writers to pour forth patriotic
+lyrics; which had adorned the button-holes of sober citizens with
+miniature Union Jacks. For him the question of the hour was: "Shall I
+capture Severac Bablon?"
+
+He reviewed, in the space of a few seconds, the whole bewildering case,
+from the time when this incomprehensible man had robbed Park Lane to
+scatter wealth broadcast upon the Embankment up to the present moment
+when, it would appear, having acted as best man at a Society wedding, he
+now was within the precincts of Buckingham Palace.
+
+It was the boast of Severac Bablon, as Sheffield knew, that no door was
+closed to him. Perhaps that boast was no idle one. Who was Severac
+Bablon? Inspector Sheffield, who had asked himself that question many
+months before, when he stood in the British Museum before the empty
+pedestal which once had held the world-famed head of Caesar, asked it
+again now. Alas! it was a question to which he had no answer.
+
+The cab stopped in front of Buckingham Palace.
+
+Sheffield paid the man and walked up to the gates. He was not unknown to
+those who sat in high places, having been chosen to command the secret
+bodyguard of Royalty during one protracted foreign tour. An unassuming
+man, few of his acquaintances, perhaps, knew that he shared with the
+Lord Mayor of London the privilege of demanding audience at any hour of
+the day or night.
+
+It was a privilege which hitherto he had never exercised. He exercised
+it now.
+
+Some five minutes later he found himself in an antechamber, and by the
+murmur of voices which proceeded from that direction he knew a draped
+curtain alone separated him from a hastily summoned conference. A smell
+of cigar smoke pervaded the apartment.
+
+Suddenly, he became quite painfully nervous. Was it intended that he
+should hear so much? Short of pressing his fingers to his ears, he had
+no alternative.
+
+"We had all along desired that amicable relations be maintained in this
+matter, Baron."
+
+That was the Marquess of Evershed. Sheffield knew his voice well.
+
+"It has not appeared so from your attitude, Marquess!"
+
+Whom could that be? Probably Baron Hecht.
+
+"Your intense patriotism, your admirable love of country, Baron, has led
+you to misconstrue, as affronts, actions designed to promote our
+friendly relations."
+
+Only one man in England possessed the suave, polished delivery of the
+last speaker--the Right Honourable Walter Belford.
+
+"I have misconstrued nothing; my instructions have been explicit."
+
+"Fortunately, no further occasion exists for you to carry them out."
+
+Sheffield knew that voice too.
+
+"A Foreign Service Messenger, Mr. Maurice Anerly, left for my capital
+this morning----"
+
+"Captain Searles has been instructed to intercept him. His dispatch will
+not be delivered."
+
+Inspector Sheffield, who had been vainly endeavouring to become
+temporarily deaf, started. Whose voice was that? Could he trust his
+ears?
+
+There followed the sound as of the clapping of hands upon someone's
+shoulders.
+
+"Baron Hecht, I hold a most sacred trust--the peace of nations. No one
+shall rob me of it. Believe me, your great master already is drafting a
+friendly letter----"
+
+The musical voice again, with that vibrant, forceful note.
+
+"In short, Baron" (Sheffield tried not to hear; for he knew this voice
+too), "there is a power above the Eagle, a power above the Lion: the
+power of wealth! Lacking her for ally, no nation can war with another!
+The king of that power has spoken--and declared for peace! I am glad of
+it, and so, I know, are you!"
+
+Following a short interval, a shaking of hands, as the unwilling
+eavesdropper divined. Then, by some other door, a number of people
+withdrew, amid a hum of seemingly friendly conversation.
+
+A gentleman pulled the curtain aside.
+
+"Come in, Sheffield!" he said genially.
+
+Chief Inspector Sheffield bowed very low and entered a large room,
+which, save for the gentleman who had admitted him, now was occupied
+only by the Right Hon. Walter Belford, Home Secretary.
+
+"How do you do, Inspector?" asked Mr. Belford affably.
+
+"Thank you, sir," replied the detective with diffidence; "I am quite
+well, and trust you are."
+
+"I think I know what has brought you here," continued the Home
+Secretary. "You have been following----"
+
+"Severac Bablon! Yes, sir!"
+
+"As I supposed. Well, it will be expedient, Inspector, religiously to
+keep that name out of the Press in future! Furthermore--er--any warrant
+that may be in existence must be cancelled! This is a matter of policy,
+and I am sending the necessary instructions to the Criminal
+Investigation Department. In short--drop the case!"
+
+Chief Inspector Sheffield looked rather dazed.
+
+"No doubt, this is a surprise to you," continued Mr. Belford; "but do
+not allow it to be a disappointment. Your tactful conduct of the case,
+and the delicate manner in which you have avoided compromising
+anyone--in which you have handicapped yourself, that others might not be
+implicated--has not been overlooked. Your future is assured, Inspector
+Sheffield."
+
+The gentleman who had admitted Sheffield had left the apartment almost
+immediately afterwards. Now he returned, and fastened a pin in the
+detective's tie.
+
+"By way of apology for spoiling your case, Sheffield!" he said.
+
+What Sheffield said or did at that moment he could never afterwards
+remember. A faint recollection he had of muttering something about
+"Severac Bablon----!"
+
+"Ssh!" Mr. Belford had replied. "There is no such person!"
+
+It was at the moment of his leave-taking that his eyes were drawn to an
+ash-tray upon the big table. A long tongue of bluish-grey smoke licked
+the air, coiling sinuously upward from amid cigar ends and ashes. It
+seemingly possessed a peculiar and pungent perfume.
+
+And it proceeded from the smouldering fragment of a yellow cigarette.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Inspector Sheffield fully recovered his habitual composure and
+presence of mind, he found himself proceeding along Piccadilly. War was
+in the breeze; War was on all the placards. Would-be warriors looked out
+from every club window. "Rule, Britannia" rang out from every street
+organ.
+
+Then came running a hoarse newsboy, aproned with a purple contents-bill,
+a bundle of _Gleaners_ under his arm. His stock was becoming depleted at
+record speed. He could scarce pass the sheets and grab the halfpence
+rapidly enough.
+
+For where all else spoke of war, his bill read and his blatant voice
+proclaimed:
+
+"PEACE! _Official!_"
+
+Again the power of the Seal had been exercised in the interests of the
+many, although popularly it was believed, and maintained, that Britain's
+huge, efficient, and ever-growing air-fleet contributed not a little to
+this peaceful conclusion.
+
+The _Gleaner_ assured its many readers that such was indeed the case. To
+what extent the _Gleaner_ spoke truly, and to what extent its statements
+were inspired, you are as well equipped to judge as I.
+
+And unless some future day shall free my pen, I have little more to tell
+you of Severac Bablon. Officially, as the Holder of the Seal, his work,
+at any rate for the time, in England was done. Some day, Sheard may
+carry his history farther, and he would probably begin where I leave
+off.
+
+This, then, will be at a certain pier-head, on a summer's day, and at a
+time when, far out near the sky-line, grey shapes crept
+southward--battleships--the flying squadron which thirty-six hours
+earlier had proceeded to a neighbour's water-gate to demonstrate that
+the command of the seas had not changed hands since the days of Nelson.
+The squadron was returning to home waters. It was a concrete message of
+peace, expressed in terms of war.
+
+Nearer to the shore, indeed at no great distance from the pier-head, lay
+a white yacht, under steam. A launch left her side, swung around her
+stern, and headed for the pier.
+
+In a lower gallery, shut off from the public promenades, where thousands
+of curious holiday-makers jostled one another for a sight of the great
+yacht, or for a glimpse of those about to join her, a tall man leaned
+upon the wooden rail and looked out to sea. A girl in while drill, whose
+pretty face was so pale that fashionable New York might have failed to
+recognise Zoe Oppner, the millionaire's daughter, stood beside him.
+
+"Though I have been wrong," he said slowly, "in much that I have done,
+even you will agree that I have been right in this."
+
+He waved his hand towards the fast disappearing squadron.
+
+"Even I?" said Zoe sharply.
+
+"Even you. For only you have shown me my errors."
+
+"You admit, then, that your----!"
+
+"Robberies?"
+
+"Not that, of course! But your----"
+
+"Outrages?"
+
+"I did not mean that either. The means you have adopted have often been
+violent, though the end always was good. But no really useful reform can
+be brought about in such a way, I am sure."
+
+The man turned his face and fixed his luminous eyes upon hers.
+
+"It may be so," he said; "but even now I see no other way."
+
+Zoe pointed to the almost invisible battleships.
+
+"Ah!" continued Severac Bablon, "that was a problem of a different kind.
+In every civilised land there is a power above the throne. Do you think
+that, unaided, Prussia ever could have conquered gallant France? The
+people who owe allegiance to the German Emperor are a great people, but,
+in such an undertaking as war, without the aid of that people who owe
+allegiance to _me_, they are helpless as a group of children! Had I been
+in 1870 what I am to-day, the Prussian arms had never been carried into
+Paris!"
+
+"You mean that a nation, to carry on a war, requires an enormous sum of
+money?"
+
+"Which can only be obtained from certain sources."
+
+"From the Jews?"
+
+"In part, at least. The finance of Europe is controlled by a group of
+Jewish houses."
+
+"But they are not all----"
+
+"Amenable to my orders? True. But the outrages with which you reproach
+me have served to show that when my orders are disobeyed I have power to
+enforce them! Where I am not respected I am feared. I refused my consent
+to the loan by aid of which Great Britain's enemies had designed to
+prosecute a war against her. None of those theatrical displays with
+which sometimes I have impressed the errant vulgar were necessary. The
+greatest name in European finance was refused to the transaction--and
+the Great War died in the hour of its birth!"
+
+His eyes gleamed with almost fanatic ardour.
+
+"For this will be forgotten all my errors, and forgiven all my sins!"
+
+"I am sure of that," said Zoe earnestly. "But--whatever you came to
+do----"
+
+"I have not done--you would say? Only in part. Where I made my home in
+London, you have seen a curtained recess. It held the Emblem of my
+temporal power."
+
+He moved his hand, and the sunlight struck green beams from the bezel of
+the strange ring upon his finger. Zoe glanced at it with something that
+was almost like fear.
+
+"This," he said, replying, as was his uncanny custom to an unspoken
+question, "is but the sign whereby I may be known for the holder of that
+other Emblem. My house is empty now; the Emblem returns to the land
+where it was fashioned."
+
+"You are abandoning your projects--your mission? Why?"
+
+"Perhaps because the sword is too heavy for the wielder. Perhaps because
+I am only a man--and lonely."
+
+The launch touched the pier, below them.
+
+"You are the most loyal friend I have made in England--in Europe--in the
+world," said Severac Bablon. "Good-bye."
+
+Zoe was very pale.
+
+"Do you mean--for--always?"
+
+"When you have said 'Good-bye' to me I have nothing else to stay for."
+
+Zoe glanced at him once and looked away. Her charming face suddenly
+flushed rosily, and a breeze from the sea curtained the bright eyes with
+intractable curls.
+
+"But if I _won't_ say 'Good-bye'?" she whispered.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Sins of Severac Bablon, by Sax Rohmer
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