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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5743-0.txt b/5743-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..34a9094 --- /dev/null +++ b/5743-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9797 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Evil Shepherd, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +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 Evil Shepherd + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5743] +Posting Date: June 13, 2009 +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVIL SHEPHERD *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + + + + + +THE EVIL SHEPHERD + + +By E. Philips Oppenheim + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Francis Ledsam, alert, well-satisfied with himself and the world, the +echo of a little buzz of congratulations still in his ears, paused on +the steps of the modern Temple of Justice to light a cigarette before +calling for a taxi to take him to his club. Visions of a whisky and +soda--his throat was a little parched--and a rubber of easy-going bridge +at his favourite table, were already before his eyes. A woman who had +followed him from the Court touched him on the shoulder. + +“Can I speak to you for a moment, Mr. Ledsam?” + +The barrister frowned slightly as he swung around to confront his +questioner. It was such a familiar form of address. + +“What do you want?” he asked, a little curtly. + +“A few minutes' conversation with you,” was the calm reply. “The matter +is important.” + +The woman's tone and manner, notwithstanding her plain, inconspicuous +clothes, commanded attention. Francis Ledsam was a little puzzled. Small +things meant much to him in life, and he had been looking forward almost +with the zest of a schoolboy to that hour of relaxation at his club. +He was impatient of even a brief delay, a sentiment which he tried to +express in his response. + +“What do you want to speak to me about?” he repeated bluntly. “I shall +be in my rooms in the Temple to-morrow morning, any time after eleven.” + +“It is necessary for me to speak to you now,” she insisted. “There is a +tea-shop across the way. Please accompany me there.” + +Ledsam, a little surprised at the coolness of her request, subjected his +accoster to a closer scrutiny. As he did so, his irritation diminished. +He shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +“If you really have business with me,” he said, “I will give you a few +minutes.” + +They crossed the street together, the woman self-possessed, negative, +wholly without the embarrassment of one performing an unusual action. +Her companion felt the awakening of curiosity. Zealously though she had, +to all appearance, endeavoured to conceal the fact, she was without a +doubt personable. Her voice and manner lacked nothing of refinement. Yet +her attraction to Francis Ledsam, who, although a perfectly normal human +being, was no seeker after promiscuous adventures, did not lie in these +externals. As a barrister whose success at the criminal bar had been +phenomenal, he had attained to a certain knowledge of human nature. He +was able, at any rate, to realise that this woman was no imposter. He +knew that she had vital things to say. + +They passed into the tea-shop and found an empty corner. Ledsam hung up +his hat and gave an order. The woman slowly began to remove her gloves. +When she pushed back her veil, her vis-a-vis received almost a shock. +She was quite as good-looking as he had imagined, but she was far +younger--she was indeed little more than a girl. Her eyes were of a deep +shade of hazel brown, her eyebrows were delicately marked, her features +and poise admirable. Yet her skin was entirely colourless. She was as +pale as one whose eyes have been closed in death. Her lips, although +in no way highly coloured, were like streaks of scarlet blossom upon +a marble image. The contrast between her appearance and that of her +companion was curiously marked. Francis Ledsam conformed in no way to +the accepted physical type of his profession. He was over six feet in +height, broad-shouldered and powerfully made. His features were cast in +a large mould, he was of fair, almost sandy complexion, even his mouth +was more humourous than incisive. His eyes alone, grey and exceedingly +magnetic, suggested the gifts which without a doubt lay behind his +massive forehead. + +“I am anxious to avoid any possible mistake,” she began. “Your name is +Francis Ledsam?” + +“It is,” he admitted. + +“You are the very successful criminal barrister,” she continued, “who +has just been paid an extravagant fee to defend Oliver Hilditch.” + +“I might take exception to the term 'extravagant',” Ledsam observed +drily. “Otherwise, your information appears to be singularly correct. +I do not know whether you have heard the verdict. If not, you may be +interested to know that I succeeded in obtaining the man's acquittal.” + +“I know that you did,” the woman replied. “I was in the Court when the +verdict was brought in. It has since occurred to me that I should like +you to understand exactly what you have done, the responsibility you +have incurred.” + +Ledsam raised his eyebrows. + +“Responsibility?” he repeated. “What I have done is simple enough. I +have earned a very large fee and won my case.” + +“You have secured the acquittal of Oliver Hilditch,” she persisted. +“He is by this time a free man. Now I am going to speak to you of that +responsibility. I am going to tell you a little about the man who owes +his freedom to your eloquence.” + +It was exactly twenty minutes after their entrance into the teashop when +the woman finished her monologue. She began to draw on her gloves again. +Before them were two untasted cups of tea and an untouched plate of +bread and butter. From a corner of the room the waitress was watching +them curiously. + +“Good God!” Francis Ledsam exclaimed at last, suddenly realising his +whereabouts. “Do you mean to affirm solemnly that what you have been +telling me is the truth?” + +The woman continued to button her gloves. “It is the truth,” she said. + +Ledsam sat up and looked around him. He was a little dazed. He had +almost the feeling of a man recovering from the influence of some +anaesthetic. Before his eyes were still passing visions of terrible +deeds, of naked, ugly passion, of man's unscrupulous savagery. During +those few minutes he had been transported to New York and Paris, London +and Rome. Crimes had been spoken of which made the murder for which +Oliver Hilditch had just been tried seem like a trifling indiscretion. +Hard though his mentality, sternly matter-of-fact as was his outlook, +he was still unable to fully believe in himself, his surroundings, or +in this woman who had just dropped a veil over her ashen cheeks. Reason +persisted in asserting itself. + +“But if you knew all this,” he demanded, “why on earth didn't you come +forward and give evidence?” + +“Because,” she answered calmly, as she rose to her feet, “my evidence +would not have been admissible. I am Oliver Hilditch's wife.” + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Francis Ledsam arrived at his club, the Sheridan, an hour later than he +had anticipâtéd. He nodded to the veteran hall-porter, hung up his hat +and stick, and climbed the great staircase to the card-room without any +distinct recollection of performing any of these simple and reasonable +actions. In the cardroom he exchanged a few greetings with friends, +accepted without comment or without the slightest tinge of gratification +a little chorus of chafing congratulations upon his latest triumph, +and left the room without any inclination to play, although there was +a vacant place at his favourite table. From sheer purposelessness he +wandered back again into the hall, and here came his first gleam of +returning sensation. He came face to face with his most intimate friend, +Andrew Wilmore. The latter, who had just hung up his coat and hat, +greeted him with a growl of welcome. + +“So you've brought it off again, Francis!” + +“Touch and go,” the barrister remarked. “I managed to squeak home.” + +Wilmore laid his hand upon his friend's shoulder and led the way towards +two easy-chairs in the lounge. + +“I tell you what it is, old chap,” he confided, “you'll be making +yourself unpopular before long. Another criminal at large, thanks to +that glib tongue and subtle brain of yours. The crooks of London will +present you with a testimonial when you're made a judge.” + +“So you think that Oliver Hilditch was guilty, then?” Francis asked +curiously. + +“My dear fellow, how do I know or care?” was the indifferent reply. +“I shouldn't have thought that there had been any doubt about it. You +probably know, anyway.” + +“That's just what I didn't when I got up to make my speech,” Francis +assured his friend emphatically. “The fellow was given an opportunity of +making a clean breast of it, of course--Wensley, his lawyer, advised him +to, in fact--but the story he told me was precisely the story he told at +the inquest.” + +They were established now in their easy-chairs, and Wilmore summoned a +waiter. + +“Two large whiskies and sodas,” he ordered. “Francis,” he went on, +studying his companion intently, “what's the matter with you? You don't +look as though your few days in the country last week had done you any +good.” + +Francis glanced around as though to be sure that they were alone. + +“I was all right when I came up, Andrew,” he muttered. “This case has +upset me.” + +“Upset you? But why the dickens should it?” the other demanded, in a +puzzled tone. “It was quite an ordinary case, in its way, and you won +it.” + +“I won it,” Francis admitted. + +“Your defence was the most ingenious thing I ever heard.” + +“Mostly suggested, now I come to think of it,” the barrister remarked +grimly, “by the prisoner himself.” + +“But why are you upset about it, anyway?” Wilmore persisted. + +Francis rose to his feet, shook himself, and with his elbow resting upon +the mantelpiece leaned down towards his friend. He could not rid himself +altogether of this sense of unreality. He had the feeling that he had +passed through one of the great crises of his life. + +“I'll tell you, Andrew. You're about the only man in the world I could +tell. I've gone crazy.” + +“I thought you looked as though you'd been seeing spooks,” Wilmore +murmured sympathetically. + +“I have seen a spook,” Francis rejoined, with almost passionate +seriousness, “a spook who lifted an invisible curtain with invisible +fingers, and pointed to such a drama of horrors as De Quincey, Poe and +Sue combined could never have imagined. Oliver Hilditch was guilty, +Andrew. He murdered the man Jordan--murdered him in cold blood.” + +“I'm not surprised to hear that,” was the somewhat puzzled reply. + +“He was guilty, Andrew, not only of the murder of this man, his partner, +but of innumerable other crimes and brutalities,” Francis went on. “He +is a fiend in human form, if ever there was one, and I have set him +loose once more to prey upon Society. I am morally responsible for his +next robbery, his next murder, the continued purgatory of those forced +to associate with him.” + +“You're dotty, Francis,” his friend declared shortly. + +“I told you I was crazy,” was the desperate reply. “So would you be if +you'd sat opposite that woman for half-an-hour, and heard her story.” + +“What woman?” Wilmore demanded, leaning forward in his chair and gazing +at his friend with increasing uneasiness. + +“A woman who met me outside the Court and told me the story of Oliver +Hilditch's life.” + +“A stranger?” + +“A complete stranger to me. It transpired that she was his wife.” + +Wilmore lit a cigarette. + +“Believe her?” + +“There are times when one doesn't believe or disbelieve,” Francis +answered. “One knows.” + +Wilmore nodded. + +“All the same, you're crazy,” he declared. “Even if you did save the +fellow from the gallows, you were only doing your job, doing your duty +to the best of poor ability. You had no reason to believe him guilty.” + +“That's just as it happened,” Francis pointed out. “I really didn't care +at the time whether he was or not. I had to proceed on the assumption +that he was not, of course, but on the other hand I should have fought +just as hard for him if I had known him to be guilty.” + +“And you wouldn't now--to-morrow, say?” + +“Never again.” + +“Because of that woman's story?” + +“Because of the woman.” + +There was a short silence. Then Wilmore asked a very obvious question. + +“What sort of a person was she?” + +Francis Ledsam was several moments before he replied. The question was +one which he had been expecting, one which he had already asked himself +many times, yet he was unprepared with any definite reply. + +“I wish I could answer you, Andrew,” his friend confessed. “As a matter +of fact, I can't. I can only speak of the impression she left upon me, +and you are about the only person breathing to whom I could speak of +that.” + +Wilmore nodded sympathetically. He knew that, man of the world though +Francis Ledsam appeared, he was nevertheless a highly imaginative +person, something of an idealist as regards women, unwilling as a rule +to discuss them, keeping them, in a general way, outside his daily life. + +“Go ahead, old fellow,” he invited. “You know I understand.” + +“She left the impression upon me,” Francis continued quietly, “of a +woman who had ceased to live. She was young, she was beautiful, she had +all the gifts--culture, poise and breeding--but she had ceased to live. +We sat with a marble table between us, and a few feet of oil-covered +floor. Those few feet, Andrew, were like an impassable gulf. She spoke +from the shores of another world. I listened and answered, spoke and +listened again. And when she told her story, she went. I can't shake off +the effect she had upon me, Andrew. I feel as though I had taken a step +to the right or to the left over the edge of the world.” + +Andrew Wilmore studied his friend thoughtfully. + +He was full of sympathy and understanding. His one desire at that moment +was not to make a mistake. He decided to leave unasked the obvious +question. + +“I know,” he said simply. “Are you dining anywhere?” + +“I thought of staying on here,” was the indifferent reply. + +“We won't do anything of the sort,” Wilmore insisted. “There's scarcely +a soul in to-night, and the place is too humpy for a man who's been +seeing spooks. Get back to your rooms and change. I'll wait here.” + +“What about you?” + +“I have some clothes in my locker. Don't be long. And, by-the-bye, which +shall it be--Bohemia or Mayfair? I'll telephone for a table. London's so +infernally full, these days.” + +Francis hesitated. + +“I really don't care,” he confessed. “Now I think of it, I shall be glad +to get away from here, though. I don't want any more congratulations +on saving Oliver Hilditch's life. Let's go where we are least likely to +meet any one we know.” + +“Respectability and a starched shirt-front, then,” Wilmore decided. +“We'll go to Claridge's.” + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The two men occupied a table set against the wall, not far from the +entrance to the restaurant, and throughout the progress of the earlier +part of their meal were able to watch the constant incoming stream of +their fellow-guests. They were, in their way, an interesting contrast +physically, neither of them good-looking according to ordinary +standards, but both with many pleasant characteristics. Andrew Wilmore, +slight and dark, with sallow cheeks and brown eyes, looked very much +what he was--a moderately successful journalist and writer of stories, +a keen golfer, a bachelor who preferred a pipe to cigars, and lived +at Richmond because he could not find a flat in London which he could +afford, large enough for his somewhat expansive habits. Francis Ledsam +was of a sturdier type, with features perhaps better known to the world +owing to the constant activities of the cartoonist. His reputation +during the last few years had carried him, notwithstanding his +comparative youth--he was only thirty-five years of age--into the very +front ranks of his profession, and his income was one of which men spoke +with bated breath. He came of a family of landed proprietors, whose +younger sons for generations had drifted always either to the Bar or the +Law, and his name was well known in the purlieus of Lincoln's Inn +before he himself had made it famous. He was a persistent refuser +of invitations, and his acquaintances in the fashionable world were +comparatively few. Yet every now and then he felt a mild interest in the +people whom his companion assiduously pointed out to him. + +“A fashionable restaurant, Francis, is rather like your Law Courts--it +levels people up,” the latter remarked. “Louis, the head-waiter, is the +judge, and the position allotted in the room is the sentence. I wonder +who is going to have the little table next but one to us. Some favoured +person, evidently.” + +Francis glanced in the direction indicated without curiosity. The +table in question was laid for two and was distinguished by a wonderful +cluster of red roses. + +“Why is it,” the novelist continued speculatively, “that, whenever we +take another man's wife out, we think it necessary to order red roses?” + +“And why is it,” Francis queried, a little grimly, “that a dear fellow +like you, Andrew, believes it his duty to talk of trifles for his pal's +sake, when all the time he is thinking of something else? I know you're +dying to talk about the Hilditch case, aren't you? Well, go ahead.” + +“I'm only interested in this last development,” Wilmore confessed. +“Of course, I read the newspaper reports. To tell you the truth, for a +murder trial it seemed to me to rather lack colour.” + +“It was a very simple and straightforward case,” Francis said slowly. +“Oliver Hilditch is the principal partner in an American financial +company which has recently opened offices in the West End. He seems to +have arrived in England about two years ago, to have taken a house in +Hill Street, and to have spent a great deal of money. A month or so ago, +his partner from New York arrived in London, a man named Jordan of whom +nothing was known. It has since transpired, however, that his journey +to Europe was undertaken because he was unable to obtain certain figures +relating to the business, from Hilditch. Oliver Hilditch met him at +Southampton, travelled with him to London and found him a room at the +Savoy. The next day, the whole of the time seems to have been spent in +the office, and it is certain, from the evidence of the clerk, that +some disagreement took place between the two men. They dined together, +however, apparently on good terms, at the Cafe Royal, and parted in +Regent Street soon after ten. At twelve o'clock, Jordan's body was +picked up on the pavement in Hill Street, within a few paces of +Heidrich's door. He had been stabbed through the heart with some +needle-like weapon, and was quite dead.” + +“Was there any vital cause of quarrel between them?” Wilmore enquired. + +“Impossible to say,” Francis replied. “The financial position of +the company depends entirely upon the value of a large quantity of +speculative bonds, but as there was only one clerk employed, it was +impossible to get at any figures. Hilditch declared that Jordan had only +a small share in the business, from which he had drawn a considerable +income for years, and that he had not the slightest cause for +complaint.” + +“What were Hilditch's movements that evening?” Wilmore asked. + +“Not a soul seems to have seen him after he left Regent Street,” was the +somewhat puzzled answer. “His own story was quite straightforward +and has never been contradicted. He let himself into his house with a +latch-key after his return from the Cafe Royal, drank a whisky and +soda in the library, and went to bed before half-past eleven. The whole +affair--” + +Francis broke off abruptly in the middle of his sentence. He sat with +his eyes fixed upon the door, silent and speechless. + +“What in Heaven's name is the matter, old fellow?” Wilmore demanded, +gazing at his companion in blank amazement. + +The latter pulled himself together with an effort. The sight of the two +new arrivals talking to Louis on the threshold of the restaurant, seemed +for the moment to have drawn every scrap of colour from his cheeks. +Nevertheless, his recovery was almost instantaneous. + +“If you want to know any more,” he said calmly, “you had better go and +ask him to tell you the whole story himself. There he is.” + +“And the woman with him?” Wilmore exclaimed under his breath. + +“His wife!” + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +To reach their table, the one concerning which Francis and his friend +had been speculating, the new arrivals, piloted by Louis, had to pass +within a few feet of the two men. The woman, serene, coldly beautiful, +dressed like a Frenchwoman in unrelieved black, with extraordinary +attention to details, passed them by with a careless glance and subsided +into the chair which Louis was holding. Her companion, however, as he +recognised Francis hesitated. His expression of somewhat austere gloom +was lightened. A pleasant but tentative smile parted his lips. He +ventured upon a salutation, half a nod, half a more formal bow, a +salutation which Francis instinctively returned. Andrew Wilmore looked +on with curiosity. + +“So that is Oliver Hilditch,” he murmured. + +“That is the man,” Francis observed, “of whom last evening half the +people in this restaurant were probably asking themselves whether or +not he was guilty of murder. To-night they will be wondering what he is +going to order for dinner. It is a strange world.” + +“Strange indeed,” Wilmore assented. “This afternoon he was in the dock, +with his fate in the balance--the condemned cell or a favoured table at +Claridge's. And your meeting! One can imagine him gripping your hands, +with tears in his eyes, his voice broken with emotion, sobbing out his +thanks. And instead you exchange polite bows. I would not have missed +this situation for anything.” + +“Tradesman!” Francis scoffed. “One can guess already at the plot of your +next novel.” + +“He has courage,” Wilmore declared. “He has also a very beautiful +companion. Were you serious, Francis, when you told me that that was his +wife?” + +“She herself was my informant,” was the quiet reply. + +Wilmore was puzzled. + +“But she passed you just now without even a glance of recognition, and +I thought you told me at the club this afternoon that all your knowledge +of his evil ways came from her. Besides, she looks at least twenty years +younger than he does.” + +Francis, who had been watching his glass filled with champagne, raised +it to his lips and drank its contents steadily to the last drop. + +“I can only tell you what I know, Andrew,” he said, as he set down the +empty glass. “The woman who is with him now is the woman who spoke to me +outside the Old Bailey this afternoon. We went to a tea-shop together. +She told me the story of his career. I have never listened to so +horrible a recital in my life.” + +“And yet they are here together, dining tête-à-tête, on a night when it +must have needed more than ordinary courage for either of them to have +been seen in public at all,” Wilmore pointed out. + +“It is as astounding to me as it is to you,” Francis confessed. “From +the way she spoke, I should never have dreamed that they were living +together.” + +“And from his appearance,” Wilmore remarked, as he called the waiter +to bring some cigarettes, “I should never have imagined that he was +anything else save a high-principled, well-born, straightforward sort of +chap. I never saw a less criminal type of face.” + +They each in turn glanced at the subject of their discussion. Oliver +Hilditch's good-looks had been the subject of many press comments during +the last few days. They were certainly undeniable. His face was a little +lined but his hair was thick and brown. His features were regular, his +forehead high and thoughtful, his mouth a trifle thin but straight and +shapely. Francis gazed at him like a man entranced. The hours seemed to +have slipped away. He was back in the tea-shop, listening to the woman +who spoke of terrible things. He felt again his shivering abhorrence of +her cold, clearly narrated story. Again he shrank from the horrors from +which with merciless fingers she had stripped the coverings. He seemed +to see once more the agony in her white face, to hear the eternal pain +aching and throbbing in her monotonous tone. He rose suddenly to his +feet. + +“Andrew,” he begged, “tell the fellow to bring the bill outside. We'll +have our coffee and liqueurs there.” + +Wilmore acquiesced willingly enough, but even as they turned towards +the door Francis realised what was in store for him. Oliver Hilditch had +risen to his feet. With a courteous little gesture he intercepted the +passer-by. Francis found himself standing side by side with the man for +whose life he had pleaded that afternoon, within a few feet of the woman +whose terrible story seemed to have poisoned the very atmosphere he +breathed, to have shown him a new horror in life, to have temporarily, +at any rate, undermined every joy and ambition he possessed. + +“Mr. Ledsam,” Hilditch said, speaking with quiet dignity, “I hope that +you will forgive the liberty I take in speaking to you here. I looked +for you the moment I was free this afternoon, but found that you had +left the Court. I owe you my good name, probably my life. Thanks are +poor things but they must be spoken.” + +“You owe me nothing at all,” Francis replied, in a tone which even he +found harsh. “I had a brief before me and a cause to plead. It was a +chapter out of my daily work.” + +“That work can be well done or ill,” the other reminded him gently. +“In your case, my presence here proves how well it was done. I wish to +present you to my wife, who shares my gratitude.” + +Francis bowed to the woman, who now, at her husband's words, raised her +eyes. For the first time he saw her smile. It seemed to him that the +effort made her less beautiful. + +“Your pleading was very wonderful, Mr. Ledsam,” she said, a very subtle +note of mockery faintly apparent in her tone. “We poor mortals find +it difficult to understand that with you all that show of passionate +earnestness is merely--what did you call it?--a chapter in your day's +work? It is a great gift to be able to argue from the brain and plead as +though from the heart.” + +“We will not detain Mr. Ledsam,” Oliver Hilditch interposed, a little +hastily. “He perhaps does not care to be addressed in public by a client +who still carries with him the atmosphere of the prison. My wife and I +wondered, Mr. Ledsam, whether you would be good enough to dine with us +one night. I think I could interest you by telling you more about +my case than you know at present, and it would give us a further +opportunity, and a more seemly one, for expressing our gratitude.” + +Francis had recovered himself by this time. He was after all a man of +parts, and though he still had the feeling that he had been through one +of the most momentous days of his life, his savoir faire was making its +inevitable reappearance. He knew very well that the idea of that dinner +would be horrible to him. He also knew that he would willingly cancel +every engagement he had rather than miss it. + +“You are very kind,” he murmured. + +“Are we fortunate enough to find you disengaged,” Hilditch suggested, +“to-morrow evening?” + +“I am quite free,” was the ready response. + +“That suits you, Margaret?” Hilditch asked, turning courteously to his +wife. + +For a single moment her eyes were fixed upon those of her prospective +guest. He read their message which pleaded for his refusal, and he +denied it. + +“To-morrow evening will suit me as well as any other,” she acquiesced, +after a brief pause. + +“At eight o'clock, then--number 10 b, Hill Street,” Hilditch concluded. + +Francis bowed and turned away with a murmured word of polite assent. +Outside, he found Wilmore deep in the discussion of the merits of +various old brandies with an interested maitre d'hotel. + +“Any choice, Francis?” his host enquired. + +“None whatever,” was the prompt reply, “only, for God's sake, give me a +double one quickly!” + +The two men were on the point of departure when Oliver Hilditch and his +wife left the restaurant. As though conscious that they had become +the subject of discussion, as indeed was the case, thanks to the busy +whispering of the various waiters, they passed without lingering through +the lounge into the entrance hall, where Francis and Andrew Wilmore were +already waiting for a taxicab. Almost as they appeared, a new arrival +was ushered through the main entrance, followed by porters carrying +luggage. He brushed past Francis so closely that the latter looked into +his face, half attracted and half repelled by the waxen-like complexion, +the piercing eyes, and the dignified carriage of the man whose arrival +seemed to be creating some stir in the hotel. A reception clerk and a +deputy manager had already hastened forward. The newcomer waved them +back for a moment. Bareheaded, he had taken Margaret Hilditch's hands in +his and raised them to his lips. + +“I came as quickly as I could,” he said. “There was the usual delay, of +course, at Marseilles, and the trains on were terrible. So all has ended +well.” + +Oliver Hilditch, standing by, remained speechless. It seemed for a +moment as though his self-control were subjected to a severe strain. + +“I had the good fortune,” he interposed, in a low tone, “to be +wonderfully defended. Mr. Ledsam here--” + +He glanced around. Francis, with some idea of what was coming, obeyed an +imaginary summons from the head-porter, touched Andrew Wilmore upon +the shoulder, and hastened without a backward glance through the +swing-doors. Wilmore turned up his coat-collar and looked doubtfully up +at the rain. + +“I say, old chap,” he protested, “you don't really mean to walk?” + +Francis thrust his hand through his friend's arm and wheeled him round +into Davies Street. + +“I don't care what the mischief we do, Andrew,” he confided, “but +couldn't you see what was going to happen? Oliver Hilditch was going to +introduce me as his preserver to the man who had just arrived!” + +“Are you afflicted with modesty, all of a sudden?” Wilmore grumbled. + +“No, remorse,” was the terse reply. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Indecision had never been one of Francis Ledsam's faults, but four times +during the following day he wrote out a carefully worded telegraphic +message to Mrs. Oliver Hilditch, 10 b, Hill Street, regretting his +inability to dine that night, and each time he destroyed it. He carried +the first message around Richmond golf course with him, intending to +dispatch his caddy with it immediately on the conclusion of the round. +The fresh air, however, and the concentration required by the game, +seemed to dispel the nervous apprehensions with which he had anticipâtéd +his visit, and over an aperitif in the club bar he tore the telegram +into small pieces and found himself even able to derive a certain +half-fearful pleasure from the thought of meeting again the woman who, +together with her terrible story, had never for one moment been out of +his thoughts. Andrew Wilmore, who had observed his action, spoke of it +as they settled down to lunch. + +“So you are going to keep your engagement tonight, Francis?” he +observed. + +The latter nodded. + +“After all, why not?” he asked, a little defiantly. “It ought to be +interesting.” + +“Well, there's nothing of the sordid criminal, at any rate, about Oliver +Hilditch,” Wilmore declared. “Neither, if one comes to think of it, does +his wife appear to be the prototype of suffering virtue. I wonder if you +are wise to go, Francis?” + +“Why not?” the man who had asked himself that question a dozen times +already, demanded. + +“Because,” Wilmore replied coolly, “underneath that steely hardness +of manner for which your profession is responsible, you have a vein +of sentiment, of chivalrous sentiment, I should say, which some day or +other is bound to get you into trouble. The woman is beautiful enough +to turn any one's head. As a matter of fact, I believe that you are more +than half in love with her already.” + +Francis Ledsam sat where the sunlight fell upon his strong, forceful +face, shone, too, upon the table with its simple but pleasant +appointments, upon the tankard of beer by his side, upon the plate of +roast beef to which he was already doing ample justice. He laughed with +the easy confidence of a man awakened from some haunting nightmare, +relieved to find his feet once more firm upon the ground. + +“I have been a fool to take the whole matter so seriously, Andrew,” + he declared. “I expect to walk back to Clarges Street to-night, +disillusioned. The man will probably present me with a gold pencil-case, +and the woman--” + +“Well, what about the woman?” Wilmore asked, after a brief pause. + +“Oh, I don't know!” Francis declared, a little impatiently. “The woman +is the mystery, of course. Probably my brain was a little over-excited +when I came out of Court, and what I imagined to be an epic was nothing +more than a tissue of exaggerations from a disappointed wife. I'm sure +I'm doing the right thing to go there.... What about a four-ball this +afternoon, Andrew?” + +The four-ball match was played and won in normal fashion. The two men +returned to town together afterwards, Wilmore to the club and Francis to +his rooms in Clarges Street to prepare for dinner. At a few minutes to +eight he rang the bell of number 10 b, Hill Street, and found his host +and hostess awaiting him in the small drawing-room into which he was +ushered. It seemed to him that the woman, still colourless, again +marvellously gowned, greeted him coldly. His host, however, was almost +too effusive. There was no other guest, but the prompt announcement of +dinner dispelled what might have been a few moments of embarrassment +after Oliver Hilditch's almost too cordial greeting. The woman laid her +fingers upon her guest's coat-sleeve. The trio crossed the little hall +almost in silence. + +Dinner was served in a small white Georgian dining-room, with every +appurtenance of almost Sybaritic luxury. The only light in the room +was thrown upon the table by two purple-shaded electric lamps, and the +servants who waited seemed to pass backwards and forwards like shadows +in some mysterious twilight--even the faces of the three diners +themselves were out of the little pool of light until they leaned +forward. The dinner was chosen with taste and restraint, the wines were +not only costly but rare. A watchful butler, attended now and then by +a trim parlour-maid, superintended the service. Only once, when she +ordered a bowl of flowers removed from the table, did their mistress +address either of them. Conversation after the first few amenities +speedily became almost a monologue. One man talked whilst the others +listened, and the man who talked was Oliver Hilditch. He possessed the +rare gift of imparting colour and actuality in a few phrases to the +strange places of which he spoke, of bringing the very thrill of strange +happenings into the shadowy room. It seemed that there was scarcely a +country of the world which he had not visited, a country, that is to +say, where men congregate, for he admitted from the first that he was a +city worshipper, that the empty places possessed no charm for him. + +“I am not even a sportsman,” he confessed once, half apologetically, in +reply to a question from his guest. “I have passed down the great rivers +of the world without a thought of salmon, and I have driven through the +forest lands and across the mountains behind a giant locomotive, without +a thought of the beasts which might be lurking there, waiting to be +killed. My only desire has been to reach the next place where men and +women were.” + +“Irrespective of nationality?” Francis queried. + +“Absolutely. I have never minded much of what race--I have the trick +of tongues rather strangely developed--but I like the feeling of human +beings around me. I like the smell and sound and atmosphere of a great +city. Then all my senses are awake, but life becomes almost turgid in my +veins during the dreary hours of passing from one place to another.” + +“Do you rule out scenery as well as sport from amongst the joys of +travel?” Francis enquired. + +“I am ashamed to make such a confession,” his host answered, “but I +have never lingered for a single unnecessary moment to look at the most +wonderful landscape in the world. On the other hand, I have lounged for +hours in the narrowest streets of Pekin, in the markets of Shanghai, +along Broadway in New York, on the boulevards in Paris, outside the +Auditorium in Chicago. These are the obvious places where humanity +presses the thickest, but I know of others. Some day we will talk of +them.” + +Francis, too, although that evening, through sheer lack of sympathy, +he refused to admit it, shared to some extent Hilditch's passionate +interest in his fellow-creatures, and notwithstanding the strange +confusion of thought into which he had been thrown during the last +twenty-four hours, he felt something of the pungency of life, the thrill +of new and appealing surroundings, as he sat in his high-backed chair, +sipping his wonderful wine, eating almost mechanically what was set +before him, fascinated through all his being by his strange company. + +For three days he had cast occasional glances at this man, seated in +the criminal dock with a gaoler on either side of him, his fine, +nervous features gaining an added distinction from the sordidness of his +surroundings. Now, in the garb of civilisation, seated amidst luxury to +which he was obviously accustomed, with a becoming light upon his face +and this strange, fascinating flow of words proceeding always from his +lips, the man, from every external point of view, seemed amongst the +chosen ones of the world. The contrast was in itself amazing. And then +the woman! Francis looked at her but seldom, and when he did it was with +a curious sense of mental disturbance; poignant but unanalysable. + +It was amazing to see her here, opposite the man of whom she had told +him that ghastly story, mistress of his house, to all appearance his +consort, apparently engrossed in his polished conversation, yet with +that subtle withholding of her real self which Francis rather imagined +than felt, and which somehow seemed to imply her fierce resentment of +her husband's re-entry into the arena of life. It was a situation so +strange that Francis, becoming more and more subject to its influence, +was inclined to wonder whether he had not met with some accident on +his way from the Court, and whether this was not one of the heated +nightmares following unconsciousness. + +“Tell me,” he asked his host, during one of the brief pauses in the +conversation, “have you ever tried to analyse this interest of yours +in human beings and crowded cities, this hatred of solitude and empty +spaces?” + +Oliver Hilditch smiled thoughtfully, and gazed at a salted almond which +he was just balancing between the tips of his fingers. + +“I think,” he said simply, “it is because I have no soul.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The three diners lingered for only a short time over their dessert. +Afterwards, they passed together into a very delightful library on the +other side of the round, stone-paved hall. Hilditch excused himself for +a moment. + +“I have some cigars which I keep in my dressing-room,” he explained, +“and which I am anxious for you to try. There is an electric stove there +and I can regulate the temperature.” + +He departed, closing the door behind him. Francis came a little further +into the room. His hostess, who had subsided into an easy-chair and was +holding a screen between her face and the fire, motioned him to, +seat himself opposite. He did so without words. He felt curiously and +ridiculously tongue-tied. He fell to studying the woman instead of +attempting the banality of pointless speech. From the smooth gloss of +her burnished hair, to the daintiness of her low, black brocaded shoes, +she represented, so far as her physical and outward self were concerned, +absolute perfection. No ornament was amiss, no line or curve of her +figure other than perfectly graceful. Yet even the fire's glow which +she had seemed to dread brought no flush of colour to her cheeks. Her +appearance of complete lifelessness remained. It was as though some sort +of crust had formed about her being, a condition which her very physical +perfection seemed to render the more incomprehensible. + +“You are surprised to see me here living with my husband, after what +I told you yesterday afternoon?” she said calmly, breaking at last the +silence which had reigned between them. + +“I am,” he admitted. + +“It seems unnatural to you, I suppose?” + +“Entirely.” + +“You still believe all that I told you?” + +“I must.” + +She looked at the door and raised her head a little, as though either +listening or adjudging the time before her husband would return. Then +she glanced across at him once more. + +“Hatred,” she said, “does not always drive away. Sometimes it attracts. +Sometimes the person who hates can scarcely bear the other out of his +sight. That is where hate and love are somewhat alike.” + +The room was warm but Francis was conscious of shivering. She raised +her finger warningly. It seemed typical of the woman, somehow, that the +message could not be conveyed by any glance or gesture. + +“He is coming,” she whispered. + +Oliver Hilditch reappeared, carrying cigars wrapped in gold foil which +he had brought with him from Cuba, the tobacco of which was a revelation +to his guest. The two men smoked and sipped their coffee and brandy. The +woman sat with half-closed eyes. It was obvious that Hilditch was still +in the mood for speech. + +“I will tell you, Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “why I am so happy to have you +here this evening. In the first place, I desire to tender you once more +my thanks for your very brilliant efforts on my behalf. The very fact +that I am able to offer you hospitality at all is without a doubt due to +these.” + +“I only did what I was paid to do,” Francis insisted, a little harshly. +“You must remember that these things come in the day's work with us.” + +His host nodded. + +“Naturally,” he murmured. “There was another reason, too, why I was +anxious to meet you, Mr. Ledsam,” he continued. “You have gathered +already that I am something of a crank. I have a profound detestation +of all sentimentality and affected morals. It is a relief to me to +come into contact with a man who is free from that bourgeois incubus to +modern enterprise--a conscience.” + +“Is that your estimate of me?” Francis asked. + +“Why not? You practise your profession in the criminal courts, do you +not?” + +“That is well-known,” was the brief reply. + +“What measure of conscience can a man have,” Oliver Hilditch argued +blandly, “who pleads for the innocent and guilty alike with the same +simulated fervour? Confess, now, Mr. Ledsam--there is no object in being +hypocritical in this matter--have you not often pleaded for the guilty +as though you believed them innocent?” + +“That has sometimes been my duty,” Francis acknowledged. + +Hilditch laughed scornfully. + +“It is all part of the great hypocrisy of society,” he proclaimed. +“You have an extra glass of champagne for dinner at night and are +congratulated by your friends because you have helped some poor devil +to cheat the law, while all the time you know perfectly well, and so +do your high-minded friends, that your whole attitude during those two +hours of eloquence has been a lie. That is what first attracted me to +you, Mr. Ledsam.” + +“I am sorry to hear it,” Francis commented coldly. “The ethics of my +profession--” + +His host stopped him with a little wave of the hand. + +“Spare me that,” he begged. “While we are on the subject, though, I have +a question to ask you. My lawyer told me, directly after he had briefed +you, that, although it would make no real difference to your pleading, +it would be just as well for me to keep up my bluff of being innocent, +even in private conversation with you. Why was that?” + +“For the very obvious reason,” Francis told him, “that we are not +all such rogues and vagabonds as you seem to think. There is more +satisfaction to me, at any rate, in saving an innocent man's life than a +guilty one's.” + +Hilditch laughed as though amused. + +“Come,” he threatened, “I am going to be ill-natured. You have shown +signs of smugness, a quality which I detest. I am going to rob you of +some part of your self-satisfaction. Of course I killed Jordan. I killed +him in the very chair in which you are now sitting.” + +There was a moment's intense silence. The woman was still fanning +herself lazily. Francis leaned forward in his place. + +“I do not wish to hear this!” he exclaimed harshly. + +“Don't be foolish,” his host replied, rising to his feet and strolling +across the room. “You know the whole trouble of the prosecution. They +couldn't discover the weapon, or anything like it, with which the deed +was done. Now I'll show you something ingenious.” + +Francis followed the other's movements with fascinated eyes. The woman +scarcely turned her head. Hilditch paused at the further end of the +room, where there were a couple of gun cases, some fishing rods and a +bag, of golf clubs. From the latter he extracted a very ordinary-looking +putter, and with it in his hands strolled back to them. + +“Do you play golf, Ledsam?” he asked. “What do you think of that?” + +Francis took the putter into his hand. It was a very ordinary club, +which had apparently seen a good deal of service, so much, indeed, that +the leather wrapping at the top was commencing to unroll. The maker's +name was on the back of the blade, also the name of the professional +from whom it had been purchased. Francis swung the implement +mechanically with his wrists. + +“There seems to be nothing extraordinary about the club,” he pronounced. +“It is very much like a cleek I putt with myself.” + +“Yet it contains a secret which would most certainly have hanged me,” + Oliver Hilditch declared pleasantly. “See!” + +He held the shaft firmly in one hand and bent the blade away from it. +In a moment or two it yielded and he commenced to unscrew it. A little +exclamation escaped from Francis' lips. The woman looked on with tired +eyes. + +“The join in the steel,” Hilditch pointed out, “is so fine as to be +undistinguishable by the naked eye. Yet when the blade comes off, like +this, you see that although the weight is absolutely adjusted, the +inside is hollow. The dagger itself is encased in this cotton wool to +avoid any rattling. I put it away in rather a hurry the last time I used +it, and as you see I forgot to clean it.” + +Francis staggered back and gripped at the mantelpiece. His eyes were +filled with horror. Very slowly, and with the air of one engaged upon +some interesting task, Oliver Hilditch had removed the blood-stained +sheath of cotton wool from around the thin blade of a marvellous-looking +stiletto, on which was also a long stain of encrusted blood. + +“There is a handle,” he went on, “which is perhaps the most ingenious +thing of all. You touch a spring here, and behold!” + +He pressed down two tiny supports which opened upon hinges about four +inches from the top of the handle. There was now a complete hilt. + +“With this little weapon,” he explained, “the point is so sharpened +and the steel so wonderful that it is not necessary to stab. It has the +perfection of a surgical instrument. You have only to lean it against +a certain point in a man's anatomy, lunge ever so little and the whole +thing is done. Come here, Mr. Ledsam, and I will show you the exact +spot.” + +Francis made no movement. His eyes were fixed upon the weapon. + +“If I had only known!” he muttered. + +“My dear fellow, if you had,” the other protested soothingly, “you know +perfectly well that it would not have made the slightest difference. +Perhaps that little break in your voice would not have come quite so +naturally, the little sweep of your arm towards me, the man whom a +moment's thoughtlessness might sweep into Eternity, would have been a +little stiffer, but what matter? You would still have done your best and +you would probably still have succeeded. You don't care about trifling +with Eternity, eh? Very well, I will find the place for you.” + +Hilditch's fingers strayed along his shirt-front until he found a +certain spot. Then he leaned the dagger against it, his forefinger and +second finger pressed against the hilt. His eyes were fixed upon his +guest's. He seemed genuinely interested. Francis, glancing away for a +moment, was suddenly conscious of a new horror. The woman had leaned +a little forward in her easy-chair until she had attained almost a +crouching position. Her eyes seemed to be measuring the distance from +where she sat to that quivering thread of steel. + +“You see, Ledsam,” his host went on, “that point driven now at that +angle would go clean through the vital part of my heart. And it needs no +force, either--just the slow pressure of these two fingers. What did you +say, Margaret?” he enquired, breaking off abruptly. + +The woman was seated upon the very edge of her chair, her eyes rivetted +upon the dagger. There was no change in her face, not a tremor in her +tone. + +“I said nothing,” she replied. “I did not speak at all. I was just +watching.” + +Hilditch turned back to his guest. + +“These two fingers,” he repeated, “and a flick of the wrist--very little +more than would be necessary for a thirty yard putt right across the +green.” + +Francis had recovered himself, had found his bearings to a certain +extent. + +“I am sorry that you have told me this, Mr. Hilditch,” he said, a little +stiffly. + +“Why?” was the puzzled reply. “I thought you would be interested.” + +“I am interested to this extent,” Francis declared, “I shall accept no +more cases such as yours unless I am convinced of my client's innocence. +I look upon your confession to me as being in the worst possible taste, +and I regret very much my efforts on your behalf.” + +The woman was listening intently. Hilditch's expression was one of +cynical wonder. Francis rose to his feet and moved across to his +hostess. + +“Mrs. Hilditch,” he said, “will you allow me to make my apologies? Your +husband and I have arrived at an understanding--or perhaps I should +say a misunderstanding--which renders the acceptance of any further +hospitality on my part impossible.” + +She held out the tips of her fingers. + +“I had no idea,” she observed, with gentle sarcasm, “that you barristers +were such purists morally. I thought you were rather proud of being the +last hope of the criminal classes.” + +“Madam,” Francis replied, “I am not proud of having saved the life of a +self-confessed murderer, even though that man may be your husband.” + +Hilditch was laughing softly to himself as he escorted his departing +guest to the door. + +“You have a quaint sense of humour,” Francis remarked. + +“Forgive me,” Oliver Hilditch begged, “but your last few words rather +appealed to me. You must be a person of very scanty perceptions if you +could spend the evening here and not understand that my death is the one +thing in the world which would make my wife happy.” + +Francis walked home with these last words ringing in his ears. They +seemed with him even in that brief period of troubled sleep which came +to him when he had regained his rooms and turned in. They were there in +the middle of the night when he was awakened, shivering, by the shrill +summons of his telephone bell. He stood quaking before the instrument +in his pajamas. It was the voice which, by reason of some ghastly +premonition, he had dreaded to hear--level, composed, emotionless. + +“Mr. Ledsam?” she enquired. + +“I am Francis Ledsam,” he assented. “Who wants me?” + +“It is Margaret Hilditch speaking,” she announced. “I felt that I must +ring up and tell you of a very strange thing which happened after you +left this evening.” + +“Go on,” he begged hoarsely. + +“After you left,” she went on, “my husband persisted in playing with +that curious dagger. He laid it against his heart, and seated himself +in the chair which Mr. Jordan had occupied, in the same attitude. It was +what he called a reconstruction. While he was holding it there, I think +that he must have had a fit, or it may have been remorse, we shall never +know. He called out and I hurried across the room to him. I tried to +snatch the dagger away--I did so, in fact--but I must have been too +late. He had already applied that slight movement of the fingers which +was necessary. The doctor has just left. He says that death must have +been instantaneous.” + +“But this is horrible!” Francis cried out into the well of darkness. + +“A person is on the way from Scotland Yard,” the voice continued, +without change or tremor. “When he has satisfied himself, I am going to +bed. He is here now. Good-night!” + +Francis tried to speak again but his words beat against a wall of +silence. He sat upon the edge of the bed, shivering. In that moment +of agony he seemed to hear again the echo of Oliver Hilditch's mocking +words: + +“My death is the one thing in the world which would make my wife happy!” + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +There was a good deal of speculation at the Sheridan Club, of which he +was a popular and much envied member, as to the cause for the complete +disappearance from their midst of Francis Ledsam since the culmination +of the Hilditch tragedy. + +“Sent back four topping briefs, to my knowledge, last week,” one of the +legal luminaries of the place announced to a little group of friends and +fellow-members over a before-dinner cocktail. + +“Griggs offered him the defence of William Bull, the Chippenham +murderer, and he refused it,” another remarked. “Griggs wrote him +personally, and the reply came from the Brancaster Golf Club! It isn't +like Ledsam to be taking golfing holidays in the middle of the session.” + +“There's nothing wrong with Ledsam,” declared a gruff voice from the +corner. “And don't gossip, you fellows, at the top of your voices like a +lot of old women. He'll be calling here for me in a moment or two.” + +They all looked around. Andrew Wilmore rose slowly to his feet and +emerged from behind the sheets of an evening paper. He laid his hand +upon the shoulder of a friend, and glanced towards the door. + +“Ledsam's had a touch of nerves,” he confided. “There's been nothing +else the matter with him. We've been down at the Dormy House at +Brancaster and he's as right as a trivet now. That Hilditch affair did +him in completely.” + +“I don't see why,” one of the bystanders observed. “He got Hilditch off +all right. One of the finest addresses to a jury I ever heard.” + +“That's just the point,” Wilmore explained “You see, Ledsam had no idea +that Hilditch was really guilty, and for two hours that afternoon he +literally fought for his life, and in the end wrested a verdict from the +jury, against the judge's summing up, by sheer magnetism or eloquence +or whatever you fellows like to call it. The very night after, Hilditch +confesses his guilt and commits suicide.” + +“I still don't see where Ledsam's worry comes in,” the legal luminary +remarked. “The fact that the man was guilty is rather a feather in the +cap of his counsel. Shows how jolly good his pleading must have been.” + +“Just so,” Wilmore agreed, “but Ledsam, as you know, is a very +conscientious sort of fellow, and very sensitive, too. The whole thing +was a shock to him.” + +“It must have been a queer experience,” a novelist remarked from the +outskirts of the group, “to dine with a man whose life you have juggled +away from the law, and then have him explain his crime to you, and +the exact manner of its accomplishment. Seems to bring one amongst the +goats, somehow.” + +“Bit of a shock, no doubt,” the lawyer assented, “but I still don't +understand Ledsam's sending back all his briefs. He's not going to chuck +the profession, is he?” + +“Not by any means,” Wilmore declared. “I think he has an idea, though, +that he doesn't want to accept any briefs unless he is convinced that +the person whom he has to represent is innocent, and lawyers don't like +that sort of thing, you know. You can't pick and choose, even when you +have Ledsam's gifts.” + +“The fact of it is,” the novelist commented, “Francis Ledsam isn't +callous enough to be associated with you money-grubbing dispensers of +the law. He'd be all right as Public Prosecutor, a sort of Sir Galahad +waving the banner of virtue, but he hates to stuff his pockets at the +expense of the criminal classes.” + +“Who the mischief are the criminal classes?” a police court magistrate +demanded. “Personally, I call war profiteering criminal, I call a good +many Stock Exchange deals criminal, and,” he added, turning to a member +of the committee who was hovering in the background, “I call it criminal +to expect us to drink French vermouth like this.” + +“There is another point of view,” the latter retorted. “I call it +a crime to expect a body of intelligent men to administer without +emolument to the greed of such a crowd of rotters. You'll get the right +stuff next week.” + +The hall-porter approached and addressed Wilmore. + +“Mr. Ledsam is outside in a taxi, sir,” he announced. + +“Outside in a taxi?” the lawyer repeated. “Why on earth can't he come +in?” + +“I never heard such rot,” another declared. “Let's go and rope him in.” + +“Mr. Ledsam desired me to say, sir,” the hall porter continued, “to +any of his friends who might be here, that he will be in to lunch +to-morrow.” + +“Leave him to me till then,” Wilmore begged. “He'll be all right +directly. He's simply altering his bearings and taking his time about +it. If he's promised to lunch here to-morrow, he will. He's as near as +possible through the wood. Coming up in the train, he suggested a little +conversation to-night and afterwards the normal life. He means it, too. +There's nothing neurotic about Ledsam.” + +The magistrate nodded. + +“Run along, then, my merry Andrew,” he said, “but see that Ledsam keeps +his word about to-morrow.” + + +Andrew Wilmore plunged boldly into the forbidden subject later on that +evening, as the two men sat side by side at one of the wall tables in +Soto's famous club restaurant. They had consumed an excellent dinner. +An empty champagne bottle had just been removed, double liqueur brandies +had taken its place. Francis, with an air of complete and even exuberant +humanity, had lit a huge cigar. The moment seemed propitious. + +“Francis,” his friend began, “they say at the club that you refused to +be briefed in the Chippenham affair.” + +“Quite true,” was the calm reply. “I told Griggs that I wouldn't have +anything to do with it.” + +Wilmore knew then that all was well. Francis' old air of strength and +decision had returned. His voice was firm, his eyes were clear and +bright. His manner seemed even to invite questioning. + +“I think I know why,” Wilmore said, “but I should like you to tell me in +your own words.” + +Francis glanced around as though to be sure that they were not +overheard. + +“Because,” he replied, dropping his voice a little but still speaking +with great distinctness, “William Bull is a cunning and dangerous +criminal whom I should prefer to see hanged.” + +“You know that?” + +“I know that.” + +“It would be a great achievement to get him off,” Wilmore persisted. +“The evidence is very weak in places.” + +“I believe that I could get him off,” was the confident reply. “That +is why I will not touch the brief. I think,” Francis continued, “that +I have already conveyed it to you indirectly, but here you are in plain +words, Andrew. I have made up my mind that I will defend no man in +future unless I am convinced of his innocence.” + +“That means--” + +“It means practically the end of my career at the bar,” Francis +admitted. “I realise that absolutely: Fortunately, as you know, I am not +dependent upon my earnings, and I have had a wonderful ten years.” + +“This is all because of the Hilditch affair, I suppose?” + +“Entirely.” + +Wilmore was still a little puzzled. + +“You seem to imagine that you have something on your conscience as +regards that business,” he said boldly. + +“I have,” was the calm reply. + +“Come,” Wilmore protested, “I don't quite follow your line of thought. +Granted that Hilditch was a desperate criminal whom by the exercise +of your special gifts you saved from the law, surely his tragic death +balanced the account between you and Society?” + +“It might have done,” Francis admitted, “if he had really committed +suicide.” + +Wilmore was genuinely startled. He looked at his companion curiously. + +“What the devil do you mean, old chap?” he demanded. “Your own evidence +at the inquest was practically conclusive as to that.” + +Francis glanced around him with apparent indifference but in reality +with keen and stealthy care. On their right was a glass division, +through which the sound of their voices could not possibly penetrate. +On their left was an empty space, and a table beyond was occupied by a +well-known cinema magnate engaged in testing the attractions in daily +life of a would-be film star. Nevertheless, Francis' voice was scarcely +raised above a whisper. + +“My evidence at the coroner's inquest,” he confided, “was a subtly +concocted tissue of lies. I committed perjury freely. That is the real +reason why I've been a little on the nervy side lately, and why I took +these few months out of harness.” + +“Good God!” Wilmore exclaimed, setting down untasted the glass of brandy +which he had just raised to his lips. + +“I want to finish this matter up,” Francis continued calmly, “by making +a clean breast of it to you, because from to-night I am starting afresh, +with new interests in my life, what will practically amount to a new +career. That is why I preferred not to dine at the club to-night, +although I am looking forward to seeing them all again. I wanted instead +to have this conversation with you. I lied at the inquest when I said +that the relations between Oliver Hilditch and his wife that night +seemed perfectly normal. I lied when I said that I knew of no cause for +ill-will between them. I lied when I said that I left them on friendly +terms. I lied when I said that Oliver Hilditch seemed depressed and +nervous. I lied when I said that he expressed the deepest remorse for +what he had done. There was every indication that night, of the hate +which I happen to know existed between the woman and the man. I have not +the faintest doubt in my mind but that she murdered him. In my judgment, +she was perfectly justified in doing so.” + +There followed a brief but enforced silence as some late arrivals +passed their table. The room was well-ventilated but Andrew Wilmore felt +suddenly hot and choking. A woman, one of the little group of newcomers, +glanced towards Francis curiously. + +“Francis Ledsam, the criminal barrister,” her companion whispered,--“the +man who got Oliver Hilditch off. The man with him is Andrew Wilmore, the +novelist. Discussing a case, I expect.” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The little party of late diners passed on their way to the further end +of the room, leaving a wave of artificiality behind, or was it, Andrew +Wilmore wondered, in a moment of half-dazed speculation, that it was +they and the rest of the gay company who represented the real things, +and he and his companion who were playing a sombre part in some unreal +and gloomier world. Francis' voice, however, when he recommenced his +diatribe, was calm and matter-of-fact enough. + +“You see,” he continued, argumentatively, “I was morally and actually +responsible for the man's being brought back into Society. And far worse +than that, I was responsible for his being thrust back again upon his +wife. Ergo, I was also responsible for what she did that night. The +matter seems as plain as a pikestaff to me. I did what I could to atone, +rightly or wrongly it doesn't matter, because it is over and done with. +There you are, old fellow, now you know what's been making me nervy. +I've committed wholesale perjury, but I acted according to my conscience +and I think according to justice. The thing has worried me, I admit, but +it has passed, and I'm glad it's off my chest. One more liqueur, Andrew, +and if you want to we'll talk about my plans for the future.” + +The brandy was brought. Wilmore studied his friend curiously, not +without some relief. Francis had lost the harassed and nervous +appearance upon which his club friends had commented, which had been +noticeable, even, to a diminishing extent, upon the golf course at +Brancaster. He was alert and eager. He had the air of a man upon the +threshold of some enterprise dear to his heart. + +“I have been through a queer experience,” Francis continued presently, +as he sipped his second liqueur. “Not only had I rather less than twelve +hours to make up my mind whether I should commit a serious offence +against the law, but a sensation which I always hoped that I might +experience, has come to me in what I suppose I must call most +unfortunate fashion.” + +“The woman?” Wilmore ventured. + +Francis assented gloomily. There was a moment's silence. Wilmore, the +metaphysician, saw then a strange thing. He saw a light steal across his +friend's stern face. He saw his eyes for a moment soften, the hard mouth +relax, something incredible, transforming, shine, as it were, out of +the man's soul in that moment of self-revelation. It was gone like the +momentary passing of a strange gleam of sunshine across a leaden sea, +but those few seconds were sufficient. Wilmore knew well enough what had +happened. + +“Oliver Hilditch's wife,” Francis went on, after a few minutes' pause, +“presents an enigma which at present I cannot hope to solve. The fact +that she received her husband back again, knowing what he was and +what he was capable of, is inexplicable to me. The woman herself is a +mystery. I do not know what lies behind her extraordinary immobility. +Feeling she must have, and courage, or she would never have dared to +have ridded herself of the scourge of her life. But beyond that my +judgment tells me nothing. I only know that sooner or later I shall seek +her out. I shall discover all that I want to know, one way or the other. +It may be for happiness--it may be the end of the things that count.” + +“I guessed this,” Wilmore admitted, with a little shiver which he was +wholly unable to repress. + +Francis nodded. + +“Then keep it to yourself, my dear fellow,” he begged, “like everything +else I am telling you tonight. I have come out of my experience changed +in many ways,” he continued, “but, leaving out that one secret chapter, +this is the dominant factor which looms up before me. I bring into life +a new aversion, almost a passion, Andrew, born in a tea-shop in the +city, and ministered to by all that has happened since. I have lost that +sort of indifference which my profession engenders towards crime. I am +at war with the criminal, sometimes, I hope, in the Courts of Justice, +but forever out of them. I am no longer indifferent as to whether men do +good or evil so long as they do not cross my path. I am a hunter of +sin. I am out to destroy. There's a touch of melodrama in this for +you, Andrew,” he concluded, with a little laugh, “but, my God, I'm in +earnest!” + +“What does this mean so far as regards the routine of your daily life?” + Wilmore asked curiously. + +“Well, it brings us to the point we discussed down at Brancaster,” + Francis replied. “It will affect my work to this extent. I shall not +accept any brief unless, after reading the evidence, I feel convinced +that the accused is innocent.” + +“That's all very well,” Wilmore observed, “but you know what it will +mean, don't you? Lawyers aren't likely to single you out for a brief +without ever feeling sure whether you will accept it or not.” + +“That doesn't worry me,” Francis declared. “I don't need the fees, +fortunately, and I can always pick up enough work to keep me going by +attending Sessions. One thing I can promise you--I certainly shall not +sit in my rooms and wait for things to happen. Mine is a militant spirit +and it needs the outlet of action.” + +“Action, yes, but how?” Wilmore queried. “You can't be always hanging +about the courts, waiting for the chance of defending some poor devil +who's been wrongfully accused--there aren't enough of them, for one +thing. On the other hand, you can't walk down Regent Street, brandishing +a two-edged sword and hunting for pickpockets.” + +Francis smiled. + +“Nothing so flamboyant, I can assure you, Andrew,” he replied; “nor +shall I play the amateur detective with his mouth open for mysteries. +But listen,” he went on earnestly. “I've had some experience, as you +know, and, notwithstanding the Oliver Hilditch's of the world, I can +generally tell a criminal when I meet him face to face. There are plenty +of them about, too, Andrew--as many in this place as any other. I am not +going to be content with a negative position as regards evildoers. I am +going to set my heel on as many of the human vermin of this city as I +can find.” + +“A laudable, a most exhilarating and delightful pursuit! `human vermin,' +too, is excellent. It opens up a new and fascinating vista for the +modern sportsman. My congratulations!” + +It was an interruption of peculiar and wonderful significance, but +Francis did not for the moment appreciate the fact. Turning his head, he +simply saw a complete stranger seated unaccountably at the next table, +who had butted into a private conversation and whose tone of gentle +sarcasm, therefore, was the more offensive. + +“Who the devil are you, sir,” he demanded, “and where did you come +from?” + +The newcomer showed no resentment at Francis' little outburst. He simply +smiled with deprecating amiability--a tall, spare man, with lean, hard +face, complexion almost unnaturally white; black hair, plentifully +besprinkled with grey; a thin, cynical mouth, notwithstanding its +distinctly humourous curve, and keen, almost brilliant dark eyes. He was +dressed in ordinary dinner garb; his linen and jewellery was indeed in +the best possible taste. Francis, at his second glance, was troubled +with a vague sense of familiarity. + +“Let me answer your last question first, sir,” the intruder begged. “I +was seated alone, several tables away, when the couple next to you went +out, and having had pointed out to me the other evening at Claridge's +Hotel, and knowing well by repute, the great barrister, Mr. Francis +Ledsam, and his friend the world-famed novelist, Mr. Andrew Wilmore, +I--er--unobtrusively made my way, half a yard at a time, in your +direction--and here I am. I came stealthily, you may object? Without +a doubt. If I had come in any other fashion, I should have disturbed a +conversation in which I was much interested.” + +“Could you find it convenient,” Francis asked, with icy politeness, “to +return to your own table, stealthily or not, as you choose?” + +The newcomer showed no signs of moving. + +“In after years,” he declared, “you would be the first to regret +the fact if I did so. This is a momentous meeting. It gives me an +opportunity of expressing my deep gratitude to you, Mr. Ledsam, for +the wonderful evidence you tendered at the inquest upon the body of my +son-in-law, Oliver Hilditch.” + +Francis turned in his place and looked steadily at this unsought-for +companion, learning nothing, however, from the half-mocking smile and +imperturbable expression. + +“Your son-in-law?” he repeated. “Do you mean to say that you are the +father of--of Oliver Hilditch's wife?” + +“Widow,” the other corrected gently. “I have that honour. You +will understand, therefore, that I feel myself on this, the first +opportunity, compelled to tender my sincere thanks for evidence so +chivalrously offered, so flawlessly truthful.” + +Francis was a man accustomed to self-control, but he clenched his hands +so that his finger nails dug into his flesh. He was filled with an +insane and unreasoning resentment against this man whose words were +biting into his conscience. Nevertheless, he kept his tone level. + +“I do not desire your gratitude,” he said, “nor, if you will permit me +to say so, your further acquaintance.” + +The stranger shook his head regretfully. + +“You are wrong,” he protested. “We were bound, in any case, to know one +another. Shall I tell you why? You have just declared yourself anxious +to set your heel upon the criminals of the world. I have the distinction +of being perhaps the most famous patron of that maligned class now +living--and my neck is at your service.” + +“You appear to me,” Francis said suavely, “to be a buffoon.” + +It might have been fancy, but Francis could have sworn that he saw the +glitter of a sovereign malevolence in the other's dark eyes. If so, it +was but a passing weakness, for a moment later the half good-natured, +half cynical smile was back again upon the man's lips. + +“If so, I am at least a buffoon of parts,” was the prompt rejoinder. “I +will, if you choose, prove myself.” + +There was a moment's silence. Wilmore was leaning forward in his place, +studying the newcomer earnestly. An impatient invective was somehow +stifled upon Francis' lips. + +“Within a few yards of this place, sometime before the closing hour +to-night,” the intruder continued, earnestly yet with a curious absence +of any human quality in his hard tone, “there will be a disturbance, +and probably what you would call a crime will be committed. Will you use +your vaunted gifts to hunt down the desperate criminal, and, in your own +picturesque phraseology, set your heel upon his neck? Success may bring +you fame, and the trail may lead--well, who knows where?” + +Afterwards, both Francis and Andrew Wilmore marvelled at themselves, +unable at any time to find any reasonable explanation of their conduct, +for they answered this man neither with ridicule, rudeness nor civility. +They simply stared at him, impressed with the convincing arrogance +of his challenge and unable to find words of reply. They received +his mocking farewell without any form of reciprocation or sign of +resentment. They watched him leave the room, a dignified, distinguished +figure, sped on his way with marks of the deepest respect by waiters, +maitres d'hotels and even the manager himself. They behaved, indeed, as +they both admitted afterwards, like a couple of moonstruck idiots. When +he had finally disappeared, however, they looked at one another and the +spell was broken. + +“Well, I'm damned!” Francis exclaimed. “Soto, come here at once.” + +The manager hastened smilingly to their table. + +“Soto,” Francis invoked, “tell us quickly--tell us the name of the +gentleman who has just gone out, and who he is?” + +Soto was amazed. + +“You don't know Sir Timothy Brast, sir?” he exclaimed. “Why, he is +supposed to be one of the richest men in the world! He spends money like +water. They say that when he is in England, his place down the river +alone costs a thousand pounds a week. When he gives a party here, we can +find nothing good enough. He is our most generous client.” + +“Sir Timothy Brast,” Wilmore repeated. “Yes, I have heard of him.” + +“Why, everybody knows Sir Timothy,” Soto went on eloquently. “He is +the greatest living patron of boxing. He found the money for the last +international fight.” + +“Does he often come in alone like this?” Francis asked curiously. + +“Either alone,” Soto replied, “or with a very large party. He entertains +magnificently.” + +“I've seen his name in the paper in connection with something or other, +during the last few weeks,” Wilmore remarked reflectively. + +“Probably about two months ago, sir,” Soto suggested. “He gave a +donation of ten thousand pounds to the Society for the Prevention +of Cruelty to Animals, and they made him a Vice President.... In one +moment, sir.” + +The manager hurried away to receive a newly-arrived guest. Francis and +his friend exchanged a wondering glance. + +“Father of Oliver Hilditch's wife,” Wilmore observed, “the most +munificent patron of boxing in the world, Vice President of the +Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and self-confessed +arch-criminal! He pulled our legs pretty well!” + +“I suppose so,” Francis assented absently. + +Wilmore glanced at his watch. + +“What about moving on somewhere?” he suggested. “We might go into the +Alhambra for half-an-hour, if you like. The last act of the show is the +best.” + +Francis shook his head. + +“We've got to see this thing out,” he replied. “Have you forgotten that +our friend promised us a sensation before we left?” + +Wilmore began to laugh a little derisively. Then, suddenly aware of +some lack of sympathy between himself and his friend, he broke off and +glanced curiously at the latter. + +“You're not taking him seriously, are you?” he enquired. + +Francis nodded. + +“Certainly I am,” he confessed. + +“You don't believe that he was getting at us?” + +“Not for a moment.” + +“You believe that something is going to happen here in this place, or +quite close?” + +“I am convinced of it,” was the calm reply. + +Wilmore was silent. For a moment he was troubled with his old fears as +to his friend's condition. A glance, however, at Francis' set face and +equable, watchful air, reassured him. + +“We must see the thing through, of course, then,” he assented. “Let us +see if we can spot the actors in the coming drama.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +It happened that the two men, waiting in the vestibule of the restaurant +for Francis' car to crawl up to the entrance through the fog which +had unexpectedly rolled up, heard the slight altercation which was +afterwards referred to as preceding the tragedy. The two young people +concerned were standing only a few feet away, the girl pretty, a little +peevish, an ordinary type; her companion, whose boyish features were +marred with dissipation, a very passable example of the young man about +town going a little beyond his tether. + +“It's no good standing here, Victor!” the girl exclaimed, frowning. “The +commissionaire's been gone ages already, and there are two others before +us for taxis.” + +“We can't walk,” her escort replied gloomily. “It's a foul night. +Nothing to do but wait, what? Let's go back and have another drink.” + +The girl stamped her satin-shod foot impatiently. + +“Don't be silly,” she expostulated. “You know I promised Clara we'd be +there early.” + +“All very well,” the young man grumbled, “but what can we do? We shall +have to wait our turn.” + +“Why can't you slip out and look for a taxi yourself?” she suggested. +“Do, Victor,” she added, squeezing his arm. “You're so clever at picking +them up.” + +He made a little grimace, but lit a cigarette and turned up his coat +collar. + +“I'll do my best,” he promised. “Don't go on without me.” + +“Try up towards Charing Cross Road, not the other way,” she advised +earnestly. + +“Right-oh!” he replied, which illuminative form of assent, a word spoken +as he plunged unwillingly into the thick obscurity on the other side of +the revolving doors, was probably the last he ever uttered on earth. + +Left alone, the girl began to shiver, as though suddenly cold. She +turned around and glanced hurriedly back into the restaurant. At that +moment she met the steady, questioning scrutiny of Francis' eyes. She +stood as though transfixed. Then came the sound which every one talked +of for months afterwards, the sound which no one who heard it ever +forgot--the death cry of Victor Bidlake, followed a second afterwards by +a muffled report. A strain of frenzied surprise seemed mingled with the +horror. Afterwards, silence. + +There was the sound of some commotion outside, the sound of hurried +footsteps and agitated voices. Then a terrible little procession +appeared. Something--it seemed to be a shapeless heap of clothes--was +carried in and laid upon the floor, in the little space between the +revolving doors and the inner entrance. Two blue-liveried attendants +kept back the horrified but curious crowd. Francis, vaguely recognised +as being somehow or other connected with the law, was one of the +few people allowed to remain whilst a doctor, fetched out from the +dancing-room, kneeled over the prostrate form. He felt that he knew +beforehand the horrible verdict which the latter whispered in his ear +after his brief examination. + +“Quite dead! A ghastly business!” + +Francis gazed at the hole in the shirt-front, disfigured also by a +scorching stain. + +“A bullet?” he asked. + +The doctor nodded. + +“Fired within a foot of the poor fellow's heart,” he whispered. “The +murderer wasn't taking any chances, whoever he was.” + +“Have the police been sent for?” + +The head-porter stepped forward. + +“There was a policeman within a few yards of the spot, sir,” he replied. +“He's gone down to keep every one away from the place where we found the +body. We've telephoned to Scotland Yard for an inspector.” + +The doctor rose to his feet. + +“Nothing more can be done,” he pronounced. “Keep the people out of here +whilst I go and fetch my hat and coat. Afterwards, I'll take the body to +the mortuary when the ambulance arrives.” + +An attendant pushed his way through the crowd of people on the inner +side of the door. + +“Miss Daisy Hyslop, young lady who was with Mr. Bidlake, has just +fainted in the ladies' room, sir,” he announced. “Could you come?” + +“I'll be there immediately,” the doctor promised. + +The rest of the proceedings followed a normal course. The police +arrived, took various notes, the ambulance followed a little later, the +body was removed, and the little crowd of guests, still infected with a +sort of awed excitement, were allowed to take their leave. Francis and +Wilmore drove almost in silence to the former's rooms in Clarges Street. + +“Come up and have a drink, Andrew,” Francis invited. + +“I need it,” was the half-choked response. + +Francis led the way in silence up the two flights of stairs into his +sitting-room, mixed whiskies and sodas from the decanter and syphon +which stood upon the sideboard, and motioned his friend to an +easy-chair. Then he gave form to the thought which had been haunting +them both. + +“What about our friend Sir Timothy Brast?” he enquired. “Do you believe +now that he was pulling our legs?” + +Wilmore dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief. It was a chilly +evening, but there were drops of perspiration still standing there. + +“Francis,” he confessed, “it's horrible! I don't think realism like this +attracts me. It's horrible! What are we going to do?” + +“Nothing for the present,” was the brief reply. “If we were to tell our +story, we should only be laughed at. What there is to be done falls to +my lot.” + +“Had the police anything to say about it?” Wilmore asked. + +“Only a few words,” Francis replied. “Shopland has it in hand. A good +man but unimaginative. I've come across him in one or two cases lately. +You'll find a little bit like this in the papers to-morrow: 'The murder +is believed to have been committed by one of the gang of desperadoes who +have infested the west-end during the last few months.' You remember the +assault in the Albany Court Yard, and the sandbagging in Shepherd Market +only last week?” + +“That seems to let Sir Timothy out,” Wilmore remarked. + +“There are many motives for crime besides robbery,” Francis declared. +“Don't be afraid, Andrew, that I am going to turn amateur detective and +make the unravelment of this case all the more difficult for Scotland +Yard. If I interfere, it will be on a certainty. Andrew, don't think I'm +mad but I've taken up the challenge our great philanthropist flung at +me to-night. I've very little interest in who killed this boy Victor +Bidlake, or why, but I'm convinced of one thing--Brast knew about it, +and if he is posing as a patron of crime on a great scale, sooner or +later I shall get him. He may think himself safe, and he may have the +courage of Beelzebub--he seems rather that type--but if my presentiment +about him--comes true, his number's up. I can almost divine the meaning +of his breaking in upon our conversation to-night. He needs an enemy--he +is thirsting for danger. He has found it!” + +Wilmore filled his pipe thoughtfully. At the first whiff of tobacco he +began to feel more normal. + +“After all, Francis,” he said, “aren't we a little overstrung to-night? +Sir Timothy Brast is no adventurer. He is a prince in the city, a +persona grata wherever he chooses to go. He isn't a hanger-on in +Society. He isn't even dependent upon Bohemia for his entertainment. +You can't seriously imagine that a man with his possessions is likely +to risk his life and liberty in becoming the inspiration of a band of +cutthroats?” + +Francis smiled. He, too, had lit his pipe and had thrown himself into +his favourite chair. He smiled confidently across at his friend. + +“A millionaire with brains,” he argued, “is just the one person in the +world likely to weary of all ordinary forms of diversion. I begin to +remember things about him already. Haven't you heard about his wonderful +parties down at The Walled House?” + +Wilmore struck the table by his side with his clenched fist. + +“By George, that's it!” he exclaimed. “Who hasn't!” + +“I remember Baker talking about one last year,” Francis continued, +“never any details, but all kinds of mysterious hints--a sort of mixture +between a Roman orgy and a chapter from the 'Arabian Nights'--singers +from Petrograd, dancers from Africa and fighting men from Chicago.” + +“The fellow's magnificent, at any rate,” Wilmore remarked. + +His host smoked furiously for a moment. + +“That's the worst of these multi-millionaires,” he declared. “They think +they can rule the world, traffic in human souls, buy morals, mock at the +law. We shall see!” + +“Do you know the thing that I found most interesting about him?” Wilmore +asked. + +“His black opals,” the other suggested. “You're by the way of being a +collector, aren't you?” + +Wilmore shook his head. + +“The fact that he is the father of Oliver Hilditch's widow.” + +Francis sat quite still for a moment. There was a complete change in his +expression. He looked like a man who has received a shock. + +“I forgot that,” he muttered. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Francis met Shopland one morning about a week later, on his way from +Clarges Street to his chambers in the Temple. The detective raised his +hat and would have passed on, but Francis accosted him. + +“Any progress, Mr. Shopland?” he enquired. + +The detective fingered his small, sandy moustache. He was an +insignificant-looking little man, undersized, with thin frame and watery +eyes. His mouth, however, was hard, and there were some tell-tale little +lines at its corners. + +“None whatever, I am sorry to say, Mr. Ledsam,” he admitted. “At present +we are quite in the dark.” + +“You found the weapon, I hear?” + +Shopland nodded. + +“It was just an ordinary service revolver, dating from the time of the +war, exactly like a hundred thousand others. The enquiries we were able +to make from it came to nothing.” + +“Where was it picked up?” + +“In the middle of the waste plot of ground next to Soto's. The murderer +evidently threw it there the moment he had discharged it. He must have +been wearing rubber-soled shoes, for not a soul heard him go.” + +Francis nodded thoughtfully. + +“I wonder,” he said, after a slight pause, “whether it ever occurred to +you to interview Miss Daisy Hyslop, the young lady who was with Bidlake +on the night of his murder?” + +“I called upon her the day afterwards,” the detective answered. + +“She had nothing to say?” + +“Nothing whatever.” + +“Indirectly, of course,” Francis continued, “the poor girl was the cause +of his death. If she had not insisted upon his going out for a taxicab, +the man who was loitering about would probably have never got hold of +him.” + +The detective glanced up furtively at the speaker. He seemed to reflect +for a moment. + +“I gathered,” he said, “in conversation with the commissionaire, that +Miss Hyslop was a little impatient that night. It seems, however, +that she was anxious to get to a ball which was being given down in +Kensington.” + +“There was a ball, was there?” Francis asked. + +“Without a doubt,” the detective replied. “It was given by a Miss Clara +Bultiwell. She happens to remember urging Miss Hyslop to come on as +early as possible.” + +“So that's that,” Francis observed. + +“Just so, Mr. Ledsam,” the detective murmured. + +They were walking along the Mall now, eastwards. The detective, who +seemed to have been just a saunterer, had accommodated himself to +Francis' destination. + +“Let me see, there was nothing stolen from the young man's person, was +there?” Francis asked presently. + +“Apparently nothing at all, sir.” + +“And I gather that you have made every possible enquiry as to the young +man's relations with his friends?” + +“So far as one can learn, sir, they seem to have been perfectly +amicable.” + +“Of course,” Francis remarked presently, “this may have been quite a +purposeless affair. The deed may have been committed by a man who was +practically a lunatic, without any motive or reason whatever.” + +“Precisely so, sir,” the detective agreed. + +“But, all the same, I don't think it was.” + +“Neither do I, sir.” + +Francis smiled slightly. + +“Shopland,” he said, “if there is no further external evidence to be +collected, I suggest that there is only one person likely to prove of +assistance to you.” + +“And that one person, sir?” + +“Miss Daisy Hyslop.” + +“The young lady whom I have already seen?” + +Francis nodded. + +“The young lady whom you have already seen,” he assented. “At the +same time, Mr. Shopland, we must remember this. If Miss Hyslop has any +knowledge of the facts which are behind Mr. Bidlake's murder, it is more +likely to be to her interest to keep them to herself, than to give them +away to the police free gratis and for nothing. Do you follow me?” + +“Precisely, sir.” + +“That being so,” Francis continued, “I am going to make a proposition +to you for what it is worth. Where were you going when I met you this +morning, Shopland?” + +“To call upon you in Clarges Street, sir.” + +“What for?” + +“I was going to ask you if you would be so kind as to call upon Miss +Daisy Hyslop, sir.” + +Francis smiled. + +“Great minds,” he murmured. “I will see the young lady this afternoon, +Shopland.” + +The detective raised his hat. They had reached the spot where his +companion turned off by the Horse Guards Parade. + +“I may hope to hear from you, then, sir?” + +“Within the course of a day or two, perhaps earlier,” Francis promised. + + +Francis continued his walk along the Embankment to his chambers in the +Temple. He glanced in the outer office as he passed to his consulting +room. + +“Anything fresh, Angrave?” he asked his head-clerk. + +“Nothing whatever, sir,” was the quiet reply. + +He passed on to his own den--a bare room with long windows looking out +over the gardens. He glanced at the two or three letters which lay on +his desk, none of them of the least interest, and leaning back in +his chair commenced to fill his pipe. There was a knock at the door. +Fawsitt, a young beginner at the bar, in whom he had taken some interest +and who deviled for him, presented himself. + +“Can I have a word with you, Mr. Ledsam?” he asked. + +“By all means,” was the prompt response. “Sit down.” + +Fawsitt seated himself on the other side of the table. He had a long, +thin face, dark, narrow eyes, unwholesome complexion, a slightly hooked +nose, and teeth discoloured through constant smoking. His fingers, too, +bore the tell-tale yellow stains. + +“Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I think, with your permission, I should like to +leave at the end of my next three months.” + +Francis glanced across at him. + +“Sorry to hear that, Fawsitt. Are you going to work for any one else?” + +“I haven't made arrangements yet, sir,” the young man replied. “I +thought of offering myself to Mr. Barnes.” + +“Why do you want to leave me?” Francis asked. + +“There isn't enough for me to do, sir.” + +Francis lit his pipe. + +“It's probably just a lull, Fawsitt,” he remarked. + +“I don't think so, sir.” + +“The devil! You've been gossiping with some of these solicitors' clerks, +Fawsitt.” + +“I shouldn't call it gossiping, sir. I am always interested to hear +anything that may concern our--my future. I have reason to believe, sir, +that we are being passed over for briefs.” + +“The reason being?” + +“One can't pick and choose, sir. One shouldn't, anyway.” + +Francis smiled. + +“You evidently don't approve of any measure of personal choice as to the +work which one takes up.” + +“Certainly I do not, sir, in our profession. The only brief I would +refuse would be a losing or an ill-paid one. I don't conceive it to be +our business to prejudge a case.” + +“I see,” Francis murmured. “Go on, Fawsitt.” + +“There's a rumour about,” the young man continued, “that you are only +going to plead where the chances are that your client is innocent.” + +“There's some truth in that,” Francis admitted. + +“If I could leave a little before the three months, sir, I should be +glad,” Fawsitt said. “I look at the matter from an entirely different +point of view.” + +“You shall leave when you like, of course, Fawsitt, but tell me what +that point of view is?” + +“Just this, sir. The simplest-minded idiot who ever stammered through +his address, can get an innocent prisoner off if he knows enough of the +facts and the law. To my mind, the real triumph in our profession is to +be able to unwind the meshes of damning facts and force a verdict for an +indubitably guilty client.” + +“How does the moral side of that appeal to you?” his senior enquired. + +“I didn't become a barrister to study morals, or even to consider them,” + was the somewhat caustic reply. “When once a brief is in my mind, it is +a matter of brain, cunning and resource. The guiltier a man, the greater +the success if you can get him off.” + +“And turn him loose again upon Society?” + +“It isn't our job to consider that, sir. The moral question is only +confusing in the matter. Our job is to make use of the law for the +benefit of our client. That's what we're paid for. That's the measure of +our success or failure.” + +Francis nodded. + +“Very reasonably put, Fawsitt,” he conceded. “I'll give you a letter to +Barnes whenever you like.” + +“I should be glad if you would do so, sir,” the young man said. “I'm +only wasting my time here....” + +Francis wrote a letter of recommendation to Barnes, the great K.C., +considered a stray brief which had found its way in, and strolled up +towards the Milan as the hour approached luncheon-time. In the American +bar of that palatial hotel he found the young man he was looking for--a +flaxen-haired youth who was seated upon one of the small tables, +with his feet upon a chair, laying down the law to a little group of +acquaintances. He greeted Francis cordially but without that due measure +of respect which nineteen should accord to thirty-five. + +“Cheerio, my elderly relative!” he exclaimed. “Have a cocktail.” + +Francis nodded assent. + +“Come into this corner with me for a moment, Charles,” he invited. “I +have a word for your ear.” + +The young man rose and sat by his uncle's side on a settee. + +“In my declining years,” the latter began, “I find myself reverting to +the follies of youth. I require a letter of introduction from you to a +young lady of your acquaintance.” + +“The devil! Not one of my own special little pets, I hope?” + +“Her name is Miss Daisy Hyslop,” Francis announced. + +Lord Charles Southover pursed his lips and whistled. He glanced at +Francis sideways. + +“Is this the beginning of a campaign amongst the butterflies,” he +enquired, “because, if so, I feel it my duty, uncle, to address to you a +few words of solemn warning. Miss Daisy Hyslop is hot stuff.” + +“Look here, young fellow,” Francis said equably, “I don't know what the +state of your exchequer is--” + +“I owe you forty,” Lord Charles interrupted. “Spring another tenner, +make it fifty, that is, and the letter of introduction I will write for +you will bring tears of gratitude to your eyes.” + +“I'll spring the tenner,” Francis promised, “but you'll write just what +I tell you--no more and no less.” + +“Anything extra for keeping mum at home?” the young man ventured +tentatively. + +“You're a nice sort of nephew to have!” Francis declared. “Abandon +these futile attempts at blackmail and just come this way to the +writing-table.” + +“You've got the tenner with you?” the young man asked anxiously. + +Francis produced a well-filled pocketbook. His nephew led the way to +a writing-table, lit a cigarette which he stuck into the corner of his +mouth, and in painstaking fashion wrote the few lines which Francis +dictated. The ten pounds changed hands. + +“Have one with me for luck?” the young man invited brightly. “No? +Perhaps you're right,” he added, in valedictory fashion. “You'd better +keep your head clear for Daisy!” + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Miss Daisy Hyslop received Francis that afternoon, in the sitting-room +of her little suite at the Milan. Her welcoming smile was plaintive and +a little subdued, her manner undeniably gracious. She was dressed in +black, a wonderful background for her really gorgeous hair, and her +deportment indicated a recent loss. + +“How nice of you to come and see me,” she murmured, with a lingering +touch of the fingers. “Do take that easy-chair, please, and sit down and +talk to me. Your roses were beautiful, but whatever made you send them +to me?” + +“Impulse,” he answered. + +She laughed softly. + +“Then please yield to such impulses as often as you feel them,” she +begged. “I adore flowers. Just now, too,” she added, with a little sigh, +“anything is welcome which helps to keep my mind off my own affairs.” + +“It was very good of you to let me come,” he declared. “I can quite +understand that you don't feel like seeing many people just now.” + +Francis' manner, although deferential and courteous, had nevertheless +some quality of aloofness in it to which she was unused and which she +was quick to recognise. The smile, faded from her face. She seemed +suddenly not quite so young. + +“Haven't I seen you before somewhere quite lately?” she asked, a little +sharply. + +“You saw me at Soto's, the night that Victor Bidlake was murdered,” he +reminded her. “I stood quite close to you both while you were waiting +for your taxi.” + +The animation evoked by this call from a presumably new admirer, +suddenly left her. She became nervous and constrained. She glanced again +at his card. + +“Don't tell me,” she begged, “that you have come to ask me any questions +about that night! I simply could not bear it. The police have been here +twice, and I had nothing to tell them, absolutely nothing.” + +“Quite right,” he assented soothingly. “Police have such a clumsy way of +expecting valuable information for nothing. I'm always glad to hear of +their being disappointed.” + +She studied her visitor for a moment carefully. Then she turned to the +table by her side, picked up a note and read it through. + +“Lord Southover tells me here,” she said, “that you are just a pal of +his who wants to make my acquaintance. He doesn't say why.” + +“Is that necessary?” Francis asked good-naturedly. + +She moved in her chair a little nervously, crossing and uncrossing her +legs more than once. Her white silk stockings underneath her black +skirt were exceedingly effective, a fact of which she never lost +consciousness, although at that moment she was scarcely inspired to play +the coquette. + +“I'd like to think it wasn't,” she admitted frankly. + +“I've seen you repeatedly upon the stage,” he told her, “and, though +musical comedy is rather out of my line, I have always admired you +immensely.” + +She studied him once more almost wistfully. + +“You look very nice,” she acknowledged, “but you don't look at all the +kind of man who admires girls who do the sort of rubbish I do on the +stage.” + +“What do I look like?” he asked, smiling. + +“A man with a purpose,” she answered. + +“I begin to think,” he ventured, “that we shall get on. You are really a +very astute young lady.” + +“You are quite sure you're not one of these amateur detectives one reads +about?” she demanded. + +“Certainly not,” he assured her. “I will confess that I am interested +in Victor Bidlake's death, and I should like to discover the truth about +it, but I have a reason for that which I may tell you some day. It has +nothing whatever to do with the young man himself. To the best of my +belief, I never saw or heard of him before in my life. My interest lies +with another person. You have lost a great friend, I know. If you felt +disposed to tell me the whole story, it might make such a difference.” + +She sighed. Her confidence was returning--also her self-pity. The latter +at once betrayed itself. + +“You see,” she confided, “Victor and I were engaged to be married, so +naturally I let him help me a little. I shan't be able to stay on here +now. They are bothering me about their bill already,” she added, with a +side-glance at an envelope which stood on a table by her side. + +He drew a little nearer to her. + +“Miss Hyslop--” he began. + +“Daisy,” she interrupted. + +“Miss Daisy Hyslop, then,” he continued, smiling, “I suggested just now +that I did not want to come and bother you for information without any +return. If I can be of any assistance to you in that matter,” he added, +glancing towards the envelope, “I shall be very pleased.” + +She sighed gratefully. + +“Just till Victor's people return to town,” she said. “I know that they +mean to do something for me.” + +“How much?” he asked. + +“Two hundred pounds would keep me going,” she told him. + +He wrote out a cheque. Miss Hyslop drew a sigh of relief as she laid it +on one side with the envelope. Then she swung round in her chair to face +him where he sat at the writing-table. + +“I am afraid you will think that what I have to tell is very +insignificant,” she confessed. “Victor was one of those boys who always +fancied themselves bored. He was bored with polo, bored with motoring, +bored with the country and bored with town. Then quite suddenly during +the last few weeks he seemed changed. All that he would tell me was +that he had found a new interest in life. I don't know what it was but +I don't think it was a nice one. He seemed to drop all his old friends, +too, and go about with a new set altogether--not a nice set at all. He +used to stay out all night, and he quite gave up going to dances +and places where he could take me. Once or twice he came here in the +afternoon, dead beat, without having been to bed at all, and before he +could say half-a-dozen words he was asleep in my easy-chair. He used to +mutter such horrible things that I had to wake him up.” + +“Was he ever short of money?” Francis asked. + +She shook her head. + +“Not seriously,” she answered. “He was quite well-off, besides what his +people allowed him. I was going to have a wonderful settlement as soon +as our engagement was announced. However, to go on with what I was +telling you, the very night before--it happened--he came in to see me, +looking like nothing on earth. He cried like a baby, behaved like a +lunatic, and called himself all manner of names. He had had a great deal +too much to drink, and I gathered that he had seen something horrible. +It was then he asked me to dine with him the next night, and told me +that he was going to break altogether with his new friends. Something in +connection with them seemed to have given him a terrible fright.” + +Francis nodded. He had the tact to abandon his curiosity at this precise +point. + +“The old story,” he declared, “bad company and rotten habits. I suppose +some one got to know that the young man usually carried a great deal of +money about with him.” + +“It was so foolish of him,” she assented eagerly: “I warned him about it +so often. The police won't listen to it but I am absolutely certain that +he was robbed. I noticed when he paid the bill that he had a great wad +of bank-notes which were never discovered afterwards.” + +Francis rose to his feet. + +“What are you doing to-night?” he enquired. + +“Nothing,” she acknowledged eagerly. + +“Then let's dine somewhere and see the show at the Frivolity,” he +suggested. + +“You dear man!” she assented with enthusiasm. “The one thing I wanted to +do, and the one person I wanted to do it with.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +It was after leaving Miss Daisy Hyslop's flat that the event to which +Francis Ledsam had been looking forward more than anything else in the +world, happened. It came about entirely by chance. There were no taxis +in the Strand. Francis himself had finished work for the day, and +feeling disinclined for his usual rubber of bridge, he strolled +homewards along the Mall. At the corner of Green Park, he came face to +face with the woman who for the last few months had scarcely been out of +his thoughts. Even in that first moment he realised to his pain that she +would have avoided him if she could. They met, however, where the path +narrowed, and he left her no chance to avoid him. That curious impulse +of conventionality which opens a conversation always with cut and dried +banalities, saved them perhaps from a certain amount of embarrassment. +Without any conscious suggestion, they found themselves walking side by +side. + +“I have been wanting to see you very much indeed,” he said. “I even went +so far as to wonder whether I dared call.” + +“Why should you?” she asked. “Our acquaintance began and ended in +tragedy. There is scarcely any purpose in carrying it further.” + +He looked at her for a moment before replying. She was wearing black, +but scarcely the black of a woman who sorrows. She was still frigidly +beautiful, redolent, in all the details of her toilette, of that +almost negative perfection which he had learnt to expect from her. She +suggested to him still that same sense of aloofness from the actualities +of life. + +“I prefer not to believe that it is ended,” he protested. “Have you so +many friends that you have no room for one who has never consciously +done you any harm?” + +She looked at him with some faint curiosity in her immobile features. + +“Harm? No! On the contrary, I suppose I ought to thank you for your +evidence at the inquest.” + +“Some part of it was the truth,” he replied. + +“I suppose so,” she admitted drily. “You told it very cleverly.” + +He looked her in the eyes. + +“My profession helped me to be a good witness,” he said. “As for the +gist of my evidence, that was between my conscience and myself.” + +“Your conscience?” she repeated. “Are there really men who possess such +things?” + +“I hope you will discover that for yourself some day,” he answered. +“Tell me your plans? Where are you living?” + +“For the present with my father in Curzon Street.” + +“With Sir Timothy Brast?” + +She assented. + +“You know him?” she asked indifferently. + +“Very slightly,” Francis replied. “We talked together, some nights ago, +at Soto's Restaurant. I am afraid that I did not make a very favourable +impression upon him. I gathered, too, that he has somewhat eccentric +tastes.” + +“I do not see a great deal of my father,” she said. “We met, a few +months ago, for the first time since my marriage, and things have been a +little difficult between us--just at first. He really scarcely ever puts +in an appearance at Curzon Street. I dare say you have heard that he +makes a hobby of an amazing country house which he has down the river.” + +“The Walled House?” he ventured. + +She nodded. + +“I see you have heard of it. All London, they tell me, gossips about the +entertainments there.” + +“Are they really so wonderful?” he asked. + +“I have never been to one,” she replied. “As a matter of fact, I have +spent scarcely any time in England since my marriage. My husband, as I +remember he told you, was fond of travelling.” + +Notwithstanding the warm spring air he was conscious of a certain +chilliness. Her level, indifferent tone seemed to him almost abnormally +callous. A horrible realisation flashed for a moment in his brain. She +was speaking of the man whom she had killed! + +“Your father overheard a remark of mine,” Francis told her. “I was at +Soto's with a friend--Andrew Wilmore, the novelist--and to tell you the +truth we were speaking of the shock I experienced when I realised that +I had been devoting every effort of which I was capable, to saving the +life of--shall we say a criminal? Your father heard me say, in rather +a flamboyant manner, perhaps, that in future I declared war against all +crime and all criminals.” + +She smiled very faintly, a smile which had in it no single element of +joy or humour. + +“I can quite understand my father intervening,” she said. “He poses +as being rather a patron of artistically-perpetrated crime. Sue is his +favourite author, and I believe that he has exceedingly grim ideas as to +duelling and fighting generally. He was in prison once for six months +at New Orleans for killing a man who insulted my mother. Nothing in the +world would ever have convinced him that he had not done a perfectly +legitimate thing.” + +“I am expecting to find him quite an interesting study, when I know him +better,” Francis pronounced. “My only fear is that he will count me an +unfriendly person and refuse to have anything to do with me.” + +“I am not at all sure,” she said indifferently, “that it would not be +very much better for you if he did.” + +“I cannot admit that,” he answered, smiling. “I think that our paths +in life are too far apart for either of us to influence the other. You +don't share his tastes, do you?” + +“Which ones?” she asked, after a moment's silence. + +“Well, boxing for one,” he replied. “They tell me that he is the +greatest living patron of the ring, both here and in America.” + +“I have never been to a fight in my life,” she confessed. “I hope that I +never may.” + +“I can't go so far as that,” he declared, “but boxing isn't altogether +one of my hobbies. Can't we leave your father and his tastes alone for +the present? I would rather talk about--ourselves. Tell me what you care +about most in life?” + +“Nothing,” she answered listlessly. + +“But that is only a phase,” he persisted. “You have had terrible trials, +I know, and they must have affected your outlook on life, but you are +still young, and while one is young life is always worth having.” + +“I thought so once,” she assented. “I don't now.” + +“But there must be--there will be compensations,” he assured her. “I +know that just now you are suffering from the reaction--after all you +have gone through. The memory of that will pass.” + +“The memory of what I have gone through will never pass,” she answered. + +There was a moment's intense silence, a silence pregnant with +reminiscent drama. The little room rose up before his memory--the +woman's hopeless, hating eyes, the quivering thread of steel, the dead +man's mocking words. He seemed at that moment to see into the recesses +of her mind. Was it remorse that troubled her, he wondered? Did she lack +strength to realise that in that half-hour at the inquest he had placed +on record for ever his judgment of her deed? Even to think of it now was +morbid. Although he would never have confessed it even to himself, there +was growing daily in his mind some idea of reward. She had never thanked +him--he hoped that she never would--but he had surely a right to claim +some measure of her thoughts, some light place in her life. + +“Please look at me,” he begged, a little abruptly. + +She turned her head in some surprise. Francis was almost handsome in the +clear Spring sunlight, his face alight with animation, his deep-set +grey eyes full of amused yet anxious solicitude. Even as she appreciated +these things and became dimly conscious of his eager interest, her +perturbation seemed to grow. + +“Well?” she ventured. + +“Do I look like a person who knew what he was talking about?” he asked. + +“On the whole, I should say that you did,” she admitted. + +“Very well, then,” he went on cheerfully, “believe me when I say that +the shadow which depresses you all the time now will pass. I say this +confidently,” he added, his voice softening, “because I hope to be +allowed to help. Haven't you guessed that I am very glad indeed to see +you again?” + +She came to a sudden standstill. They had just passed through Lansdowne +Passage and were in the quiet end of Curzon Street. + +“But you must not talk to me like that!” she expostulated. + +“Why not?” he demanded. “We have met under strange and untoward +circumstances, but are you so very different from other women?” + +For a single moment she seemed infinitely more human, startled, a +little nervous, exquisitely sympathetic to an amazing and unexpected +impression. She seemed to look with glad but terrified eyes towards the +vision of possible things--and then to realise that it was but a trick +of the fancy and to come shivering back to the world of actualities. + +“I am very different,” she said quietly. “I have lived my life. What I +lack in years has been made up to me in horror. I have no desire now +but to get rid of this aftermath of years as smoothly and quickly as +possible. I do not wish any man, Mr. Ledsam, to talk to me as you are +doing.” + +“You will not accept my friendship?” + +“It is impossible,” she replied. + +“May I be allowed to call upon you?” he went on, doggedly. + +“I do not receive visitors,” she answered. + +They were walking slowly up Curzon Street now. She had given him every +opportunity to leave her, opportunities to which he was persistently +blind. Her obstinacy had been a shock to him. + +“I am sorry,” he said, “but I cannot accept my dismissal like this. I +shall appeal to your father. However much he may dislike me, he has at +least common-sense.” + +She looked at him with a touch of the old horror in her +coldly-questioning eyes. + +“In your way you have been kind to me,” she admitted. “Let me in return +give you a word of advice. Let me beg you to have nothing whatever to +do with my father, in friendship or in enmity. Either might be equally +disastrous. Either, in the long run, is likely to cost you dear.” + +“If that is your opinion of your father, why do you live with him?” he +asked. + +She had become entirely callous again. Her smile, with its mocking +quality, reminded him for a moment of the man whom they were discussing. + +“Because I am a luxury and comfort-loving parasite,” she answered +deliberately, “because my father gladly pays my accounts at Lucille and +Worth and Reville, because I have never learnt to do without things. +And please remember this. My father, so far as I am concerned, has no +faults. He is a generous and courteous companion. Nevertheless, number +70 b, Curzon Street is no place for people who desire to lead normal +lives.” + +And with that she was gone. Her gesture of dismissal was so complete +and final that he had no courage for further argument. He had lost her +almost as soon as he had found her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Four men were discussing the verdict at the adjourned inquest upon +Victor Bidlake, at Soto's American Bar about a fortnight later. They +were Robert Fairfax, a young actor in musical comedy, Peter Jacks, a +cinema producer, Gerald Morse, a dress designer, and Sidney Voss, a +musical composer and librettist, all habitues of the place and members +of the little circle towards which the dead man had seemed, during the +last few weeks of his life, to have become attracted. At a table a short +distance away, Francis Ledsam was seated with a cocktail and a dish of +almonds before him. He seemed to be studying an evening paper and to be +taking but the scantiest notice of the conversation at the bar. + +“It just shows,” Peter Jacks declared, “that crime is the easiest +game in the world. Given a reasonable amount of intelligence, and a +murderer's business is about as simple as a sandwich-man's.” + +“The police,” Gerald Morse, a pale-faced, anaemic-looking youth, +declared, “rely upon two things, circumstantial evidence and motive. In +the present case there is no circumstantial evidence, and as to motive, +poor old Victor was too big a fool to have an enemy in the world.” + +Sidney Voss, who was up for the Sheridan Club and had once been there, +glanced respectfully across at Francis. + +“You ought to know something about crime and criminals, Mr. Ledsam,” he +said. “Have you any theory about the affair?” + +Francis set down the glass from which he had been drinking, and, folding +up the evening paper, laid it by the side of him. + +“As a matter of fact,” he answered calmly, “I have.” + +The few words, simply spoken, yet in their way charged with menace, +thrilled through the little room. Fairfax swung round upon his stool, a +tall, aggressive-looking youth whose good-looks were half eaten up with +dissipation. His eyes were unnaturally bright, the cloudy remains in his +glass indicated absinthe. + +“Listen, you fellows!” he exclaimed. “Mr. Francis Ledsam, the great +criminal barrister, is going to solve the mystery of poor old Victor's +death for us!” + +The three other young men all turned around from the bar. Their eyes and +whole attention seemed rivetted upon Francis. No one seemed to notice +the newcomer who passed quietly to a chair in the background, although +he was a person of some note and interest to all of them. Imperturbable +and immaculate as ever, Sir Timothy Brast smiled amiably upon the little +gathering, summoned a waiter and ordered a Dry Martini. + +“I can scarcely promise to do that,” Francis said slowly, his eyes +resting for a second or two upon each of the four faces. “Exact +solutions are a little out of my line. I think I can promise to give you +a shock, though, if you're strong enough to stand it.” + +There was another of those curiously charged silences. The bartender +paused with the cocktail shaker still in his hand. Voss began to beat +nervously upon the counter with his knuckles. + +“We can stand anything but suspense,” he declared. “Get on with your +shock-giving.” + +“I believe that the person responsible for the death of Victor Bidlake +is in this room at the present moment,” Francis declared. + +Again the silence, curious, tense and dramatic. Little Jimmy, the +bartender, who had leaned forward to listen, stood with his mouth +slightly open and the cocktail-shaker which was in his hand leaked drops +upon the counter. The first conscious impulse of everybody seemed to be +to glance suspiciously around the room. The four young men at the bar, +Jimmy and one waiter, Francis and Sir Timothy Brast, were its only +occupants. + +“I say, you know, that's a bit thick, isn't it?” Sidney Voss stammered +at last. “I wasn't in the place at all, I was in Manchester, but it's a +bit rough on these other chaps, Victor's pals.” + +“I was dining at the Cafe Royal,” Jacks declared, loudly. + +Morse drew a little breath. + +“Every one knows that I was at Brighton,” he muttered. + +“I went home directly the bar here closed,” Jimmy said, in a still dazed +tone. “I heard nothing about it till the next morning.” + +“Alibis by the bushel,” Fairfax laughed harshly. “As for me, I was doing +my show--every one knows that. I was never in the place at all.” + +“The murder was not committed in the place,” Francis commented calmly. + +Fairfax slid off his stool. A spot of colour blazed in his pale cheeks, +the glass which he was holding snapped in his fingers. He seemed +suddenly possessed. + +“I say, what the hell are you getting at?” he cried. “Are you accusing +me--or any of us Victor's pals?” + +“I accuse no one,” Francis replied, unperturbed. “You invited a +statement from me and I made it.” + +Sir Timothy Brast rose from his place and made his way to the end of the +counter, next to Fairfax and nearest Francis. He addressed the former. +There was an inscrutable smile upon his lips, his manner was reassuring. + +“Young gentleman,” he begged, “pray do not disturb yourself. I will +answer for it that neither you nor any of your friends are the objects +of Mr. Ledsam's suspicion. Without a doubt, it is I to whom his +somewhat bold statement refers.” + +They all stared at him, immersed in another crisis, bereft of speech. He +tapped a cigarette upon the counter and lit it. Fairfax, whose glass +had just been refilled by the bartender, was still ghastly pale, shaking +with nervousness and breathing hoarsely. Francis, tense and alert in his +chair, watched the speaker but said nothing. + +“You see,” Sir Timothy continued, addressing himself to the four young +men at the bar, “I happen to have two special aversions in life. One is +sweet champagne and the other amateur detectives--their stories, their +methods and everything about them. I chanced to sit upstairs in the +restaurant, within hearing of Mr. Ledsam and his friend Mr. Wilmore, +the novelist, the other night, and I heard Mr. Ledsam, very much to my +chagrin, announce his intention of abandoning a career in which he +has, if he will allow me to say so,”--with a courteous bow to +Francis--“attained considerable distinction, to indulge in the +moth-eaten, flamboyant and melodramatic antics of the lesser Sherlock +Holmes. I fear that I could not resist the opportunity of--I think you +young men call it--pulling his leg.” + +Every one was listening intently, including Shopland, who had just +drifted into the room and subsided into a chair near Francis. + +“I moved my place, therefore,” Sir Timothy continued, “and I whispered +in Mr. Ledsam's ear some rodomontade to the effect that if he were +planning to be the giant crime-detector of the world, I was by ambition +the arch-criminal--or words to that effect. And to give emphasis to my +words, I wound up by prophesying a crime in the immediate vicinity of +the place within a few hours.” + +“A somewhat significant prophecy, under the circumstances,” Francis +remarked, reaching out for a dish of salted almonds and drawing them +towards him. + +Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. + +“I will confess,” he admitted, “that I had not in my mind an affair of +such dimensions. My harmless remark, however, has produced cataclysmic +effects. The conversation to which I refer took place on the night of +young Bidlake's murder, and Mr. Ledsam, with my somewhat, I confess, +bombastic words in his memory, has pitched upon me as the bloodthirsty +murderer.” + +“Hold on for a moment, sir,” Peter Jacks begged, wiping the perspiration +from his forehead. “We've got to have another drink quick. Poor old +Bobby here looks knocked all of a heap, and I'm kind of jumpy myself. +You'll join us, sir?” + +“I thank you,” was the courteous reply. “I do not as a rule indulge to +the extent of more than one cocktail, but I will recognise the present +as an exceptional occasion. To continue, then,” he went on, after the +glasses had been filled, “I have during the last few weeks experienced +the ceaseless and lynx-eyed watch of Mr. Ledsam and presumably his +myrmidons. I do not know whether you are all acquainted with my name, +but in case you are not, let me introduce myself. I am Sir Timothy +Brast, Chairman, as I dare say you know, of the United Transvaal Gold +Mines, Chairman, also, of two of the principal hospitals in London, Vice +President of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, a +patron of sport in many forms, a traveller in many countries, and a +recipient of the honour of knighthood from His Majesty, in recognition +of my services for various philanthropic works. These facts, however, +have availed me nothing now that the bungling amateur investigator into +crime has pointed the finger of suspicion towards me. My servants and +neighbours have alike been plagued to death with cunning questions as to +my life and habits. I have been watched in the streets and watched in +my harmless amusements. My simple life has been peered into from +every perspective and direction. In short, I am suspect. Mr. Ledsam's +terrifying statement a few minutes ago was directed towards me and me +only.” + +There were murmurs of sympathy from the four young men, who each in his +own fashion appeared to derive consolation from Sir Timothy's frank and +somewhat caustic statement. Francis, who had listened unmoved to this +flow of words, glanced towards the door behind which dark figures seemed +to be looming. + +“That is all you have to say, Sir Timothy?” he asked politely. + +“For the present, yes,” was the guarded reply. “I trust that I have +succeeded in setting these young gentlemen's minds at ease.” + +“There is one of them,” Francis said gravely, “whose mind not even your +soothing words could lighten.” + +Shopland had risen unobtrusively to his feet. He laid his hand suddenly +on Fairfax's shoulder and whispered in his ear. Fairfax, after his first +start, seemed cool enough. He stretched out his hand towards the glass +which as yet he had not touched; covered it with his fingers for a +moment and drained its contents. The gently sarcastic smile left Sir +Timothy's lips. His eyebrows met in a quick frown, his eyes glittered. + +“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded sharply. + +A policeman in plain clothes had advanced from the door. The manager +hovered in the background. Shopland saw that all was well. + +“It means,” he announced, “that I have just arrested Mr. Robert Fairfax +here on a charge of wilful murder. There is a way out through the +kitchens, I believe. Take his other arm, Holmes. Now, gentlemen, if you +please.” + +There were a few bewildered exclamations--then a dramatic hush. Fairfax +had fallen forward on his stool. He seemed to have relapsed into a +comatose state. Every scrap of colour was drained from his sallow +cheeks, his eyes were covered with a film and he was breathing heavily. +The detective snatched up the glass from which the young man had been +drinking, and smelt it. + +“I saw him drop a tablet in just now,” Jimmy faltered. “I thought it was +one of the digestion pills he uses sometimes.” + +Shopland and the policeman placed their hands underneath the armpits of +the unconscious man. + +“He's done, sir,” the former whispered to Francis. “We'll try and get +him to the station if we can.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The greatest tragedies in the world, provided they happen to other +people, have singularly little effect upon the externals of our own +lives. There was certainly not a soul in Soto's that night who did +not know that Bobby Fairfax had been arrested in the bar below for the +murder of Victor Bidlake, had taken poison and died on the way to the +police station. Yet the same number of dinners were ordered and eaten, +the same quantity of wine drunk. The management considered that they had +shown marvellous delicacy of feeling by restraining the orchestra +from their usual musical gymnastics until after the service of dinner. +Conversation, in consequence, buzzed louder than ever. One speculation +in particular absorbed the attention of every single person in the +room--why had Bobby Fairfax, at the zenith of a very successful career, +risked the gallows and actually accepted death for the sake of killing +Victor Bidlake, a young man with whom, so far as anybody knew, he had +no cause of quarrel whatever? There were many theories, many people who +knew the real facts and whispered them into a neighbour's ear, only to +have them contradicted a few moments later. Yet, curiously enough, the +two men who knew most about it were the two most silent men in the room, +for each was dining alone. Francis, who had remained only in the hope +that something of the sort might happen, was conscious of a queer sense +of excitement when, with the service of coffee, Sir Timothy, glass in +hand, moved up from a table lower down and with a word of apology took +the vacant place by his side. It was what he had desired, and yet he +felt a thrill almost of fear at Sir Timothy's murmured words. He felt +that he was in the company of one who, if not an enemy, at any rate had +no friendly feeling towards him. + +“My congratulations, Mr. Ledsam,” Sir Timothy said quietly. “You appear +to have started your career with a success.” + +“Only a partial one,” Francis acknowledged, “and as a matter of fact I +deny that I have started in any new career. It was easy enough to make +use of a fluke and direct the intelligence of others towards the right +person, but when the real significance of the thing still eludes you, +one can scarcely claim a triumph.” + +Sir Timothy gently knocked the ash from the very fine cigar which he was +smoking. + +“Still, your groundwork was good,” he observed. + +Francis shrugged his shoulders. + +“That,” he admitted, “was due to chance.” + +“Shall we exchange notes?” Sir Timothy suggested gently. “It might be +interesting.” + +“As you will,” Francis assented. “There is no particular secret in the +way I stumbled upon the truth. I was dining here that night, as you +know, with Andrew Wilmore, and while he was ordering the dinner and +talking to some friends, I went down to the American Bar to have a +cocktail. Miss Daisy Hyslop and Fairfax were seated there alone and +talking confidentially. Fairfax was insisting that Miss Hyslop should do +something which puzzled her. She consented reluctantly, and Fairfax then +hurried off to the theatre. Later on, Miss Hyslop and the unfortunate +young man occupied a table close to ours, and I happened to notice that +she made a point of leaving the restaurant at a particular time. While +they were waiting in the vestibule she grew very impatient. I was +standing behind them and I saw her glance at the clock just before she +insisted upon her companion's going out himself to look for a taxicab. +Ergo, one enquires at Fairfax's theatre. For that exact three-quarters +of an hour he is off the stage. At that point my interest in the matter +ceases. Scotland Yard was quite capable of the rest.” + +“Disappointing,” Sir Timothy murmured. “I thought at first that you were +over-modest. I find that I was mistaken. It was chance alone which set +you on the right track.” + +“Well, there is my story, at any rate,” Francis declared. “With how much +of your knowledge of the affair are you going to indulge me?” + +Sir Timothy slowly revolved his brandy glass. + +“Well,” he said, “I will tell you this. The two young men concerned, +Bidlake and Fairfax, were both guests of mine recently at my country +house. They had discovered for one another a very fierce and reasonable +antipathy. With that recurrence to primitivism with which I have always +been a hearty sympathiser, they agreed, instead of going round their +little world making sneering remarks about each other, to fight it out.” + +“At your suggestion, I presume?” Francis interposed. + +“Precisely,” Sir Timothy assented. “I recommended that course, and I +offered them facilities for bringing the matter to a crisis. The fight, +indeed, was to have come off the day after the unfortunate episode which +anticipâtéd it.” + +“Do you mean to tell me that you knew--” Francis began. + +Sir Timothy checked him quietly but effectively. + +“I knew nothing,” he said, “except this. They were neither of them young +men of much stomach, and I knew that the one who was the greater coward +would probably try to anticipâté the matter by attacking the other first +if he could. I knew that Fairfax was the greater coward--not that there +was much to choose between them--and I also knew that he was the injured +person. That is really all there is about it. My somewhat theatrical +statement to you was based upon probability, and not upon any certain +foreknowledge. As you see, it came off.” + +“And the cause of their quarrel?” Francis asked. + +“There might have been a hundred reasons,” Sir Timothy observed. “As a +matter of fact, it was the eternal one. There is no need to mention a +woman's name, so we will let it go at that.” + +There was a moment's silence--a strange, unforgettable moment for +Francis Ledsam, who seemed by some curious trick of the imagination to +have been carried away into an impossible and grotesque world. The +hum of eager conversation, the popping of corks, the little trills +of feminine laughter, all blended into one sensual and not unmusical +chorus, seemed to fade from his ears. He fancied himself in some +subterranean place of vast dimensions, through the grim galleries of +which men and women with evil faces crept like animals. And towering +above them, unreal in size, his scornful face an epitome of sin, the +knout which he wielded symbolical and ghastly, driving his motley flock +with the leer of the evil shepherd, was the man from whom he had already +learnt to recoil with horror. The picture came and went in a flash. +Francis found himself accepting a courteously offered cigar from his +companion. + +“You see, the story is very much like many others,” Sir Timothy +murmured, as he lit a fresh Cigar himself and leaned back with the +obvious enjoyment of the cultivated smoker. “In every country of the +world, the animal world as well as the human world, the male resents his +female being taken from him. Directly he ceases to resent it, he becomes +degenerate. Surely you must agree with me, Mr. Leddam?” + +“It comes to this, then,” Francis pronounced deliberately, “that you +stage-managed the whole affair.” + +Sir Timothy smiled. + +“It is my belief, Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “that you grow more and more +intelligent every hour.” + +Sir Timothy glanced presently at his thin gold watch and put it back in +his pocket regretfully. + +“Alas!” he sighed, “I fear that I must tear myself away. I particularly +want to hear the last act of 'Louise.' The new Frenchwoman sings, and my +daughter is alone. You will excuse me.” + +Francis nodded silently. His companion's careless words had brought a +sudden dazzling vision into his mind. Sir Timothy scrawled his name at +the foot of his bill. + +“It is one of my axioms in life, Mr. Ledsam,” he continued, “that there +is more pleasure to be derived from the society of one's enemies than +one's friends. If I thought you sufficiently educated in the outside +ways of the world to appreciate this, I would ask if you cared to +accompany me?” + +Francis did not hesitate for a moment. + +“Sir Timothy,” he said, “I have the greatest detestation for you, and I +am firmly convinced that you represent all the things in life abhorrent +to me. On the other hand, I should very much like to hear the last act +of 'Louise,' and it would give me the greatest pleasure to meet your +daughter. So long as there is no misunderstanding.” + +Sir Timothy laughed. + +“Come,” he said, “we will get our hats. I am becoming more and more +grateful to you, Mr. Ledsam. You are supplying something in my life +which I have lacked. You appeal alike to my sense of humour and my +imagination. We will visit the opera together.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The two men left Soto's together, very much in the fashion of two +ordinary acquaintances sallying out to spend the evening together. Sir +Timothy's Rolls-Royce limousine was in attendance, and in a few minutes +they were threading the purlieus of Covent Garden. It was here that an +incident occurred which afforded Francis considerable food for thought +during the next few days. + +It was a Friday night, and one or two waggons laden with vegetable +produce were already threading their way through the difficult +thoroughfares. Suddenly Sir Timothy, who was looking out of the +window, pressed the button of the car, which was at once brought to a +standstill. Before the footman could reach the door Sir Timothy was out +in the street. For the first time Francis saw him angry. His eyes +were blazing. His voice--Francis had followed him at once into the +street--shook with passion. His hand had fallen heavily upon the +shoulder of a huge carter, who, with whip in hand, was belabouring a +thin scarecrow of a horse. + +“What the devil are you doing?” Sir Timothy demanded. + +The man stared at his questioner, and the instinctive antagonism of +race vibrated in his truculent reply. The carter was a beery-faced, +untidy-looking brute, but powerfully built and with huge shoulders. Sir +Timothy, straight as a dart, without overcoat or any covering to his +thin evening clothes, looked like a stripling in front of him. + +“I'm whippin' 'er, if yer want to know,” was the carter's reply. “I've +got to get up the 'ill, 'aven't I? Garn and mind yer own business!” + +“This is my business,” Sir Timothy declared, laying his hand upon the +neck of the horse. “I am an official of the Society for the Prevention +of Cruelty to Animals. You are laying yourself open to a fine for your +treatment of this poor brute.” + +“I'll lay myself open for a fine for the treatment of something else, if +you don't quid 'old of my 'oss,” the carter retorted, throwing his whip +back into the waggon and coming a step nearer. “D'yer 'ear? I don't +want any swells interferin' with my business. You 'op it. Is that strite +enough? 'Op it, quick!” + +Sir Timothy's anger seemed to have abated. There was even the beginning +of a smile upon his lips. All the time his hand caressed the neck of the +horse. Francis noticed with amazement that the poor brute had raised his +head and seemed to be making some faint effort at reciprocation. + +“My good man,” Sir Timothy said, “you seem to be one of those brutal +persons unfit to be trusted with an animal. However--” + +The carter had heard quite enough. Sir Timothy's tone seemed to madden +him. He clenched his fist and rushed in. + +“You take that for interferin', you big toff!” he shouted. + +The result of the man's effort at pugilism was almost ridiculous. His +arms appeared to go round like windmills beating the air. It really +seemed as though he had rushed upon the point of Sir Timothy's knuckles, +which had suddenly shot out like the piston of an engine. The carter lay +on his back for a moment. Then he staggered viciously to his feet. + +“Don't,” Sir Timothy begged, as he saw signs of another attack. “I don't +want to hurt you. I have been amateur champion of two countries. Not +quite fair, is it?” + +“Wot d'yer want to come interferin' with a chap's business for?” the man +growled, dabbing his cheek with a filthy handkerchief but keeping at a +respectful distance. + +“It happens to be my business also,” Sir Timothy replied, “to interfere +whenever I see animals ill-treated. Now I don't want to be unreasonable. +That animal has done all the work it ought to do in this world. How much +is she worth to you?” + +Through the man's beer-clogged brain a gleam of cunning began to find +its way. He looked at the Rolls-Royce, with the two motionless servants +on the box, at Francis standing by, at Sir Timothy, even to his thick +understanding the very prototype of a “toff.” + +“That 'oss,” he said, “ain't what she was, it's true, but there's a lot +of work in 'er yet. She may not be much to look at but she's worth forty +quid to me--ay, and one to spit on!” + +Sir Timothy counted out some notes from the pocketbook which he had +produced, and handed them to the man. + +“Here are fifty pounds,” he said. “The mare is mine. Johnson!” + +The second man sprang from his seat and came round. + +“Unharness that mare,” his master ordered, “help the man push his +trolley back out of the way, then lead the animal to the mews in Curzon +Street. See that she is well bedded down and has a good feed of corn. +To-morrow I shall send her down to the country, but I will come and have +a look at her first.” + +The man touched his hat and hastened to commence his task. The carter, +who had been busy counting the notes, thrust them into his pocket with a +grin. + +“Good luck to yer, guvnor!” he shouted out, in valedictory fashion. +“'Ope I meets yer again when I've an old crock on the go.” + +Sir Timothy turned his head. + +“If ever I happen to meet you, my good man,” he threatened, “using your +whip upon a poor beast who's doing his best, I promise you you won't get +up in two minutes, or twenty.... We might walk the last few yards, Mr. +Ledsam.” + +The latter acquiesced at once, and in a moment or two they were +underneath the portico of the Opera House. Sir Timothy had begun to talk +about the opera but Francis was a little distrait. His companion glanced +at him curiously. + +“You are puzzled, Mr. Ledsam?” he remarked. + +“Very,” was the prompt response. + +Sir Timothy smiled. + +“You are one of these primitive Anglo-Saxons,” he said, “who can see +the simple things with big eyes, but who are terribly worried at an +unfamiliar constituent. You have summed me up in your mind as a hardened +brute, a criminal by predilection, a patron of murderers. Ergo, you ask +yourself why should I trouble to save a poor beast of a horse from being +chastised, and go out of my way to provide her with a safe asylum for +the rest of her life? Shall I help you, Mr. Ledsam?” + +“I wish you would,” Francis confessed. + +They had passed now through the entrance to the Opera House and were in +the corridor leading to the grand tier boxes. On every side Sir Timothy +had been received with marks of deep respect. Two bowing attendants were +preceding them. Sir Timothy leaned towards his companion. + +“Because,” he whispered, “I like animals better than human beings.” + +Margaret Hilditch, her chair pushed back into the recesses of the box, +scarcely turned her head at her father's entrance. + +“I have brought an acquaintance of yours, Margaret,” the latter +announced, as he hung up his hat. “You remember Mr. Ledsam?” + +Francis drew a little breath of relief as he bowed over her hand. For +the second time her inordinate composure had been assailed. She was her +usual calm and indifferent self almost immediately, but the gleam of +surprise, and he fancied not unpleasant surprise, had been unmistakable. + +“Are you a devotee, Mr. Ledsam?” she asked. + +“I am fond of music,” Francis answered, “especially this opera.” + +She motioned to the chair in the front of the box, facing the stage. + +“You must sit there,” she insisted. “I prefer always to remain here, and +my father always likes to face the audience. I really believe,” she went +on, “that he likes to catch the eye of the journalist who writes little +gossipy items, and to see his name in print.” + +“But you yourself?” Francis ventured. + +“I fancy that my reasons for preferring seclusion should be obvious +enough,” she replied, a little bitterly. + +“My daughter is inclined, I fear, to be a little morbid,” Sir Timothy +said, settling down in his place. + +Francis made no reply. A triangular conversation of this sort was almost +impossible. The members of the orchestra were already climbing up to +their places, in preparation for the overture to the last act. Sir +Timothy rose to his feet. + +“You will excuse me for a moment,” he begged. “I see a lady to whom I +must pay my respects.” + +Francis drew a sigh of relief at his departure. He turned at once to his +companion. + +“Did you mind my coming?” he asked. + +“Mind it?” she repeated, with almost insolent nonchalance. “Why should +it affect me in any way? My father's friends come and go. I have no +interest in any of them.” + +“But,” he protested, “I want you to be interested in me.” + +She moved a little uneasily in her place. Her tone, nevertheless, +remained icy. + +“Could you possibly manage to avoid personalities in your conversation, +Mr. Ledsam?” she begged. + +“I have tried already to tell you how I feel about such things.” + +She was certainly difficult. Francis realised that with a little sigh. + +“Were you surprised to see me with your father?” he asked, a little +inanely. + +“I cannot conceive what you two have found in common,” she admitted. + +“Perhaps our interest in you,” he replied. “By-the-bye, I have just +seen him perform a quixotic but a very fine action,” Francis said. “He +stopped a carter from thrashing his horse; knocked him down, bought the +horse from him and sent it home.” + +She was mildly interested. + +“An amiable side of my father's character which no one would suspect,” + she remarked. “The entire park of his country house at Hatch End is +given over to broken-down animals.” + +“I am one of those,” he confessed, “who find this trait amazing.” + +“And I am another,” she remarked coolly. “If any one settled down +seriously to try and understand my father, he would need the spectacles +of a De Quincey, the outlook of a Voltaire, and the callousness of +a Borgia. You see, he doesn't lend himself to any of the recognised +standards.” + +“Neither do you,” he said boldly. + +She looked away from him across the House, to where Sir Timothy was +talking to a man and woman in one of the ground-floor boxes. Francis +recognised them with some surprise--an agricultural Duke and his +daughter, Lady Cynthia Milton, one of the most, beautiful and famous +young women in London. + +“Your father goes far afield for his friends,” Francis remarked. + +“My father has no friends,” she replied. “He has many acquaintances. I +doubt whether he has a single confidant. I expect Cynthia is trying to +persuade him to invite her to his next party at The Walled House.” + +“I should think she would fail, won't she?” he asked. + +“Why should you think that?” + +Francis shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +“Your father's entertainments have the reputation of being somewhat +unique,” he remarked. “You do not, by-the-bye, attend them yourself.” + +“You must remember that I have had very few opportunities so far,” she +observed. “Besides, Cynthia has tastes which I do not share.” + +“As, for instance?” + +“She goes to the National Sporting Club. She once travelled, I know, +over a hundred miles to go to a bull fight.” + +“On the whole,” Francis said, “I am glad that you do not share her +tastes.” + +“You know her?” Margaret enquired. + +“Indifferently well,” Francis replied. “I knew her when she was a child, +and we seem to come together every now and then at long intervals. As a +debutante she was charming. Lately it seems to me that she has got into +the wrong set.” + +“What do you call the wrong set?” + +He hesitated for a moment. + +“Please don't think that I am laying down the law,” he said. “I have +been out so little, the last few years, that I ought not, perhaps, to +criticise. Lady Cynthia, however, seems to me to belong to the extreme +section of the younger generation, the section who have a sort of craze +for the unusual, whose taste in art and living is distorted and +bizarre. You know what I mean, don't you--black drawing-rooms, +futurist wall-papers, opium dens and a cocaine box! It's to some extent +affectation, of course, but it's a folly that claims its victims.” + +She studied him for a moment attentively. His leanness was the leanness +of muscular strength and condition, his face was full of vigour and +determination. + +“You at least have escaped the abnormal,” she remarked. “I am not quite +sure how the entertainments at The Walled House would appeal to you, but +if my father should invite you there, I should advise you not to go.” + +“Why not?” he asked. + +She hesitated for a moment. + +“I really don't know why I should trouble to give you advice,” she said. +“As a matter of fact, I don't care whether you go or not. In any case, +you are scarcely likely to be asked.” + +“I am not sure that I agree with you,” he protested. “Your father seems +to have taken quite a fancy to me.” + +“And you?” she murmured. + +“Well, I like the way he bought that horse,” Francis admitted. “And I am +beginning to realise that there may be something in the theory which +he advanced when he invited me to accompany him here this evening--that +there is a certain piquancy in one's intercourse with an enemy, which +friendship lacks. There may be complexities in his character which as +yet I have not appreciated.” + +The curtain had gone up and the last act of the opera had commenced. +She leaned back in her chair. Without a word or even a gesture, he +understood that a curtain had been let down between them. He obeyed her +unspoken wish and relapsed into silence. Her very absorption, after all, +was a hopeful sign. She would have him believe that she felt nothing, +that she was living outside all the passion and sentiment of life. +Yet she was absorbed in the music.... Sir Timothy came back and seated +himself silently. It was not until the tumult of applause which broke +out after the great song of the French ouvrier, that a word passed +between them. + +“Cavalisti is better,” Sir Timothy commented. “This man has not the +breadth of passion. At times he is merely peevish.” + +She shook her head. + +“Cavalisti would be too egotistical for the part,” she said quietly. “It +is difficult.” + +Not another word was spoken until the curtain fell. Francis lingered +for a moment over the arrangement of her cloak. Sir Timothy was already +outside, talking to some acquaintances. + +“It has been a great pleasure to see you like this unexpectedly,” he +said, a little wistfully. + +“I cannot imagine why,” she answered, with an undernote of trouble in +her tone. “Remember the advice I gave you before. No good can come of +any friendship between my father and you.” + +“There is this much of good in it, at any rate,” he answered, as he +held open the door for her. “It might give me the chance of seeing you +sometimes.” + +“That is not a matter worth considering,” she replied. + +“I find it very much worth considering,” he whispered, losing his head +for a moment as they stood close together in the dim light of the box, +and a sudden sense of the sweetness of her thrilled his pulses. “There +isn't anything in the world I want so much as to see you oftener--to +have my chance.” + +There was a momentary glow in her eyes. Her lips quivered. The few words +which he saw framed there--he fancied of reproof--remained unspoken. Sir +Timothy was waiting for them at the entrance. + +“I have been asking Mrs. Hilditch's permission to call in Curzon +Street,” Francis said boldly. + +“I am sure my daughter will be delighted,” was the cold but courteous +reply. + +Margaret herself made no comment. The car drew up and she stepped into +it--a tall, slim figure, wonderfully graceful in her unrelieved black, +her hair gleaming as though with some sort of burnish, as she passed +underneath the electric light. She looked back at him with a smile of +farewell as he stood bareheaded upon the steps, a smile which reminded +him somehow of her father, a little sardonic, a little tender, having in +it some faintly challenging quality. The car rolled away. People around +were gossiping--rather freely. + +“The wife of that man Oliver Hilditch,” he heard a woman say, “the man +who was tried for murder, and committed suicide the night after his +acquittal. Why, that can't be much more than three months ago.” + +“If you are the daughter of a millionaire,” her escort observed, “you +can defy convention.” + +“Yes, that was Sir Timothy Brast,” another man was saying. “He's +supposed to be worth a cool five millions.” + +“If the truth about him were known,” his companion confided, dropping +his voice, “it would cost him all that to keep out of the Old Bailey. +They say that his orgies at Hatch End--Our taxi. Come on, Sharpe.” + +Francis strolled thoughtfully homewards. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Francis Ledsam was himself again, the lightest-hearted and most popular +member of his club, still a brilliant figure in the courts, although his +appearances there were less frequent, still devoting the greater portion +of his time, to his profession, although his work in connection with +it had become less spectacular. One morning, at the corner of Clarges +Street and Curzon Street, about three weeks after his visit to the +Opera, he came face to face with Sir Timothy Brast. + +“Well, my altruistic peerer into other people's affairs, how goes it?” + the latter enquired pleasantly. + +“How does it seem, my arch-criminal, to be still breathing God's fresh +air?” Francis retorted in the same vein. “Make the most of it. It may +not last for ever.” + +Sir Timothy smiled. He was looking exceedingly well that morning, the +very prototype of a man contented with life and his part in it. He was +wearing a morning coat and silk hat, his pâtént boots were faultlessly +polished, his trousers pressed to perfection, his grey silk tie neat and +fashionable. Notwithstanding his waxenlike pallor, his slim figure and +lithe, athletic walk seemed to speak of good health. + +“You may catch the minnow,” he murmured. “The big fish swim on. +By-the-bye,” he added, “I do not notice that your sledge-hammer blows at +crime are having much effect. Two undetected murders last week, and one +the week before. What are you about, my astute friend?” + +“Those are matters for Scotland Yard,” Francis replied, with an +indifferent little wave of the hand which held his cigarette. “Details +are for the professional. I seek that corner in Hell where the thunders +are welded and the poison gases mixed. In other words, I seek for the +brains of crime.” + +“Believe me, we do not see enough of one another, my young friend,” Sir +Timothy said earnestly. “You interest me more and more every time we +meet. I like your allegories, I like your confidence, which in any one +except a genius would seem blatant. When can we dine together and talk +about crime?” + +“The sooner the better,” Francis replied promptly. “Invite me, and I +will cancel any other engagement I might happen to have.” + +Sir Timothy considered for a moment. The June sunshine was streaming +down upon them and the atmosphere was a little oppressive. + +“Will you dine with me at Hatch End to-night?” he asked. “My daughter +and I will be alone.” + +“I should be delighted,” Francis replied promptly. “I ought to tell you, +perhaps, that I have called three times upon your daughter but have not +been fortunate enough to find her at home.” + +Sir Timothy was politely apologetic. + +“I fear that my daughter is a little inclined to be morbid,” he +confessed. “Society is good for her. I will undertake that you are a +welcome guest.” + +“At what time do I come and how shall I find your house?” Francis +enquired. + +“You motor down, I suppose?” Sir Timothy observed. “Good! In Hatch End +any one will direct you. We dine at eight. You had better come down as +soon as you have finished your day's work. Bring a suitcase and spend +the night.” + +“I shall be delighted,” Francis replied. + +“Do not,” Sir Timothy continued, “court disappointment by +over-anticipation. You have without doubt heard of my little gatherings +at Hatch End. They are viewed, I am told, with grave suspicion, alike by +the moralists of the City and, I fear, the police. I am not inviting you +to one of those gatherings. They are for people with other tastes. +My daughter and I have been spending a few days alone in the little +bungalow by the side of my larger house. That is where you will find +us--The Sanctuary, we call it.” + +“Some day,” Francis ventured, “I shall hope to be asked to one of your +more notorious gatherings. For the present occasion I much prefer the +entertainment you offer.” + +“Then we are both content,” Sir Timothy said, smiling. “Au revoir!” + + +Francis walked across Green Park, along the Mall, down Horse Guards +Parade, along the Embankment to his rooms on the fringe of the Temple. +Here he found his clerk awaiting his arrival in some disturbance of +spirit. + +“There is a young gentleman here to see you, sir,” he announced. “Mr. +Reginald Wilmore his name is, I think.” + +“Wilmore?” Francis repeated. “What have you done with him?” + +“He is in your room, sir. He seems very impatient. He has been out two +or three times to know how long I thought you would be.” + +Francis passed down the stone passage and entered his room, a large, +shady apartment at the back of the building. To his surprise it was +empty. He was on the point of calling to his clerk when he saw that the +writing-paper on his desk had been disturbed. He went over and read a +few lines written in a boy's hasty writing: + +DEAR Mr. LEDSAM: + +I am in a very strange predicament and I have come to ask your advice. +You know my brother Andrew well, and you may remember playing tennis +with me last year. I am compelled-- + +At that point the letter terminated abruptly. There was a blot and a +smudge. The pen lay where it seemed to have rolled--on the floor. The +ink was not yet dry. Francis called to his clerk. + +“Angrave,” he said, “Mr. Wilmore is not here.” + +The clerk looked around in obvious surprise. + +“It isn't five minutes since he came out to my office, sir!” he +exclaimed. “I heard him go back again afterwards.” + +Francis shrugged his shoulders. + +“Perhaps he decided not to wait and you didn't hear him go by.” + +Angrave shook his head. + +“I do not see how he could have left the place without my hearing him, +sir,” he declared. “The door of my office has been open all the time, +and I sit opposite to it. Besides, on these stone floors one can hear +any one so distinctly.” + +“Then what,” Francis asked, “has become of him?” + +The clerk shook his head. + +“I haven't any idea, sir,” he confessed. + +Francis plunged into his work and forgot all about the matter. He +was reminded of it, however, at luncheon-time, when, on entering the +dining-room of the club, he saw Andrew Wilmore seated alone at one of +the small tables near the wall. He went over to him at once. + +“Hullo, Andrew,” he greeted him, “what are you doing here by yourself?” + +“Bit hipped, old fellow,” was the depressed reply. “Sit down, will you?” + +Francis sat down and ordered his lunch. + +“By-the-bye,” he said, “I had rather a mysterious visit this morning +from your brother Reggie.” + +Wilmore stared at him for a moment, half in relief, half in amazement. + +“Good God, Francis, you don't say so!” he exclaimed. “How was he? What +did he want? Tell me about it at once? We've been worried to death about +the boy.” + +“Well, as a matter of fact, I didn't see him,” Francis explained. +“He arrived before I reached my rooms--as you know, I don't live +there--waited some time, began to write me this note,”--drawing the +sheet of paper from his pocket--“and when I got there had disappeared +without leaving a message or anything.” + +Wilmore adjusted his pince nez with trembling fingers. Then he read the +few lines through. + +“Francis,” he said, when he had finished them, “do you know that this is +the first word we've heard of him for three days?” + +“Great heavens!” Francis exclaimed. “He was living with his mother, +wasn't he?” + +“Down at Kensington, but he hasn't been there since Monday,” Andrew +replied. “His mother is in a terrible state. And now this, I don't +understand it at all.” + +“Was the boy hard up?” + +“Not more than most young fellows are,” was the puzzled reply. “His +allowance was due in a few days, too. He had money in the bank, I feel +sure. He was saving up for a motorcar.” + +“Haven't I seen him once or twice at restaurants lately?” Francis +enquired. “Soto's, for instance?” + +“Very likely,” his brother assented. “Why not? He's fond of dancing, and +we none of us ever encouraged him to be a stay-at-home.” + +“Any particular girl was he interested in?” + +“Not that we know of. Like most young fellows of his age, he was rather +keen on young women with some connection with the stage, but I don't +believe there was any one in particular. Reggie was too fond of games to +waste much time that way. He's at the gymnasium three evenings a week.” + +“I wish I'd been at the office a few minutes earlier this morning,” + Francis observed. “I tell you what, Andrew. I have some pals down at +Scotland Yard, and I'll go down and see them this afternoon. They'll +want a photograph, and to ask a few questions, I dare say, but I +shouldn't talk about the matter too much.” + +“You're very kind, Francis,” his friend replied, “but it isn't so easy +to sit tight. I was going to the police myself this afternoon.” + +“Take my advice and leave it to me,” Francis begged. “I have a +particular pal down at Scotland Yard who I know will be interested, and +I want him to take up the case.” + +“You haven't any theory, I suppose?” Wilmore asked, a little wistfully. + +Francis shook his head. + +“Not the ghost of one,” he admitted. “The reason I am advising you to +keep as quiet as possible, though, is just this. If you create a lot of +interest in a disappearance, you have to satisfy the public curiosity +when the mystery is solved.” + +“I see,” Wilmore murmured. “All the same, I can't imagine Reggie getting +mixed up in anything discreditable.” + +“Neither can I, from what I remember of the boy,” Francis agreed. “Let +me see, what was he doing in the City?” + +“He was with Jameson & Scott, the stockbrokers,” Wilmore replied. “He +was only learning the business and he had no responsibilities. Curiously +enough, though, when I went to see Mr. Jameson he pointed out one or two +little matters that Reggie had attended to, which looked as though he +were clearing up, somehow or other.” + +“He left no message there, I suppose?” + +“Not a line or a word. He gave the porter five shillings, though, on the +afternoon before he disappeared--a man who has done some odd jobs for +him.” + +“Well, a voluntary disappearance is better than an involuntary one,” + Francis remarked. “What was his usual programme when he left the +office?” + +“He either went to Queen's and played racquets, or he went straight to +his gymnasium in the Holborn. I telephoned to Queen's. He didn't call +there on the Wednesday night, anyhow.” + +“Where's the gymnasium?” + +“At 147 a Holborn. A lot of city young men go there late in the evening, +but Reggie got off earlier than most of them and used to have the place +pretty well to himself. I think that's why he stuck to it.” + +Francis made a note of the address. + +“I'll get Shopland to step down there some time,” he said. “Or better +still, finish your lunch and we'll take a taxi there ourselves. I'm +going to the country later on, but I've half-an-hour to spare. We can go +without our coffee and be there in ten minutes.” + +“A great idea,” Wilmore acquiesced. “It's probably the last place Reggie +visited, anyway.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The gymnasium itself was a source of immense surprise to both Francis +and Wilmore. It stretched along the entire top storey of a long block of +buildings, and was elaborately fitted with bathrooms, a restaurant and a +reading-room. The trapezes, bars, and all the usual appointments were of +the best possible quality. The manager, a powerful-looking man dressed +with the precision of the prosperous city magnate, came out of his +office to greet them. + +“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” he enquired. + +“First of all,” Francis replied, “accept our heartiest congratulations +upon your wonderful gymnasium.” + +The man bowed. + +“It is the best appointed in the country, sir,” he said proudly. +“Absolutely no expense has been spared in fitting it up. Every one of +our appliances is of the latest possible description, and our bathrooms +are an exact copy of those in a famous Philadelphia club.” + +“What is the subscription?” Wilmore asked. + +“Five shillings a year.” + +“And how many members?” + +“Two thousand.” + +The manager smiled as he saw his two visitors exchange puzzled glances. + +“Needless to say, sir,” he added, “we are not self-supporting. We have +very generous patrons.” + +“I lave heard my brother speak of this place as being quite wonderful,” + Wilmore remarked, “but I had no idea that it was upon this scale.” + +“Is your brother a member?” the man asked. + +“He is. To tell you the truth, we came here to ask you a question about +him.” + +“What is his name?” + +“Reginald Wilmore. He was here, I think, last Wednesday night.” + +While Wilmore talked, Francis watched. He was conscious of a curious +change in the man's deportment at the mention of Reginald Wilmore's +name. From being full of bumptious, almost condescending good-nature, +his expression had changed into one of stony incivility. There was +something almost sinister in the tightly-closed lips and the suspicious +gleam in his eyes. + +“What questions did you wish to ask?” he demanded. + +“Mr. Reginald Wilmore has disappeared,” Francis explained simply. “He +came here on leaving the office last Monday. He has not been seen or +heard of since.” + +“Well?” the manager asked. + +“We came to ask whether you happen to remember his being here on that +evening, and whether he gave any one here any indication of his future +movements. We thought, perhaps, that the instructor who was with him +might have some information.” + +“Not a chance,” was the uncompromising reply. “I remember Mr. Wilmore +being here perfectly. He was doing double turns on the high bar. I saw +more of him myself than any one. I was with him when he went down to +have his swim.” + +“Did he seem in his usual spirits?” Wilmore ventured. + +“I don't notice what spirits my pupils are in,” the man answered, a +little insolently. “There was nothing the matter with him so far as I +know.” + +“He didn't say anything about going away?” + +“Not a word. You'll excuse me, gentlemen--” + +“One moment,” Francis interrupted. “We came here ourselves sooner than +send a detective. Enquiries are bound to be made as to the young man's +disappearance, and we have reason to know that this is the last place at +which he was heard of. It is not unreasonable, therefore, is it, that we +should come to you for information?” + +“Reasonable or unreasonable, I haven't got any,” the man declared +gruffly. “If Mr. Wilmore's cleared out, he's cleared out for some reason +of his own. It's not my business and I don't know anything about it.” + +“You understand,” Francis persisted, “that our interest in young Mr. +Wilmore is entirely a friendly one?” + +“I don't care whether it's friendly or unfriendly. I tell you I don't +know anything about him. And,” he added, pressing his thumb upon the +button for the lift, “I'll wish you two gentlemen good afternoon. I've +business to attend to.” + +Francis looked at him curiously. + +“Haven't I seen you somewhere before?” he asked, a little abruptly. + +“I can't say. My name is John Maclane.” + +“Heavy-weight champion about seven years ago?” + +“I was,” the man acknowledged. “You may have seen me in the ring. Now, +gentlemen, if you please.” + +The lift had stopped opposite to them. The manager's gesture of +dismissal was final. + +“I am sorry, Mr. Maclane, if we have annoyed you with our questions,” + Francis said. “I wish you could remember a little more of Mr. Wilmore's +last visit.” + +“Well, I can't, and that's all there is to it,” was the blunt reply. “As +to being annoyed, I am only annoyed when my time's wasted. Take these +gents down, Jim. Good afternoon!” + +The door was slammed to and they shot downwards. Francis turned to the +lift man. + +“Do you know a Mr. Wilmore who comes here sometimes?” he asked. + +“Not likely!” the man scoffed. “They're comin' and goin' all the time +from four o'clock in the afternoon till eleven at night. If I heard a +name I shouldn't remember it. This way out, gentlemen.” + +Wilmore's hand was in his pocket but the man turned deliberately away. +They walked out into the street. + +“For downright incivility,” the former observed, “commend me to the +attendants of a young men's gymnasium!” + +Francis smiled. + +“All the same, old fellow,” he said, “if you worry for another five +minutes about Reggie, you're an ass.” + +At six o'clock that evening Francis turned his two-seater into a winding +drive bordered with rhododendrons, and pulled up before the porch of +a charming two-storied bungalow, covered with creepers, and with +French-windows opening from every room onto the lawns. A man-servant who +had heard the approach of the car was already standing in the porch. Sir +Timothy, in white flannels and a panama hat, strolled across the lawn to +greet his approaching guest. + +“Excellently timed, my young friend,” he said. “You will have time for +your first cocktail before you change. My daughter you know, of course. +Lady Cynthia Milton I think you also know.” + +Francis shook hands with the two girls who were lying under the cedar +tree. Margaret Hilditch seemed to him more wonderful than ever in her +white serge boating clothes. Lady Cynthia, who had apparently just +arrived from some function in town, was still wearing muslin and a large +hat. + +“I am always afraid that Mr. Ledsam will have forgotten me,” she +observed, as she gave him her hand. “The last time I met you was at the +Old Bailey, when you had been cheating the gallows of a very respectable +wife murderer. Poynings, I think his name was.” + +“I remember it perfectly,” Francis assented. “We danced together +that night, I remember, at your aunt's, Mrs. Malcolm's, and you were +intensely curious to know how Poynings had spent his evening.” + +“Lady Cynthia's reminder is perhaps a little unfortunate,” Sir Timothy +observed. “Mr. Ledsam is no longer the last hope of the enterprising +criminal. He has turned over a new leaf. To secure the services of his +silver tongue, you have to lay at his feet no longer the bags of gold +from your ill-gotten gains but the white flower of the blameless life.” + +“This is all in the worst possible taste,” Margaret Hilditch declared, +in her cold, expressionless tone. “You might consider my feelings.” + +Lady Cynthia only laughed. + +“My dear Margaret,” she said, “if I thought that you had any, I should +never believe that you were your father's daughter. Here's to them, +anyway,” she added, accepting the cocktail from the tray which the +butler had just brought out. “Mr. Ledsam, are you going to attach +yourself to me, or has Margaret annexed you?” + +“I have offered myself to Mrs. Hilditch,” Francis rejoined promptly, +“but so far I have made no impression.” + +“Try her with a punt and a concertina after dinner,” Lady Cynthia +suggested. “After all, I came down here to better my acquaintance with +my host. You flirted with me disgracefully when I was a debutante, and +have never taken any notice of me since. I hate infidelity in a man. Sir +Timothy, I shall devote myself to you. Can you play a concertina?” + +“Where the higher forms of music are concerned,” he replied, “I have no +technical ability. I should prefer to sit at your feet.” + +“While I punt, I suppose?” + +“There are backwaters,” he suggested. + +Lady Cynthia sipped her cocktail appreciatively. + +“I wonder how it is,” she observed, “that in these days, although +we have become callous to everything else in life, cocktails and +flirtations still attract us. You shall take me to a backwater after +dinner, Sir Timothy. I shall wear my silver-grey and take an armful of +those black cushions from the drawing-room. In that half light, there is +no telling what success I may not achieve.” + +Sir Timothy sighed. + +“Alas!” he said, “before dinner is over you will probably have changed +your mind.” + +“Perhaps so,” she admitted, “but you must remember that Mr. Ledsam is +my only alternative, and I am not at all sure that he likes me. I am not +sufficiently Victorian for his taste.” + +The dressing-bell rang. Sir Timothy passed his arm through Francis'. + +“The sentimental side of my domain;” he said, “the others may show you. +My rose garden across the stream has been very much admired. I am +now going to give you a glimpse of The Walled House, an edifice the +possession of which has made me more or less famous.” + +He led the way through a little shrubbery, across a further strip of +garden and through a door in a high wall, which he opened with a key +attached to his watch-chain. They were in an open park now, studded +with magnificent trees, in the further corner of which stood an +imposing mansion, with a great domed roof in the centre, and broad stone +terraces, one of which led down to the river. The house itself was an +amazingly blended mixture of old and new, with great wings supported by +pillars thrown out on either side. It seemed to have been built without +regard to any definite period of architecture, and yet to have attained +a certain coherency--a far-reaching structure, with long lines of +outbuildings. In the park itself were a score or more of horses, and in +the distance beyond a long line of loose boxes with open doors. Even as +they stood there, a grey sorrel mare had trotted up to their side +and laid her head against Sir Timothy's shoulder. He caressed her +surreptitiously, affecting not to notice the approach of other animals +from all quarters. + +“Let me introduce you to The Walled House,” its owner observed, “so +called, I imagine, because this wall, which is a great deal older than +you or I, completely encloses the estate. Of course, you remember the +old house, The Walled Palace, they called it? It belonged for many years +to the Lynton family, and afterwards to the Crown.” + +“I remember reading of your purchase,” Francis said, “and of course +I remember the old mansion. You seem to have wiped it out pretty +effectually.” + +“I was obliged to play the vandal,” his host confessed. “In its previous +state, the house was picturesque but uninhabitable. As you see it now, +it is an exact reproduction of the country home of one of the lesser +known of the Borgias--Sodina, I believe the lady's name was. You will +find inside some beautiful arches, and a sense of space which all modern +houses lack. It cost me a great deal of money, and it is inhabited, when +I am in Europe, about once a fortnight. You know the river name for it? +'Timothy's Folly!”' + +“But what on earth made you build it, so long as you don't care to live +there?” Francis enquired. + +Sir Timothy smiled reflectively. + +“Well,” he explained, “I like sometimes to entertain, and I like to +entertain, when I do, on a grand scale. In London, if I give a +party, the invitations are almost automatic. I become there a very +insignificant link in the chain of what is known as Society, and Society +practically helps itself to my entertainment, and sees that everything +is done according to rule. Down here things are entirely different. An +invitation to The Walled House is a personal matter. Society has nothing +whatever to do with my functions here. The reception-rooms, too, are +arranged according to my own ideas. I have, as you may have heard, the +finest private gymnasium in England. The ballroom and music-room and +private theatre, too, are famous.” + +“And do you mean to say that you keep that huge place empty?” Francis +asked curiously. + +“I have a suite of rooms there which I occasionally occupy,” Sir Timothy +replied, “and there are always thirty or forty servants and attendants +of different sorts who have their quarters there. I suppose that my +daughter and I would be there at the present moment but for the fact +that we own this cottage. Both she and I, for residential purposes, +prefer the atmosphere there.” + +“I scarcely wonder at it,” Francis agreed. + +They were surrounded now by various quadrupeds. As well as the horses, +half-a-dozen of which were standing patiently by Sir Timothy's side, +several dogs had made their appearance and after a little preliminary +enthusiasm had settled down at his feet. He leaned over and whispered +something in the ear of the mare who had come first. She trotted off, +and the others followed suit in a curious little procession. Sir Timothy +watched them, keeping his head turned away from Francis. + +“You recognise the mare the third from the end?” he pointed out. “That +is the animal I bought in Covent Garden. You see how she has filled +out?” + +“I should never have recognised her,” the other confessed. + +“Even Nero had his weaknesses,” Sir Timothy remarked, waving the dogs +away. “My animals' quarters are well worth a visit, if you have time. +There is a small hospital, too, which is quite up to date.” + +“Do any of the horses work at all?” Francis asked. + +Sir Timothy smiled. + +“I will tell you a very human thing about my favourites,” he said. “In +the gardens on the other side of the house we have very extensive lawns, +and my head groom thought he would make use of one of a my horses who +had recovered from a serious accident and was really quite a strong +beast, for one of the machines. He found the idea quite a success, and +now he no sooner appears in the park with a halter than, instead of +stampeding, practically every one of those horses comes cantering up +with the true volunteering spirit. The one which he selects, arches his +neck and goes off to work with a whole string of the others following. +Dodsley--that is my groom's name--tells me that he does a great deal +more mowing now than he need, simply because they worry him for the +work. Gratitude, you see, Mr. Ledsam, sheer gratitude. If you were to +provide a dozen alms-houses for your poor dependants, I wonder how many +of them would be anxious to mow your lawn.... Come, let me show you your +room now.” + +They passed back through the postern-gate into the gardens of The +Sanctuary. Sir Timothy led the way towards the house. + +“I am glad that you decided to spend the night, Mr. Ledsam,” he said. +“The river sounds a terribly hackneyed place to the Londoner, but it has +beauties which only those who live with it can discover. Mind your head. +My ceilings are low.” + +Francis followed his host along many passages, up and down stairs, until +he reached a little suite of rooms at the extreme end of the building. +The man-servant who had unpacked his bag stood waiting. Sir Timothy +glanced around critically. + +“Small but compact,” he remarked. “There is a little sitting-room down +that stair, and a bathroom beyond. If the flowers annoy you, throw them +out of the window. And if you prefer to bathe in the river to-morrow +morning, Brooks here will show you the diving pool. I am wearing a short +coat myself to-night, but do as you please. We dine at half-past eight.” + +Sir Timothy disappeared with a courteous little inclination of the head. +Francis dismissed the manservant at once as being out of keeping with +his quaint and fascinating surroundings. The tiny room with its flowers, +its perfume of lavender, its old-fashioned chintzes, and its fragrant +linen, might still have been a room in a cottage. The sitting-room, +with its veranda looking down upon the river, was provided with +cigars, whisky and soda and cigarettes; a bookcase, with a rare copy of +Rabelais, an original Surtees, a large paper Decameron, and a few other +classics. Down another couple of steps was a perfectly white bathroom, +with shower and plunge. Francis wandered from room to room, and finally +threw himself into a chair on the veranda to smoke a cigarette. From the +river below him came now and then the sound of voices. Through the trees +on his right he could catch a glimpse, here and there, of the strange +pillars and green domed roof of the Borghese villa. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +It was one of those faultless June evenings when the only mission of +the faintly stirring breeze seems to be to carry perfumes from garden +to garden and to make the lightest of music amongst the rustling leaves. +The dinner-table had been set out of doors, underneath the odorous +cedar-tree. Above, the sky was an arc of the deepest blue through which +the web of stars had scarcely yet found its way. Every now and then came +the sound of the splash of oars from the river; more rarely still, the +murmur of light voices as a punt passed up the stream. The little party +at The Sanctuary sat over their coffee and liqueurs long after the fall +of the first twilight, till the points of their cigarettes glowed like +little specks of fire through the enveloping darkness. Conversation had +been from the first curiously desultory, edited, in a way, Francis +felt, for his benefit. There was an atmosphere about his host and Lady +Cynthia, shared in a negative way by Margaret Hilditch, which baffled +Francis. It seemed to establish more than a lack of sympathy--to +suggest, even, a life lived upon a different plane. Yet every now and +then their references to everyday happenings were trite enough. Sir +Timothy had assailed the recent craze for drugs, a diatribe to which +Lady Cynthia had listened in silence for reasons which Francis could +surmise. + +“If one must soothe the senses,” Sir Timothy declared, “for the purpose +of forgetting a distasteful or painful present, I cannot see why the +average mind does not turn to the contemplation of beauty in some shape +or other. A night like to-night is surely sedative enough. Watch these +lights, drink in these perfumes, listen to the fall and flow of the +water long enough, and you would arrive at precisely the same mental +inertia as though you had taken a dose of cocaine, with far less harmful +an aftermath.” + +Lady Cynthia shrugged her shoulders. + +“Cocaine is in one's dressing-room,” she objected, “and beauty is hard +to seek in Grosvenor Square.” + +“The common mistake of all men,” Sir Timothy continued, “and women, too, +for the matter of that, is that we will persist in formulating doctrines +for other people. Every man or woman is an entity of humanity, with a +separate heaven and a separate hell. No two people can breathe the same +air in the same way, or see the same picture with the same eyes.” + +Lady Cynthia rose to her feet and shook out the folds of her diaphanous +gown, daring alike in its shapelessness and scantiness. She lit a +cigarette and laid her hand upon Sir Timothy's arm. + +“Come,” she said, “must I remind you of your promise? You are to show me +the stables at The Walled House before it is dark.” + +“You would see them better in the morning,” he reminded her, rising with +some reluctance to his feet. + +“Perhaps,” she answered, “but I have a fancy to see them now.” + +Sir Timothy looked back at the table. + +“Margaret,” he said, “will you look after Mr. Ledsam for a little time? +You will excuse us, Ledsam? We shall not be gone long.” + +They moved away together towards the shrubbery and the door in the wall +behind. Francis resumed his seat. + +“Are you not also curious to penetrate the mysteries behind the wall, +Mr. Ledsam?” Margaret asked. + +“Not so curious but that I would much prefer to remain here,” he +answered. + +“With me?” + +“With you.” + +She knocked the ash from her cigarette. She was looking directly at +him, and he fancied that there was a gleam of curiosity in her beautiful +eyes. There was certainly a little more abandon about her attitude. She +was leaning back in a corner of her high-backed chair, and her gown, +although it lacked the daring of Lady Cynthia's, seemed to rest about +her like a cloud of blue-grey smoke. + +“What a curious meal!” she murmured. “Can you solve a puzzle for me, Mr. +Ledsam?” + +“I would do anything for you that I could,” he answered. + +“Tell me, then, why my father asked you here to-night? I can understand +his bringing you to the opera, that was just a whim of the moment, +but an invitation down here savours of deliberation. Studiously polite +though you are to one another, one is conscious all the time of the +hostility beneath the surface.” + +“I think that so far as your father is concerned, it is part of his +peculiar disposition,” Francis replied. “You remember he once said that +he was tired of entertaining his friends--that there was more pleasure +in having an enemy at the board.” + +“Are you an enemy, Mr. Ledsam?” she asked curiously. + +He rose a little abruptly to his feet, ignoring her question. There were +servants hovering in the background. + +“Will you walk with me in the gardens?” he begged. “Or may I take you +upon the river?” + +She rose to her feet. For a moment she seemed to hesitate. + +“The river, I think,” she decided. “Will you wait for three minutes +while I get a wrap. You will find some punts moored to the landing-stage +there in the stream. I like the very largest and most comfortable.” + +Francis strolled to the edge of the stream, and made his choice of +punts. Soon a servant appeared with his arms full of cushions, and a +moment or two later, Margaret herself, wrapped in an ermine cloak. She +smiled a little deprecatingly as she picked her way across the lawn. + +“Don't laugh at me for being such a chilly mortal, please,” she +enjoined. “And don't be afraid that I am going to propose a long +expedition. I want to go to a little backwater in the next stream.” + +She settled herself in the stern and they glided down the narrow +thoroughfare. The rose bushes from the garden almost lapped the water +as they passed. Behind, the long low cottage, the deserted dinner-table, +the smooth lawn with its beds of scarlet geraniums and drooping lilac +shrubs in the background, seemed like a scene from fairyland, to attain +a perfection of detail unreal, almost theatrical. + +“To the right when you reach the river, please,” she directed. “You will +find there is scarcely any current. We turn up the next stream.” + +There was something almost mysterious, a little impressive, about the +broad expanse of river into which they presently turned. Opposite were +woods and then a sloping lawn. From a house hidden in the distance they +heard the sound of a woman singing. They even caught the murmurs +of applause as she concluded. Then there was silence, only the soft +gurgling of the water cloven by the punt pole. They glided past the +front of the great unlit house, past another strip of woodland, and then +up a narrow stream. + +“To the left here,” she directed, “and then stop.” + +They bumped against the bank. The little backwater into which they had +turned seemed to terminate in a bed of lilies whose faint fragrance +almost enveloped them. The trees on either side made a little arch of +darkness. + +“Please ship your pole and listen,” Margaret said dreamily. “Make +yourself as comfortable as you can. There are plenty of cushions behind +you. This is where I come for silence.” + +Francis obeyed her orders without remark. For a few moments, speech +seemed impossible. The darkness was so intense that although he was +acutely conscious of her presence there, only a few feet away, nothing +but the barest outline of her form was visible. The silence which she +had brought him to seek was all around them. There was just the faintest +splash of water from the spot where the stream and the river met, +the distant barking of a dog, the occasional croaking of a frog from +somewhere in the midst of the bed of lilies. Otherwise the silence and +the darkness were like a shroud. Francis leaned forward in his place. +His hands, which gripped the sides of the punt, were hot. The serenity +of the night mocked him. + +“So this is your paradise,” he said, a little hoarsely. + +She made no answer. Her silence seemed to him more thrilling than words. +He leaned forward. His hands fell upon the soft fur which encompassed +her. They rested there. Still she did not speak. He tightened his grasp, +moved further forward, the passion surging through his veins, his breath +almost failing him. He was so near now that he heard her breathing, +saw her face, as pale as ever. Her lips were a little parted, her eyes +looked out, as it seemed to him, half in fear, half in hope. He bent +lower still. She neither shrank away nor invited him. + +“Dear!” he whispered. + +Her arms stole from underneath the cloak, her fingers rested upon his +shoulders. He scarcely knew whether it was a caress or whether she were +holding him from her. In any case it was too late. With a little sob of +passion his lips were pressed to hers. Even as she closed her eyes, the +scent of the lilies seemed to intoxicate him. + +He was back in his place without conscious movement. His pulses were +quivering, the passion singing in his blood, the joy of her faint caress +living proudly in his memory. It had been the moment of his life, and +yet even now he felt sick at heart with fears, with the torment of her +passiveness. She had lain there in his arms, he had felt the thrill of +her body, some quaint inspiration had told him that she had sought +for joy in that moment and had not wholly failed. Yet his anxiety was +tumultuous, overwhelming. Then she spoke, and his heart leaped again. +Her voice was more natural. It was not a voice which he had ever heard +before. + +“Give me a cigarette, please--and I want to go back.” + +He leaned over her again, struck a match with trembling fingers and gave +her the cigarette. She smiled at him very faintly. + +“Please go back now,” she begged. “Smoke yourself, take me home slowly +and say nothing.” + +He obeyed, but his knees were shaking when he stood up. Slowly, a foot +at a time, they passed from the mesh of the lilies out into the broad +stream. Almost as they did so, the yellow rim of the moon came up over +the low hills. As they turned into their own stream, the light was +strong enough for him to see her face. She lay there like a ghost, her +eyes half closed, the only touch of colour in the shining strands of +her beautiful hair. She roused herself a little as they swung around. He +paused, leaning upon the pole. + +“You are not angry?” he asked. + +“No, I am not angry,” she answered. “Why should I be? But I cannot talk +to you about it tonight.” + +They glided to the edge of the landing-stage. A servant appeared and +secured the punt. + +“Is Sir Timothy back yet?” Margaret enquired. + +“Not yet, madam.” + +She turned to Francis. + +“Please go and have a whisky and soda in the smoking-room,” she said, +pointing to the open French windows. “I am going to my favourite seat. +You will find me just across the bridge there.” + +He hesitated, filled with a passionate disinclination to leave her side +even for a moment. She seemed to understand but she pointed once more to +the room. + +“I should like very much,” she added, “to be alone for five minutes. If +you will come and find me then--please!” + +Francis stepped through the French windows into the smoking-room, +where all the paraphernalia for satisfying thirst were set out upon the +sideboard. He helped himself to whisky and soda and drank it absently, +with his eyes fixed upon the clock. In five minutes he stepped once more +back into the gardens, soft and brilliant now in the moonlight. As he +did so, he heard the click of the gate in the wall, and footsteps. His +host, with Lady Cynthia upon his arm, came into sight and crossed +the lawn towards him. Francis, filled though his mind was with other +thoughts, paused for a moment and glanced towards them curiously. Lady +Cynthia seemed for a moment to have lost all her weariness. Her eyes +were very bright, she walked with a new spring in her movements. Even +her voice, as she addressed Francis, seemed altered. + +“Sir Timothy has been showing me some of the wonders of his villa--do +you call it a villa or a palace?” she asked. + +“It is certainly not a palace,” Sir Timothy protested, “and I fear that +it has scarcely the atmosphere of a villa. It is an attempt to combine +certain ideas of my own with the requirements of modern entertainment. +Come and have a drink with us, Ledsam.” + +“I have just had one,” Francis replied. “Mrs. Hilditch is in the rose +garden and I am on my way to join her.” + +He passed on and the two moved towards the open French windows. He +crossed the rustic bridge that led into the flower garden, turned +down the pergola and came to a sudden standstill before the seat +which Margaret had indicated. It was empty, but in the corner lay the +long-stalked lily which she had picked in the backwater. He stood there +for a moment, transfixed. There were other seats and chairs in the +garden, but he knew before he started his search that it was in vain. +She had gone. The flower, drooping a little now though the stalk +was still wet with the moisture of the river, seemed to him like her +farewell. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Francis was surprised, when he descended for breakfast the next morning, +to find the table laid for one only. The butler who was waiting, handed +him the daily papers and wheeled the electric heater to his side. + +“Is no one else breakfasting?” Francis asked. + +“Sir Timothy and Mrs. Hilditch are always served in their rooms, sir. +Her ladyship is taking her coffee upstairs.” + +Francis ate his breakfast, glanced through the Times, lit a cigarette +and went round to the garage for his car. The butler met him as he drove +up before the porch. + +“Sir Timothy begs you to excuse him this morning, sir,” he announced. +“His secretary has arrived from town with a very large correspondence +which they are now engaged upon.” + +“And Mrs. Hilditch?” Francis ventured. + +“I have not seen her maid this morning, sir,” the man replied, “but Mrs. +Hilditch never rises before midday. Sir Timothy hopes that you slept +well, sir, and would like you to sign the visitors' book.” + +Francis signed his name mechanically, and was turning away when Lady +Cynthia called to him from the stairs. She was dressed for travelling +and followed by a maid, carrying her dressing-case. + +“Will you take me up to town, Mr. Ledsam?” she asked. + +“Delighted,” he answered. + +Their dressing-cases were strapped together behind and Lady Cynthia sank +into the cushions by his side. They drove away from the house, Francis +with a backward glance of regret. The striped sun-blinds had been +lowered over all the windows, thrushes and blackbirds were twittering on +the lawn, the air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, a boatman was +busy with the boats. Out beyond, through the trees, the river wound its +placid way. + +“Quite a little paradise,” Lady Cynthia murmured. + +“Delightful,” her companion assented. “I suppose great wealth has its +obligations, but why any human being should rear such a structure as +what he calls his Borghese villa, when he has a charming place like that +to live in, I can't imagine.” + +Her silence was significant, almost purposeful. She unwound the veil +from her motoring turban, took it off altogether and attached it to the +cushions of the car with a hatpin. + +“There,” she said, leaning back, “you can now gaze upon a horrible +example to the young women of to-day. You can see the ravages which late +hours, innumerable cocktails, a thirst for excitement, a contempt of the +simple pleasures of life, have worked upon my once comely features. I +was quite good-looking, you know, in the days you first knew me.” + +“You were the most beautiful debutante of your season,” he agreed. + +“What do you think of me now?” she asked. + +She met his gaze without flinching. Her face was unnaturally thin, with +disfiguring hollows underneath her cheekbones; her lips lacked colour; +even her eyes were lustreless. Her hair seemed to lack brilliancy. +Only her silken eyebrows remained unimpaired, and a certain charm of +expression which nothing seemed able to destroy. + +“You look tired,” he said. + +“Be honest, my dear man,” she rejoined drily. “I am a physical wreck, +dependent upon cosmetics for the looks which I am still clever enough to +palm off on the uninitiated.” + +“Why don't you lead a quieter life?” he asked. “A month or so in the +country would put you all right.” + +She laughed a little hardly. Then for a moment she looked at him +appraisingly. + +“I was going to speak to you of nerves,” she said, “but how would you +ever understand? You look as though you had not a nerve in your body. +I can't think how you manage it, living in London. I suppose you do +exercises and take care of what you eat and drink.” + +“I do nothing of the sort,” he assured her indignantly. “I eat and +drink whatever I fancy. I have always had a direct object in life--my +work--and I believe that has kept me fit and well. Nerve troubles come +as a rule, I think, from the under-used brain.” + +“I must have been born with a butterfly disposition,” she said. “I am +quite sure that mine come because I find it so hard to be amused. I am +sure I am most enterprising. I try whatever comes along, but nothing +satisfies me.” + +“Why not try being in love with one of these men who've been in love +with you all their lives?” + +She laughed bitterly. + +“The men who have cared for me and have been worth caring about,” she +said, “gave me up years ago. I mocked at them when they were in earnest, +scoffed at sentiment, and told them frankly that when I married it would +only be to find a refuge for broader life. The right sort wouldn't have +anything to say to me after that, and I do not blame them. And here is +the torture of it. I can't stand the wrong sort near me--physically, I +mean. Mind, I believe I'm attracted towards people with criminal tastes +and propensities. I believe that is what first led me towards Sir +Timothy. Every taste I ever had in life seems to have become besmirched. +I'm all the time full of the craving to do horrible things, but all the +same I can't bear to be touched. That's the torment of it. I wonder if +you can understand?” + +“I think I can,” he answered. “Your trouble lies in having the wrong +friends and in lack of self-discipline. If you were my sister, I'd take +you away for a fortnight and put you on the road to being cured.” + +“Then I wish I were your sister,” she sighed. + +“Don't think I'm unsympathetic,” he went on, “because I'm not. Wait till +we've got into the main road here and I'll try and explain.” + +They were passing along a country lane, so narrow that twigs from the +hedges, wreathed here and there in wild roses, brushed almost against +their cheeks. On their left was the sound of a reaping-machine and the +perfume of new-mown hay. The sun was growing stronger at every moment. A +transitory gleam of pleasure softened her face. + +“It is ages since I smelt honeysuckle,” she confessed, “except in a +perfumer's shop. I was wondering what it reminded me of.” + +“That,” he said, as they turned out into the broad main road, with its +long vista of telegraph poles, “is because you have been neglecting the +real for the sham, flowers themselves for their artificially distilled +perfume. What I was going to try and put into words without sounding too +priggish, Lady Cynthia,” he went on, “is this. It is just you people who +are cursed with a restless brain who are in the most dangerous position, +nowadays. The things which keep us healthy and normal physically--games, +farces, dinner-parties of young people, fresh air and exercise--are +the very things which after a time fail to satisfy the person with +imagination. You want more out of life, always the something you don't +understand, the something beyond. And so you keep on trying new things, +and for every new thing you try, you drop an old one. Isn't it something +like that?” + +“I suppose it is,” she admitted wearily. + +“Drugs take the place of wholesome wine,” he went on, warming to his +subject. “The hideous fascination of flirting with the uncouth or the +impossible some way or another, stimulates a passion which simple means +have ceased to gratify. You seek for the unusual in every way--in food, +in the substitution of absinthe for your harmless Martini, of cocaine +for your stimulating champagne. There is a horrible wave of all this +sort of thing going on to-day in many places, and I am afraid,” he +concluded, “that a great many of our very nicest young women are caught +up in it.” + +“Guilty,” she confessed. “Now cure me.” + +“I could point out the promised land, but how, could I lead you to it?” + he answered. + +“You don't like me well enough,” she sighed. + +“I like you better than you believe,” he assured her, slackening his +speed a little. “We have met, I suppose, a dozen times in our lives. I +have danced with you here and there, talked nonsense once, I remember, +at a musical reception--” + +“I tried to flirt with you then,” she interrupted. + +He nodded. + +“I was in the midst of a great case,” he said, “and everything that +happened to me outside it was swept out of my mind day by day. What I +was going to say is that I have always liked you, from the moment when +your mother presented me to you at your first dance.” + +“I wish you'd told me so,” she murmured. + +“It wouldn't have made any difference,” he declared. “I wasn't in a +position to think of a duke's daughter, in those days. I don't suppose I +am now.” + +“Try,” she begged hopefully. + +He smiled back at her. The reawakening of her sense of humour was +something. + +“Too late,” he regretted. “During the last month or so the thing has +come to me which we all look forward to, only I don't think fate has +treated me kindly. I have always loved normal ways and normal people, +and the woman I care for is different.” + +“Tell me about her?” she insisted. + +“You will be very surprised when I tell you her name,” he said. “It is +Margaret Hilditch.” + +She looked at him for a moment in blank astonishment. + +“Heavens!” she exclaimed. “Oliver Hilditch's wife!” + +“I can't help that,” he declared, a little doggedly. “She's had a +miserable time, I know. She was married to a scamp. I'm not quite +sure that her father isn't as bad a one. Those things don't make any +difference.” + +“They wouldn't with you,” she said softly. “Tell me, did you say +anything to her last night?” + +“I did,” he replied. “I began when we were out alone together. She gave +me no encouragement to speak of, but at any rate she knows.” + +Lady Cynthia leaned a little forward in her place. + +“Do you know where she is now?” + +He was a little startled. + +“Down at the cottage, I suppose. The butler told me that she never rose +before midday.” + +“Then for once the butler was mistaken,” his companion told him. +“Margaret Hilditch left at six o'clock this morning. I saw her in +travelling clothes get into the car and drive away.” + +“She left the cottage this morning before us?” Francis repeated, amazed. + +“I can assure you that she did,” Lady Cynthia insisted. “I never sleep, +amongst my other peculiarities,” she went on bitterly, “and I was lying +on a couch by the side of the open window when the car came for her. She +stopped it at the bend of the avenue--so that it shouldn't wake us up, I +suppose. I saw her get in and drive away.” + +Francis was silent for several moments. Lady Cynthia watched him +curiously. + +“At any rate,” she observed, “in whatever mood she went away this +morning, you have evidently succeeded in doing what I have never seen +any one else do--breaking through her indifference. I shouldn't +have thought that anything short of an earthquake would have stirred +Margaret, these days.” + +“These days?” he repeated quickly. “How long have you known her?” + +“We were at school together for a short time,” she told him. “It was +while her father was in South America. Margaret was a very different +person in those days.” + +“However was she induced to marry a person like Oliver Hilditch?” + Francis speculated. + +His companion shrugged her shoulders. + +“Who knows?” she answered indifferently. “Are you going to drop me?” + +“Wherever you like.” + +“Take me on to Grosvenor Square, if you will, then,” she begged, “and +deposit me at the ancestral mansion. I am really rather annoyed about +Margaret,” she went on, rearranging her veil. “I had begun to have hopes +that you might have revived my taste for normal things.” + +“If I had had the slightest intimation--” he murmured. + +“It would have made no difference,” she interrupted dolefully. “Now I +come to think of it, the Margaret whom I used to know--and there must be +plenty of her left yet--is just the right type of woman for you.” + +They drew up outside the house in Grosvenor Square. Lady Cynthia held +out her hand. + +“Come and see me one afternoon, will you?” she invited. + +“I'd like to very much,” he replied. + +She lingered on the steps and waved her hand to him--a graceful, +somewhat insolent gesture. + +“All the same, I think I shall do my best to make you forget Margaret,” + she called out. “Thanks for the lift up. A bientôt!” + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Francis drove direct from Grosvenor Square to his chambers in the +Temple, and found Shopland, his friend from Scotland Yard, awaiting his +arrival. + +“Any news?” Francis enquired. + +“Nothing definite, I am sorry, to say,” was the other's reluctant +admission. + +Francis hung up his hat, threw himself into his easy-chair and lit a +cigarette. + +“The lad's brother is one of my oldest friends, Shopland,” he said. “He +is naturally in a state of great distress.” + +The detective scratched his chin thoughtfully. + +“I said 'nothing definite' just now, sir,” he observed. “As a rule, +I never mention suspicions, but with you it is a different matter. I +haven't discovered the slightest trace of Mr. Reginald Wilmore, or +the slightest reason for his disappearance. He seems to have been a +well-conducted young gentleman, a little extravagant, perhaps, but able +to pay his way and with nothing whatever against him. Nothing whatever, +that is to say, except one almost insignificant thing.” + +“And that?” + +“A slight tendency towards bad company, sir. I have heard of his being +about with one or two whom we are keeping our eye upon.” + +“Bobby Fairfax's lot, by any chance?” + +Shopland nodded. + +“He was with Jacks and Miss Daisy Hyslop, a night or two before he +disappeared. I am not sure that a young man named Morse wasn't of the +party, too.” + +“What do you make of that lot?” Francis asked curiously. “Are they +gamesters, dope fiends, or simply vicious?” + +The detective was silent. He was gazing intently at his rather +square-toed shoes. + +“There are rumours, sir,” he said, presently, “of things going on in the +West End which want looking into very badly--very badly indeed. You will +remember speaking to me of Sir Timothy Brast?” + +“I remember quite well,” Francis acknowledged. + +“I've nothing to go on,” the other continued. “I am working almost on +your own lines, Mr. Ledsam, groping in the dark to find a clue, as it +were, but I'm beginning to have ideas about Sir Timothy Brast, just +ideas.” + +“As, for instance?” + +“Well, he stands on rather queer terms with some of his acquaintances, +sir. Now you saw, down at Soto's Bar, the night we arrested Mr. Fairfax, +that not one of those young men there spoke to Sir Timothy as though +they were acquainted, nor he to them. Yet I happened to find out that +every one of them, including Mr. Fairfax himself, was present at a +party Sir Timothy Brast gave at his house down the river a week or two +before.” + +“I'm afraid there isn't much in that,” Francis declared. “Sir Timothy +has the name of being an eccentric person everywhere, especially in this +respect--he never notices acquaintances. I heard, only the other day, +that while he was wonderfully hospitable and charming to all his guests, +he never remembered them outside his house.” + +Shopland nodded. + +“A convenient eccentricity,” he remarked, a little drily. “I have heard +the same thing myself. You spent the night at his country cottage, did +you not, Mr. Ledsam? Did he offer to show you over The Walled House?” + +“How the dickens did you know I was down there?” Francis demanded, with +some surprise. “I was just thinking as I drove up that I hadn't left my +address either here or at Clarges Street.” + +“Next time you visit Sir Timothy,” the detective observed, “I should +advise you to do so. I knew you were there, Mr. Ledsam, because I was +in the neighbourhood myself. I have been doing a little fishing, and +keeping my eye on that wonderful estate of Sir Timothy's.” + +Francis was interested. + +“Shopland,” he said, “I believe that our intelligences, such as they +are, are akin.” + +“What do you suspect Sir Timothy of?” the detective asked bluntly. + +“I suspect him of nothing,” Francis replied. “He is simply, to my mind, +an incomprehensible, somewhat sinister figure, who might be capable of +anything. He may have very excellent qualities which he contrives to +conceal, or he may be an arch-criminal. His personality absolutely +puzzles me.” + +There was a knock at the door and Angrave appeared. Apparently he had +forgotten Shopland's presence, for he ushered in another visitor. + +“Sir Timothy Brast to see you, sir,” he announced. + +The moment was one of trial to every one, admirably borne. Shopland +remained in his chair, with only a casual glance at the newcomer. +Francis rose to his feet with a half-stifled expression of anger at the +clumsiness of his clerk. Sir Timothy, well-shaven and groomed, attired +in a perfectly-fitting suit of grey flannel, nodded to Francis in +friendly fashion and laid his Homburg hat upon the table with the air of +a familiar. + +“My dear Ledsam,” he said, “I do hope that you will excuse this early +call. I could only have been an hour behind you on the road. I dare +say you can guess what I have come to see you about. Can we have a word +together?” + +“Certainly,” was the ready reply. “You remember my friend Shopland, Sir +Timothy? It was Mr. Shopland who arrested young Fairfax that night at +Soto's.” + +“I remember him perfectly,” Sir Timothy declared. “I fancied, directly I +entered, that your face was familiar,” he added, turning to Shopland. +“I am rather ashamed of myself about that night. My little outburst +must have sounded almost ridiculous to you two. To tell you the truth, +I quite failed at that time to give Mr. Ledsam credit for gifts which I +have since discovered him to possess.” + +“Mr. Shopland and I are now discussing another matter,” Francis went on, +pushing a box of cigarettes towards Sir Timothy, who was leaning against +the table in an easy attitude. “Don't go, Shopland, for a minute. We +were consulting together about the disappearance of a young man, Reggie +Wilmore, the brother of a friend of mine--Andrew Wilmore, the novelist.” + +“Disappearance?” Sir Timothy repeated, as he lit a cigarette. “That is +rather a vague term.” + +“The young man has been missing from home for over a week,” Francis +said, “and left no trace whatever of his whereabouts. He was not in +financial trouble, he does not seem to have been entangled with any +young woman, he had not quarrelled with his people, and he seems to have +been on the best of terms with the principal at the house of business +where he was employed. His disappearance, therefore, is, to say the +least of it, mysterious.” + +Sir Timothy assented gravely. + +“The lack of motive to which you allude,” he pointed out, “makes the +case interesting. Still, one must remember that London is certainly the +city of modern mysteries. If a new 'Arabian Nights' were written, it +might well be about London. I dare say Mr. Shopland will agree with +me,” he continued, turning courteously towards the detective, +“that disappearances of this sort are not nearly so uncommon as the +uninitiated would believe. For one that is reported in the papers, +there are half-a-dozen which are not. Your late Chief Commissioner, +by-the-bye,” he added meditatively, “once a very intimate friend of +mine, was my informant.” + +“Where do you suppose they disappear to?” Francis enquired. + +“Who can tell?” was the speculative reply. “For an adventurous youth +there are a thousand doors which lead to romance. Besides, the lives of +none of us are quite so simple as they seem. Even youth has its +secret chapters. This young man, for instance, might be on his way to +Australia, happy in the knowledge that he has escaped from some murky +chapter of life which will now never be known. He may write to his +friends, giving them a hint. The whole thing will blow over.” + +“There may be cases such as you suggest, Sir Timothy,” the detective +said quietly. “Our investigations, so far as regards the young man in +question, however, do not point that way.” + +Sir Timothy turned over his cigarette to look at the name of the maker. + +“Excellent tobacco,” he murmured. “By-the-bye, what did you say the +young man's name was?” + +“Reginald Wilmore,” Francis told him. + +“A good name,” Sir Timothy murmured. “I am sure I wish you both every +good fortune in your quest. Would it be too much to ask you now, Mr. +Ledsam, for that single minute alone?” + +“By no means,” Francis answered. + +“I'll wait in the office, if I may,” Shopland suggested, rising to his +feet. “I want to have another word with you before I go.” + +“My business with Mr. Ledsam is of a family nature,” Sir Timothy said +apologetically, as Shopland passed out. “I will not keep him for more +than a moment.” + +Shopland closed the door behind him. Sir Timothy waited until he heard +his departing footsteps. Then he turned back to Francis. + +“Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I have come to ask you if you know anything of +my daughter's whereabouts?” + +“Nothing whatever,” Francis replied. “I was on the point of ringing you +up to ask you the same question.” + +“Did she tell you that she was leaving The Sanctuary?” + +“She gave me not the slightest intimation of it,” Francis assured his +questioner, “in fact she invited me to meet her in the rose garden last +night. When I arrived there, she was gone. I have heard nothing from her +since.” + +“You spent the evening with her?” + +“To my great content.” + +“What happened between you?” + +“Nothing happened. I took the opportunity, however, of letting your +daughter understand the nature of my feelings for her.” + +“Dear me! May I ask what they are?” + +“I will translate them into facts,” Francis replied. “I wish your +daughter to become my wife.” + +“You amaze me!” Sir Timothy exclaimed, with the old mocking smile at his +lips. “How can you possibly contemplate association with the daughter of +a man whom you suspect and distrust as you do me?” + +“If I suspect and distrust you, it is your own fault,” Francis reminded +him. “You have declared yourself to be a criminal and a friend of +criminals. I am inclined to believe that you have spoken the truth. I +care for that fact just as little as I care for the fact that you are a +millionaire, or that Margaret has been married to a murderer. I intend +her to become my wife.” + +“Did you encourage her to leave me?” + +“I did not. I had not the slightest idea that she had left The Sanctuary +until Lady Cynthia told me, halfway to London this morning.” + +Sir Timothy was silent for several moments. + +“Have you any idea in your own mind,” he persisted, “as to where she has +gone and for what purpose?” + +“Not the slightest in the world,” Francis declared. “I am just as +anxious to hear from her; and to know where she is, as you seem to be.” + +Sir Timothy sighed. + +“I am disappointed,” he admitted. “I had hoped to obtain some +information from you. I must try in another direction.” + +“Since you are here, Sir Timothy,” Francis said, as his visitor prepared +to depart, “may I ask whether you have any objection to my marrying your +daughter?” + +Sir Timothy frowned. + +“The question places me in a somewhat difficult position,” he replied +coldly. “In a certain sense I have a liking for you. You are not quite +the ingenuous nincompoop I took you for on the night of our first +meeting. On the other hand, you have prejudices against me. My harmless +confession of sympathy with criminals and their ways seems to have +stirred up a cloud of suspicion in your mind. You even employ a +detective to show the world what a fool he can look, sitting in a punt +attempting to fish, with one eye on the supposed abode of crime.” + +“I have nothing whatever to do with the details of Shopland's +investigations,” Francis protested. “He is in search of Reggie Wilmore.” + +“Does he think I have secret dungeons in my new abode,” Sir Timothy +demanded, “or oubliettes in which I keep and starve brainless youths for +some nameless purpose? Be reasonable, Mr. Ledsam. What the devil benefit +could accrue to me from abducting or imprisoning or in any way laying my +criminal hand upon this young man?” + +“None whatever that we have been able to discover as yet,” Francis +admitted. + +“A leaning towards melodrama, admirable in its way, needs the leaven of +a well-balanced discretion and a sense of humour,” Sir Timothy observed. +“The latter quality is as a rule singularly absent amongst the myrmidons +of Scotland Yard. I do not think that Mr. Shopland will catch even fish +in the neighbourhood of The Walled House. As regards your matrimonial +proposal, let us waive that until my daughter returns.” + +“As you will,” Francis agreed. “I will be frank to this extent, at any +rate. If I can persuade your daughter to marry me, your consent will not +affect the matter.” + +“I can leave Margaret a matter of two million pounds,” Sir Timothy said +pensively. + +“I have enough money to support my wife myself,” Francis observed. + +“Utopian but foolish,” Sir Timothy declared. “All the same, Mr. Ledsam, +let me tell you this. You have a curious attraction for me. When I was +asked why I had invited you to The Sanctuary last night, I frankly could +not answer the question. I didn't know. I don't know. Your dislike of me +doesn't seem to affect the question. I was glad to have you there last +night. It pleases me to hear you talk, to hear your views of things. I +feel that I shall have to be very careful, Mr. Ledsam, or--” + +“Or what?” Francis demanded. + +“Or I shall even welcome the idea of having you for a son-in-law,” Sir +Timothy concluded reluctantly. “Make my excuses to Mr. Shopland. Au +revoir!” + +Shopland came in as the door closed behind the departing visitor. He +listened to all that Francis had to say, without comment. + +“If The Walled House,” he said at last, “is so carefully guarded that +Sir Timothy has been informed of my watching the place and has been made +aware of my mild questionings, it must be because there is something to +conceal. I may or may not be on the track of Mr. Reginald Wilmore, but,” + the detective concluded, “of one thing I am becoming convinced--The +Walled House will pay for watching.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +It was a day when chance was kind to Francis. After leaving his rooms +at the Temple, he made a call at one of the great clubs in Pall Mall, to +enquire as to the whereabouts of a friend. On his way back towards the +Sheridan, he came face to face with Margaret Hilditch, issuing from the +doors of one of the great steamship companies. For a moment he almost +failed to recognise her. She reminded him more of the woman of the +tea-shop. Her costume, neat and correct though it was, was studiously +unobtrusive. Her motoring veil, too, was obviously worn to assist her in +escaping notice. + +She, too, came to a standstill at seeing him. Her first ejaculations +betrayed a surprise which bordered on consternation. Then Francis, +with a sudden inspiration, pointed to the long envelope which she was +carrying in her hand. + +“You have been to book a passage somewhere!” he exclaimed. + +“Well?” + +The monosyllable was in her usual level tone. Nevertheless, he could see +that she was shaken: + +“You were going away without seeing me again?”' he asked reproachfully. + +“Yes!” she admitted. + +“Why?” + +She looked up and down a little helplessly. + +“I owe you no explanation for my conduct,” she said. “Please let me +pass.” + +“Could we talk for a few minutes, please?” he begged. “Tell me where you +were going?” + +“Oh, back to lunch, I suppose,” she answered. + +“Your father has been up, looking for you,” he told her. + +“I telephoned to The Sanctuary,” she replied. “He had just left.” + +“I am very anxious,” he continued, “not to distress you, but I cannot +let you go away like this. Will you come to my rooms and let us talk for +a little time?” + +She made no answer. Somehow, he realised that speech just then was +difficult. He called a taxi and handed her in. They drove to Clarges +Street in silence. He led the way up the stairs, gave some quick +orders to his servant whom he met coming down, ushered her into his +sitting-room and saw her ensconced in an easy-chair. + +“Please take off that terrible veil,” he begged. + +“It is pinned on to my hat,” she told him. + +“Then off with both,” he insisted. “You can't eat luncheon like that. +I'm not going to try and bully you. If you've booked your passage to +Timbuctoo and you really want to go--why, you must. I only want the +chance of letting you know that I am coming after you.” + +She took off her hat and veil and threw them on to the sofa, glancing +sideways at a mirror let into the door of a cabinet. + +“My hair is awful,” she declared: + +He laughed gaily, and turned around from the sideboard, where he was +busy mixing cocktails. + +“Thank heavens for that touch of humanity!” he exclaimed. “A woman who +can bother about her hair when she takes her hat off, is never past +praying for. Please drink this.” + +She obeyed. He took the empty glass away from her. Then he came over to +the hearthrug by her side. + +“Do you know that I kissed you last night?” he reminded her. + +“I do,” she answered. “That is why I have just paid eighty-four pounds +for a passage to Buenos Ayres.” + +“I should have enjoyed the trip,” he said. “Still, I'm glad I haven't to +go.” + +“Do you really mean that you would have come after me?” she asked +curiously. + +“Of course I should,” he assured her. “Believe me, there isn't such +an obstinate person in the world as the man of early middle-age who +suddenly discovers the woman he means to marry.” + +“But you can't marry me,” she protested. + +“Why not?” he asked. + +“Because I was Oliver Hilditch's wife, for one thing.” + +“Look here,” he said, “if you had been Beelzebub's wife, it wouldn't +make the least difference to me. You haven't given me much of a chance +to tell you so yet, Margaret, but I love you.” + +She sat a little forward in her chair. Her eyes were fixed upon his +wonderingly. + +“But how can you?” she exclaimed. “You know, nothing of me except my +associations, and they have been horrible. What is there to love in me? +I am a frozen-up woman. Everything is dead here,” she went on, clasping +her hand to her heart. “I have no sentiment, no passion, nothing but an +animal desire to live my life luxuriously and quickly.” + +He smiled confidently. Then, with very little warning, he sank on one +knee, drew her face to his, kissed her lips and then her eyes. + +“Are you so sure of all these things, Margaret?” he whispered. “Don't +you think it is, perhaps, because there has been no one to care for you +as I do--as I shall--to the end of my days? The lily you left on your +chair last night was like you--fair and stately and beautiful, but a +little bruised. You will come back as it has done, come back to the +world. My love will bring you. My care. Believe it, please!” + +Then he saw the first signs of change in her face. There was the +faintest shade of almost shell-like pink underneath the creamy-white of +her cheeks. Her lips were trembling a little, her eyes were misty. With +a sudden passionate little impulse, her arms were around his neck, her +lips sought his of their own accord. + +“Let me forget,” she sobbed. “Kiss me let me forget!” + +Francis' servant was both heavy-footed and discreet. When he entered the +room with a tray, his master was standing at the sideboard. + +“I've done the best I could, sir,” he announced, a little +apologetically. “Shall I lay the cloth?” + +“Leave everything on the tray, Brooks,” Francis directed. “We will help +ourselves. In an hour's time bring coffee.” + +The man glanced around the room. + +“There are glasses on the sideboard, sir, and the corkscrew is here. I +think you will have everything you want.” + +He departed, closing the door behind him. Francis held out his hands to +Margaret. She rose slowly to her feet, looked in the glass helplessly +and then back at him. She was very beautiful but a little dazed. + +“Are we going to have luncheon?” she asked. + +“Of course,” he answered. “Did you think I meant to starve you?” + +He picked up the long envelope which she had dropped upon the carpet, +and threw it on to the sofa. Then he drew up two chairs to the table, +and opened a small bottle of champagne. + +“I hope you won't mind a picnic,” he said. “Really, Brooks hasn't done +so badly--pâté de foie gras, hot toast and Devonshire butter. Let me +spread some for you. A cold chicken afterwards, and some strawberries. +Please be hungry, Margaret.” + +She laughed at him. It occurred to him suddenly, with a little pang, +that he had never heard her laugh before. It was like music. + +“I'm too happy,” she murmured. + +“Believe me,” he assured her, as he buttered a piece of toast, +“happiness and hunger might well be twins. They go so well together. +Misery can take away one's appetite. Happiness, when one gets over the +gulpiness of it, is the best tonic in the world. And I never saw any +one, dear, with whom happiness agreed so well,” he added, pausing in his +task to bend over and kiss her. “Do you know you are the most beautiful +thing on earth? It is a lucky thing we are going to live in England, +and that these are sober, matter-of-fact days, or I should find myself +committed to fighting duels all the time.” + +She had a momentary relapse. A look of terror suddenly altered her face. +She caught at his wrist. + +“Don't!” she cried. “Don't talk about such things!” + +He was a little bewildered. The moment passed. She laughed almost +apologetically. + +“Forgive me,” she begged, “but I hate the thought of fighting of any +sort. Some day I'll explain.” + +“Clumsy ass I was!” he declared, completing his task and setting the +result before her. “Now how's that for a first course? Drink a little of +your wine.” + +He leaned his glass against hers. + +“My love,” he whispered, “my love now, dear, and always, and you'll +find it quite strong enough,” he went on, “to keep you from all the ugly +things. And now away with sentiment. I had a very excellent but solitary +breakfast this morning, and it seems a long time ago.” + +“It seems amazing to think that you spent last night at The Sanctuary,” + she reflected. + +“And that you and I were in a punt,” he reminded her, “in the pool of +darkness where the trees met, and the lilies leaned over to us.” + +“And you nearly upset the punt.” + +“Nothing of the sort! As a matter of fact, I was very careful. But,” he +proceeded, with a sudden wave of memory, “I don't think my heart will +ever beat normally again. It seemed as though it would tear its way out +of my side when I leaned towards you, and you knew, and you lay still.” + +She laughed. + +“You surely didn't expect I was going to get up? It was quite +encouragement enough to remain passive. As a matter of fact,” she went +on, “I couldn't have moved. I couldn't have uttered a sound. I suppose +I must have been like one of those poor birds you read about, when some +devouring animal crouches for its last spring.” + +“Compliments already!” he remarked. “You won't forget that my name is +Francis, will you? Try and practise it while I carve the chicken.” + +“You carve very badly, Francis,” she told him demurely. + +“My dear,” he said, “thank heavens we shall be able to afford a butler! +By-the-bye, I told your father this morning that I was going to marry +you, and he didn't seem to think it possible because he had two million +pounds.” + +“Braggart!” she murmured. “When did you see my father?” + +“He came to my rooms in the Temple soon after I arrived this morning. He +seemed to think I might know where you were. I dare say he won't like me +for a son-in-law,” Francis continued with a smile. “I can't help that. +He shouldn't have let me go out with you in a punt.” + +There was a discreet knock at the door. Brooks made his apologetic and +somewhat troubled entrance. + +“Sir Timothy Brast is here to see you, sir,” he announced. “I ventured +to say that you were not at home--” + +“But I happened to know otherwise,” a still voice remarked from outside. +“May I come in, Mr. Ledsam?” + +Sir Timothy stepped past the servant, who at a sign from Francis +disappeared, closing the door behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +After his first glance at Sir Timothy, Francis' only thought was for +Margaret. To his intense relief, she showed no signs whatever of terror, +or of any relapse to her former state. She was entirely mistress of +herself and the occasion. Sir Timothy's face was cold and terrible. + +“I must apologise for this second intrusion, Mr. Ledsam,” he said +cuttingly. “I think you will admit that the circumstances warrant it. Am +I to understand that you lied to me this morning?” + +“You are to understand nothing of the sort,” Francis answered. “I told +you everything I knew at that time of your daughter's movements.” + +“Indeed!” Sir Timothy murmured. “This little banquet, then, was +unpremeditated?” + +“Entirely,” Francis replied. “Here is the exact truth, so far as I am +concerned. I met your daughter little more than an hour ago, coming out +of a steamship office, where she had booked a passage to Buenos Ayres +to get away from me. I was fortunate enough to induce her to change +her mind. She has consented instead to remain in England as my wife. We +were, as you see, celebrating the occasion.” + +Sir Timothy laid his hat upon the sideboard and slowly removed his +gloves. + +“I trust,” he said, “that this pint bottle does not represent your +cellar. I will drink a glass of wine with you, and with your permission +make myself a pâté sandwich. I was just sitting down to luncheon when I +received the information which brought me here.” + +Francis produced another bottle of wine from the sideboard and filled +his visitor's glass. + +“You will drink, I hope, to our happiness,” he said. + +“I shall do nothing of the sort,” Sir Timothy declared, helping himself +with care to the pâté. “I have no superstitions about breaking bread +with an enemy, or I should not have asked you to visit me at The +Sanctuary, Mr. Ledsam. I object to your marriage with my daughter, and I +shall take what steps I can to prevent it.” + +“Why?” + +Sir Timothy did not at once reply. He seemed to be enjoying his +sandwich; he also appreciated the flavour of his wine. + +“Your question,” he said, “strikes me as being a little ingenuous. You +are at the present moment suspecting me of crimes beyond number. You +encourage Scotland Yard detectives to make asses of themselves in my +stream. Your myrmidons scramble on to the top of my walls and try to +bribe my servants to disclose the mysteries of my household. You have +accepted to the fullest extent my volunteered statement that I am a +patron of crime. You are, in short--forgive me if I help myself to a +little more of this pâté--engaged in a strenuous attempt to bring me to +justice.” + +“None of these things affects your daughter,” Francis pointed out. + +“Pardon me,” Sir Timothy objected. “You are a great and shining light of +the English law. People speak of you as a future Chancellor. How can you +contemplate an alliance with the widow of one criminal and the daughter +of another?” + +“As to Margaret being Oliver Hilditch's widow,” Francis replied, “you +were responsible for that, and no one else. He was your protegé; you +gave your consent to the marriage. As to your being her father, that +again is not Margaret's fault. I should marry her if Oliver Hilditch had +been three times the villain he was, and if you were the Devil himself.” + +“I am getting quite to like you, Mr. Ledsam,” Sir Timothy declared, +helping himself to another piece of toast and commencing to butter it. +“Margaret, what have you to say about all this?” + +“I have nothing to say,” she answered. “Francis is speaking for me. I +never dreamed that after what I have gone through I should be able to +care for any one again in this world. I do care, and I am very happy +about it. All last night I lay awake, making up my mind to run away, +and this morning I actually booked my passage to Buenos Ayres. Then we +met--just outside the steamship office--and I knew at once that I was +making a mistake. I shall marry Francis exactly when he wants me to.” + +Sir Timothy passed his glass towards his proposed son-in-law. + +“Might one suggest,” he began--“thank you very much. This is of course +very upsetting to me. I seem to be set completely at defiance. It is a +very excellent wine, this, and a wonderful vintage.” + +Francis bent over Margaret. + +“Please finish your lunch, dear,” he begged. “It is perhaps just as well +that your father came. We shall know exactly where we are.” + +“Just so,” Sir Timothy agreed. + +There was a queer constrained silence for several moments. Then Sir +Timothy leaned back in his chair and with a word of apology lit a +cigarette. + +“Let us,” he said, “consider the situation. Margaret is my daughter. You +wish to marry her. Margaret is of age and has been married before. She +is at liberty, therefore, to make her own choice. You agree with me so +far?” + +“Entirely,” Francis assented. + +“It happens,” Sir Timothy went on, “that I disapprove of her choice. She +desires to marry a young man who belongs to a profession which I detest, +and whose efforts in life are directed towards the extermination of a +class of people for whom I have every sympathy. To me he represents +the smug as against the human, the artificially moral as against the +freethinker. He is also my personal enemy. I am therefore naturally +desirous that my daughter should not marry this young man.” + +“We will let it go at that,” Francis commented, “but I should like to +point out to you that the antagonism between us is in no way personal. +You have declared yourself for forces with which I am at enmity, like +any other decent-living citizen. Your declaration might at any time be +amended.” + +Sir Timothy bowed. + +“The situation is stated,” he said. “I will ask you this question as a +matter of form. Do you recognise my right to forbid your marriage with +my daughter, Mr. Ledsam?” + +“I most certainly do not,” was the forcible reply. + +“Have I any rights at all?” Sir Timothy asked. “Margaret has lived under +my roof whenever it has suited her to do so. Since she has taken up her +residence at Curzon Street, she has been her own mistress, her banking +account has known no limit whatsoever. I may be a person of evil +disposition, but I have shown no unkindness to her.” + +“It is quite true,” Margaret admitted, turning a little pale. “Since I +have been alone, you have been kindness itself.” + +“Then let me repeat my question,” Sir Timothy went on, “have I the right +to any consideration at all?” + +“Yes,” Francis replied. “Short of keeping us apart, you have the +ordinary rights of a parent.” + +“Then I ask you to delay the announcement of your engagement, or taking +any further steps concerning it, for fourteen days,” Sir Timothy said. +“I place no restrictions on your movements during that time. Such +hospitality as you, Mr. Ledsam, care to accept at my hands, is at your +disposal. I am Bohemian enough, indeed, to find nothing to complain of +in such little celebrations as you are at present indulging in--most +excellent pâté, that. But I request that no announcement of your +engagement be made, or any further arrangements made concerning it, for +that fourteen days.” + +“I am quite willing, father,” Margaret acquiesced. + +“And I, sir,” Francis echoed. + +“In which case,” Sir Timothy concluded, rising to his feet, lighting a +cigarette and taking up his hat and gloves, “I shall go peaceably away. +You will admit, I trust,” he added, with that peculiar smile at the +corner of his lips, “that I have not in any way tried to come the heavy +father? I can even command a certain amount of respect, Margaret, for a +young man who is able to inaugurate his engagement by an impromptu meal +of such perfection. I wish you both good morning. Any invitation which +Margaret extends, Ledsam, please consider as confirmed by me.” + +He closed the door softly. They heard his footsteps descending the +stairs. Francis leaned once more over Margaret. She seemed still dazed, +confused with new thoughts. She responded, however, readily to his +touch, yielded to his caress with an almost pathetic eagerness. + +“Francis,” she murmured, as his arms closed around her, “I want to +forget.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +There followed a brief period of time, the most wonderful of his life, +the happiest of hers. They took advantage of Sir Timothy's absolute +license, and spent long days at The Sanctuary, ideal lovers' days, with +their punt moored at night amongst the lilies, where her kisses seemed +to come to him with an aroma and wonder born of the spot. Then there +came a morning when he found a cloud on her face. She was looking at +the great wall, and away at the minaret beyond. They had heard from +the butler that Sir Timothy had spent the night at the villa, and that +preparations were on hand for another of his wonderful parties. Francis, +who was swift to read her thoughts, led her away into the rose garden +where once she had failed him. + +“You have been looking over the wall, Margaret,” he said reproachfully. + +She looked at him with a little twitch at the corners of her lips. + +“Francis dear,” she confessed, “I am afraid you are right. I cannot even +look towards The Walled House without wondering why it was built--or +catch a glimpse of that dome without stupid guesses as to what may go on +underneath.” + +“I think very likely,” he said soothingly, “we have both exaggerated the +seriousness of your father's hobbies. We know that he has a wonderful +gymnasium there, but the only definite rumour I have ever heard about +the place is that men fight there who have a grudge against one another, +and that they are not too particular about the weight of the gloves. +That doesn't appeal to us, you know, Margaret, but it isn't criminal.” + +“If that were all!” she murmured. + +“I dare say it is,” he declared. “London, as you know, is a hot-bed of +gossip. Everything that goes on is ridiculously exaggerated, and I think +that it rather appeals to your father's curious sense of humour to pose +as the law-breaker.” + +She pressed his arm a little. The day was overcast, a slight rain was +beginning to fall. + +“Francis,” she whispered, “we had a perfect day here yesterday. Now the +sun has gone and I am shivery.” + +He understood in a moment. + +“We'll lunch at Ranelagh,” he suggested. “It is almost on the way up. +Then we can see what the weather is like. If it is bad, we can dine in +town tonight and do a theatre.” + +“You are a dear,” she told him fervently. “I am going in to get ready.” + +Francis went round to the garage for his car, and brought it to the +front. While he was sitting there, Sir Timothy came through the door +in the wall. He was smoking a cigar and he was holding an umbrella to +protect his white flannel suit. He was as usual wonderfully groomed and +turned out, but he walked as though he were tired, and his smile, as he +greeted Francis, lacked a little of its usual light-hearted mockery. + +“Are you going up to town?” he enquired. + +Francis pointed to the grey skies. + +“Just for the day,” he answered. “Lady Cynthia went by the early train. +We missed you last night.” + +“I came down late,” Sir Timothy explained, “and I found it more +convenient to stay at The Walled House. I hope you find that Grover +looks after you while I am away? He has carte blanche so far as regards +my cellar.” + +“We have been wonderfully served,” Francis assured him. + +In the distance they could hear the sound of hammering on the other side +of the wall. Francis moved his head in that direction. + +“I hear that they are preparing for another of your wonderful +entertainments over there,” he remarked. + +“On Thursday,” Sir Timothy assented. “I shall have something to say to +you about it later on.” + +“Am I to take it that I am likely to receive an invitation?” Francis +asked. + +“I should think it possible,” was the calm reply. + +“What about Margaret?” + +“My entertainment would not appeal to her,” Sir Timothy declared. +“The women whom I have been in the habit of asking are not women of +Margaret's type.” + +“And Lady Cynthia?” + +Sir Timothy frowned slightly. + +“I find myself in some difficulty as regards Lady Cynthia,” he admitted. +“I am the guardian of nobody's morals, nor am I the censor of their +tastes, but my entertainments are for men. The women whom I have +hitherto asked have been women in whom I have taken no personal +interest. They are necessary to form a picturesque background for my +rooms, in the same way that I look to the gardeners to supply the +floral decorations. Lady Cynthia's instincts, however, are somewhat +adventurous. She would scarcely be content to remain a decoration.” + +“The issuing of your invitations,” Francis remarked, “is of course a +matter which concerns nobody else except yourself. If you do decide to +favour me with one, I shall be delighted to come, provided Margaret has +no objection.” + +“Such a reservation promises well for the future,” Sir Timothy observed, +with gentle sarcasm. “Here comes Margaret, looking very well, I am glad +to see.” + +Margaret came forward to greet her father before stepping into the car. +They exchanged only a few sentences, but Francis, whose interest in +their relations was almost abnormally keen, fancied that he could detect +signs of some change in their demeanour towards one another. The cold +propriety of deportment which had characterised her former attitude +towards her father, seemed to have given place to something more +uncertain, to something less formal, something which left room even for +a measure of cordiality. She looked at him differently. It was as though +some evil thought which lived in her heart concerning him had perished. + +“You are busy over there, father?” she asked. + +“In a way,” he replied. “We are preparing for some festivities on +Thursday.” + +Her face fell. + +“Another party?” + +“One more,” he replied. “Perhaps the last--for the present, at any +rate.” + +She waited as though expecting him to explain. He changed the subject, +however. + +“I think you are wise to run up to town this morning,” he said, +glancing up at the grey skies. “By-the-bye, if you dine at Curzon +Street to-night, do ask Hedges to serve you some of the '99 Cliquot. A +marvellous wine, as you doubtless know, Ledsam, but it should be drunk. +Au revoir!” + + +Francis, after a pleasant lunch at Ranelagh, and having arranged with +Margaret to dine with her in Curzon Street, spent an hour or two that +afternoon at his chambers. As he was leaving, just before five, he came +face to face with Shopland descending from a taxi. + +“Are you busy, Mr. Ledsam?” the latter enquired. “Can you spare me +half-an-hour?” + +“An hour, if you like,” Francis assented. + +Shopland gave the driver an address and the two men seated themselves in +the taxicab. + +“Any news?” Francis asked curiously. + +“Not yet,” was the cautious reply. “It will not be long, however.” + +“Before you discover Reggie Wilmore?” + +The detective smiled in a superior way. + +“I am no longer particularly interested in Mr. Reginald Wilmore,” he +declared. “I have come to the conclusion that his disappearance is not a +serious affair.” + +“It's serious enough for his relatives,” Francis objected. + +“Not if they understood the situation,” the detective rejoined. “Assure +them from me that nothing of consequence has happened to that young +man. I have made enquiries at the gymnasium in Holborn, and in other +directions. I am convinced that his absence from home is voluntary, and +that there is no cause for alarm as to his welfare.” + +“Then the sooner you make your way down to Kensington and tell his +mother so, the better,” Francis said, a little severely. “Don't forget +that I put you on to this.” + +“Quite right, sir,” the detective acquiesced, “and I am grateful to +you. The fact of it is that in making my preliminary investigations +with regard to the disappearance of Mr. Wilmore, I have stumbled upon a +bigger thing. Before many weeks are past, I hope to be able to unearth +one of the greatest scandals of modern times.” + +“The devil!” Francis muttered. + +He looked thoughtfully, almost anxiously at his companion. Shopland's +face reflected to the full his usual confidence. He had the air of a man +buoyant with hope and with stifled self-satisfaction. + +“I am engaged,” he continued, “upon a study of the methods and habits of +one whom I believe to be a great criminal. I think that when I place my +prisoner in the bar, Wainwright and these other great artists in crime +will fade from the memory.” + +“Is Sir Timothy Brast your man?” Francis asked quietly. + +His companion frowned portentously. + +“No names,” he begged. + +“Considering that it was I who first put you on to him,” Francis +expostulated, “I don't think you need be so sparing of your confidence.” + +“Mr. Ledsam,” the detective assured him, “I shall tell you everything +that is possible. At the same time, I will be frank with you. You are +right when you say that it was you who first directed my attention +towards Sir Timothy Brast. Since that time, however, your own relations +with him, to an onlooker, have become a little puzzling.” + +“I see,” Francis murmured. “You've been spying on me?” + +Shopland shook his head in deprecating fashion. + +“A study of Sir Timothy during the last month,” he said, “has brought +you many a time into the focus.” + +“Where are we going to now?” Francis asked, a little abruptly. + +“Just a side show, sir. It's one of those outside things I have come +across which give light and shade to the whole affair. We get out here, +if you please.” + +The two men stepped on to the pavement. They were in a street a little +north of Wardour Street, where the shops for the most part were of a +miscellaneous variety. Exactly in front of them, the space behind a +large plate-glass window had been transformed into a sort of show-place +for dogs. There were twenty or thirty of them there, of all breeds and +varieties. + +“What the mischief is this?” Francis demanded. + +“Come in and make enquiries,” Shopland replied. “I can promise that you +will find it interesting. It's a sort of dog's home.” + +Francis followed his companion into the place. A pleasant-looking, +middle-aged woman came forward and greeted the latter. + +“Do you mind telling my friend what you told me the other day?” he +asked. + +“Certainly, sir,” she replied. “We collect stray animals here, sir,” + she continued, turning to Francis. “Every one who has a dog or a cat he +can't afford to keep, or which he wants to get rid of, may bring it to +us. We have agents all the time in the streets, and if any official of +the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals brings us news of +a dog or a cat being ill-treated, we either purchase it or acquire it in +some way or other and keep it here.” + +“But your dogs in the window,” Francis observed, “all seem to be in +wonderful condition.” + +The woman smiled. + +“We have a large dog and cat hospital behind,” she explained, “and a +veterinary surgeon who is always in attendance. The animals are treated +there as they are brought in, and fed up if they are out of condition. +When they are ready to sell, we show them.” + +“But is this a commercial undertaking,” Francis enquired carefully, “or +is it a branch of the S.P.C.A.?” + +“It's quite a private affair, sir,” the woman told him. “We charge only +five shillings for the dogs and half-a-crown for the cats, but every one +who has one must sign our book, promising to give it a good home, +and has to be either known to us or to produce references. We do not +attempt, of course, to snake a profit.” + +“Who on earth is responsible for the upkeep?” + +“We are not allowed to mention any names here, sir, but as a matter of +fact I think that your friend knows. He met the gentleman in here one +day. Would you care to have a look at the hospital, sir?” + +Francis spent a quarter of an hour wandering around. When they left the +place, Shopland turned to him with a smile. + +“Now, sir,” he said, “shall I tell you at whose expense that place is +run?” + +“I think I can guess,” Francis replied. “I should say that Sir Timothy +Brast was responsible for it.” + +The detective nodded. He was a little disappointed. + +“You know about his collection of broken-down horses in the park at The +Walled House, too, then, I suppose? They come whinnying after him like a +flock of sheep whenever he shows himself.” + +“I know about them, too,” Francis admitted. “I was present once when he +got out of his car, knocked a carter down who was ill-treating a horse, +bought it on the spot and sent it home.” + +Shopland smiled, inscrutably yet with the air of one vastly pleased. + +“These little side-shows,” he said, “are what help to make this, which I +believe will be the greatest case of my life, so supremely interesting. +Any one of my fraternity,” he continued, with an air of satisfaction, +“can take hold of a thread and follow it step by step, and wind up with +the handcuffs, as I did myself with the young man Fairfax. But a case +like this, which includes a study of temperament, requires something +more.” + +They were seated once more in the taxicab, on their way westward. +Francis for the first time was conscious of an utterly new sensation +with regard to his companion. He watched him through half-closed +eyes--an insignificant-looking little man whose clothes, though neat, +were ill-chosen, and whose tie was an offense. There was nothing in the +face to denote unusual intelligence, but the eyes were small and cunning +and the mouth dogged. Francis looked away out of the window. A sudden +flash of realisation had come to him, a wave of unreasoning but positive +dislike. + +“When do you hope to bring your case to an end?” he asked. + +The man smiled once more, and the very smile irritated his companion. + +“Within the course of the next few days, sir,” he replied. + +“And the charge?” + +The detective turned around. + +“Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “we have been old friends, if you will allow me +to use the word, ever since I was promoted to my present position in +the Force. You have trusted me with a good many cases, and I acknowledge +myself your debtor, but in the matter of Sir Timothy Brast, you will +forgive my saying with all respect, sir, that our ways seem to lie a +little apart.” + +“Will you tell me why you have arrived at that conclusion?” Francis +asked. “It was I who first incited you to set a watch upon Sir Timothy. +It was to you I first mentioned certain suspicions I myself had with +regard to him. I treated you with every confidence. Why do you now +withhold yours from me?” + +“It is quite true, Mr. Ledsam,” Shopland admitted, “that it was you who +first pointed out Sir Timothy as an interesting study for my profession, +but that was a matter of months ago. If you will forgive my saying so, +your relations with Sir Timothy have altered since then. You have been +his guest at The Sanctuary, and there is a rumour, sir--you will pardon +me if I seem to be taking a liberty--that you are engaged to be married +to his daughter, Oliver Hilditch's widow.” + +“You seem to be tolerably well informed as to my affairs, Shopland,” + Francis remarked. + +“Only so far as regards your associations with Sir Timothy,” was the +deprecating reply. “If you will excuse me, sir, this is where I should +like to descend.” + +“You have no message for Mr. Wilmore, then?” Francis asked. + +“Nothing definite, sir, but you can assure him of this. His brother +is not likely to come to any particular harm. I have no absolute +information to offer, but it is my impression that Mr. Reginald Wilmore +will be home before a week is past. Good afternoon, sir.” + +Shopland stepped out of the taxicab and, raising his hat, walked quickly +away. Francis directed the man to drive to Clarges Street. As they drove +off, he was conscious of a folded piece of paper in the corner where +his late companion had been seated. He picked it up, opened it, realised +that it was a letter from a firm of lawyers, addressed to Shopland, and +deliberately read it through. It was dated from a small town not far +from Hatch End: + + + DEAR SIR: + + Mr. John Phillips of this firm, who is coroner for the +district, has desired me to answer the enquiry contained in your +official letter of the 13th. The number of inquests held upon bodies +recovered from the Thames in the neighbourhood to which you allude, +during the present year has been seven. Four of these have been +identified. Concerning the remaining three nothing has ever been heard. +Such particulars as are on our file will be available to any accredited +representative of the police at any time. + + Faithfully yours, + PHILLIPS & SON. + + +The taxicab came to a sudden stop. Francis glanced up. Very breathless, +Shopland put his head in at the window. + +“I dropped a letter,” he gasped. + +Francis folded it up and handed it to him. + +“What about these three unidentified people, Shopland?” he asked, +looking at him intently. + +The man frowned angrily. There was a note of defiance in his tone as he +stowed the letter away in his pocketbook. + +“There were two men and one woman,” he replied, “all three of the +upper classes. The bodies were recovered from Wilson's lock, some three +hundred yards from The Walled House.” + +“Do they form part of your case?” Francis persisted. + +Shopland stepped back. + +“Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I told you, some little time ago, that so far +as this particular case was concerned I had no confidences to share with +you. I am sorry that you saw that letter. Since you did, however, I hope +you will not take it as a liberty from one in my position if I advise +you most strenuously to do nothing which might impede the course of the +law. Good day, sir!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Francis, in that pleasant half-hour before dinner which he spent in +Margaret's sitting-room, told her of the dogs' home near Wardour Street. +She listened sympathetically to his description of the place. + +“I had never heard of it,” she acknowledged, “but I am not in anyway +surprised. My father spends at least an hour of every day, when he is +down at Hatch End, amongst the horses, and every time a fresh crock is +brought down, he is as interested as though it were a new toy.” + +“It is a remarkable trait in a very remarkable character,” Francis +commented. + +“I could tell you many things that would surprise you,” Margaret +continued. “One night, for instance, when we were staying at The +Sanctuary, he and I were going out to dine with some neighbours and he +heard a cat mewing in the hedge somewhere. He stopped the car, got out +himself, found that the cat had been caught in a trap, released it, and +sent me on to the dinner alone whilst he took the animal back to the +veterinary surgeon at The Walled House. He was simply white with fury +whilst he was tying up the poor thing's leg. I couldn't help asking him +what he would have done if he could have found the farmer who set the +trap. He looked up at me and I was almost frightened. 'I should have +killed him,' he said,--and I believe he meant it. And, Francis, the very +next day we were motoring to London and saw a terrible accident. A +motor bicyclist came down a side road at full speed and ran into a +motor-lorry. My father got out of the car, helped them lift the body +from under the wheels of the lorry, and came back absolutely unmoved. +'Serve the silly young fool right!' was his only remark. He was so +horribly callous that I could scarcely bear to sit by his side. Do you +understand that?” + +“It isn't easy,” he admitted. + +There was a knock at the door. Margaret glanced at the clock. + +“Surely dinner can't be served already!” she exclaimed. “Come in.” + +Very much to their surprise, it was Sir Timothy himself who entered. He +was in evening dress and wearing several orders, one of which Francis +noted with surprise. + +“My apologies,” he said. “Hedges told me that there were cocktails +here, and as I am on my way to a rather weary dinner, I thought I might +inflict myself upon you for a moment.” + +Margaret rose at once to her feet. + +“I am a shocking hostess,” she declared. “Hedges brought the things in +twenty minutes ago.” + +She took up the silver receptacle, shook it vigorously and filled three +glasses. Sir Timothy accepted his and bowed to them both. + +“My best wishes,” he said. “Really, when one comes to think of it, +however much it may be against my inclinations I scarcely see how I +shall be able to withhold my consent. I believe that you both have at +heart the flair for domesticity. This little picture, and the thought of +your tete-a-tete dinner, almost touches me.” + +“Don't make fun of us, father,” Margaret begged. “Tell us where you are +going in all that splendour?” + +Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. + +“A month or so ago,” he explained, “I was chosen to induct a scion of +Royalty into the understanding of fighting as it is indulged in at the +National Sporting Club. This, I suppose, is my reward--an invitation to +something in the nature of a State dinner, which, to tell you the truth, +I had forgotten until my secretary pointed it out to me this afternoon. +I have grave fears of being bored or of misbehaving myself. I have, as +Ledsam here knows, a distressing habit of truthfulness, especially +to new acquaintances. However, we must hope for the best. By-the-bye, +Ledsam, in case you should have forgotten, I have spoken to Hedges about +the '99 Cliquot.” + +“Shall we see you here later?” Margaret asked, after Francis had +murmured his thanks. + +“I shall probably return direct to Hatch End,” Sir Timothy replied. +“There are various little matters down there which are interesting me +just now preparations for my party. Au revoir! A delicious cocktail, but +I am inclined to resent the Angostura.” + +He sauntered out, after a glance at the clock. They heard his footsteps +as he descended the stairs. + +“Tell me, what manner of a man is your father?” Francis asked +impulsively. + +“I am his daughter and I do not know,” Margaret answered. “Before he +came, I was going to speak to you of a strange misunderstanding which +has existed between us and which has just been removed. Now I have a +fancy to leave it until later. You will not mind?” + +“When you choose,” Francis assented. “Nothing will make any difference. +We are past the days when fathers or even mothers count seriously in +the things that exist between two people like you and me, who have felt +life. Whatever your father may be, whatever he may turn out to be, you +are the woman I love--you are the woman who is going to be my wife.” + +She leaned towards him for a moment. + +“You have an amazing gift,” she whispered, “of saying just the thing one +loves to hear in the way that convinces.” + +Dinner was served to them in the smaller of the two dining-rooms, an +exquisite meal, made more wonderful still by the wine, which Hedges +himself dispensed with jealous care. The presence of servants, with its +restraining influence upon conversation, was not altogether unwelcome +to Francis. He and Margaret had had so little opportunity for general +conversation that to discuss other than personal subjects in this +pleasant, leisurely way had its charm. They spoke of music, of which +she knew far more than he; of foreign travel, where they met on common +ground, for each had only the tourist's knowledge of Europe, and each +was anxious for a more individual acquaintance with it. She had tastes +in books which delighted him, a knowledge of games which promised a +common resource. It was only whilst they were talking that he realised +with a shock how young she was, how few the years that lay between her +serene school-days and the tempestuous years of her married life. Her +school-days in Naples were most redolent of delightful memories. She +broke off once or twice into the language, and he listened with delight +to her soft accent. Finally the time came when dessert was set upon the +table. + +“I have ordered coffee up in the little sitting-room again,” she said, a +little shyly. “Do you mind, or would you rather have it here?” + +“I much prefer it there,” he assured her. + +They sat before an open window, looking out upon some elm trees in the +boughs of which town sparrows twittered, and with a background of roofs +and chimneys. Margaret's coffee was untasted, even her cigarette lay +unlit by her side. There was a touch of the old horror upon her face. +The fingers which he drew into his were as cold as ice. + +“You must have wondered sometimes,” she began, “why I ever married +Oliver Hilditch.” + +“You were very young,” he reminded her, with a little shiver, “and very +inexperienced. I suppose he appealed to you in some way or another.” + +“It wasn't that,” she replied. “He came to visit, me at Eastbourne, +and he certainly knew all the tricks of making himself attractive and +agreeable. But he never won my heart--he never even seriously took my +fancy. I married him because I believed that by doing so I was obeying +my father's wishes.” + +“Where was your father at the time, then?” Francis asked. + +“In South America. Oliver Hilditch was nothing more than a discharged +employé of his, discharged for dishonesty. He had to leave South +America; within a week to escape prosecution, and on the way to Europe +he concocted the plot which very nearly ruined my life. He forged a +letter from my father, begging me, if I found it in any way possible, to +listen to Oliver Hilditch's proposals, and hinting guardedly at a very +serious financial crisis which it was in his power to avert. It never +occurred to me or to my chaperon to question his bona fides. He had +lived under the same roof as my father, and knew all the intimate +details of his life. He was very clever and I suppose I was a fool. I +remember thinking I was doing quite a heroic action when I went to the +registrar with him. What it led to you know.” + +There was a moment's throbbing silence. Francis, notwithstanding his +deep pity, was conscious of an overwhelming sensation of relief. She had +never cared for Oliver Hilditch! She had never pretended to! He put the +thought into words. + +“You never cared for him, then?” + +“I tried to,” she replied simply, “but I found it impossible. Within a +week of our marriage I hated him.” + +Francis leaned back, his eyes half closed. In his ears was the sonorous +roar of Piccadilly, the hooting of motor-cars, close at hand the +rustling of a faint wind in the elm trees. It was a wonderful moment. +The nightmare with which he had grappled so fiercely, which he had +overthrown, but whose ghost still sometimes walked by his side, had +lost its chief and most poignant terror. She had been tricked into the +marriage. She had never cared or pretended to care. The primal horror +of that tragedy which he had figured so often to himself, seemed to have +departed with the thought. Its shadow must always remain, but in time +his conscience would acquiesce in the pronouncement of his reason. It +was the hand of justice, not any human hand, which had slain Oliver +Hilditch. + +“What did your father say when he discovered the truth?” he asked. + +“He did not know it until he came to England--on the day that Oliver +Hilditch was acquitted. My husband always pretended that he had a +special mail bag going out to South America, so he took away all the +letters I wrote to my father, and he took care that I received none +except one or two which I know now were forgeries. He had friends +in South America himself who helped him--one a typist in my father's +office, of whom I discovered afterwards--but that really doesn't matter. +He was a wonderful master of deceit.” + +Francis suddenly took her hands. He had an overwhelming desire to +escape from the miasma of those ugly days, with their train of attendant +thoughts and speculations. + +“Let us talk about ourselves,” he whispered. + +After that, the evening glided away incoherently, with no sustained +conversation, but with an increasing sense of well-being, of soothed +nerves and happiness, flaming seconds of passion, sign-posts of the +wonderful world which lay before them. They sat in the cool silence +until the lights of the returning taxicabs and motor-cars became more +frequent, until the stars crept into the sky and the yellow arc of +the moon stole up over the tops of the houses. Presently they saw Sir +Timothy's Rolls-Royce glide up to the front door below and Sir Timothy +himself enter the house, followed by another man whose appearance was +somehow familiar. + +“Your father has changed his mind,” Francis observed. + +“Perhaps he has called for something,” she suggested, “or he may want to +change his clothes before he goes down to the country.” + +Presently, however, there was a knock at the door. Hedges made his +diffident appearance. + +“I beg your pardon, sir,” he began, addressing Francis. “Sir Timothy has +been asking if you are still here. He would be very glad if you could +spare him a moment in the library.” + +Francis rose at once to his feet. + +“I was just leaving,” he said. “I will look in at the library and see +Sir Timothy on my way out.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Sir Timothy was standing upon the hearthrug of the very wonderful +apartment which he called his library. By his side, on a black marble +pedestal, stood a small statue by Rodin. Behind him, lit by a shielded +electric light, was a Vandyck, “A Portrait of a Gentleman Unknown,” and +Francis, as he hesitated for a moment upon the threshold, was struck +by a sudden quaint likeness between the face of the man in the picture, +with his sunken cheeks, his supercilious smile, his narrowed but +powerful eyes, to the face of Sir Timothy himself. There was something +of the same spirit there--the lawless buccaneer, perhaps the criminal. + +“You asked for me, Sir Timothy,” Francis said. + +Sir Timothy smiled. + +“I was fortunate to find that you had not left,” he answered. “I want +you to be present at this forthcoming interview. You are to a certain +extent in the game. I thought it might amuse you.” + +Francis for the first time was aware that his host was not alone. The +room, with its odd splashes of light, was full of shadows, and he saw +now that in an easy-chair a little distance away from Sir Timothy, a +girl was seated. Behind her, still standing, with his hat in his hand, +was a man. Francis recognised them both with surprise. + +“Miss Hyslop!” he exclaimed. + +She nodded a little defiantly. Sir Timothy smiled. “Ah!” he said. “You +know the young lady, without a doubt. Mr. Shopland, your coadjutor in +various works of philanthropy, you recognise, of course? I do not mind +confessing to you, Ledsam, that I am very much afraid of Mr. Shopland. +I am not at all sure that he has not a warrant for my arrest in his +pocket.” + +The detective came a little further into the light. He was attired in +an ill-fitting dinner suit, a soft-fronted shirt of unpleasing design, +a collar of the wrong shape, and a badly arranged tie. He seemed, +nevertheless, very pleased with himself. + +“I came on here, Mr. Ledsam, at Sir Timothy's desire,” he said. “I +should like you to understand,” he added, with a covert glance of +warning, “that I have been devoting every effort, during the last few +days, to the discovery of your friend's brother, Mr. Reginald Wilmore.” + +“I am very glad to hear it,” Francis replied shortly. “The boy's brother +is one of my greatest friends.” + +“I have come to the conclusion,” the detective pronounced, “that the +young man has been abducted, and is being detained at The Walled House +against his will for some illegal purpose.” + +“In other respects,” Sir Timothy said, stretching out his hand towards +a cedar-wood box of cigarettes and selecting one, “this man seems quite +sane. I have watched him very closely on the way here, but I could see +no signs of mental aberration. I do not think, at any rate, that he is +dangerous.” + +“Sir Timothy,” Shopland explained, with some anger in his tone, +“declines to take me seriously. I can of course apply for a search +warrant, as I shall do, but it occurred to me to be one of those +cases which could be better dealt with, up to a certain point, without +recourse to the extremities of the law.” + +Sir Timothy, who had lit his cigarette, presented a wholly undisturbed +front. + +“What I cannot quite understand,” he said, “is the exact meaning of +that word 'abduction.' Why should I be suspected of forcibly removing +a harmless and worthy young man from his regular avocation, and, as +you term it, abducting him, which I presume means keeping him bound and +gagged and imprisoned? I do not eat young men. I do not even care for +the society of young men. I am not naturally a gregarious person, but I +think I would go so far,” he added, with a bow towards Miss Hyslop, “as +to say that I prefer the society of young women. Satisfy my curiosity, +therefore, I beg of you. For what reason do you suppose that I have been +concerned in the disappearance of this Mr. Reginald Wilmore?” + +Francis opened his lips, but Shopland, with a warning glance, +intervened. + +“I work sometimes as a private person, sir,” he said, “but it is not to +be forgotten that I am an officer of the law. It is not for us to state +motives or even to afford explanations for our behaviour. I have watched +your house at Hatch End, Sir Timothy, and I have come to the conclusion +that unless you are willing to discuss this matter with me in a +different spirit, I am justified in asking the magistrates for a search +warrant.” + +Sir Timothy sighed. + +“Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I think, after all, that yours is the most +interesting end of this espionage business. It is you who search for +motives, is it not, and pass them on to our more automatic friend, who +does the rest. May I ask, have you supplied the motive in the present +case?” + +“I have failed to discover any motive at all for Reginald Wilmore's +disappearance,” Francis admitted, “nor have I at any time been able to +connect you with it. Mr. Shopland's efforts, however, although he has +not seen well to take me into his entire confidence, have my warmest +approval and sympathy. Although I have accepted your very generous +hospitality, Sir Timothy, I think there has been no misunderstanding +between us on this matter.” + +“Most correct,” Sir Timothy murmured. “The trouble seems to be, so +far as I am concerned, that no one will tell me exactly of what I am +suspected? I am to give Mr. Shopland the run of my house, or he will +make his appearance in the magistrate's court and the evening papers +will have placards with marvellous headlines at my expense. How will it +run, Mr. Shopland-- + + “'MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN. + MILLIONAIRE'S HOUSE TO BE SEARCHED.'” + +“We do not necessarily acquaint the press with our procedure,” Shopland +rejoined. + +“Nevertheless,” Sir Timothy continued, “I have known awkward +consequences arise from a search warrant too rashly applied for or +granted. However, we are scarcely being polite. So far, Miss Hyslop has +had very little to say.” + +The young lady was not altogether at her ease. + +“I have had very little to say,” she repeated, “because I did not expect +an audience.” + +Sir Timothy drew a letter from his pocket, opened it and adjusted his +eyeglass. + +“Here we are,” he said. “After leaving my dinner-party tonight, I called +at the club and found this note. Quite an inviting little affair, you +see young lady's writing, faint but very delicate perfume, excellent +stationery, Milan Court--the home of adventures!” + + “DEAR SIR TIMOTHY BRAST: + + “Although I am not known to you personally, there is a +certain matter concerning which information has come into my possession, +which I should like to discuss with you. Will you call and see me as +soon as possible?” Sincerely yours, + “DAISY HYSLOP.” + +“On receipt of this note,” Sir Timothy continued, folding it up, “I +telephoned to the young lady and as I was fortunate enough to find her +at home I asked her to come here. I then took the liberty of introducing +myself to Mr. Shopland, whose interest in my evening has been unvarying, +and whose uninvited company I have been compelled to bear with, and +suggested that, as I was on my way back to Curzon Street, he had better +come in and have a drink and tell me what it was all about. I arranged +that he should find Miss Hyslop here, and for a person of observation, +which I flatter myself to be, it was easy to discover the interesting +fact that Mr. Shopland and Miss Daisy Hyslop were not strangers. + +“Now tell me, young lady,” Sir Timothy went on. “You see, I have placed +myself entirely in your hands. Never mind the presence of these two +gentlemen. Tell me exactly what you wanted to say to me?” + +“The matter is of no great importance,” Miss Hyslop declared, “in any +case I should not discuss it before these two gentlemen.” + +“Don't go for a moment, please,” Sir Timothy begged, as she showed signs +of departure. “Listen. I want to make a suggestion to you. There is an +impression abroad that I was interested in the two young men, Victor +Bidlake and Fairfax, and that I knew something of their quarrel. +You were an intimate friend of young Bidlake's and presumably in his +confidence. It occurs to me, therefore, that Mr. Shopland might very +well have visited you in search of information, linking me up with that +unfortunate affair. Hence your little note to me.” + +Miss Hyslop rose to her feet. She had the appearance of being very angry +indeed. + +“Do you mean to insinuate--” she began. + +“Madam, I insinuate nothing,” Sir Timothy interrupted sternly. “I only +desire to suggest this. You are a young lady whose manner of living, I +gather, is to a certain extent precarious. It must have seemed to you a +likelier source of profit to withhold any information you might have to +give at the solicitation of a rich man, than to give it free gratis and +for nothing to a detective. Now am I right?” + +Miss Hyslop turned towards the door. She had the air of a person who had +been entirely misunderstood. + +“I wrote you out of kindness, Sir Timothy,” she said in an aggrieved +manner. “I shall have nothing more to say on the matter--to you, at any +rate.” + +Sir Timothy sighed. + +“You see,” he said, turning to the others, “I have lost my chance of +conciliating a witness. My cheque-book remains locked up and she has +gone over to your side.” + +She turned around suddenly. + +“You know that you made Bobby Fairfax kill Victor!” she almost shouted. + +Sir Timothy smiled in triumph. + +“My dear young lady,” he begged, “let us now be friends again. I desired +to know your trump card. For that reason I fear that I have been a +little brutal. Now please don't hurry away. You have shot your bolt. +Already Mr. Shopland is turning the thing over in his mind. Was I +lurking outside that night, Mr. Shopland, to guide that young man's +flabby arm? He scarcely seemed man enough for a murderer, did he, when +he sat quaking on that stool in Soto's Bar while Mr. Ledsam tortured +him? I beg you again not to hurry, Miss Hyslop. At any rate wait while +my servants fetch you a taxi. It was clouding over when I came in. We +may even have a thunderstorm.” + +“I want to get out of this house,” Daisy Hyslop declared. “I think you +are all horrible. Mr. Ledsam did behave like a gentleman when he came to +see me, and Mr. Shopland asked questions civilly. But you--” she added, +turning round to Sir Timothy. + +“Hush, my dear,” he interrupted, holding out his hand. “Don't abuse me. +I am not angry with you--not in the least--and I am going to prove it. I +shall oppose any search warrant which you might apply for, Mr. Shopland, +and I think I can oppose it with success. But I invite you two, Miss +Hyslop and Mr. Ledsam, to my party on Thursday night. Once under my roof +you shall have carte blanche. You can wander where you please, knock +the walls for secret hiding-places, stamp upon the floor for oubliettes. +Upstairs or down, the cellars and the lofts, the grounds and the park, +the whole of my domain is for you from midnight on Thursday until four +o'clock. What do you say, Mr. Shopland? Does my offer satisfy you?” + +The detective hesitated. + +“I should prefer an invitation for myself,” he declared bluntly. + +Sir Timothy shook his head. + +“Alas, my dear Mr. Shopland,” he regretted, “that is impossible! If I +had only myself to consider I would not hesitate. Personally I like +you. You amuse me more than any one I have met for a long time. But +unfortunately I have my guests to consider! You must be satisfied with +Mr. Ledsam's report.” + +Shopland stroked his stubbly moustache. It was obvious that he was not +in the least disconcerted. + +“There are three days between now and then,” he reflected. + +“During those three days, of course,” Sir Timothy said drily, “I shall +do my best to obliterate all traces of my various crimes. Still, you +are a clever detective, and you can give Mr. Ledsam a few hints. Take my +advice. You won't get that search warrant, and if you apply for it none +of you will be at my party.” + +“I accept,” Shopland decided. + +Sir Timothy crossed the room, unlocked the drawer of a magnificent +writing-table, and from a little packet drew out two cards of +invitation. They were of small size but thick, and the colour was a +brilliant scarlet. On one he wrote the name of Francis, the other he +filled in for Miss Hyslop. + +“Miss Daisy Hyslop,” he said, “shall we drink a glass of wine together +on Thursday evening, and will you decide that although, perhaps, I am +not a very satisfactory correspondent, I can at least be an amiable +host?” + +The girl's eyes glistened. She knew very well that the possession of +that card meant that for the next few days she would be the envy of +every one of her acquaintances. + +“Thank you, Sir Timothy,” she replied eagerly. “You have quite +misunderstood me but I should like to come to your party.” + +Sir Timothy handed over the cards. He rang for a servant and bowed the +others out. Francis he detained for a moment. + +“Our little duel, my friend, marches,” he said. “After Thursday night we +will speak again of this matter concerning Margaret. You will know then +what you have to face.” + +Margaret herself opened the door and looked in. + +“What have those people been doing here?” she asked. “What is +happening?” + +Her father unlocked his drawer once more and drew out another of the red +cards. + +“Margaret,” he said, “Ledsam here has accepted my invitation for +Thursday night. You have never, up till now, honoured me, nor have I +ever asked you. I suggest that for the first part of the entertainment, +you give me the pleasure of your company.” + +“For the first part?” + +“For the first part only,” he repeated, as he wrote her name upon the +card. + +“What about Francis?” she asked. “Is he to stay all the time?” + +Sir Timothy smiled. He locked up his drawer and slipped the key into his +pocket. + +“Ledsam and I,” he said, “have promised one another a more complete +mutual understanding on Thursday night. I may not be able to part with +him quite so soon.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Bored and listless, like a tired and drooping lily in the arms of her +somewhat athletic partner, Lady Cynthia brought her dance to a somewhat +abrupt conclusion. + +“There is some one in the lounge there to whom I wish to speak,” she +said. “Perhaps you won't mind if we finish later. The floor seems sticky +tonight, or my feet are heavy.” + +Her partner made the best of it, as Lady Cynthia's partners, nowadays, +generally had to. She even dispensed with his escort, and walked across +the lounge of Claridge's alone. Sir Timothy rose to his feet. He had +been sitting in a corner, half sheltered by a pillar, and had fancied +himself unseen. + +“What a relief!” she exclaimed. “Another turn and I should have fainted +through sheer boredom.” + +“Yet you are quite wonderful dancing,” he said. “I have been watching +you for some time.” + +“It is one of my expiring efforts,” she declared, sinking into the +chair by his side. “You know whose party it is, of course? Old Lady +Torrington's. Quite a boy and girl affair. Twenty-four of us had dinner +in the worst corner of the room. I can hear the old lady ordering the +dinner now. Charles with a long menu. She shakes her head and taps him +on the wrist with her fan. 'Monsieur Charles, I am a poor woman. Give +me what there is--a small, plain dinner--and charge me at your minimum.' +The dinner was very small and very plain, the champagne was horribly +sweet. My partner talked of a new drill, his last innings for the +Household Brigade, and a wonderful round of golf he played last Sunday +week. I was turned on to dance with a man who asked me to marry him, a +year ago, and I could feel him vibrating with gratitude, as he looked at +me, that I had refused. I suppose I am very haggard.” + +“Does that matter, nowadays?” Sir Timothy asked. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +“I am afraid it does. The bone and the hank of hair stuff is played out. +The dairy-maid style is coming in. Plump little Fanny Torrington had a +great success to-night, in one of those simple white dresses, you know, +which look like a sack with a hole cut in the top. What are you doing +here by yourself?” + +“I have an engagement in a few minutes,” he explained. “My car is +waiting now. I looked in at the club to dine, found my favourite table +taken and nearly every man I ever disliked sidling up to tell me that he +hears I am giving a wonderful party on Thursday. I decided not to dine +there, after all, and Charles found me a corner here. I am going in five +minutes.” + +“Where to?” she asked. “Can't I come with you?” + +“I fear not,” he answered. “I am going down in the East End.” + +“Adventuring?” + +“More or less,” he admitted. + +Lady Cynthia became beautiful. She was always beautiful when she was not +tired. + +“Take me with you, please,” she begged. + +He shook his head. + +“Not to be done!” + +“Don't shake your head like that,” she enjoined, with a little grimace. +“People will think I am trying to borrow money from you and that you are +refusing me! Just take me with you some of the way. I shall scream if I +go back into that dancing-room again.” + +Sir Timothy glanced at the clock. + +“If there is any amusement to you in a rather dull drive eastwards--” + +She was on her feet with the soft, graceful speed which had made her so +much admired before her present listlessness had set in. + +“I'll get my cloak,” she said. + +They drove along the Embankment, citywards. The heat of the city seemed +to rise from the pavements. The wall of the Embankment was lined with +people, leaning over to catch the languid breeze that crept up with the +tide. They crossed the river and threaded their way through a nightmare +of squalid streets, where half-dressed men and women hung from the top +windows and were even to be seen upon the roof, struggling for air. The +car at last pulled up at the corner of a long street. + +“I am going down here,” Sir Timothy announced. “I shall be gone perhaps +an hour. The neighbourhood is not a fit one for you to be left alone in. +I shall have time to send you home. The car will be back here for me by +the time I require it.” + +“Where are you going?” she asked curiously. “Why can't I come with you?” + +“I am going where I cannot take you,” was the firm reply. “I told you +that before I started.” + +“I shall sit here and wait for you,” she decided. “I rather like the +neighbourhood. There is a gentleman in shirt-sleeves, leaning over the +rail of the roof there, who has his eye on me. I believe I shall be +a success here--which is more than I can say of a little further +westwards.” + +Sir Timothy smiled slightly. He had exchanged his hat for a tweed cap, +and had put on a long dustcoat. + +“There is no gauge by which you may know the measure of your success,” + he said. “If there were--” + +“If there were?” she asked, leaning a little forward and looking at him +with a touch of the old brilliancy in her eyes. + +“If there were,” he said, with a little show of mock gallantry, “a very +jealously-guarded secret might escape me. I think you will be quite all +right here,” he continued. “It is an open thoroughfare, and I see two +policemen at the corner. Hassell, my chauffeur, too, is a reliable +fellow. We will be back within the hour.” + +“We?” she repeated. + +He indicated a man who had silently made his appearance during the +conversation and was standing waiting on the sidewalk. + +“Just a companion. I do not advise you to wait. If you insist--au +revoir!” + +Lady Cynthia leaned back in a corner of the car. + +Through half-closed eyes she watched the two men on their way down +the crowded thoroughfare--Sir Timothy tall, thin as a lath, yet with +a certain elegance of bearing; the man at his side shorter, his hands +thrust into the pockets of his coat, his manner one of subservience. She +wondered languidly as to their errand in this unsavoury neighbourhood. +Then she closed her eyes altogether and wondered about many things. + +Sir Timothy and his companion walked along the crowded, squalid street +without speech. Presently they turned to the right and stopped in front +of a public-house of some pretensions. + +“This is the place?” Sir Timothy asked. + +“Yes, sir!” + +Both men entered. Sir Timothy made his way to the counter, his companion +to a table near, where he took a seat and ordered a drink. Sir Timothy +did the same. He was wedged in between a heterogeneous crowd of shabby, +depressed but apparently not ill-natured men and women. A man in a +flannel shirt and pair of shabby plaid trousers, which owed their +precarious position to a pair of worn-out braces, turned a beery eye +upon the newcomer. + +“I'll 'ave one with you, guvnor,” he said. + +“You shall indeed,” Sir Timothy assented. + +“Strike me lucky but I've touched first time!” the man exclaimed. “I'll +'ave a double tot of whisky,” he added, addressing the barman. “Will it +run to it, guvnor?” + +“Certainly,” was the cordial reply, “and the same to your friends, if +you will answer a question.” + +“Troop up, lads,” the man shouted. “We've a toff 'ere. He ain't a +'tec--I know the cut of them. Out with the question.” + +“Serve every one who desires it with drinks,” Sir Timothy directed the +barman. “My question is easily answered. Is this the place which a man +whom I understand they call Billy the Tanner frequents?” + +The question appeared to produce an almost uncomfortable sensation. The +enthusiasm for the free drinks, however, was only slightly damped, and a +small forest of grimy hands was extended across the counter. + +“Don't you ask no questions about 'im, guvnor,” Sir Timothy's immediate +companion advised earnestly. “He'd kill you as soon as look at you. When +Billy the Tanner's in a quarrelsome mood, I've see 'im empty this place +and the whole street, quicker than if a mad dog was loose. 'E's a fair +and 'oly terror, 'e is. 'E about killed 'is wife, three nights ago, but +there ain't a living soul as 'd dare to stand in the witness-box about +it.” + +“Why don't the police take a hand in the matter if the man is such a +nuisance?” Sir Timothy asked. + +His new acquaintance, gripping a thick tumbler of spirits and water with +a hand deeply encrusted with the stains of his trade, scoffed. + +“Police! Why, 'e'd take on any three of the police round these parts!” + he declared. “Police! You tell one on 'em that Billy the Tanner's on +the rampage, and you'll see 'em 'op it. Cheero, guvnor and don't you get +curious about Billy. It ain't 'ealthy.” + +The swing-door was suddenly opened. A touslehaired urchin shoved his +face in. + +“Billy the Tanner's coming!” he shouted. “Cave, all! He's been 'avin' a +rare to-do in Smith's Court.” + +Then a curious thing happened. The little crowd at the bar seemed +somehow to melt away. Half-a-dozen left precipitately by the door. +Half-a-dozen more slunk through an inner entrance into some room beyond. +Sir Timothy's neighbour set down his tumbler empty. He was the last to +leave. + +“If you're going to stop 'ere, guvnor,” he begged fervently, “you keep +a still tongue in your 'ead. Billy ain't particular who it is. 'E'd +kill 'is own mother, if 'e felt like it. 'E'll swing some day, sure as +I stand 'ere, but 'e'll do a bit more mischief first. 'Op it with me, +guvnor, or get inside there.” + +“Jim's right,” the man behind the bar agreed. “He's a very nasty +customer, Bill the Tanner, sir. If he's coming down, I'd clear out for a +moment. You can go in the guvnor's sitting-room, if you like.” + +Sir Timothy shook his head. + +“Billy the Tanner will not hurt me,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I +came down to see him.” + +His new friend hesitated no longer but made for the door through which +most of his companions had already disappeared. The barman leaned across +the counter. + +“Guvnor,” he whispered hoarsely, “I don't know what the game is, but +I've given you the office. Billy won't stand no truck from any one. He's +a holy terror.” + +Sir Timothy nodded. + +“I quite understand,” he said. + +There was a moment's ominous silence. The barman withdrew to the further +end of his domain and busied himself cleaning some glasses. Suddenly the +door was swung open. A man entered whose appearance alone was calculated +to inspire a certain amount of fear. He was tall, but his height escaped +notice by reason of the extraordinary breadth of his shoulders. He had +a coarse and vicious face, a crop of red hair, and an unshaven growth of +the same upon his face. He wore what appeared to be the popular dress in +the neighbourhood--a pair of trousers suspended by a belt, and a dirty +flannel shirt. His hands and even his chest, where the shirt fell away, +were discoloured by yellow stains. He looked around the room at first +with an air of disappointment. Then he caught sight of Sir Timothy +standing at the counter, and he brightened up. + +“Where's all the crowd, Tom?” he asked the barman. + +“Scared of you, I reckon,” was the brief reply. “There was plenty here a +few minutes ago.” + +“Scared of me, eh?” the other repeated, staring hard at Sir Timothy. +“Did you 'ear that, guvnor?” + +“I heard it,” Sir Timothy acquiesced. + +Billy the Tanner began to cheer up. He walked all round this stranger. + +“A toff! A big toff! I'll 'ave a drink with you, guvnor,” he declared, +with a note of incipient truculence in his tone. + +The barman had already reached up for two glasses but Sir Timothy shook +his head. + +“I think not,” he said. + +There was a moment's silence. The barman made despairing signs at Sir +Timothy. Billy the Tanner was moistening his lips with his tongue. + +“Why not?” he demanded. + +“Because I don't know you and I don't like you,” was the bland reply. + +Billy the Tanner wasted small time upon preliminaries. He spat upon his +hands. + +“I dunno you and I don't like you,” he retorted. “D'yer know wot I'm +going to do?” + +“I have no idea,” Sir Timothy confessed. + +“I'm going to make you look so that your own mother wouldn't know +you--then I'm going to pitch you into the street,” he added, with an +evil grin. “That's wot we does with big toffs who come 'anging around +'ere.” + +“Do you?” Sir Timothy said calmly. “Perhaps my friend may have something +to say about that.” + +The man of war was beginning to be worked up. + +“Where's your big friend?” he shouted. “Come on! I'll take on the two of +you.” + +The man who had met Sir Timothy in the street had risen to his feet. He +strolled up to the two. Billy the Tanner eyed him hungrily. + +“The two of you, d'yer 'ear?” he shouted. “And 'ere's just a flick for +the toff to be going on with!” + +He delivered a sudden blow at Sir Timothy--a full, vicious, jabbing blow +which had laid many a man of the neighbourhood in the gutter. To his +amazement, the chin at which he had aimed seemed to have mysteriously +disappeared. Sir Timothy himself was standing about half-a-yard further +away. Billy the Tanner was too used to the game to be off his balance, +but he received at that moment the surprise of his life. With the flat +of his hand full open, Sir Timothy struck him across the cheek such a +blow that it resounded through the place, a blow that brought both the +inner doors ajar, that brought peering eyes from every direction. There +was a moment's silence. The man's fists were clenched now, there was +murder in his face. Sir Timothy stepped on one side. + +“I am not a fighter,” he said coolly, leaning back against the marble +table. “My friend will deal with you.” + +Billy the Tanner glared at the newcomer, who had glided in between him +and Sir Timothy. + +“You can come and join in, too,” he shouted to Sir Timothy. “I'll knock +your big head into pulp when I've done with this little job!” + +The bully knew in precisely thirty seconds what had happened to him. So +did the crowds who pressed back into the place through the inner +door. So did the barman. So did the landlord, who had made a cautious +appearance through a trapdoor. Billy the Tanner, for the first time +in his life, was fighting a better man. For two years he had been the +terror of the neighbourhood, and he showed now that at least he had +courage. His smattering of science, however, appeared only ridiculous. +Once, through sheer strength and blundering force, he broke down his +opponent's guard and struck him in the place that had dispatched many a +man before--just over the heart. His present opponent scarcely winced, +and Billy the Tanner paid the penalty then for his years of bullying. +His antagonist paused for a single second, as though unnerved by the +blow. Red fire seemed to stream from his eyes. Then it was all over. +With a sickening crash, Billy the Tanner went down upon the sanded +floor. It was no matter of a count for him. He lay there like a dead +man, and from the two doors the hidden spectators streamed into the +room. Sir Timothy laid some money upon the table. + +“This fellow insulted me and my friend,” he said. “You see, he has paid +the penalty. If he misbehaves again, the same thing will happen to him. +I am leaving some money here with your barman. I shall be glad for every +one to drink with me. Presently, perhaps, you had better send for an +ambulance or a doctor.” + +A little storm of enthusiastic excitement, evidenced for the most part +in expletives of a lurid note, covered the retreat of Sir Timothy and +his companion. Out in the street a small crowd was rushing towards the +place. A couple of policemen seemed to be trying to make up their minds +whether it was a fine night. An inspector hurried up to them. + +“What's doing in 'The Rising Sun'?” he demanded sharply. + +“Some one's giving Billy the Tanner a hiding,” one of the policemen +replied. + +“Honest?” + +“A fair, ripe, knock-out hiding,” was the emphatic confirmation. “I +looked in at the window.” + +The inspector grinned. + +“I'm glad you had the sense not to interfere,” he remarked. + +Sir Timothy and his companion reached the car. The latter took a seat by +the chauffeur. Sir Timothy stepped in. It struck him that Lady Cynthia +was a little breathless. Her eyes, too, were marvellously bright. +Wrapped around her knees was the chauffeur's coat. + +“Wonderful!” she declared. “I haven't had such a wonderful five minutes +since I can remember! You are a dear to have brought me, Sir Timothy.” + +“What do you mean?” he demanded. + +“Mean?” she laughed, as the car swung around and they glided away. +“You didn't suppose I was going to sit here and watch you depart upon +a mysterious errand? I borrowed your chauffeur's coat and his cap, +and slunk down after you. I can assure you I looked the most wonderful +female apache you ever saw! And I saw the fight. It was better than any +of the prize fights I have ever been to. The real thing is better than +the sham, isn't it?” + +Sir Timothy leaned back in his place and remained silent. Soon they +passed out of the land of tired people, of stalls decked out with +unsavoury provender, of foetid smells and unwholesome-looking houses. +They passed through a street of silent warehouses on to the Embankment. +A stronger breeze came down between the curving arc of lights. + +“You are not sorry that you brought me?” Lady Cynthia asked, suddenly +holding out her hand. + +Sir Timothy took it in his. For some reason or other, he made no answer +at all. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +The car stopped in front of the great house in Grosvenor Square. Lady +Cynthia turned to her companion. + +“You must come in, please,” she said. “I insist, if it is only for five +minutes.” + +Sir Timothy followed her across the hall to a curved recess, where the +footman who had admitted them touched a bell, and a small automatic lift +came down. + +“I am taking you to my own quarters,” she explained. “They are rather +cut off but I like them--especially on hot nights.” + +They glided up to the extreme top of the house. She opened the gates and +led the way into what was practically an attic sitting-room, decorated +in black and white. Wide-flung doors opened onto the leads, where +comfortable chairs, a small table and an electric standard were +arranged. They were far above the tops of the other houses, and looked +into the green of the Park. + +“This is where I bring very few people,” she said. “This is where, even +after my twenty-eight years of fraudulent life, I am sometimes myself. +Wait.” + +There were feminine drinks and sandwiches arranged on the table. She +opened the cupboard of a small sideboard just inside the sitting-room, +however, and produced whisky and a syphon of soda. There was a pail of +ice in a cool corner. From somewhere in the distance came the music +of violins floating through the window of a house where a dance was in +progress. They could catch a glimpse of the striped awning and the +long line of waiting vehicles with their twin eyes of fire. She curled +herself up on a settee, flung a cushion at Sir Timothy, who was already +ensconced in a luxurious easy-chair, and with a tumbler of iced sherbet +in one hand, and a cigarette in the other, looked across at him. + +“I am not sure,” she said, “that you have not to-night dispelled an +illusion.” + +“What manner of one?” he asked. + +“Above all things,” she went on, “I have always looked upon you as +wicked. Most people do. I think that is one reason why so many of +the women find you attractive. I suppose it is why I have found you +attractive.” + +The smile was back upon his lips. He bowed a little, and, leaning +forward, dropped a chunk of ice into his whisky and soda. + +“Dear Lady Cynthia,” he murmured, “don't tell me that I am going to slip +back in your estimation into some normal place.” + +“I am not quite sure,” she said deliberately. “I have always looked upon +you as a kind of amateur criminal, a man who loved black things and +dark ways. You know how weary one gets of the ordinary code of morals in +these days. You were such a delightful antidote. And now, I am not sure +that you have not shaken my faith in you.” + +“In what way?” + +“You really seem to have been engaged to-night in a very sporting and +philanthropic enterprise. I imagined you visiting some den of vice and +mixing as an equal with these terrible people who never seem to cross +the bridges. I was perfectly thrilled when I put on your chauffeur's +coat and hat and followed you.” + +“The story of my little adventure is a simple one,” Sir Timothy said. “I +do not think it greatly affects my character. I believe, as a matter +of fact, that I am just as wicked as you would have me be, but I have +friends in every walk of life, and, as you know, I like to peer into the +unexpected places. I had heard of this man Billy the Tanner. He beats +women, and has established a perfect reign of terror in the court and +neighbourhood where he lives. I fear I must agree with you that there +were some elements of morality--of conforming, at any rate, to the +recognised standards of justice--in what I did. You know, of course, +that I am a great patron of every form of boxing, fencing, and the +various arts of self-defence and attack. I just took along one of the +men from my gymnasium who I knew was equal to the job, to give this +fellow a lesson.” + +“He did it all right,” Lady Cynthia murmured. + +“But this is where I think I re-establish myself,” Sir Timothy +continued, the peculiar nature of his smile reasserting itself. “I did +not do this for the sake of the neighbourhood. I did not do it from any +sense of justice at all. I did it to provide for myself an enjoyable and +delectable spectacle.” + +She smiled lazily. + +“That does rather let you out,” she admitted. “However, on the whole I +am disappointed. I am afraid that you are not so bad as people think.” + +“People?” he repeated. “Francis Ledsam, for instance--my son-in-law in +posse?” + +“Francis Ledsam is one of those few rather brilliant persons who have +contrived to keep sane without becoming a prig,” she remarked. + +“You know why?” he reminded her. “Francis Ledsam has been a tremendous +worker. It is work which keeps a man sane. Brilliancy without the +capacity for work drives people to the madhouse.” + +“Where we are all going, I suppose,” she sighed. + +“Not you,” he answered. “You have just enough--I don't know what we +moderns call it--soul, shall I say?--to keep you from the muddy ways.” + +She rose to her feet and leaned over the rails. Sir Timothy watched her +thoughtfully. Her figure, notwithstanding its suggestions of delicate +maturity, was still as slim as a young girl's. She was looking across +the tree-tops towards an angry bank of clouds--long, pencil-like streaks +of black on a purple background. Below, in the street, a taxi passed +with grinding of brakes and noisy horn. The rail against which she +leaned looked very flimsy. Sir Timothy stretched out his hand and held +her arm. + +“My nerves are going with my old age,” he apologised. “That support +seems too fragile.” + +She did not move. The touch of his fingers grew firmer. + +“We have entered upon an allegory,” she murmured. “You are preserving me +from the depths.” + +He laughed harshly. + +“I!” he exclaimed, with a sudden touch of real and fierce bitterness +which brought the light dancing into her eyes and a spot of colour to +her cheeks. “I preserve you! Why, you can never hear my name without +thinking of sin, of crime of some sort! Do you seriously expect me to +ever preserve any one from anything?” + +“You haven't made any very violent attempts to corrupt me,” she reminded +him. + +“Women don't enter much into my scheme of life,” he declared. “They +played a great part once. It was a woman, I think, who first headed me +off from the pastures of virtue.” + +“I know,” she said softly. “It was Margaret's mother.” + +His voice rang out like a pistol-shot. + +“How did you know that?” + +She turned away from the rail and threw herself back in her chair. His +hand, however, she still kept in hers. + +“Uncle Joe was Minister at Rio, you know, the year it all happened,” + she explained. “He told us the story years ago--how you came back +from Europe and found things were not just as they should be between +Margaret's mother and your partner, and how you killed your partner.” + +His nostrils quivered a little. One felt that the fire of suffering had +touched him again for a moment. + +“Yes, I killed him,” he admitted. “That is part of my creed. The men who +defend their honour in the Law Courts are men I know nothing of. This +man would have wronged me and robbed me of my honour. I bade him defend +himself in any way he thought well. It was his life or mine. He was a +poor fighter and I killed him.” + +“And Margaret's mother died from the shock.” + +“She died soon afterwards.” + +The stars grew paler. The passing vehicles, with their brilliant lights, +grew fewer and fewer. The breeze which had been so welcome at first, +turned into a cold night wind. She led the way back into the room. + +“I must go,” he announced. + +“You must go,” she echoed, looking up at him. “Good-bye!” + +She was so close to him that his embrace, sudden and passionate though +it was, came about almost naturally. She lay in his arms with perfect +content and raised her lips to his. + +He broke away. He was himself again, self-furious. + +“Lady Cynthia,” he said, “I owe you my most humble apologies. The evil +that is in me does not as a rule break out in this direction.” + +“You dear, foolish person,” she laughed, “that was good, not evil. +You like me, don't you? But I know you do. There is one crime you have +always forgotten to develop--you haven't the simplest idea in the world +how to lie.” + +“Yes, I like you,” he admitted. “I have the most absurd feeling for you +that any man ever found it impossible to put into words. We have indeed +strayed outside the world of natural things,” he added. + +“Why?” she murmured. “I never felt more natural or normal in my life. +I can assure you that I am loving it. I feel like muslin gowns and +primroses and the scent of those first March violets underneath a warm +hedge where the sun comes sometimes. I feel very natural indeed, Sir +Timothy.” + +“What about me?” he asked harshly. “In three weeks' time I shall be +fifty years old.” + +She laughed softly. + +“And in no time at all I shall be thirty--and entering upon a terrible +period of spinsterhood!” + +“Spinsterhood!” he scoffed. “Why, whenever the Society papers are at a +loss for a paragraph, they report a few more offers of marriage to the +ever-beautiful Lady Cynthia.” + +“Don't be sarcastic,” she begged. “I haven't yet had the offer of +marriage I want, anyhow.” + +“You'll get one you don't want in a moment,” he warned her. + +She made a little grimace. + +“Don't!” she laughed nervously. “How am I to preserve my romantic +notions of you as the emperor of the criminal world, if you kiss me as +you did just now--you kissed me rather well--and then ask me to marry +you? It isn't your role. You must light a cigarette now, pat the back of +my hand, and swagger off to another of your haunts of vice.” + +“In other words, I am not to propose?” Sir Timothy said slowly. + +“You see how decadent I am,” she sighed. “I want to toy with my +pleasures. Besides, there's that scamp of a brother of mine coming up +to have a drink--I saw him get out of a taxi--and you couldn't get it +through in time, not with dignity.” + +The rattle of the lift as it stopped was plainly audible. He stooped and +kissed her fingers. + +“I fear some day,” he murmured, “I shall be a great disappointment to +you.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +There was a great deal of discussion, the following morning at the +Sheridan Club, during the gossipy half-hour which preceded luncheon, +concerning Sir Timothy Brast's forthcoming entertainment. One of the +men, Philip Baker, who had been for many years the editor of a famous +sporting weekly, had a ticket of invitation which he displayed to an +envious little crowd. + +“You fellows who get invitations to these parties,” a famous actor +declared, “are the most elusive chaps on earth. Half London is dying +to know what really goes on there, and yet, if by any chance one comes +across a prospective or retrospective guest, he is as dumb about it as +though it were some Masonic function. We've got you this time, Baker, +though. We'll put you under the inquisition on Friday morning.” + +“There won't be any need,” the other replied. “One hears a great deal +of rot talked about these affairs, but so far as I know, nothing very +much out of the way goes on. There are always one or two pretty stiff +fights in the gymnasium, and you get the best variety show and supper in +the world.” + +“Why is there this aroma of mystery hanging about the affair, then?” + some one asked. + +“Well, for one or two reasons,” Baker answered. “One, no doubt, is +because Sir Timothy has a great idea of arranging the fights himself, +and the opponents actually don't know until the fight begins whom they +are meeting, and sometimes not even then. There has been some gossiping, +too, about the rules, and the weight of the gloves, but that I know, +nothing about.” + +“And the rest of the show?” a younger member enquired. “Is it simply +dancing and music and that sort of thing?” + +“Just a variety entertainment,” the proud possessor of the scarlet-hued +ticket declared. “Sir Timothy always has something up his sleeve. Last +year, for instance, he had those six African girls over from Paris in +that queer dance which they wouldn't allow in London at all. This +time no one knows what is going to happen. The house, as you know, is +absolutely surrounded by that hideous stone wall, and from what I have +heard, reporters who try to get in aren't treated too kindly. Here's +Ledsam. Very likely he knows more about it.” + +“Ledsam,” some one demanded, as Francis joined the group, “are you going +to Sir Timothy Brast's show to-morrow night?” + +“I hope so,” Francis replied, producing his strip of pasteboard. + +“Ever been before?” + +“Never.” + +“Do you know what sort of a show it's going to be?” the actor enquired. + +“Not the slightest idea. I don't think any one does. That's rather a +feature of the affair, isn't it?” + +“It is the envious outsider who has never received an invitation, like +myself,” some one remarked, “who probably spreads these rumours, for one +always hears it hinted that some disgraceful and illegal exhibition +is on tap there--a new sort of drugging party, or some novel form of +debauchery.” + +“I don't think,” Francis said quietly, “that Sir Timothy is quite that +sort of man.” + +“Dash it all, what sort of man is he?” the actor demanded. “They tell me +that financially he is utterly unscrupulous, although he is rolling +in money. He has the most Mephistophelian expression of any man I ever +met--looks as though he'd set his heel on any one's neck for the sport +of it--and yet they say he has given at least fifty thousand pounds to +the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and that the whole +of the park round that estate of his down the river is full of lamed and +decrepit beasts which he has bought himself off the streets.” + +“The man must have an interesting personality,” a novelist who had +joined the party observed. “Of course, you know that he was in prison +for six months?” + +“What for?” some one asked. + +“Murder, only they brought it in manslaughter,” was the terse reply. +“He killed his partner. It was many years ago, and no one knows all the +facts of the story.” + +“I am not holding a brief for Sir Timothy,” Francis remarked, as he +sipped his cocktail. “As a matter of fact, he and I are very much at +cross-purposes. But as regards that particular instance, I am not sure +that he was very much to be blamed, any more than you can blame any +injured person who takes the law into his own hands.” + +“He isn't a man I should care to have for an enemy,” Baker declared. + +“Well, we'll shake the truth out of you fellows, somehow or other,” one +of the group threatened. “On Friday morning we are going to have the +whole truth--none of this Masonic secrecy which Baker indulged in last +year.” + +The men drifted in to luncheon and Francis, leaving them, took a taxi on +to the Ritz. Looking about in the vestibule for Margaret, he came face +to face with Lady Cynthia. She was dressed with her usual distinction in +a gown of yellow muslin and a beflowered hat, and was the cynosure of a +good many eyes. + +“One would almost imagine, Lady Cynthia,” he said, as they exchanged +greetings, “that you had found that elixir we were talking about.” + +“Perhaps I have,” she answered, smiling. “Are you looking for Margaret? +She is somewhere about. We were just having a chat when I was literally +carried off by that terrible Lanchester woman. Let's find her.” + +They strolled up into the lounge. Margaret came to meet them. Her smile, +as she gave Francis her left hand, transformed and softened her whole +appearance. + +“You don't mind my having asked Cynthia to lunch with us?” she said. “I +really couldn't get rid of the girl. She came in to see me this morning +the most aggressively cheerful person I ever knew. I believe that she +had an adventure last night. All that she will tell me is that she dined +and danced at Claridge's with a party of the dullest people in town.” + +A tall, familiar figure passed down the vestibule. Lady Cynthia gave a +little start, and Francis, who happened to be watching her, was amazed +at her expression. + +“Your father, Margaret!” she pointed out. “I wonder if he is lunching +here.” + +“He told me that he was lunching somewhere with a South American +friend--one of his partners, I believe,” Margaret replied. “I expect he +is looking for him.” + +Sir Timothy caught sight of them, hesitated for a moment and came slowly +in their direction. + +“Have you found your friend?” Margaret asked. + +“The poor fellow is ill in bed,” her father answered. “I was just +regretting that I had sent the car away, or I should have gone back to +Hatch End.” + +“Stay and lunch with us,” Lady Cynthia begged, a little impetuously. + +“I shall be very pleased if you will,” Francis put in. “I'll go and tell +the waiter to enlarge my table.” + +He hurried off. On his way back, a page-boy touched him on the arm. + +“If you please, sir,” he announced, “you are wanted on the telephone.” + +“I?” Francis exclaimed. “Some mistake, I should think. Nobody knows that +I am here.” + +“Mr. Ledsam,” the boy said. “This way, sir.” + +Francis walked down the vestibule to the row of telephone boxes at the +further end. The attendant who was standing outside, indicated one of +them and motioned the boy to go away. Francis stepped inside. The man +followed, closing the door behind him. + +“I am asking your pardon, sir, for taking a great liberty,” he +confessed. “No one wants you on the telephone. I wished to speak to +you.” + +Francis looked at him in surprise. The man was evidently agitated. +Somehow or other, his face was vaguely familiar. + +“Who are you, and what do you want with me?” Francis asked. + +“I was butler to Mr. Hilditch, sir,” the man replied. “I waited upon you +the night you dined there, sir--the night of Mr. Hilditch's death.” + +“Well?” + +“I have a revelation to make with regard to that night, sir,” the man +went on, “which I should like to place in your hands. It is a very +serious matter, and there are reasons why something must be done about +it at once. Can I come and see you at your rooms, sir?” + +Francis studied the man for a moment intently. He was evidently +agitated--evidently, too, in very bad health. His furtive manner was +against him. On the other hand, that might have arisen from nervousness. + +“I shall be in at half-past three, number 13 b, Clarges Street,” Francis +told him. + +“I can get off for half-an-hour then, sir,” the man replied. “I shall be +very glad to come. I must apologise for having troubled you, sir.” + +Francis went slowly back to his trio of guests. All the way down the +carpeted vestibule he was haunted by the grim shadow of a spectral fear. +The frozen horror of that ghastly evening was before him like a hateful +tableau. Hilditch's mocking words rang in his cars: “My death is the +one thing in the world which would make my wife happy.” The Court scene, +with all its gloomy tragedy, rose before his eyes--only in the dock, +instead of Hilditch, he saw another! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +There were incidents connected with that luncheon which Francis always +remembered. In the first place, Sir Timothy was a great deal more silent +than usual. A certain vein of half-cynical, half-amusing comment upon +things and people of the moment, which seemed, whenever he cared to +exert himself, to flow from his lips without effort, had deserted him. +He sat where the rather brilliant light from the high windows fell upon +his face, and Francis wondered more than once whether there were not +some change there, perhaps some prescience of trouble to come, which had +subdued him and made him unusually thoughtful. Another slighter but more +amusing feature of the luncheon was the number of people who stopped +to shake hands with Sir Timothy and made more or less clumsy efforts to +obtain an invitation to his coming entertainment. Sir Timothy's reply +to these various hints was barely cordial. The most he ever promised was +that he would consult with his secretary and see if their numbers were +already full. Lady Cynthia, as a somewhat blatant but discomfited Peer +of the Realm took his awkward leave of them, laughed softly. + +“Of course, I think they all deserve what they get,” she declared. “I +never heard such brazen impudence in my life--from people who ought to +know better, too.” + +Lord Meadowson, a sporting peer, who was one of Sir Timothy's few +intimates, came over to the table. He paid his respects to the two +ladies and Francis, and turned a little eagerly to Sir Timothy. + +“Well?” he asked. + +Sir Timothy nodded. + +“We shall be quite prepared for you,” he said. “Better bring your +cheque-book.” + +“Capital!” the other exclaimed. “As I hadn't heard anything, I was +beginning to wonder whether you would be ready with your end of the +show.” + +“There will be no hitch so far as we are concerned,” Sir Timothy assured +him. + +“More mysteries?” Margaret enquired, as Meadowson departed with a smile +of satisfaction. + +Her father shrugged his shoulders. + +“Scarcely that,” he replied. “It is a little wager between Lord +Meadowson and myself which is to be settled to-morrow.” + +Lady Torrington, a fussy little woman, her hostess of the night before, +on her way down the room stopped and shook hands with Lady Cynthia. + +“Why, my dear,” she exclaimed, “wherever did you vanish to last night? +Claude told us all that, in the middle of a dance with him, you excused +yourself for a moment and he never saw you again. I quite expected to +read in the papers this morning that you had eloped.” + +“Precisely what I did,” Lady Cynthia declared. “The only trouble was +that my partner had had enough of me before the evening was over, +and deposited me once more in Grosvenor Square. It is really very +humiliating,” she went on meditatively, “how every one always returns +me.” + +“You talk such nonsense, Cynthia!” Lady Torrington exclaimed, a little +pettishly. “However, you found your way home all right?” + +“Quite safely, thank you. I was going to write you a note this +afternoon. I went away on an impulse. All I can say is that I am sorry. +Do forgive me.” + +“Certainly!” was the somewhat chilly reply. “Somehow or other, you seem +to have earned the right to do exactly as you choose. Some of my young +men whom you had promised to dance with, were disappointed, but after +all, I suppose that doesn't matter.” + +“Not much,” Lady Cynthia assented sweetly. “I think a few +disappointments are good for most of the young men of to-day.” + +“What did you do last night, Cynthia?” Margaret asked her presently, +when Lady Torrington had passed on. + +“I eloped with your father,” Lady Cynthia confessed, smiling across +at Sir Timothy. “We went for a little drive together and I had a most +amusing time. The only trouble was, as I have been complaining to that +tiresome woman, he brought me home again.” + +“But where did you go to?” Margaret persisted. + +“It was an errand of charity,” Sir Timothy declared. + +“It sounds very mysterious,” Francis observed. “Is that all we are to be +told?” + +“I am afraid,” Sir Timothy complained, “that very few people sympathise +with my hobbies or my prosecution of them. That is why such little +incidents as last night's generally remain undisclosed. If you really +wish to know what happened,” he went on, after a moment's pause, “I will +tell you. As you know, I have a great many friends amongst the boxing +fraternity, and I happened to hear of a man down in the East End who has +made himself a terror to the whole community in which he lives. I took +Peter Fields, my gymnasium instructor, down to the East End last night, +and Peter Fields--dealt with him.” + +“There was a fight?” Margaret exclaimed, with a little shudder. + +“There was a fight,” Sir Timothy repeated, “if you can call it such. +Fields gave him some part of the punishment he deserved.” + +“And you were there, Cynthia?” + +“I left Lady Cynthia in the car,” Sir Timothy explained. “She most +improperly bribed my chauffeur to lend her his coat and hat, and +followed me.” + +“You actually saw the fight, then?” Francis asked. + +“I did,” Lady Cynthia admitted. “I saw it from the beginning to the +end.” + +Margaret looked across the table curiously. It seemed to her that her +friend had turned a little paler. + +“Did you like it?” she asked simply. + +Lady Cynthia was silent for a moment. She glanced at Sir Timothy. He, +too, was waiting for her answer with evident interest. + +“I was thrilled,” she acknowledged. “That was the pleasurable part of it +I have been so, used to looking on at shows that bored me, listening +to conversations that wearied me, attempting sensations which were +repellent, that I just welcomed feeling, when it came--feeling of any +sort. I was excited. I forgot everything else. I was so fascinated that +I could not look away. But if you ask me whether I liked it, and I have +to answer truthfully, I hated it! I felt nothing of the sort at the +time, but when I tried to sleep I found myself shivering. It was +justice, I know, but it was ugly.” + +She watched Sir Timothy, as she made her confession, a little wistfully. +He said nothing, but there was a very curious change in his expression. +He smiled at her in an altogether unfamiliar way. + +“I suppose,” she said, appealing to him, “that you are very disappointed +in me?” + +“On the contrary,” he answered, “I am delighted.” + +“You mean that?” she asked incredulously. + +“I do,” he declared. “Companionship between our sexes is very delightful +so far as it goes, but the fundamental differences between a man's +outlook and tastes and a woman's should never be bridged over. I myself +do not wish to learn to knit. I do not care for the womenkind in whom I +am interested to appreciate and understand fighting.” + +Margaret looked across the table in amazement. + +“You are most surprising this morning, father,” she declared. + +“I am perhaps misunderstood,” he sighed, “perhaps have acquired a +reputation for greater callousness than I possess. Personally, I love +fighting. I was born a fighter, and I should find no happier way of +ending my life than fighting, but, to put it bluntly, fighting is a +man's job.” + +“What about women going to see fights at the National Sporting Club?” + Lady Cynthia asked curiously. + +“It is their own affair, but if you ask my opinion I do not approve of +it,” Sir Timothy replied. “I am indifferent upon the subject, because +I am indifferent upon the subject of the generality of your sex,” he +added, with a little smile, “but I simply hold that it is not a taste +which should be developed in women, and if they do develop it, it is at +the expense of those very qualities which make them most attractive.” + +Lady Cynthia took a cigarette from her case and leaned over to Francis +for a light. + +“The world is changing,” she declared. “I cannot bear many more shocks. +I fancied that I had written myself for ever out of Sir Timothy's good +books because of my confession just now.” + +He smiled across at her. His words were words of courteous badinage, but +Lady Cynthia was conscious of a strange little sense of pleasure. + +“On the contrary,” he assured her, “you found your way just a little +further into my heart.” + +“It seems to me, in a general sort of way,” Margaret observed, leaning +back in her chair, “that you and my father are becoming extraordinarily +friendly, Cynthia.” + +“I am hopefully in love with your father,” Lady Cynthia confessed. “It +has been coming on for a long time. I suspected it the first time I ever +met him. Now I am absolutely certain.” + +“It's quite a new idea,” Margaret remarked. “Shall we like her in the +family, Francis?” + +“No airs!” Lady Cynthia warned her. “You two are not properly engaged +yet. It may devolve upon me to give my consent.” + +“In that case,” Francis replied, “I hope that we may at least count upon +your influence with Sir Timothy?” + +“If you'll return the compliment and urge my suit with him,” Lady +Cynthia laughed. “I am afraid he can't quite make up his mind about me, +and I am so nice. I haven't flirted nearly so much as people think, and +my instincts are really quite domestic.” + +“My position,” Sir Timothy remarked, as he made an unsuccessful attempt +to possess himself of the bill which Francis had called for, “is +becoming a little difficult.” + +“Not really difficult,” Lady Cynthia objected, “because the real +decision rests in your hands.” + +“Just listen to the woman!” Margaret exclaimed. “Do you realise, father, +that Cynthia is making the most brazen advances to you? And I was going +to ask her if she'd like to come back to The Sanctuary with us this +evening!” + +Lady Cynthia was suddenly eager. Margaret glanced across at her father. +Sir Timothy seemed almost imperceptibly to stiffen a little. + +“Margaret has carte blanche at The Sanctuary as regards her visitors,” + he said. “I am afraid that I shall be busy over at The Walled House.” + +“But you'd come and dine with us?” + +Sir Timothy hesitated. An issue which had been looming in his mind for +many hours seemed to be suddenly joined. + +“Please!” Lady Cynthia begged. + +Sir Timothy followed the example of the others and rose to his feet. He +avoided Lady Cynthia's eyes. He seemed suddenly a little tired. + +“I will come and dine,” he assented quietly. “I am afraid that I cannot +promise more than that. Lady Cynthia, as she knows, is always welcome at +The Sanctuary.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +Punctual to his appointment that afternoon, the man who had sought an +interview with Francis was shown into the latter's study in Clarges +Street. + +He wore an overcoat over his livery, and directly he entered the room +Francis was struck by his intense pallor. He had been trying feverishly +to assure himself that all that the man required was the usual sort of +help, or assistance into a hospital. Yet there was something furtive in +his visitor's manner, something which suggested the bearer of a guilty +secret. + +“Please tell me what you want as quickly as you can,” Francis begged. “I +am due to start down into the country in a few minutes.” + +“I won't keep you long, sir,” the man replied. “The matter is rather a +serious one.” + +“Are you ill?” + +“Yes, sir!” + +“You had better sit down.” + +The man relapsed gratefully into a chair. + +“I'll leave out everything that doesn't count, sir,” he said. “I'll be +as brief as I can. I want you to go back to the night I waited upon +you at dinner the night Mr. Oliver Hilditch was found dead. You gave +evidence. The jury brought it in 'suicide.' It wasn't suicide at all, +sir. Mr. Hilditch was murdered.” + +The sense of horror against which he had been struggling during the +last few hours, crept once more through the whole being of the man who +listened. He was face to face once more with that terrible issue. Had he +perjured himself in vain? Was the whole structure of his dreams about to +collapse, to fall about his ears? + +“By whom?” he faltered. + +“By Sir Timothy Brast, sir.” + +Francis, who had been standing with his hand upon the table, felt +suddenly inclined to laugh. Facile though his brain was, the change of +issues was too tremendous for him to readily assimilate it. He picked +up a cigarette from an open box, with shaking fingers, lit it, and threw +himself into an easy-chair. He was all the time quite unconscious of +what he was doing. + +“Sir Timothy Brast?” he repeated. + +“Yes, sir,” the man reiterated. “I wish to tell you the whole story.” + +“I am listening,” Francis assured him. + +“That evening before dinner, Sir Timothy Brast called to see Mr. +Hilditch, and a very stormy interview took place. I do not know the +rights of that, sir. I only know that there was a fierce quarrel. Mrs. +Hilditch came in and Sir Timothy left the house. His last words to Mr. +Hilditch were, 'You will hear from me again.' As you know, sir--I mean +as you remember, if you followed the evidence--all the servants slept at +the back of the house. I slept in the butler's room downstairs, next to +the plate pantry. I was awake when you left, sitting in my easy-chair, +reading. Ten minutes after you had left, there was a sound at the front +door as though some one had knocked with their knuckles. I got up, to +open it but Mr. Hilditch was before me. He admitted Sir Timothy. They +went back into the library together. It struck me that Mr. Hilditch had +had a great deal to drink, and there was a queer look on Sir Timothy's +face that I didn't understand. I stepped into the little room which +communicates with the library by folding doors. There was a chink +already between the two. I got a knife from the pantry and widened it +until I could see through. I heard very little of the conversation but +there was no quarrel. Mr. Hilditch took up the weapon which you +know about, sat in a chair and held it to his heart. I heard him say +something like this. 'This ought to appeal to you, Sir Timothy. You're a +specialist in this sort of thing. One little touch, and there you are.' +Mrs. Hilditch said something about putting it away. My master turned +to Sir Timothy and said something in a low tone. Suddenly Sir Timothy +leaned over. He caught hold of Mr. Hilditch's hand which held the hilt +of the dagger, and and--well, he just drove it in, sir. Then he stood +away. Mrs. Hilditch sprang up and would have screamed, but Sir Timothy +placed his hand over her mouth. In a moment I heard her say, 'What have +you done?' Sir Timothy looked at Mr. Hilditch quite calmly. 'I have +ridded the world of a verminous creature,' he said. My knees began to +shake. My nerves were always bad. I crept back into my room, took off my +clothes and got into bed. I had just put the light out when they called +for me.” + +Francis was himself again. There was an immense relief, a joy in his +heart. He had never for a single moment blamed Margaret, but he had +never for a single moment forgotten. It was a closed chapter but the +stain was on its pages. It was wonderful to tear it out and scatter the +fragments. + +“I remember you at the inquest,” he said. “Your name is John Walter.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Your evidence was very different.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“You kept all this to yourself.” + +“I did, sir. I thought it best.” + +“Tell me what has happened since?” + +The man looked down at the table. + +“I have always been a poor man, sir,” he said. “I have had bad luck +whenever I've made a try to start at anything. I thought there seemed a +chance for me here. I went to Sir Timothy and I told him everything.” + +“Well?” + +“Sir Timothy never turned a hair, sir. When I had finished he was very +short with me, almost curt. 'You have behaved like a man of sense, +Walter,' he said. 'How much?' I hesitated for some time. Then I could +see he was getting impatient. I doubled what I had thought of first. 'A +thousand pounds, sir,' I said. Sir Timothy he went to a safe in the +wall and he counted out a thousand pounds in notes, there and then. +He brought them over to me. 'Walter,' he said, 'there is your thousand +pounds. For that sum I understand you promise to keep what you saw to +yourself?' 'Yes, sir,' I agreed. 'Take it, then,' he said, 'but I want +you to understand this. There have been many attempts but no one yet +has ever succeeded in blackmailing me. No one ever will. I give you this +thousand pounds willingly. It is what you have asked for. Never let me +see your face again. If you come to me starving, it will be useless. I +shall not part with another penny.'” + +The man's simple way of telling his story, his speech, slow and uneven +on account of his faltering breath, seemed all to add to the dramatic +nature of his disclosure. Francis found himself sitting like a child who +listens to a fairy story. + +“And then?” he asked simply. + +“I went off with the money,” Walter continued, “and I had cruel bad +luck. I put it into a pub. I was robbed a little, I drank a little, my +wife wasn't any good. I lost it all, sir. I found myself destitute. I +went back to Sir Timothy.” + +“Well?” + +The man shifted his feet nervously. He seemed to have come to the +difficult part of his story. + +“Sir Timothy was as hard as nails,” he said slowly. “He saw me. The +moment I had finished, he rang the bell. 'Hedges,' he said to the +manservant who came in, 'this man has come here to try and blackmail me. +Throw him out. If he gives any trouble, send for the police. If he shows +himself here again, send for the police.”' + +“What happened then?” + +“Well, I nearly blurted out the whole story,” the man confessed, “and +then I remembered that wouldn't do me any good, so I went away. I got a +job at the Ritz, but I was took ill a few days afterwards. I went to see +a doctor. From him I got my death-warrant, sir.” + +“Is it heart?” + +“It's heart, sir,” the man acknowledged. “The doctor told me I might +snuff out at any moment. I can't live, anyway, for more than a year. +I've got a little girl.” + +“Now just why have you come to see me?” Francis asked. + +“For just this, sir,” the man replied. “Here's my account of what +happened,” he went on, drawing some sheets of foolscap from his +pocket. “It's written in my own hand and there are two witnesses to my +signature--one a clergyman, sir, and the other a doctor, they thinking +it was a will or something. I had it in my mind to send that to Scotland +Yard, and then I remembered that I hadn't a penny to leave my little +girl. I began to wonder--think as meanly of me as you like, sir--how +I could still make some money out of this. I happened to know that you +were none too friendly disposed towards Sir Timothy. This confession of +mine, if it wouldn't mean hanging, would mean imprisonment for the rest +of his life. You could make a better bargain with him than me, sir. Do +you want to hold him in your power? If so, you can have this confession, +all signed and everything, for two hundred pounds, and as I live, sir, +that two hundred pounds is to pay for my funeral, and the balance for my +little girl.” + +Francis took the papers and glanced them through. + +“Supposing I buy this document from you,” he said, “what is its actual +value? You could write out another confession, get that signed, and +sell it to another of Sir Timothy's enemies, or you could still go to +Scotland Yard yourself.” + +“I shouldn't do that, sir, I assure you,” the man declared nervously, +“not on my solemn oath. I want simply to be quit of the whole matter and +have a little money for the child.” + +Francis considered for a moment. + +“There is only one way I can see,” he said, “to make this document worth +the money to me. If you will sign a confession that any statement you +have made as to the death of Mr. Hilditch is entirely imaginary, that +you did not see Sir Timothy in the house that night, that you went to +bed at your usual time and slept until you were awakened, and that you +only made this charge for the purpose of extorting money--if you will +sign a confession to that effect and give it me with these papers, I +will pay you the two hundred pounds and I will never use the confession +unless you repeat the charge.” + +“I'll do it, sir,” the man assented. + +Francis drew up a document, which his visitor read through and signed. +Then he wrote out an open cheque. + +“My servant shall take you to the bank in a taxi,” he said. “They would +scarcely pay you this unless you were identified. We understand one +another?” + +“Perfectly, sir!” + +Francis rang the bell, gave his servant the necessary orders, and +dismissed the two men. Half-an-hour later, already changed into +flannels, he was on his way into the country. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +Sir Timothy walked that evening amongst the shadows. Two hours ago, +the last of the workmen from the great furnishing and catering +establishments who undertook the management of his famous +entertainments, had ceased work for the day and driven off in the +motor-brakes hired to take them to the nearest town. The long, low +wing whose use no one was able absolutely to divine, was still full of +animation, but the great reception-rooms and stately hall were silent +and empty. In the gymnasium, an enormous apartment as large as an +ordinary concert hall, two or three electricians were still at work, +directed by the man who had accompanied Sir Timothy to the East End on +the night before. The former crossed the room, his footsteps awaking +strange echoes. + +“There will be seating for fifty, sir, and standing room for fifty,” he +announced. “I have had the ring slightly enlarged, as you suggested, +and the lighting is being altered so that the start is exactly north and +south.” + +Sir Timothy nodded thoughtfully. The beautiful oak floor of the place +was littered with sawdust and shavings of wood. Several tiers of +seats had been arranged on the space usually occupied by swings, +punching-balls and other artifices. On a slightly raised dais at the +further end was an exact replica of a ring, corded around and with +sawdust upon the floor. Upon the walls hung a marvellous collection of +weapons of every description, from the modern rifle to the curved and +terrible knife used by the most savage of known tribes. + +“How are things in the quarters?” Sir Timothy asked. + +“Every one is well, sir. Doctor Ballantyne arrived this afternoon. His +report is excellent.” + +Sir Timothy nodded and turned away. He looked into the great gallery, +its waxen floors shining with polish, ready for the feet of the dancers +on the morrow; looked into a beautiful concert-room, with an organ that +reached to the roof; glanced into the banquetting hall, which extended +far into the winter-garden; made his way up the broad stairs, turned +down a little corridor, unlocked a door and passed into his own suite. +There was a small dining-room, a library, a bedroom, and a bathroom +fitted with every sort of device. A man-servant who had heard him enter, +hurried from his own apartment across the way. + +“You are not dining here, sir?” he enquired. + +Sir Timothy shook his head. + +“No, I am dining late at The Sanctuary,” he replied. “I just strolled +over to see how the preparations were going on. I shall be sleeping over +there, too. Any prowlers?” + +“Photographer brought some steps and photographed the horses in the +park from the top of the wall this afternoon, sir,” the man announced. +“Jenkins let him go. Two or three pressmen sent in their cards to you, +but they were not allowed to pass the lodge.” + +Sir Timothy nodded. Soon he left the house and crossed the park towards +The Sanctuary. He was followed all the way by horses, of which there +were more than thirty in the great enclosure. One mare greeted him with +a neigh of welcome and plodded slowly after him. Another pressed her +nose against his shoulder and walked by his side, with his hand upon her +neck. Sir Timothy looked a little nervously around, but the park itself +lay almost like a deep green pool, unobserved, and invisible from +anywhere except the house itself. He spoke a few words to each of the +horses, and, producing his key, passed through the door in the wall +into The Sanctuary garden, closing it quickly as he recognised Francis +standing under the cedar-tree. + +“Has Lady Cynthia arrived yet?” he enquired. + +“Not yet,” Francis replied. “Margaret will be here in a minute. She told +me to say that cocktails are here and that she has ordered dinner served +on the terrace.” + +“Excellent!” Sir Timothy murmured. “Let me try one of your cigarettes.” + +“Everything ready for the great show to-morrow night?” Francis asked, as +he served the cocktails. + +“Everything is in order. I wonder, really,” Sir Timothy went on, looking +at Francis curiously, “what you expect to see?” + +“I don't think we any of us have any definite idea,” Francis replied. +“We have all, of course, made our guesses.” + +“You will probably be disappointed,” Sir Timothy warned him. “For some +reason or other--perhaps I have encouraged the idea--people look upon +my parties as mysterious orgies where things take place which may not +be spoken of. They are right to some extent. I break the law, without a +doubt, but I break it, I am afraid, in rather a disappointing fashion.” + +A limousine covered in dust raced in at the open gates and came to a +standstill with a grinding of brakes. Lady Cynthia stepped lightly out +and came across the lawn to them. + +“I am hot and dusty and I was disagreeable,” she confided, “but the +peace of this wonderful place, and the sight of that beautiful silver +thing have cheered me. May I have a cocktail before I go up to change? +I am a little late, I know,” she went on, “but that wretched +garden-party! I thought my turn would never come to receive my few +words. Mother would have been broken-hearted if I had left without them. +What slaves we are to royalty! Now shall I hurry and change? You men +have the air of wanting your dinner, and I am rather that way myself. +You look tired, dear host,” she added, a little hesitatingly. + +“The heat,” he answered. + +“Why you ever leave this spot I can't imagine,” she declared, as she +turned away, with a lingering glance around. “It seems like Paradise to +come here and breathe this air. London is like a furnace.” + +The two men were alone again. In Francis' pocket were the two documents, +which he had not yet made up his mind how to use. Margaret came out to +them presently, and he strolled away with her towards the rose garden. + +“Margaret,” he said, “is it my fancy or has there been a change in your +father during the last few days?” + +“There is a change of some sort,” she admitted. “I cannot describe it. I +only know it is there. He seems much more thoughtful and less hard. The +change would be an improvement,” she went on, “except that somehow or +other it makes me feel uneasy. It is as though he were grappling with +some crisis.” + +They came to a standstill at the end of the pergola, where the masses +of drooping roses made the air almost faint with their perfume. Margaret +stretched out her hand, plucked a handful of the creamy petals and held +them against her cheek. A thrush was singing noisily. A few yards away +they heard the soft swish of the river. + +“Tell me,” she asked curiously, “my father still speaks of you as being +in some respects an enemy. What does he mean?” + +“I will tell you exactly,” he answered. “The first time I ever spoke to +your father I was dining at Soto's. I was talking to Andrew Wilmore. +It was only a short time after you had told me the story of Oliver +Hilditch, a story which made me realise the horror of spending one's +life keeping men like that out of the clutch of the law.” + +“Go on, please,” she begged. + +“Well, I was talking to Andrew. I told him that in future I should +accept no case unless I not only believed in but was convinced of the +innocence of my client. I added that I was at war with crime. I think, +perhaps, I was so deeply in earnest that I may have sounded a little +flamboyant. At any rate, your father, who had overheard me, moved up to +our table. I think he deduced from what I was saying that I was going to +turn into a sort of amateur crime-investigator, a person who I gathered +later was particularly obnoxious to him. At any rate, he held out a +challenge. 'If you are a man who hates crime,' he said, or something +like it, 'I am one who loves it.' He then went on to prophesy that a +crime would be committed close to where we were, within an hour or so, +and he challenged me to discover the assassin. That night Victor Bidlake +was murdered just outside Soto's.” + +“I remember! Do you mean to tell me, then,” Margaret went on, with a +little shiver, “that father told you this was going to happen?” + +“He certainly did,” Francis replied. “How his knowledge came I am not +sure--yet. But he certainly knew.” + +“Have you anything else against him?” she asked. + +“There was the disappearance of Andrew Wilmore's younger brother, +Reginald Wilmore. I have no right to connect your father with that, but +Shopland, the Scotland Yard detective, who has charge of the case, seems +to believe that the young man was brought into this neighbourhood, and +some other indirect evidence which came into my hands does seem to point +towards your father being concerned in the matter. I appealed to him at +once but he only laughed at me. That matter, too, remains a mystery.” + +Margaret was thoughtful for a moment. Then she turned towards the house. +They heard the soft ringing of the gong. + +“Will you believe me when I tell you this?” she begged, as they passed +arm in arm down the pergola. “I am terrified of my father, though in +many ways he is almost princely in his generosity and in the broad view +he takes of things. Then his kindness to all dumb animals, and the way +they love him, is the most amazing thing I ever knew. If we were alone +here to-night, every animal in the house would be around his chair. He +has even the cats locked up if we have visitors, so that no one shall +see it. But I am quite honest when I tell you this--I do not believe +that my father has the ordinary outlook upon crime. I believe that there +is a good deal more of the Old Testament about him than the New.” + +“And this change which we were speaking about?” he asked, lowering his +voice as they reached the lawn. + +“I believe that somehow or other the end is coming,” she said. “Francis, +forgive me if I tell you this--or rather let me be forgiven--but I know +of one crime my father has committed, and it makes me fear that there +may be others. And I have the feeling, somehow, that the end is close at +hand and that he feels it, just as we might feel a thunder-storm in the +air.” + +“I am going to prove the immemorial selfishness of my sex,” he +whispered, as they drew near the little table. “Promise me one thing +and I don't care if your father is Beelzebub himself. Promise me that, +whatever happens, it shall not make any difference to us?” + +She smiled at him very wonderfully, a smile which had to take the place +of words, for there were servants now within hearing, and Sir Timothy +himself was standing in the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +Lady Cynthia and Sir Timothy strolled after dinner to the bottom of the +lawn and watched the punt which Francis was propelling turn from the +stream into the river. + +“Perfectly idyllic,” Lady Cynthia sighed. + +“We have another punt,” her companion suggested. + +She shook her head. + +“I am one of those unselfish people,” she declared, “whose idea of +repose is not only to rest oneself but to see others rest. I think these +two chairs, plenty of cigarettes, and you in your most gracious and +discoursive mood, will fill my soul with content.” + +“Your decision relieves my mind,” her companion declared, as he arranged +the cushions behind her back. “I rather fancy myself with a pair of +sculls, but a punt-pole never appealed to me. We will sit here and enjoy +the peace. To-morrow night you will find it all disturbed--music and +raucous voices and the stampede of my poor, frightened horses in the +park. This is really a very gracious silence.” + +“Are those two really going to marry?” Lady Cynthia asked, moving her +head lazily in the direction of the disappearing punt. + +“I imagine so.” + +“And you? What are you going to do then?” + +“I am planning a long cruise. I telegraphed to Southampton to-day. I +am having my yacht provisioned and prepared. I think I shall go over to +South America.” + +She was silent for a moment. + +“Alone?” she asked presently. + +“I am always alone,” he answered. + +“That is rather a matter of your own choice, is it not?” + +“Perhaps so. I have always found it hard to make friends. Enemies seem +to be more in my line.” + +“I have not found it difficult to become your friend,” she reminded him. + +“You are one of my few successes,” he replied. + +She leaned back with half-closed eyes. There was nothing new about their +environment--the clusters of roses, the perfume of the lilies in +the rock garden, the even sweeter fragrance of the trim border of +mignonette. Away in the distance, the night was made momentarily ugly by +the sound of a gramophone on a passing launch, yet this discordant +note seemed only to bring the perfection of present things closer. Back +across the velvety lawn, through the feathery strips of foliage, the +lights of The Sanctuary, shaded and subdued, were dimly visible. The +dining-table under the cedar-tree had already been cleared. Hedges, +newly arrived from town to play the major domo, was putting the +finishing touches to a little array of cool drinks. And beyond, dimly +seen but always there, the wall. She turned to him suddenly. + +“You build a wall around your life,” she said, “like the wall which +encircles your mystery house. Last night I thought that I could see a +little way over the top. To-night you are different.” + +“If I am different,” he answered quietly, “it is because, for the first +time for many years, I have found myself wondering whether the life I +had planned for myself, the things which I had planned should make life +for me, are the best. I have had doubts--perhaps I might say regrets.” + +“I should like to go to South America,” Lady Cynthia declared softly. + +He finished the cigarette which he was smoking and deliberately threw +away the stump. Then he turned and looked at her. His face seemed harder +than ever, clean-cut, the face of a man able to defy Fate, but she saw +something in his eyes which she had never seen before. + +“Dear child,” he said, “if I could roll back the years, if from all +my deeds of sin, as the world knows sin, I could cancel one, there is +nothing in the world would make me happier than to ask you to come with +me as my cherished companion to just whatever part of the world you +cared for. But I have been playing pitch and toss with fortune all my +life, since the great trouble came which changed me so much. Even at +this moment, the coin is in the air which may decide my fate.” + +“You mean?” she ventured. + +“I mean,” he continued, “that after the event of which we spoke last +night, nothing in life has been more than an incident, and I have +striven to find distraction by means which none of you--not even you, +Lady Cynthia, with all your breadth of outlook and all your craving +after new things--would justify.” + +“Nothing that you may have done troubles me in the least,” she assured +him. “I do wish that you could put it all out of your mind and let me +help you to make a fresh start.” + +“I may put the thing itself out of my mind,” he answered sadly, “but the +consequences remain.” + +“There is a consequence which threatens?” she asked. + +He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, he had recovered all +his courage. + +“There is the coin in the air of which I spoke,” he replied. “Let us +forget it for a moment. Of the minor things I will make you my judge. +Ledsam and Margaret are coming to my party to-morrow night. You, too, +shall be my guest. Such secrets as lie on the other side of that wall +shall be yours. After that, if I survive your judgment of them, and +if the coin which I have thrown into the air comes, down to the tune +I call--after that--I will remind you of something which happened last +night--of something which, if I live for many years, I shall never +forget.” + +She leaned towards him. Her eyes were heavy with longing. Her arms, +sweet and white in the dusky twilight, stole hesitatingly out. + +“Last night was so long ago. Won't you take a later memory?” + +Once again she lay in his arms, still and content. + +As they crossed the lawn, an hour or so later, they were confronted by +Hedges--who hastened, in fact, to meet them. + +“You are being asked for on the telephone, sir,” he announced. “It is a +trunk call. I have switched it through to the study.” + +“Any name?” Sir Timothy asked indifferently. + +The man hesitated. His eyes sought his master's respectfully but charged +with meaning. + +“The person refuses to give his name, sir, but I fancied that I +recognised his voice. I think it would be as well for you to speak, +sir.” + +Lady Cynthia sank into a chair. + +“You shall go and answer your telephone call,” she said, “and leave +Hedges to serve me with one of these strange drinks. I believe I see +some of my favourite orangeade.” + +Sir Timothy made his way into the house and into the low, oak-beamed +study with its dark furniture and latticed windows. The telephone bell +began to ring again as he entered. He took up the receiver. + +“Sir Timothy?” a rather hoarse, strained voice asked. + +“I am speaking,” Sir Timothy replied. “Who is it?” + +The man at the other end spoke as though he were out of breath. +Nevertheless, what he said was distinct enough. + +“I am John Walter.” + +“Well?” + +“I am just ringing you up,” the voice went on, “to give you what's +called a sporting chance. There's a boat from Southampton midday +tomorrow. If you're wise, you'll catch it. Or better still, get off on +your own yacht. They carry a wireless now, these big steamers. Don't +give a criminal much of a chance, does it?” + +“I am to understand, then,” Sir Timothy said calmly, “that you have laid +your information?” + +“I've parted with it and serve you right,” was the bitter reply. “I'm +not saying that you're not a brave man, Sir Timothy, but there's such a +thing as being foolhardy, and that's what you are. I wasn't asking you +for half your fortune, nor even a dab of it, but if your life wasn't +worth a few hundred pounds--you, with all that money--well, it wasn't +worth saving. So now you know. I've spent ninepence to give you a chance +to hop it, because I met a gent who has been good to me. I've had a good +dinner and I feel merciful. So there you are.” + +“Do I gather,” Sir Timothy asked, in a perfectly level tone, “that the +deed is already done?” + +“It's already done and done thoroughly,” was the uncompromising answer. +“I'm not ringing up to ask you to change your mind. If you were to offer +me five thousand now, or ten, I couldn't stop the bally thing. You've a +sporting chance of getting away if you start at once. That's all there +is to it.” + +“You have nothing more to say?” + +“Nothing! Only I wish to God I'd never stepped into that Mayfair agency. +I wish I'd never gone to Mrs. Hilditch's as a temporary butler. I wish +I'd never seen any one of you! That's all. You can go to Hell which way +you like, only, if you take my advice, you'll go by the way of South +America. The scaffold isn't every man's fancy.” + +There was a burr of the instrument and then silence. Sir Timothy +carefully replaced the receiver, paused on his way out of the room to +smell a great bowl of lavender, and passed back into the garden. + +“More applicants for invitations?” Lady Cynthia enquired lazily. + +Her host smiled. + +“Not exactly! Although,” he added, “as a matter of fact my party would +have been perhaps a little more complete with the presence of the person +to whom I have been speaking.” + +Lady Cynthia pointed to the stream, down which the punt was slowly +drifting. The moon had gone behind a cloud, and Francis' figure, as he +stood there, was undefined and ghostly. A thought seemed to flash into +her mind. She leaned forward. + +“Once,” she said, “he told me that he was your enemy.” + +“The term is a little melodramatic,” Sir Timothy protested. “We look +at certain things from opposite points of view. You see, my prospective +son-in-law, if ever he becomes that, represents the law--the Law with a +capital 'L'--which recognises no human errors or weaknesses, and judges +crime out of the musty books of the law-givers of old. He makes of the +law a mechanical thing which can neither bend nor give, and he judges +humanity from the same standpoint. Yet at heart he is a good fellow and +I like him.” + +“And you?” + +“My weakness lies the other way,” he confessed, “and my sympathy is with +those who do not fear to make their own laws.” + +She held out her hand, white and spectral in the momentary gloom. At the +other end of the lawn, Francis and Margaret were disembarking from the +punt. + +“Does it sound too shockingly obvious,” she murmured, “if I say that I +want to make you my law?” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +It would have puzzled anybody, except, perhaps, Lady Cynthia herself, to +have detected the slightest alteration in Sir Timothy's demeanour during +the following day, when he made fitful appearances at The Sanctuary, or +at the dinner which was served a little earlier than usual, before his +final departure for the scene of the festivities. Once he paused in the +act of helping himself to some dish and listened for a moment to the +sound of voices in the hall, and when a taxicab drove up he set down his +glass and again betrayed some interest. + +“The maid with my frock, thank heavens!” Lady Cynthia announced, +glancing out of the window. “My last anxiety is removed. I am looking +forward now to a wonderful night.” + +“You may very easily be disappointed,” her host warned her. “My +entertainments appeal more, as a rule, to men.” + +“Why don't you be thoroughly original and issue no invitations to women +at all?” Margaret enquired. + +“For the same reason that you adorn your rooms and the dinner-table with +flowers,” he answered. “One needs them--as a relief. Apart from that, I +am really proud of my dancing-room, and there again, you see, your sex +is necessary.” + +“We are flattered,” Margaret declared, with a little bow. “It does seem +queer to think that you should own what Cynthia's cousin, Davy Hinton, +once told me was the best floor in London, and that I have never danced +on it.” + +“Nor I,” Lady Cynthia put in. “There might have been some excuse for not +asking you, Margaret, but why an ultra-Bohemian like myself has had to +beg and plead for an invitation, I really cannot imagine.” + +“You might find,” Sir Timothy said, “you may even now--that some of my +men guests are not altogether to your liking.” + +“Quite content to take my risk,” Lady Cynthia declared cheerfully. “The +man with the best manners I ever met--it was at one of Maggie's studio +dances, too--was a bookmaker. And a retired prize-fighter brought me +home once from an Albert Hall dance.” + +“How did he behave?” Francis asked. + +“He was wistful but restrained,” Lady Cynthia replied, “quite the +gentleman, in fact.” + +“You encourage me to hope for the best,” Sir Timothy said, rising to his +feet. “You will excuse me now? I have a few final preparations to make.” + +“Are we to be allowed,” Margaret enquired, “to come across the park?” + +“You would not find it convenient,” her father assured her. “You had +better order a car, say for ten o'clock. Don't forget to bring your +cards of invitation, and find me immediately you arrive. I wish to +direct your proceedings to some extent.” + +Lady Cynthia strolled across with him to the postern-gate and stood +by his side after he had opened it. Several of the animals, grazing in +different parts of the park, pricked up their ears at the sound. An old +mare came hobbling towards him; a flea-bitten grey came trotting down +the field, his head in the air, neighing loudly. + +“You waste a great deal of tenderness upon your animal friends, dear +host,” she murmured. + +He deliberately looked away from her. + +“The reciprocation, at any rate, has its disadvantages,” he remarked, +glancing a little disconsolately at the brown hairs upon his +coat-sleeve. “I shall have to find another coat before I can receive my +guests--which is a further reason,” he added, “why I must hurry.” + +At the entrance to the great gates of The Walled House, two men in +livery were standing. One of them examined with care the red cards of +invitation, and as soon as he was satisfied the gates were opened by +some unseen agency. The moment the car had passed through, they were +closed again. + +“Father seems thoroughly mediaeval over this business,” Margaret +remarked, looking about her with interest. “What a quaint courtyard, +too! It really is quite Italian.” + +“It seems almost incredible that you have never been here!” Lady Cynthia +exclaimed. “Curiosity would have brought me if I had had to climb over +the wall!” + +“It does seem absurd in one way,” Margaret agreed, “but, as a matter +of fact, my father's attitude about the place has always rather set me +against it. I didn't feel that there was any pleasure to be gained by +coming here. I won't tell you really what I did think. We must keep to +our bargain. We are not to anticipâté.” + +At the front entrance, under the covered portico, the white tickets +which they had received in exchange for their tickets of invitation, +were carefully collected by another man, who stopped the car a few yards +from the broad, curving steps. After that, there was no more suggestion +of inhospitality. The front doors, which were of enormous size and +height, seemed to have been removed, and in the great domed hall beyond +Sir Timothy was already receiving his guests. Being without wraps, the +little party made an immediate entrance. Sir Timothy, who was talking to +one of the best-known of the foreign ambassadors, took a step forward to +meet them. + +“Welcome,” he said, “you, the most unique party, at least, amongst my +guests. Prince, may I present you to my daughter, Mrs. Hilditch? Lady +Cynthia Milton and Mr. Ledsam you know, I believe.” + +“Your father has just been preparing me for this pleasure,” the Prince +remarked, with a smile. “I am delighted that his views as regards these +wonderful parties are becoming a little more--would it be correct to say +latitudinarian? He has certainly been very strict up to now.” + +“It is the first time I have been vouchsafed an invitation,” Margaret +confessed. + +“You will find much to interest you,” the Prince observed. “For myself, +I love the sport of which your father is so noble a patron. That, +without doubt, though, is a side of his entertainment of which you will +know nothing.” + +Sir Timothy, choosing a moment's respite from the inflowing stream of +guests, came once more across to them. + +“I am going to leave you, my honoured guests from The Sanctuary,” he +said, with a faint smile, “to yourselves for a short time. In the room +to your left, supper is being served. In front is the dancing-gallery. +To the right, as you see, is the lounge leading into the winter-garden. +The gymnasium is closed until midnight. Any other part of the place +please explore at your leisure, but I am going to ask you one thing. +I want you to meet me in a room which I will show you, at a quarter to +twelve.” + +He led them down one of the corridors which opened from the hall. Before +the first door on the right a man-servant was standing as though +on sentry duty. Sir Timothy tapped the panel of the door with his +forefinger. + +“This is my sanctum,” he announced. “I allow no one in here without +special permission. I find it useful to have a place to which one can +come and rest quite quietly sometimes. Williams here has no other duty +except to guard the entrance. Williams, you will allow this gentleman +and these two ladies to pass in at a quarter to twelve.” + +The man looked at them searchingly. + +“Certainly, sir,” he said. “No one else?” + +“No one, under any pretext.” + +Sir Timothy hurried back to the hall, and the others followed him in +more leisurely fashion. They were all three full of curiosity. + +“I never dreamed,” Margaret declared, as she looked around her, “that +I should ever find myself inside this house. It has always seemed to +me like one great bluebeard's chamber. If ever my father spoke of it at +all, it was as of a place which he intended to convert into a sort of +miniature Hell.” + +Sir Timothy leaned back to speak to them as they passed. + +“You will find a friend over there, Ledsam,” he said. + +Wilmore turned around and faced them. The two men exchanged somewhat +surprised greetings. + +“No idea that I was coming until this afternoon,” Wilmore explained. “I +got my card at five o'clock, with a note from Sir Timothy's secretary. I +am racking my brains to imagine what it can mean.” + +“We're all a little addled,” Francis confessed. “Come and join our +tour of exploration. You know Lady Cynthia. Let me present you to Mrs. +Hilditch.” + +The introduction was effected and they all, strolled on together. +Margaret and Lady Cynthia led the way into the winter-garden, a palace +of glass, tall palms, banks of exotics, flowering shrubs of every +description, and a fountain, with wonderfully carved water nymphs, +brought with its basin from Italy. Hidden in the foliage, a small +orchestra was playing very softly. The atmosphere of the place was +languorous and delicious. + +“Leave us here,” Margaret insisted, with a little exclamation of +content. “Neither Cynthia nor I want to go any further. Come back and +fetch us in time for our appointment.” + +The two men wandered off. The place was indeed a marvel of architecture, +a country house, of which only the shell remained, modernised and made +wonderful by the genius of a great architect. The first room which +they entered when they left the winter-garden, was as large as a small +restaurant, panelled in cream colour, with a marvellous ceiling. There +were tables of various sizes laid for supper, rows of champagne bottles +in ice buckets, and servants eagerly waiting for orders. Already a +sprinkling of the guests had found their way here. The two men crossed +the floor to the cocktail bar in the far corner, behind which a familiar +face grinned at them. It was Jimmy, the bartender from Soto's, who stood +there with a wonderful array of bottles on a walnut table. + +“If it were not a perfectly fatuous question, I should ask what you were +doing here, Jimmy?” Francis remarked. + +“I always come for Sir Timothy's big parties, sir,” Jimmy explained. +“Your first visit, isn't it, sir?” + +“My first,” Francis assented. + +“And mine,” his companion echoed. + +“What can I have the pleasure of making for you, sir?” the man enquired. + +“A difficult question,” Francis admitted. “It is barely an hour and a +half since we finished dinner. On the other hand, we are certainly going +to have some supper some time or other.” + +Jimmy nodded understandingly. + +“Leave it to me, sir,” he begged. + +He served them with a foaming white concoction in tall glasses. A +genuine lime bobbed up and down in the liquid. + +“Sir Timothy has the limes sent over from his own estate in South +America,” Jimmy announced. “You will find some things in that drink you +don't often taste.” + +The two men sipped their beverage and pronounced it delightful. Jimmy +leaned a little across the table. + +“A big thing on to-night, isn't there, sir?” he asked cautiously. + +“Is there?” Francis replied. “You mean--?” + +Jimmy motioned towards the open window, close to which the river was +flowing by. + +“You going down, sir?” + +Francis shook his head dubiously. + +“Where to?” + +The bartender looked with narrowed eyes from one to the other of the two +men. Then he suddenly froze up. Wilmore leaned a little further over the +impromptu counter. + +“Jimmy,” he asked, “what goes on here besides dancing and boxing and +gambling?” + +“I never heard of any gambling,” Jimmy answered, shaking his head. “Sir +Timothy doesn't care about cards being played here at all.” + +“What is the principal entertainment, then?” Francis demanded. “The +boxing?” + +The bartender shook his head. + +“No one understands very much about this house, sir,” he said, “except +that it offers the most wonderful entertainment in Europe. That is +for the guests to find out, though. We servants have to attend to our +duties. Will you let me mix you another drink, sir?” + +“No, thanks,” Francis answered. “The last was too good to spoil. But you +haven't answered my question, Jimmy. What did you mean when you asked if +we were going down?” + +Jimmy's face had become wooden. + +“I meant nothing, sir,” he said. “Sorry I spoke.” + +The two men turned away. They recognised many acquaintances in the +supper-room, and in the long gallery beyond, where many couples were +dancing now to the music of a wonderful orchestra. By slow stages +they made their way back to the winter-garden, where Lady Cynthia and +Margaret were still lost in admiration of their surroundings. They all +walked the whole length of the place. Beyond, down a flight of stone +steps, was a short, paved way to the river. A large electric launch +was moored at the quay. The grounds outside were dimly illuminated with +cunningly-hidden electric lights shining through purple-coloured globes +into the cloudy darkness. In the background, enveloping the whole of the +house and reaching to the river on either side, the great wall loomed +up, unlit, menacing almost in its suggestions. A couple of loiterers +stood within a few yards of them, looking at the launch. + +“There she is, ready for her errand, whatever it may be,” one said to +the other curiously. “We couldn't play the stowaway, I suppose, could +we?” + +“Dicky Bell did that once,” the other answered. “Sir Timothy has only +one way with intruders. He was thrown into the river and jolly nearly +drowned.” + +The two men passed out of hearing. + +“I wonder what part the launch plays in the night's entertainment,” + Wilmore observed. + +Francis shrugged his shoulders. + +“I have given up wondering,” he said. “Margaret, do you hear that +music?” + +She laughed. + +“Are we really to dance?” she murmured. “Do you want to make a girl of +me again?” + +“Well, I shouldn't be a magician, should I?” he answered. + +They passed into the ballroom and danced for some time. The music was +seductive and perfect, without any of the blatant notes of too many of +the popular orchestras. The floor seemed to sway under their feet. + +“This is a new joy come back into life!” Margaret exclaimed, as they +rested for a moment. + +“The first of many,” he assured her. + +They stood in the archway between the winter-garden and the +dancing-gallery, from which they could command a view of the passing +crowds. Francis scanned the faces of the men and women with intense +interest. Many of them were known to him by sight, others were +strangers. There was a judge, a Cabinet Minister, various members of the +aristocracy, a sprinkling from the foreign legations, and although the +stage was not largely represented, there were one or two well-known +actors. The guests seemed to belong to no universal social order, but to +Francis, watching them almost eagerly, they all seemed to have something +of the same expression, the same slight air of weariness, of restless +and unsatisfied desires. + +“I can't believe that the place is real, or that these people we see are +not supers,” Margaret whispered. + +“I feel every moment that a clock will strike and that it will all fade +away.” + +“I'm afraid I'm too material for such imaginings,” Francis replied, “but +there is a quaintly artificial air about it all. We must go and look for +Wilmore and Lady Cynthia.” + +They turned back into the enervating atmosphere of the winter-garden, +and came suddenly face to face with Sir Timothy, who had escorted a +little party of his guests to see the fountain, and was now returning +alone. + +“You have been dancing, I am glad to see,” the latter observed. “I trust +that you are amusing yourselves?” + +“Excellently, thank you,” Francis replied. + +“And so far,” Sir Timothy went on, with a faint smile, “you find my +entertainment normal? You have no question yet which you would like to +ask?” + +“Only one--what do you do with your launch up the river on moonless +nights, Sir Timothy?” + +Sir Timothy's momentary silence was full of ominous significance. + +“Mr. Ledsam,” he said, after a brief pause, “I have given you almost +carte blanche to explore my domains here. Concerning the launch, +however, I think that you had better ask no questions at present.” + +“You are using it to-night?” Francis persisted. + +“Will you come and see, my venturesome guest?” + +“With great pleasure,” was the prompt reply. + +Sir Timothy glanced at his watch. + +“That,” he said, “is one of the matters of which we will speak at a +quarter to twelve. Meanwhile, let me show you something. It may amuse +you as it has done me.” + +The three moved back towards one of the arched openings which led into +the ballroom. + +“Observe, if you please,” their host continued, “the third couple who +pass us. The girl is wearing green--the very little that she does wear. +Watch the man, and see if he reminds you of any one.” + +Francis did as he was bidden. The girl was a well-known member of the +chorus of one of the principal musical comedies, and she seemed to be +thoroughly enjoying both the dance and her partner. The latter appeared +to be of a somewhat ordinary type, sallow, with rather puffy cheeks, and +eyes almost unnaturally dark. He danced vigorously and he talked all the +time. Something about him was vaguely familiar to Francis, but he failed +to place him. + +“Notwithstanding all my precautions,” Sir Timothy continued, “there, +fondly believing himself to be unnoticed, is an emissary of +Scotland Yard. Really, of all the obvious, the dry-as-dust, +hunt-your-criminal-by-rule-of-three kind of people I ever met, the class +of detective to which this man belongs can produce the most blatant +examples.” + +“What are you going to do about him?” Francis asked. + +Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. + +“I have not yet made up my mind,” he said. “I happen to know that he +has been laying his plans for weeks to get here, frequenting Soto's and +other restaurants, and scraping acquaintances with some of my friends. +The Duke of Tadchester brought him--won a few hundreds from him at +baccarat, I suppose. His grace will never again find these doors open to +him.” + +Francis' attention had wandered. He was gazing fixedly at the man whom +Sir Timothy had pointed out. + +“You still do not fully recognise our friend,” the latter observed +carelessly. “He calls himself Manuel Loito, and he professes to be +a Cuban. His real name I understood, when you introduced us, to be +Shopland.” + +“Great heavens, so it is!” Francis exclaimed. + +“Let us leave him to his precarious pleasures,” Sir Timothy suggested. +“I am free for a few moments. We will wander round together.” + +They found Lady Cynthia and Wilmore, and looked in at the supper-room, +where people were waiting now for tables, a babel of sound and gaiety. +The grounds and winter-gardens were crowded. Their guide led the way to +a large apartment on the other side of the hall, from which the sound of +music was proceeding. + +“My theatre,” he said. “I wonder what is going on.” + +They passed inside. There was a small stage with steps leading down to +the floor, easy-chairs and round tables everywhere, and waiters serving +refreshments. A girl was dancing. Sir Timothy watched her approvingly. + +“Nadia Ellistoff,” he told them. “She was in the last Russian ballet, +and she is waiting now for the rest of the company to start again at +Covent Garden. You see, it is Metzger who plays there. They improvise. +Rather a wonderful performance, I think.” + +They watched her breathlessly, a spirit in grey tulle, with great black +eyes now and then half closed. + +“It is 'Wind before Dawn,'” Lady Cynthia whispered. “I heard him play it +two days after he composed it, only there are variations now. She is the +soul of the south wind.” + +The curtain went down amidst rapturous applause. The dancer had left the +stage, floating away into some sort of wonderfully-contrived nebulous +background. Within a few moments, the principal comedian of the day was +telling stories. Sir Timothy led them away. + +“But how on earth do you get all these people?” Lady Cynthia asked. + +“It is arranged for me,” Sir Timothy replied. “I have an agent who sees +to it all. Every man or woman who is asked to perform, has a credit at +Cartier's for a hundred guineas. I pay no fees. They select some little +keepsake.” + +Margaret laughed softly. + +“No wonder they call this place a sort of Arabian Nights!” she declared. + +“Well, there isn't much else for you to see,” Sir Timothy said +thoughtfully. “My gymnasium, which is one of the principal features +here, is closed just now for a special performance, of which I will +speak in a moment. The concert hall I see they are using for an overflow +dance-room. What you have seen, with the grounds and the winter-garden, +comprises almost everything.” + +They moved back through the hall with difficulty. People were now +crowding in. Lady Cynthia laughed softly. + +“Why, it is like a gala night at the Opera, Sir Timothy!” she exclaimed. +“How dare you pretend that this is Bohemia!” + +“It has never been I who have described my entertainments,” he reminded +her. “They have been called everything--orgies, debauches--everything +you can think of. I have never ventured myself to describe them.” + +Their passage was difficult. Every now and then Sir Timothy was +compelled to shake hands with some of his newly-arriving guests. At +last, however, they reached the little sitting-room. Sir Timothy turned +back to Wilmore, who hesitated. + +“You had better come in, too, Mr. Wilmore, if you will,” he invited. +“You were with Ledsam, the first day we met, and something which I have +to say now may interest you.” + +“If I am not intruding,” Wilmore murmured. + +They entered the room, still jealously guarded. Sir Timothy closed the +door behind them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +The apartment was one belonging to the older portion of the house, +and had been, in fact, an annex to the great library. The walls were +oak-panelled, and hung with a collection of old prints. There were some +easy-chairs, a writing-table, and some well-laden bookcases. There +were one or two bronze statues of gladiators, a wonderful study of two +wrestlers, no minor ornaments. Sir Timothy plunged at once into what he +had to say. + +“I promised you, Lady Cynthia, and you, Ledsam,” he said, “to divulge +exactly the truth as regards these much-talked-of entertainments here. +You, Margaret, under present circumstances, are equally interested. You, +Wilmore, are Ledsam's friend, and you happen to have an interest in this +particular party. Therefore, I am glad to have you all here together. +The superficial part of my entertainment you have seen. The part which +renders it necessary for me to keep closed doors, I shall now explain. +I give prizes here of considerable value for boxing contests which are +conducted under rules of our own. One is due to take place in a very few +minutes. The contests vary in character, but I may say that the chief +officials of the National Sporting Club are usually to be found here, +only, of course, in an unofficial capacity. The difference between the +contests arranged by me, and others, is that my men are here to fight. +They use sometimes an illegal weight of glove and they sometimes hurt +one another. If any two of the boxing fraternity have a grudge against +one another, and that often happens, they are permitted here to fight +it out, under the strictest control as regards fairness, but practically +without gloves at all. You heard of the accident, for instance, to +Norris? That happened in my gymnasium. He was knocked out by Burgin. It +was a wonderful fight. + +“However, I pass on. There is another class of contest which frequently +takes place here. Two boxers place themselves unreservedly in my hands. +The details of the match are arranged without their knowledge. They come +into the ring without knowing whom they are going to fight. Sometimes +they never know, for my men wear masks. Then we have private matches. +There is one to-night. Lord Meadowson and I have a wager of a thousand +guineas. He has brought to-night from the East End a boxer who, +according to the terms of our bet, has never before engaged in +a professional contest. I have brought an amateur under the same +conditions. The weight is within a few pounds the same, neither has ever +seen the other, only in this case the fight is with regulation gloves +and under Queensberry rules.” + +“Who is your amateur, Sir Timothy?” Wilmore asked harshly. + +“Your brother, Mr. Wilmore,” was the prompt reply. “You shall see the +fight if I have your promise not to attempt in any way to interfere.” + +Wilmore rose to his feet. + +“Do you mean to tell me,” he demanded, “that my brother has been decoyed +here, kept here against his will, to provide amusement for your guests?” + +“Mr. Wilmore, I beg that you will be reasonable,” Sir Timothy +expostulated. “I saw your brother box at his gymnasium in Holborn. My +agent made him the offer of this fight. One of my conditions had to +be that he came here to train and that whilst he was here he held no +communication whatever with the outside world. My trainer has ideas of +his own and this he insists upon. Your brother in the end acquiesced. +He was at first difficult to deal with as regards this condition, and +he did, in fact, I believe, Mr. Ledsam, pay a visit to your office, with +the object of asking you to become an intermediary between him and his +relatives.” + +“He began a letter to me,” Francis interposed, “and then mysteriously +disappeared.” + +“The mystery is easily explained,” Sir Timothy continued. “My trainer, +Roger Hagon, a Varsity blue, and the best heavyweight of his year, +occupies the chambers above yours. He saw from the window the arrival of +Reginald Wilmore--which was according to instructions, as they were to +come down to Hatch End together--went down the stairs to meet him, +and, to cut a long story short, fetched him out of your office, Ledsam, +without allowing him to finish his letter. This absolute isolation +seems a curious condition, perhaps, but Hagon insists upon it, and I can +assure you that he knows his business. The mystery, as you have termed +it, of his disappearance that morning, is that he went upstairs with +Hagon for several hours to undergo a medical examination, instead of +leaving the building forthwith.” + +“Queer thing I never thought of Hagon,” Francis remarked. “As a matter +of fact, I never see him in the Temple, and I thought that he had left.” + +“May I ask,” Wilmore intervened, “when my brother will be free to return +to his home?” + +“To-night, directly the fight is over,” Sir Timothy replied. “Should he +be successful, he will take with him a sum of money sufficient to start +him in any business he chooses to enter.” + +Wilmore frowned slightly. + +“But surely,” he protested, “that would make him a professional +pugilist?” + +“Not at all,” Sir Timothy replied. “For one thing, the match is a +private one in a private house, and for another the money is a gift. +There is no purse. If your brother loses, he gets nothing. Will you see +the fight, Mr. Wilmore?” + +“Yes, I will see it,” was the somewhat reluctant assent. + +“You will give me your word not to interfere in any way?” + +“I shall not interfere,” Wilmore promised. “If they are wearing +regulation gloves, and the weights are about equal, and the conditions +are what you say, it is the last thing I should wish to do.” + +“Capital!” Sir Timothy exclaimed. “Now to pass on. There is one other +feature of my entertainments concerning which I have something to say--a +series of performances which takes place on my launch at odd times. +There is one fixed for tonight. I can say little about it except that +it is unusual. I am going to ask you, Lady Cynthia, and you, Ledsam, to +witness it. When you have seen that, you know everything. Then you and +I, Ledsam, can call one another's hands. I shall have something else to +say to you, but that is outside the doings here.” + +“Are we to see the fight in the gymnasium?” Lady Cynthia enquired. + +Sir Timothy shook his head. + +“I do not allow women there under any conditions,” he said. “You and +Margaret had better stay here whilst that takes place. It will probably +be over in twenty minutes. It will be time then for us to find our way +to the launch. After that, if you have any appetite, supper. I will +order some caviare sandwiches for you,” Sir Timothy went on, ringing the +bell, “and some wine.” + +Lady Cynthia smiled. + +“It is really a very wonderful party,” she murmured. + +Their host ushered the two men across the hall, now comparatively +deserted, for every one had settled down to his or her chosen +amusement--down a long passage, through a private door which he unlocked +with a Yale key, and into the gymnasium. There were less than fifty +spectators seated around the ring, and Francis, glancing at them +hastily, fancied that he recognised nearly every one of them. There was +Baker, a judge, a couple of actors, Lord Meadowson, the most renowned of +sporting peers, and a dozen who followed in his footsteps; a little man +who had once been amateur champion in the bantam class, and who was +now considered the finest judge of boxing in the world; a theatrical +manager, the present amateur boxing champion, and a sprinkling of +others. Sir Timothy and his companions took their chairs amidst a +buzz of welcome. Almost immediately, the man who was in charge of the +proceedings, and whose name was Harrison, rose from his place. + +“Gentlemen,” he said, “this is a sporting contest, but one under unusual +rules and unusual conditions. An amateur, who tips the scales at twelve +stone seven, who has never engaged in a boxing contest in his life, is +matched against a young man from a different sphere of life, who intends +to adopt the ring as his profession, but who has never as yet fought in +public. Names, gentlemen, as you know, are seldom mentioned here. I will +only say that the first in the ring is the nominee of our friend and +host, Sir Timothy Brast; second comes the nominee of Lord Meadowson.” + +Wilmore, notwithstanding his pre-knowledge, gave a little gasp. The +young man who stood now within a few yards of him, carelessly swinging +his gloves in his hand, was without a doubt his missing brother. He +looked well and in the pink of condition; not only well but entirely +confident and at his ease. His opponent, on the other hand, a sturdier +man, a few inches shorter, was nervous and awkward, though none the less +determined-looking. Sir Timothy rose and whispered in Harrison's +ear. The latter nodded. In a very few moments the preliminaries were +concluded, the fight begun. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +Francis, glad of a moment or two's solitude in which to rearrange his +somewhat distorted sensations, found an empty space in the stern of the +launch and stood leaning over the rail. His pulses were still tingling +with the indubitable excitement of the last half-hour. It was all there, +even now, before his eyes like a cinematograph picture--the duel between +those two men, a duel of knowledge, of strength, of science, of courage. +From beginning to end, there had been no moment when Francis had felt +that he was looking on at what was in any way a degrading or immoral +spectacle. Each man had fought in his way to win. Young Wilmore, +graceful as a panther, with a keen, joyous desire of youth for supremacy +written in his face and in the dogged lines of his mouth; the budding +champion from the East End less graceful, perhaps, but with even more +strength and at least as much determination, had certainly done his best +to justify his selection. There were no points to be scored. There +had been no undue feinting, no holding, few of the tricks of the +professional ring. It was a fight to a finish, or until Harrison gave +the word. And the better man had won. But even that knock-out blow which +Reggie Wilmore had delivered after a wonderful feint, had had little +that was cruel in it. There was something beautiful almost in the +strength and grace with which it had been delivered--the breathless +eagerness, the waiting, the end. + +Francis felt a touch upon his arm and looked around. A tall, sad-faced +looking woman, whom he had noticed with a vague sense of familiarity in +the dancing-room, was standing by his side. + +“You have forgotten me, Mr. Ledsam,” she said. + +“For the moment,” he admitted. + +“I am Isabel Culbridge,” she told him, watching his face. + +“Lady Isabel?” Francis repeated incredulously. “But surely--” + +“Better not contradict me,” she interrupted. “Look again.” + +Francis looked again. + +“I am very sorry,” he said. “It is some time, is it not, since we met?” + +She stood by his side, and for a few moments neither of them spoke. The +little orchestra in the bows had commenced to play softly, but there +was none of the merriment amongst the handful of men and women generally +associated with a midnight river picnic. The moon was temporarily +obscured, and it seemed as though some artist's hand had so dealt with +the few electric lights that the men, with their pale faces and white +shirt-fronts, and the three or four women, most of them, as it happened, +wearing black, were like some ghostly figures in some sombre procession. +Only the music kept up the pretence that this was in any way an ordinary +excursion. Amongst the human element there was an air of tenseness which +seemed rather to increase as they passed into the shadowy reaches of the +river. + +“You have been ill, I am afraid?” Francis said tentatively. + +“If you will,” she answered, “but my illness is of the soul. I have +become one of a type,” she went on, “of which you will find many +examples here. We started life thinking that it was clever to despise +the conventional and the known and to seek always for the daring and the +unknown. New experiences were what we craved for. I married a wonderful +husband. I broke his heart and still looked for new things. I had a +daughter of whom I was fond--she ran away with my chauffeur and left me; +a son whom I adored, and he was killed in the war; a lover who told +me that he worshipped me, who spent every penny I had and made me the +laughing-stock of town. I am still looking for new things.” + +“Sir Timothy's parties are generally supposed to provide them,” Francis +observed. + +The woman shrugged her shoulders. + +“So far they seem very much like anybody's else,” she said. “The fight +might have been amusing, but no women were allowed. The rest was very +wonderful in its way, but that is all. I am still hoping for what we are +to see downstairs.” + +They heard Sir Timothy's voice a few yards away, and turned to look at +him. He had just come from below, and had paused opposite a man who had +been standing a little apart from the others, one of the few who was +wearing an overcoat, as though he felt the cold. In the background were +the two servants who had guarded the gangway. + +“Mr. Manuel Loito,” Sir Timothy said--“or shall I say Mr. Shopland?--my +invited guests are welcome. I have only one method of dealing with +uninvited ones.” + +The two men suddenly stepped forward. Shopland made no protest, +attempted no struggle. They lifted him off his feet as though he were a +baby, and a moment later there was a splash in the water. They threw a +life-belt after him. + +“Always humane, you see,” Sir Timothy remarked, as he leaned over the +side. “Ah! I see that even in his overcoat our friend is swimmer enough +to reach the bank. You find our methods harsh, Ledsam?” he asked, +turning a challenging gaze towards the latter. + +Francis, who had been watching Shopland come to the surface, shrugged +his shoulders. He delayed answering for a moment while he watched the +detective, disdaining the life-belt, swim to the opposite shore. + +“I suppose that under the circumstances,” Francis said, “he was prepared +to take his risk.” + +“You should know best about that,” Sir Timothy rejoined. “I wonder +whether you would mind looking after Lady Cynthia? I shall be busy for a +few moments.” + +Francis stepped across the deck towards where Lady Cynthia had been +sitting by her host's side. They had passed into the mouth of a +tree-hung strip of the river. The engine was suddenly shut off. A gong +was sounded. There was a murmur, almost a sob of relief, as the little +sprinkling of men and women rose hastily to their feet and made their +way towards the companion-way. Downstairs, in the saloon, with its white +satinwood panels and rows of swing chairs, heavy curtains were drawn +across the portholes, all outside light was shut out from the place. At +the further end, raised slightly from the floor, was a sanded circle. +Sir Timothy made his way to one of the pillars by its side and turned +around to face the little company of his guests. His voice, though it +seemed scarcely raised above a whisper, was extraordinarily clear and +distinct. Even Francis, who, with Lady Cynthia, had found seats only +just inside the door, could hear every word he said. + +“My friends,” he began, “you have often before been my guests at such +small fights as we have been able to arrange in as unorthodox a manner +as possible between professional boxers. There has been some novelty +about them, but on the last occasion I think it was generally +observed that they had become a little too professional, a little +ultra-scientific. There was something which they lacked. With that +something I am hoping to provide you to-night. Thank you, Sir Edgar,” he +murmured, leaning down towards his neighbour. + +He held his cigarette in the flame of a match which the other had +kindled. Francis, who was watching intently, was puzzled at the +expression with which for a moment, as he straightened himself, Sir +Timothy glanced down the room, seeking for Lady Cynthia's eyes. In +a sense it was as though he were seeking for something he +needed--approbation, sympathy, understanding. + +“Our hobby, as you know, has been reality,” he continued. “That is what +we have not always been able to achieve. Tonight I offer you reality. +There are two men here, one an East End coster, the other an Italian +until lately associated with an itinerant vehicle of musical production. +These two men have not outlived sensation as I fancy so many of us +have. They hate one another to the death. I forget their surnames, +but Guiseppe has stolen Jim's girl, is living with her at the present +moment, and proposes to keep her. Jim has sworn to have the lives of +both of them. Jim's career, in its way, is interesting to us. He has +spent already six years in prison for manslaughter, and a year for +a brutal assault upon a constable. Guiseppe was tried in his native +country for a particularly fiendish murder, and escaped, owing, I +believe, to some legal technicality. That, however, has nothing to do +with the matter. These men have sworn to fight to the death, and +the girl, I understand, is willing to return to Jim if he should be +successful, or to remain with Guiseppe if he should show himself able +to retain her. The fight between these men, my friends, has been +transferred from Seven Dials for your entertainment. It will take place +before you here and now.” + +There was a little shiver amongst the audience. Francis, almost to his +horror, was unable to resist the feeling of queer excitement which stole +through his veins. A few yards away, Lady Isabel seemed to have become +transformed. She was leaning forward in her chair, her eyes glowing, +her lips parted, rejuvenated, dehumanised. Francis' immediate companion, +however, rather surprised him. Her eyes were fixed intently upon Sir +Timothy's. She seemed to have been weighing every word he had spoken. +There was none of that hungry pleasure in her face which shone from the +other woman's and was reflected in the faces of many of the others. She +seemed to be bracing herself for a shock. Sir Timothy looked over his +shoulder towards the door which opened upon the sanded space. + +“You can bring your men along,” he directed. + +One of the attendants promptly made his appearance. He was holding +tightly by the arm a man of apparently thirty years of age, shabbily +dressed, barefooted, without collar or necktie, with a mass of black +hair which looked as though it had escaped the care of any barber for +many weeks. His complexion was sallow; he had high cheekbones and a +receding chin, which gave him rather the appearance of a fox. He shrank +a little from the lights as though they hurt his eyes, and all the time +he looked furtively back to the door, through which in a moment or two +his rival was presently escorted. The latter was a young man of stockier +build, ill-conditioned, and with the brutal face of the lowest of his +class. Two of his front teeth were missing, and there was a livid mark +on the side of his cheek. He looked neither to the right nor to the +left. His eyes were fixed upon the other man, and they looked death. + +“The gentleman who first appeared,” Sir Timothy observed, stepping up +into the sanded space but still half facing the audience, “is Guiseppe, +the Lothario of this little act. The other is Jim, the wronged +husband. You know their story. Now, Jim,” he added, turning towards +the Englishman, “I put in your trousers pocket these notes, two hundred +pounds, you will perceive. I place in the trousers pocket of Guiseppe +here notes to the same amount. I understand you have a little quarrel to +fight out. The one who wins will naturally help himself to the other's +money, together with that other little reward which I imagine was the +first cause of your quarrel. Now... let them go.” + +Sir Timothy resumed his seat and leaned back in leisurely fashion. The +two attendants solemnly released their captives. There was a moment's +intense silence. The two men seemed fencing for position. There was +something stealthy and horrible about their movements as they crept +around one another. Francis realised what it was almost as the little +sobbing breath from those of the audience who still retained any +emotion, showed him that they, too, foresaw what was going to happen. +Both men had drawn knives from their belts. It was murder which had been +let loose. + +Francis found himself almost immediately upon his feet. His whole being +seemed crying out for interference. Lady Cynthia's death-white face and +pleading eyes seemed like the echo of his own passionate aversion to +what was taking place. Then he met Sir Timothy's gaze across the room +and he remembered his promise. Under no conditions was he to protest +or interfere. He set his teeth and resumed his seat. The fight went +on. There were little sobs and tremors of excitement, strange banks of +silence. Both men seemed out of condition. The sound of their hoarse +breathing was easily heard against the curtain of spellbound silence. +For a time their knives stabbed the empty air, but from the first the +end seemed certain. The Englishman attacked wildly. His adversary waited +his time, content with avoiding the murderous blows struck at him, +striving all the time to steal underneath the other's guard. And then, +almost without warning, it was all over. Jim was on his back in a +crumpled heap. There was a horrid stain upon his coat. The other man +was kneeling by his side, hate, glaring out of his eyes, guiding all +the time the rising and falling of his knife. There was one more +shriek--then silence only the sound of the victor's breathing as he rose +slowly from his ghastly task. Sir Timothy rose to his feet and waved his +hand. The curtain went down. + +“On deck, if you please, ladies and gentlemen,” he said calmly. + +No one stirred. A woman began to sob. A fat, unhealthy-looking man in +front of Francis reeled over in a dead faint. Two other of the guests +near had risen from their seats and were shouting aimlessly like +lunatics. Even Francis was conscious of that temporary imprisonment of +the body due to his lacerated nerves. Only the clinging of Lady Cynthia +to his arm kept him from rushing from the spot. + +“You are faint?” he whispered hoarsely. + +“Upstairs--air,” she faltered. + +They rose to their feet. The sound of Sir Timothy's voice reached them +as they ascended the stairs. + +“On deck, every one, if you please,” he insisted. “Refreshments are +being served there. There are inquisitive people who watch my launch, +and it is inadvisable to remain here long.” + +People hurried out then as though their one desire was to escape from +the scene of the tragedy. Lady Cynthia, still clinging to Francis' arm, +led him to the furthermost corner of the launch. There were real tears +in her eyes, her breath was coming in little sobs. + +“Oh, it was horrible!” she cried. “Horrible! Mr. Ledsam--I can't help +it--I never want to speak to Sir Timothy again!” + +One final horror arrested for a moment the sound of voices. There was +a dull splash in the river. Something had been thrown overboard. The +orchestra began to play dance music. Conversation suddenly burst out. +Every one was hysterical. A Peer of the Realm, red-eyed and shaking +like an aspen leaf, was drinking champagne out of the bottle. Every +one seemed to be trying to outvie the other in loud conversation, in +outrageous mirth. Lady Isabel, with a glass of champagne in her hand, +leaned back towards Francis. + +“Well,” she asked, “how are you feeling, Mr. Ledsam?” + +“As though I had spent half-an-hour in Hell,” he answered. + +She screamed with laughter. + +“Hear this man,” she called out, “who will send any poor ragamuffin to +the gallows if his fee is large enough! Of course,” she added, turning +back to him, “I ought to remember you are a normal person and to-night's +entertainment was not for normal persons. For myself I am grateful +to Sir Timothy. For a few moments of this aching aftermath of life, I +forgot.” + +Suddenly all the lights around the launch flamed out, the music stopped. +Sir Timothy came up on deck. On either side of him was a man in ordinary +dinner clothes. The babel of voices ceased. Everyone was oppressed by +some vague likeness. A breathless silence ensued. + +“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sir Timothy said, and once more the smile upon +his lips assumed its most mocking curve, “let me introduce you to the +two artists who have given us to-night such a realistic performance, +Signor Guiseppe Elito and Signor Carlos Marlini. I had the good +fortune,” he went on, “to witness this very marvellous performance in a +small music-hall at Palermo, and I was able to induce the two actors to +pay us a visit over here. Steward, these gentlemen will take a glass of +champagne.” + +The two Sicilians raised their glasses and bowed expectantly to the +little company. They received, however, a much greater tribute to their +performance than the applause which they had been expecting. There +reigned everywhere a deadly, stupefied silence. Only a half-stifled sob +broke from Lady Cynthia's lips as she leaned over the rail, her face +buried in her hands, her whole frame shaking. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +Francis and Margaret sat in the rose garden on the following morning. +Their conversation was a little disjointed, as the conversation of +lovers in a secluded and beautiful spot should be, but they came back +often to the subject of Sir Timothy. + +“If I have misunderstood your father,” Francis, declared, “and I admit +that I have, it has been to some extent his own fault. To me he was +always the deliberate scoffer against any code of morals, a rebel +against the law even if not a criminal in actual deeds. I honestly +believed that The Walled House was the scene of disreputable orgies, +that your father was behind Fairfax in that cold-blooded murder, and +that he was responsible in some sinister way for the disappearance of +Reggie Wilmore. Most of these things seem to have been shams, like the +fight last night.” + +She moved uneasily in her place. + +“I am glad I did not see that,” she said, with a shiver. + +“I think,” he went on, “that the reason why your father insisted upon +Lady Cynthia's and my presence there was that he meant it as a sort of +allegory. Half the vices in life he claims are unreal.” + +Margaret passed her arm through his and leaned a little towards him. + +“If you knew just one thing I have never told you,” she confided, “I +think that you would feel sorry for him. I do, more and more every day, +because in a way that one thing is my fault.” + +Notwithstanding the warm sunshine, she suddenly shivered. Francis took +her hands in his. They were cold and lifeless. + +“I know that one thing, dear,” he told her quietly. + +She looked at him stonily. There was a questioning fear in her eyes. + +“You know--” + +“I know that your father killed Oliver Hilditch.” + +She suddenly broke out into a stream of words. There was passion in her +tone and in her eyes. She was almost the accuser. + +“My father was right, then!” she exclaimed. “He told me this morning +that he believed that it was to you or to your friend at Scotland Yard +that Walter had told his story. But you don't know you don't know how +terrible the temptation was how--you see I say it quite coolly--how +Oliver Hilditch deserved to die. He was trusted by my father in South +America and he deceived him, he forged the letters which induced me to +marry him. It was part of his scheme of revenge. This was the first time +we had any of us met since. I told my father the truth that afternoon. +He knew for the first time how my marriage came about. My husband had +prayed me to keep silent. I refused. Then he became like a devil. We +were there, we three, that night after you left, and Francis, as I live, +if my father had not killed him, I should have!” + +“There was a time when I believed that you had,” he reminded her. “I +didn't behave like a pedagogic upholder of the letter of the law then, +did I?” + +She drew closer to him. + +“You were wonderful,” she whispered. + +“Dearest, your father has nothing to fear from me,” he assured her +tenderly. “On the contrary, I think that I can show him the way to +safety.” + +She rose impulsively to her feet. + +“He will be here directly,” she said. “He promised to come across at +half-past twelve. Let us go and meet him. But, Francis--” + +For a single moment she crept into his arms. Their lips met, her eyes +shone into his. He held her away from him a moment later. The change was +amazing. She was no longer a tired woman. She had become a girl again. +Her eyes were soft with happiness, the little lines had gone from about +her mouth, she walked with all the spring of youth and happiness. + +“It is marvellous,” she whispered. “I never dreamed that I should ever +be happy again.” + +They crossed the rustic bridge which led on to the lawn. Lady Cynthia +came out of the house to meet them. She showed no signs of fatigue, but +her eyes and her tone were full of anxiety. + +“Margaret,” she cried, “do you know that the hall is filled with your +father's luggage, and that the car is ordered to take him to Southampton +directly after lunch?” + +Margaret and Francis exchanged glances. + +“Sir Timothy may change his mind,” the latter observed. “I have news for +him directly he arrives.” + +On the other side of the wall they heard the whinnying of the old mare, +the sound of galloping feet from all directions. + +“Here he comes!” Lady Cynthia exclaimed. “I shall go and meet him.” + +Francis laid his hand upon her arm. + +“Let me have a word with him first,” he begged. + +She hesitated. + +“You are not going to say anything--that will make him want to go away?” + +“I am going to tell him something which I think will keep him at home.” + +Sir Timothy came through the postern-gate, a moment or two later. He +waved his hat and crossed the lawn in their direction. Francis went +alone to meet him and, as he drew near, was conscious of a little shock. +His host, although he held himself bravely, seemed to have aged in the +night. + +“I want one word with you, sir, in your study, please,” Francis said. + +Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders and led the way. He turned to wave +his hand once more to Margaret and Lady Cynthia, however, and he looked +with approval at the luncheon-table which a couple of servants were +laying under the cedar tree. + +“Wonderful thing, these alfresco meals,” he declared. “I hope Hedges +won't forget the maraschino with the melons. Come into my den, Ledsam.” + +He led the way in courtly fashion. He was the ideal host leading a +valued guest to his sanctum for a few moments' pleasant conversation. +But when they arrived in the little beamed room and the door was closed, +his manner changed. He looked searchingly, almost challengingly at +Francis. + +“You have news for me?” he asked. + +“Yes!” Francis answered. + +Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. He threw himself a little wearily +into an easy-chair. His hands strayed out towards a cigarette box. He +selected one and lit it. + +“I expected your friend, Mr. Shopland,” he murmured. “I hope he is none +the worse for his ducking.” + +“Shopland is a fool,” Francis replied. “He has nothing to do with this +affair, anyway. I have something to give you, Sir Timothy.” + +He took the two papers from his pocket and handed them over. + +“I bought these from John Walter the day before yesterday,” he +continued. “I gave him two hundred pounds for them. The money was just +in time. He caught a steamer for Australia late in the afternoon. I had +this wireless from him this morning.” + +Sir Timothy studied the two documents, read the wireless. There was +little change in his face. Only for a single moment his lips quivered. + +“What does this mean?” he asked, rising to his feet with the documents +in his hand. + +“It means that those papers are yours to do what you like with. I +drafted the second one so that you should be absolutely secure against +any further attempt at blackmail. As a matter of fact, though, Walter is +on his last legs. I doubt whether he will live to land in Australia.” + +“You know that I killed Oliver Hilditch?” Sir Timothy said, his eyes +fixed upon the other's. + +“I know that you killed Oliver Hilditch,” Francis repeated. “If I had +been Margaret's father, I think that I should have done the same.” + +Sir Timothy seemed suddenly very much younger. The droop of his lips was +no longer pathetic. There was a little humourous twitch there. + +“You, the great upholder of the law?” he murmured. + +“I have heard the story of Oliver Hilditch's life,” Francis replied. “I +was partially responsible for saving him from the gallows. I repeat what +I have said. And if you will--” + +He held out his hand. Sir Timothy hesitated for one moment. Instead of +taking it, he laid his hand upon Francis' shoulder. + +“Ledsam,” he said, “we have thought wrong things of one another. I +thought you a prig, moral to your finger-tips with the morality of the +law and the small places. Perhaps I was tempted for that reason to give +you a wrong impression of myself. But you must understand this. Though I +have had my standard and lived up to it all my life, I am something of +a black sheep. A man stole my wife. I did not trouble the Law Courts. I +killed him.” + +“I have the blood of generations of lawyers in my veins,” Francis +declared, “but I have read many a divorce case in which I think it would +have been better and finer if the two men had met as you and that man +met.” + +“I was born with the love of fighting in my bones,” Sir Timothy went +on. “In my younger days, I fought in every small war in the southern +hemisphere. I fought, as you know, in our own war. I have loved to see +men fight honestly and fairly.” + +“It is a man's hobby,” Francis pronounced. + +“I encouraged you deliberately to think,” Sir Timothy went on, “what +half the world thinks that--my parties at The Walled House were +mysterious orgies of vice. They have, as a matter of fact, never been +anything of the sort. The tragedies which are supposed to have taken +place on my launch have been just as much mock tragedies as last +night's, only I have not previously chosen to take the audiences into +my confidence. The greatest pugilists in the world have fought in my +gymnasium, often, if you will, under illegal conditions, but there has +never been a fight that was not fair.” + +“I believe that,” Francis said. + +“And there is another matter for which I take some blame,” Sir Timothy +went on, “the matter of Fairfax and Victor Bidlake. They were neither +of them young men for whose loss the world is any the worse. Fairfax +to some extent imposed upon me. He was brought to The Walled House by a +friend who should have known better. He sought my confidence. The story +he told was exactly that of the mock drama upon the launch. Bidlake had +taken his wife. He had no wish to appeal to the Courts. He wished to +fight, a point of view with which I entirely sympathised. I arranged a +fight between the two. Bidlake funked it and never turned up. My advice +to Fairfax was, whenever he met Bidlake, to give him the soundest +thrashing he could. That night at Soto's I caught sight of Fairfax some +time before dinner. He was talking to the woman who had been his wife, +and he had evidently been drinking. He drew me on one side. 'To-night,' +he told me, 'I am going to settle accounts with Bidlake.' 'Where?' I +asked. 'Here,' he answered. He went out to the theatre, I upstairs to +dine. That was the extent of the knowledge I possessed which enabled me +to predict some unwonted happening that night. Fairfax was a bedrugged +and bedrunken decadent who had not the courage afterwards to face what +he had done. That is all.” + +The hand slipped from Francis' shoulder. Francis, with a smile, held +out his own. They stood there for a moment with clasped hands--a queer, +detached moment, as it seemed to Francis, in a life which during the +last few months had been full of vivid sensations. From outside came +the lazy sounds of the drowsy summer morning--the distant humming of +a mowing machine, the drone of a reaper in the field beyond, the +twittering of birds in the trees, even the soft lapping of the stream +against the stone steps. The man whose hand he was holding seemed to +Francis to have become somehow transformed. It was as though he had +dropped a mask and were showing a more human, a more kindly self. +Francis wondered no longer at the halting gallop of the horses in the +field. + +“You'll be good to Margaret?” Sir Timothy begged. “She's had a wretched +time.” + +Francis smiled confidently. + +“I'm going to make up for it, sir,” he promised. “And this South +American trip,” he continued, as they turned towards the French windows, +“you'll call that off?” + +Sir Timothy hesitated. + +“I am not quite sure.” + +When they reached the garden, Lady Cynthia was alone. She scarcely +glanced at Francis. Her eyes were anxiously fixed upon his companion. + +“Margaret has gone in to make the cocktails herself,” she explained. +“We have both sworn off absinthe for the rest of our lives, and we know +Hedges can't be trusted to make one without.” + +“I'll go and help her,” Francis declared. + +Lady Cynthia passed her arm through Sir Timothy's. + +“I want to know about South America,” she begged. “The sight of those +trunks worries me.” + +Sir Timothy's casual reply was obviously a subterfuge. They crossed the +lawn and the rustic bridge, almost in silence, passing underneath the +pergola of roses to the sheltered garden at the further end. Then Lady +Cynthia paused. + +“You are not going to South America,” she pleaded, “alone?” + +Sir Timothy took her hands. + +“My dear,” he said, “listen, please, to my confession. I am a fraud. +I am not a purveyor of new sensations for a decadent troop of weary, +fashionable people. I am a fraud sometimes even to myself. I have had +good luck in material things. I have had bad luck in the precious, +the sentimental side of life. It has made something of an artificial +character of me, on the surface at any rate. I am really a simple, +elderly man who loves fresh air, clean, honest things, games, and a +healthy life. I have no ambitions except those connected with sport. I +don't even want to climb to the topmost niches in the world of finance. +I think you have looked at me through the wrong-coloured spectacles. You +have had a whimsical fancy for a character which does not exist.” + +“What I have seen,” Lady Cynthia answered, “I have seen through no +spectacles at all--with my own eyes. But what I have seen, even, does +not count. There is something else.” + +“I am within a few weeks of my fiftieth birthday,” Sir Timothy reminded +her, “and you, I believe, are twenty-nine.” + +“My dear man,” Lady Cynthia assured him fervently, “you are the only +person in the world who can keep me from feeling forty-nine.” + +“And your people--” + +“Heavens! My people, for the first time in their lives, will count me a +brilliant success,” Lady Cynthia declared. “You'll probably have to +lend dad money, and I shall be looked upon as the fairy child who has +restored the family fortunes.” + +Sir Timothy leaned a little towards her. + +“Last of all,” he said, and this time his voice was not quite so steady, +“are you really sure that you care for me, dear, because I have loved +you so long, and I have wanted love so badly, and it is so hard to +believe--” + +It was the moment, it seemed to her, for which she had prayed. She was +in his arms, tired no longer, with all the splendid fire of life in her +love-lit eyes and throbbing pulses. Around them the bees were humming, +and a soft summer breeze shook the roses and brought little wafts of +perfume from the carnation bed. + +“There is nothing in life,” Lady Cynthia murmured brokenly, “so +wonderful as this.” + +Francis and Margaret came out from the house, the former carrying a +silver tray. They had spent a considerable time over their task, but +Lady Cynthia and Sir Timothy were still absent. Hedges followed them, a +little worried. + +“Shall I ring the gong, madam?” he asked Margaret. “Cook has taken such +pains with her omelette.” + +“I think you had better, Hedges,” Margaret assented. + +The gong rang out--and rang again. Presently Lady Cynthia and Sir +Timothy appeared upon the bridge and crossed the lawn. They were walking +a little apart. Lady Cynthia was looking down at some roses which she +had gathered. Sir Timothy's unconcern seemed a trifle overdone. Margaret +laughed very softly. + +“A stepmother, Francis!” she whispered. “Just fancy Cynthia as a +stepmother!” + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Evil Shepherd, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVIL SHEPHERD *** + +***** This file should be named 5753-0.txt or 5753-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/5/5753/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Philips Oppenheim + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Evil Shepherd, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +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 Evil Shepherd + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: June 13, 2009 [EBook #5743] +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVIL SHEPHERD *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE EVIL SHEPHERD + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By E. Philips Oppenheim + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + Francis Ledsam, alert, well-satisfied with himself and the world, the echo + of a little buzz of congratulations still in his ears, paused on the steps + of the modern Temple of Justice to light a cigarette before calling for a + taxi to take him to his club. Visions of a whisky and soda—his + throat was a little parched—and a rubber of easy-going bridge at his + favourite table, were already before his eyes. A woman who had followed + him from the Court touched him on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Can I speak to you for a moment, Mr. Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + The barrister frowned slightly as he swung around to confront his + questioner. It was such a familiar form of address. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” he asked, a little curtly. + </p> + <p> + “A few minutes' conversation with you,” was the calm reply. “The matter is + important.” + </p> + <p> + The woman's tone and manner, notwithstanding her plain, inconspicuous + clothes, commanded attention. Francis Ledsam was a little puzzled. Small + things meant much to him in life, and he had been looking forward almost + with the zest of a schoolboy to that hour of relaxation at his club. He + was impatient of even a brief delay, a sentiment which he tried to express + in his response. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to speak to me about?” he repeated bluntly. “I shall be + in my rooms in the Temple to-morrow morning, any time after eleven.” + </p> + <p> + “It is necessary for me to speak to you now,” she insisted. “There is a + tea-shop across the way. Please accompany me there.” + </p> + <p> + Ledsam, a little surprised at the coolness of her request, subjected his + accoster to a closer scrutiny. As he did so, his irritation diminished. He + shrugged his shoulders slightly. + </p> + <p> + “If you really have business with me,” he said, “I will give you a few + minutes.” + </p> + <p> + They crossed the street together, the woman self-possessed, negative, + wholly without the embarrassment of one performing an unusual action. Her + companion felt the awakening of curiosity. Zealously though she had, to + all appearance, endeavoured to conceal the fact, she was without a doubt + personable. Her voice and manner lacked nothing of refinement. Yet her + attraction to Francis Ledsam, who, although a perfectly normal human + being, was no seeker after promiscuous adventures, did not lie in these + externals. As a barrister whose success at the criminal bar had been + phenomenal, he had attained to a certain knowledge of human nature. He was + able, at any rate, to realise that this woman was no imposter. He knew + that she had vital things to say. + </p> + <p> + They passed into the tea-shop and found an empty corner. Ledsam hung up + his hat and gave an order. The woman slowly began to remove her gloves. + When she pushed back her veil, her vis-a-vis received almost a shock. She + was quite as good-looking as he had imagined, but she was far younger—she + was indeed little more than a girl. Her eyes were of a deep shade of hazel + brown, her eyebrows were delicately marked, her features and poise + admirable. Yet her skin was entirely colourless. She was as pale as one + whose eyes have been closed in death. Her lips, although in no way highly + coloured, were like streaks of scarlet blossom upon a marble image. The + contrast between her appearance and that of her companion was curiously + marked. Francis Ledsam conformed in no way to the accepted physical type + of his profession. He was over six feet in height, broad-shouldered and + powerfully made. His features were cast in a large mould, he was of fair, + almost sandy complexion, even his mouth was more humourous than incisive. + His eyes alone, grey and exceedingly magnetic, suggested the gifts which + without a doubt lay behind his massive forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I am anxious to avoid any possible mistake,” she began. “Your name is + Francis Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “You are the very successful criminal barrister,” she continued, “who has + just been paid an extravagant fee to defend Oliver Hilditch.” + </p> + <p> + “I might take exception to the term 'extravagant',” Ledsam observed drily. + “Otherwise, your information appears to be singularly correct. I do not + know whether you have heard the verdict. If not, you may be interested to + know that I succeeded in obtaining the man's acquittal.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that you did,” the woman replied. “I was in the Court when the + verdict was brought in. It has since occurred to me that I should like you + to understand exactly what you have done, the responsibility you have + incurred.” + </p> + <p> + Ledsam raised his eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Responsibility?” he repeated. “What I have done is simple enough. I have + earned a very large fee and won my case.” + </p> + <p> + “You have secured the acquittal of Oliver Hilditch,” she persisted. “He is + by this time a free man. Now I am going to speak to you of that + responsibility. I am going to tell you a little about the man who owes his + freedom to your eloquence.” + </p> + <p> + It was exactly twenty minutes after their entrance into the teashop when + the woman finished her monologue. She began to draw on her gloves again. + Before them were two untasted cups of tea and an untouched plate of bread + and butter. From a corner of the room the waitress was watching them + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” Francis Ledsam exclaimed at last, suddenly realising his + whereabouts. “Do you mean to affirm solemnly that what you have been + telling me is the truth?” + </p> + <p> + The woman continued to button her gloves. “It is the truth,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Ledsam sat up and looked around him. He was a little dazed. He had almost + the feeling of a man recovering from the influence of some anaesthetic. + Before his eyes were still passing visions of terrible deeds, of naked, + ugly passion, of man's unscrupulous savagery. During those few minutes he + had been transported to New York and Paris, London and Rome. Crimes had + been spoken of which made the murder for which Oliver Hilditch had just + been tried seem like a trifling indiscretion. Hard though his mentality, + sternly matter-of-fact as was his outlook, he was still unable to fully + believe in himself, his surroundings, or in this woman who had just + dropped a veil over her ashen cheeks. Reason persisted in asserting + itself. + </p> + <p> + “But if you knew all this,” he demanded, “why on earth didn't you come + forward and give evidence?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” she answered calmly, as she rose to her feet, “my evidence + would not have been admissible. I am Oliver Hilditch's wife.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + Francis Ledsam arrived at his club, the Sheridan, an hour later than he + had anticipâtéd. He nodded to the veteran hall-porter, hung up his hat and + stick, and climbed the great staircase to the card-room without any + distinct recollection of performing any of these simple and reasonable + actions. In the cardroom he exchanged a few greetings with friends, + accepted without comment or without the slightest tinge of gratification a + little chorus of chafing congratulations upon his latest triumph, and left + the room without any inclination to play, although there was a vacant + place at his favourite table. From sheer purposelessness he wandered back + again into the hall, and here came his first gleam of returning sensation. + He came face to face with his most intimate friend, Andrew Wilmore. The + latter, who had just hung up his coat and hat, greeted him with a growl of + welcome. + </p> + <p> + “So you've brought it off again, Francis!” + </p> + <p> + “Touch and go,” the barrister remarked. “I managed to squeak home.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore laid his hand upon his friend's shoulder and led the way towards + two easy-chairs in the lounge. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what it is, old chap,” he confided, “you'll be making yourself + unpopular before long. Another criminal at large, thanks to that glib + tongue and subtle brain of yours. The crooks of London will present you + with a testimonial when you're made a judge.” + </p> + <p> + “So you think that Oliver Hilditch was guilty, then?” Francis asked + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, how do I know or care?” was the indifferent reply. “I + shouldn't have thought that there had been any doubt about it. You + probably know, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just what I didn't when I got up to make my speech,” Francis + assured his friend emphatically. “The fellow was given an opportunity of + making a clean breast of it, of course—Wensley, his lawyer, advised + him to, in fact—but the story he told me was precisely the story he + told at the inquest.” + </p> + <p> + They were established now in their easy-chairs, and Wilmore summoned a + waiter. + </p> + <p> + “Two large whiskies and sodas,” he ordered. “Francis,” he went on, + studying his companion intently, “what's the matter with you? You don't + look as though your few days in the country last week had done you any + good.” + </p> + <p> + Francis glanced around as though to be sure that they were alone. + </p> + <p> + “I was all right when I came up, Andrew,” he muttered. “This case has + upset me.” + </p> + <p> + “Upset you? But why the dickens should it?” the other demanded, in a + puzzled tone. “It was quite an ordinary case, in its way, and you won it.” + </p> + <p> + “I won it,” Francis admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Your defence was the most ingenious thing I ever heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Mostly suggested, now I come to think of it,” the barrister remarked + grimly, “by the prisoner himself.” + </p> + <p> + “But why are you upset about it, anyway?” Wilmore persisted. + </p> + <p> + Francis rose to his feet, shook himself, and with his elbow resting upon + the mantelpiece leaned down towards his friend. He could not rid himself + altogether of this sense of unreality. He had the feeling that he had + passed through one of the great crises of his life. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you, Andrew. You're about the only man in the world I could + tell. I've gone crazy.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you looked as though you'd been seeing spooks,” Wilmore + murmured sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen a spook,” Francis rejoined, with almost passionate + seriousness, “a spook who lifted an invisible curtain with invisible + fingers, and pointed to such a drama of horrors as De Quincey, Poe and Sue + combined could never have imagined. Oliver Hilditch was guilty, Andrew. He + murdered the man Jordan—murdered him in cold blood.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not surprised to hear that,” was the somewhat puzzled reply. + </p> + <p> + “He was guilty, Andrew, not only of the murder of this man, his partner, + but of innumerable other crimes and brutalities,” Francis went on. “He is + a fiend in human form, if ever there was one, and I have set him loose + once more to prey upon Society. I am morally responsible for his next + robbery, his next murder, the continued purgatory of those forced to + associate with him.” + </p> + <p> + “You're dotty, Francis,” his friend declared shortly. + </p> + <p> + “I told you I was crazy,” was the desperate reply. “So would you be if + you'd sat opposite that woman for half-an-hour, and heard her story.” + </p> + <p> + “What woman?” Wilmore demanded, leaning forward in his chair and gazing at + his friend with increasing uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “A woman who met me outside the Court and told me the story of Oliver + Hilditch's life.” + </p> + <p> + “A stranger?” + </p> + <p> + “A complete stranger to me. It transpired that she was his wife.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore lit a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Believe her?” + </p> + <p> + “There are times when one doesn't believe or disbelieve,” Francis + answered. “One knows.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore nodded. + </p> + <p> + “All the same, you're crazy,” he declared. “Even if you did save the + fellow from the gallows, you were only doing your job, doing your duty to + the best of poor ability. You had no reason to believe him guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just as it happened,” Francis pointed out. “I really didn't care + at the time whether he was or not. I had to proceed on the assumption that + he was not, of course, but on the other hand I should have fought just as + hard for him if I had known him to be guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “And you wouldn't now—to-morrow, say?” + </p> + <p> + “Never again.” + </p> + <p> + “Because of that woman's story?” + </p> + <p> + “Because of the woman.” + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence. Then Wilmore asked a very obvious question. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a person was she?” + </p> + <p> + Francis Ledsam was several moments before he replied. The question was one + which he had been expecting, one which he had already asked himself many + times, yet he was unprepared with any definite reply. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could answer you, Andrew,” his friend confessed. “As a matter of + fact, I can't. I can only speak of the impression she left upon me, and + you are about the only person breathing to whom I could speak of that.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore nodded sympathetically. He knew that, man of the world though + Francis Ledsam appeared, he was nevertheless a highly imaginative person, + something of an idealist as regards women, unwilling as a rule to discuss + them, keeping them, in a general way, outside his daily life. + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead, old fellow,” he invited. “You know I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “She left the impression upon me,” Francis continued quietly, “of a woman + who had ceased to live. She was young, she was beautiful, she had all the + gifts—culture, poise and breeding—but she had ceased to live. + We sat with a marble table between us, and a few feet of oil-covered + floor. Those few feet, Andrew, were like an impassable gulf. She spoke + from the shores of another world. I listened and answered, spoke and + listened again. And when she told her story, she went. I can't shake off + the effect she had upon me, Andrew. I feel as though I had taken a step to + the right or to the left over the edge of the world.” + </p> + <p> + Andrew Wilmore studied his friend thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + He was full of sympathy and understanding. His one desire at that moment + was not to make a mistake. He decided to leave unasked the obvious + question. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he said simply. “Are you dining anywhere?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of staying on here,” was the indifferent reply. + </p> + <p> + “We won't do anything of the sort,” Wilmore insisted. “There's scarcely a + soul in to-night, and the place is too humpy for a man who's been seeing + spooks. Get back to your rooms and change. I'll wait here.” + </p> + <p> + “What about you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have some clothes in my locker. Don't be long. And, by-the-bye, which + shall it be—Bohemia or Mayfair? I'll telephone for a table. London's + so infernally full, these days.” + </p> + <p> + Francis hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I really don't care,” he confessed. “Now I think of it, I shall be glad + to get away from here, though. I don't want any more congratulations on + saving Oliver Hilditch's life. Let's go where we are least likely to meet + any one we know.” + </p> + <p> + “Respectability and a starched shirt-front, then,” Wilmore decided. “We'll + go to Claridge's.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + The two men occupied a table set against the wall, not far from the + entrance to the restaurant, and throughout the progress of the earlier + part of their meal were able to watch the constant incoming stream of + their fellow-guests. They were, in their way, an interesting contrast + physically, neither of them good-looking according to ordinary standards, + but both with many pleasant characteristics. Andrew Wilmore, slight and + dark, with sallow cheeks and brown eyes, looked very much what he was—a + moderately successful journalist and writer of stories, a keen golfer, a + bachelor who preferred a pipe to cigars, and lived at Richmond because he + could not find a flat in London which he could afford, large enough for + his somewhat expansive habits. Francis Ledsam was of a sturdier type, with + features perhaps better known to the world owing to the constant + activities of the cartoonist. His reputation during the last few years had + carried him, notwithstanding his comparative youth—he was only + thirty-five years of age—into the very front ranks of his + profession, and his income was one of which men spoke with bated breath. + He came of a family of landed proprietors, whose younger sons for + generations had drifted always either to the Bar or the Law, and his name + was well known in the purlieus of Lincoln's Inn before he himself had made + it famous. He was a persistent refuser of invitations, and his + acquaintances in the fashionable world were comparatively few. Yet every + now and then he felt a mild interest in the people whom his companion + assiduously pointed out to him. + </p> + <p> + “A fashionable restaurant, Francis, is rather like your Law Courts—it + levels people up,” the latter remarked. “Louis, the head-waiter, is the + judge, and the position allotted in the room is the sentence. I wonder who + is going to have the little table next but one to us. Some favoured + person, evidently.” + </p> + <p> + Francis glanced in the direction indicated without curiosity. The table in + question was laid for two and was distinguished by a wonderful cluster of + red roses. + </p> + <p> + “Why is it,” the novelist continued speculatively, “that, whenever we take + another man's wife out, we think it necessary to order red roses?” + </p> + <p> + “And why is it,” Francis queried, a little grimly, “that a dear fellow + like you, Andrew, believes it his duty to talk of trifles for his pal's + sake, when all the time he is thinking of something else? I know you're + dying to talk about the Hilditch case, aren't you? Well, go ahead.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm only interested in this last development,” Wilmore confessed. “Of + course, I read the newspaper reports. To tell you the truth, for a murder + trial it seemed to me to rather lack colour.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a very simple and straightforward case,” Francis said slowly. + “Oliver Hilditch is the principal partner in an American financial company + which has recently opened offices in the West End. He seems to have + arrived in England about two years ago, to have taken a house in Hill + Street, and to have spent a great deal of money. A month or so ago, his + partner from New York arrived in London, a man named Jordan of whom + nothing was known. It has since transpired, however, that his journey to + Europe was undertaken because he was unable to obtain certain figures + relating to the business, from Hilditch. Oliver Hilditch met him at + Southampton, travelled with him to London and found him a room at the + Savoy. The next day, the whole of the time seems to have been spent in the + office, and it is certain, from the evidence of the clerk, that some + disagreement took place between the two men. They dined together, however, + apparently on good terms, at the Cafe Royal, and parted in Regent Street + soon after ten. At twelve o'clock, Jordan's body was picked up on the + pavement in Hill Street, within a few paces of Heidrich's door. He had + been stabbed through the heart with some needle-like weapon, and was quite + dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there any vital cause of quarrel between them?” Wilmore enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible to say,” Francis replied. “The financial position of the + company depends entirely upon the value of a large quantity of speculative + bonds, but as there was only one clerk employed, it was impossible to get + at any figures. Hilditch declared that Jordan had only a small share in + the business, from which he had drawn a considerable income for years, and + that he had not the slightest cause for complaint.” + </p> + <p> + “What were Hilditch's movements that evening?” Wilmore asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not a soul seems to have seen him after he left Regent Street,” was the + somewhat puzzled answer. “His own story was quite straightforward and has + never been contradicted. He let himself into his house with a latch-key + after his return from the Cafe Royal, drank a whisky and soda in the + library, and went to bed before half-past eleven. The whole affair—” + </p> + <p> + Francis broke off abruptly in the middle of his sentence. He sat with his + eyes fixed upon the door, silent and speechless. + </p> + <p> + “What in Heaven's name is the matter, old fellow?” Wilmore demanded, + gazing at his companion in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + The latter pulled himself together with an effort. The sight of the two + new arrivals talking to Louis on the threshold of the restaurant, seemed + for the moment to have drawn every scrap of colour from his cheeks. + Nevertheless, his recovery was almost instantaneous. + </p> + <p> + “If you want to know any more,” he said calmly, “you had better go and ask + him to tell you the whole story himself. There he is.” + </p> + <p> + “And the woman with him?” Wilmore exclaimed under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “His wife!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + To reach their table, the one concerning which Francis and his friend had + been speculating, the new arrivals, piloted by Louis, had to pass within a + few feet of the two men. The woman, serene, coldly beautiful, dressed like + a Frenchwoman in unrelieved black, with extraordinary attention to + details, passed them by with a careless glance and subsided into the chair + which Louis was holding. Her companion, however, as he recognised Francis + hesitated. His expression of somewhat austere gloom was lightened. A + pleasant but tentative smile parted his lips. He ventured upon a + salutation, half a nod, half a more formal bow, a salutation which Francis + instinctively returned. Andrew Wilmore looked on with curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “So that is Oliver Hilditch,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “That is the man,” Francis observed, “of whom last evening half the people + in this restaurant were probably asking themselves whether or not he was + guilty of murder. To-night they will be wondering what he is going to + order for dinner. It is a strange world.” + </p> + <p> + “Strange indeed,” Wilmore assented. “This afternoon he was in the dock, + with his fate in the balance—the condemned cell or a favoured table + at Claridge's. And your meeting! One can imagine him gripping your hands, + with tears in his eyes, his voice broken with emotion, sobbing out his + thanks. And instead you exchange polite bows. I would not have missed this + situation for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Tradesman!” Francis scoffed. “One can guess already at the plot of your + next novel.” + </p> + <p> + “He has courage,” Wilmore declared. “He has also a very beautiful + companion. Were you serious, Francis, when you told me that that was his + wife?” + </p> + <p> + “She herself was my informant,” was the quiet reply. + </p> + <p> + Wilmore was puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “But she passed you just now without even a glance of recognition, and I + thought you told me at the club this afternoon that all your knowledge of + his evil ways came from her. Besides, she looks at least twenty years + younger than he does.” + </p> + <p> + Francis, who had been watching his glass filled with champagne, raised it + to his lips and drank its contents steadily to the last drop. + </p> + <p> + “I can only tell you what I know, Andrew,” he said, as he set down the + empty glass. “The woman who is with him now is the woman who spoke to me + outside the Old Bailey this afternoon. We went to a tea-shop together. She + told me the story of his career. I have never listened to so horrible a + recital in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet they are here together, dining tete-a-tete, on a night when it + must have needed more than ordinary courage for either of them to have + been seen in public at all,” Wilmore pointed out. + </p> + <p> + “It is as astounding to me as it is to you,” Francis confessed. “From the + way she spoke, I should never have dreamed that they were living + together.” + </p> + <p> + “And from his appearance,” Wilmore remarked, as he called the waiter to + bring some cigarettes, “I should never have imagined that he was anything + else save a high-principled, well-born, straightforward sort of chap. I + never saw a less criminal type of face.” + </p> + <p> + They each in turn glanced at the subject of their discussion. Oliver + Hilditch's good-looks had been the subject of many press comments during + the last few days. They were certainly undeniable. His face was a little + lined but his hair was thick and brown. His features were regular, his + forehead high and thoughtful, his mouth a trifle thin but straight and + shapely. Francis gazed at him like a man entranced. The hours seemed to + have slipped away. He was back in the tea-shop, listening to the woman who + spoke of terrible things. He felt again his shivering abhorrence of her + cold, clearly narrated story. Again he shrank from the horrors from which + with merciless fingers she had stripped the coverings. He seemed to see + once more the agony in her white face, to hear the eternal pain aching and + throbbing in her monotonous tone. He rose suddenly to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Andrew,” he begged, “tell the fellow to bring the bill outside. We'll + have our coffee and liqueurs there.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore acquiesced willingly enough, but even as they turned towards the + door Francis realised what was in store for him. Oliver Hilditch had risen + to his feet. With a courteous little gesture he intercepted the passer-by. + Francis found himself standing side by side with the man for whose life he + had pleaded that afternoon, within a few feet of the woman whose terrible + story seemed to have poisoned the very atmosphere he breathed, to have + shown him a new horror in life, to have temporarily, at any rate, + undermined every joy and ambition he possessed. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” Hilditch said, speaking with quiet dignity, “I hope that you + will forgive the liberty I take in speaking to you here. I looked for you + the moment I was free this afternoon, but found that you had left the + Court. I owe you my good name, probably my life. Thanks are poor things + but they must be spoken.” + </p> + <p> + “You owe me nothing at all,” Francis replied, in a tone which even he + found harsh. “I had a brief before me and a cause to plead. It was a + chapter out of my daily work.” + </p> + <p> + “That work can be well done or ill,” the other reminded him gently. “In + your case, my presence here proves how well it was done. I wish to present + you to my wife, who shares my gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + Francis bowed to the woman, who now, at her husband's words, raised her + eyes. For the first time he saw her smile. It seemed to him that the + effort made her less beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Your pleading was very wonderful, Mr. Ledsam,” she said, a very subtle + note of mockery faintly apparent in her tone. “We poor mortals find it + difficult to understand that with you all that show of passionate + earnestness is merely—what did you call it?—a chapter in your + day's work? It is a great gift to be able to argue from the brain and + plead as though from the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “We will not detain Mr. Ledsam,” Oliver Hilditch interposed, a little + hastily. “He perhaps does not care to be addressed in public by a client + who still carries with him the atmosphere of the prison. My wife and I + wondered, Mr. Ledsam, whether you would be good enough to dine with us one + night. I think I could interest you by telling you more about my case than + you know at present, and it would give us a further opportunity, and a + more seemly one, for expressing our gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + Francis had recovered himself by this time. He was after all a man of + parts, and though he still had the feeling that he had been through one of + the most momentous days of his life, his savoir faire was making its + inevitable reappearance. He knew very well that the idea of that dinner + would be horrible to him. He also knew that he would willingly cancel + every engagement he had rather than miss it. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Are we fortunate enough to find you disengaged,” Hilditch suggested, + “to-morrow evening?” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite free,” was the ready response. + </p> + <p> + “That suits you, Margaret?” Hilditch asked, turning courteously to his + wife. + </p> + <p> + For a single moment her eyes were fixed upon those of her prospective + guest. He read their message which pleaded for his refusal, and he denied + it. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow evening will suit me as well as any other,” she acquiesced, + after a brief pause. + </p> + <p> + “At eight o'clock, then—number 10 b, Hill Street,” Hilditch + concluded. + </p> + <p> + Francis bowed and turned away with a murmured word of polite assent. + Outside, he found Wilmore deep in the discussion of the merits of various + old brandies with an interested maitre d'hotel. + </p> + <p> + “Any choice, Francis?” his host enquired. + </p> + <p> + “None whatever,” was the prompt reply, “only, for God's sake, give me a + double one quickly!” + </p> + <p> + The two men were on the point of departure when Oliver Hilditch and his + wife left the restaurant. As though conscious that they had become the + subject of discussion, as indeed was the case, thanks to the busy + whispering of the various waiters, they passed without lingering through + the lounge into the entrance hall, where Francis and Andrew Wilmore were + already waiting for a taxicab. Almost as they appeared, a new arrival was + ushered through the main entrance, followed by porters carrying luggage. + He brushed past Francis so closely that the latter looked into his face, + half attracted and half repelled by the waxen-like complexion, the + piercing eyes, and the dignified carriage of the man whose arrival seemed + to be creating some stir in the hotel. A reception clerk and a deputy + manager had already hastened forward. The newcomer waved them back for a + moment. Bareheaded, he had taken Margaret Hilditch's hands in his and + raised them to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I came as quickly as I could,” he said. “There was the usual delay, of + course, at Marseilles, and the trains on were terrible. So all has ended + well.” + </p> + <p> + Oliver Hilditch, standing by, remained speechless. It seemed for a moment + as though his self-control were subjected to a severe strain. + </p> + <p> + “I had the good fortune,” he interposed, in a low tone, “to be wonderfully + defended. Mr. Ledsam here—” + </p> + <p> + He glanced around. Francis, with some idea of what was coming, obeyed an + imaginary summons from the head-porter, touched Andrew Wilmore upon the + shoulder, and hastened without a backward glance through the swing-doors. + Wilmore turned up his coat-collar and looked doubtfully up at the rain. + </p> + <p> + “I say, old chap,” he protested, “you don't really mean to walk?” + </p> + <p> + Francis thrust his hand through his friend's arm and wheeled him round + into Davies Street. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care what the mischief we do, Andrew,” he confided, “but couldn't + you see what was going to happen? Oliver Hilditch was going to introduce + me as his preserver to the man who had just arrived!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you afflicted with modesty, all of a sudden?” Wilmore grumbled. + </p> + <p> + “No, remorse,” was the terse reply. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + Indecision had never been one of Francis Ledsam's faults, but four times + during the following day he wrote out a carefully worded telegraphic + message to Mrs. Oliver Hilditch, 10 b, Hill Street, regretting his + inability to dine that night, and each time he destroyed it. He carried + the first message around Richmond golf course with him, intending to + dispatch his caddy with it immediately on the conclusion of the round. The + fresh air, however, and the concentration required by the game, seemed to + dispel the nervous apprehensions with which he had anticipâtéd his visit, + and over an aperitif in the club bar he tore the telegram into small + pieces and found himself even able to derive a certain half-fearful + pleasure from the thought of meeting again the woman who, together with + her terrible story, had never for one moment been out of his thoughts. + Andrew Wilmore, who had observed his action, spoke of it as they settled + down to lunch. + </p> + <p> + “So you are going to keep your engagement tonight, Francis?” he observed. + </p> + <p> + The latter nodded. + </p> + <p> + “After all, why not?” he asked, a little defiantly. “It ought to be + interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's nothing of the sordid criminal, at any rate, about Oliver + Hilditch,” Wilmore declared. “Neither, if one comes to think of it, does + his wife appear to be the prototype of suffering virtue. I wonder if you + are wise to go, Francis?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” the man who had asked himself that question a dozen times + already, demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” Wilmore replied coolly, “underneath that steely hardness of + manner for which your profession is responsible, you have a vein of + sentiment, of chivalrous sentiment, I should say, which some day or other + is bound to get you into trouble. The woman is beautiful enough to turn + any one's head. As a matter of fact, I believe that you are more than half + in love with her already.” + </p> + <p> + Francis Ledsam sat where the sunlight fell upon his strong, forceful face, + shone, too, upon the table with its simple but pleasant appointments, upon + the tankard of beer by his side, upon the plate of roast beef to which he + was already doing ample justice. He laughed with the easy confidence of a + man awakened from some haunting nightmare, relieved to find his feet once + more firm upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + “I have been a fool to take the whole matter so seriously, Andrew,” he + declared. “I expect to walk back to Clarges Street to-night, + disillusioned. The man will probably present me with a gold pencil-case, + and the woman—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what about the woman?” Wilmore asked, after a brief pause. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know!” Francis declared, a little impatiently. “The woman is + the mystery, of course. Probably my brain was a little over-excited when I + came out of Court, and what I imagined to be an epic was nothing more than + a tissue of exaggerations from a disappointed wife. I'm sure I'm doing the + right thing to go there.... What about a four-ball this afternoon, + Andrew?” + </p> + <p> + The four-ball match was played and won in normal fashion. The two men + returned to town together afterwards, Wilmore to the club and Francis to + his rooms in Clarges Street to prepare for dinner. At a few minutes to + eight he rang the bell of number 10 b, Hill Street, and found his host and + hostess awaiting him in the small drawing-room into which he was ushered. + It seemed to him that the woman, still colourless, again marvellously + gowned, greeted him coldly. His host, however, was almost too effusive. + There was no other guest, but the prompt announcement of dinner dispelled + what might have been a few moments of embarrassment after Oliver + Hilditch's almost too cordial greeting. The woman laid her fingers upon + her guest's coat-sleeve. The trio crossed the little hall almost in + silence. + </p> + <p> + Dinner was served in a small white Georgian dining-room, with every + appurtenance of almost Sybaritic luxury. The only light in the room was + thrown upon the table by two purple-shaded electric lamps, and the + servants who waited seemed to pass backwards and forwards like shadows in + some mysterious twilight—even the faces of the three diners + themselves were out of the little pool of light until they leaned forward. + The dinner was chosen with taste and restraint, the wines were not only + costly but rare. A watchful butler, attended now and then by a trim + parlour-maid, superintended the service. Only once, when she ordered a + bowl of flowers removed from the table, did their mistress address either + of them. Conversation after the first few amenities speedily became almost + a monologue. One man talked whilst the others listened, and the man who + talked was Oliver Hilditch. He possessed the rare gift of imparting colour + and actuality in a few phrases to the strange places of which he spoke, of + bringing the very thrill of strange happenings into the shadowy room. It + seemed that there was scarcely a country of the world which he had not + visited, a country, that is to say, where men congregate, for he admitted + from the first that he was a city worshipper, that the empty places + possessed no charm for him. + </p> + <p> + “I am not even a sportsman,” he confessed once, half apologetically, in + reply to a question from his guest. “I have passed down the great rivers + of the world without a thought of salmon, and I have driven through the + forest lands and across the mountains behind a giant locomotive, without a + thought of the beasts which might be lurking there, waiting to be killed. + My only desire has been to reach the next place where men and women were.” + </p> + <p> + “Irrespective of nationality?” Francis queried. + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely. I have never minded much of what race—I have the trick + of tongues rather strangely developed—but I like the feeling of + human beings around me. I like the smell and sound and atmosphere of a + great city. Then all my senses are awake, but life becomes almost turgid + in my veins during the dreary hours of passing from one place to another.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you rule out scenery as well as sport from amongst the joys of + travel?” Francis enquired. + </p> + <p> + “I am ashamed to make such a confession,” his host answered, “but I have + never lingered for a single unnecessary moment to look at the most + wonderful landscape in the world. On the other hand, I have lounged for + hours in the narrowest streets of Pekin, in the markets of Shanghai, along + Broadway in New York, on the boulevards in Paris, outside the Auditorium + in Chicago. These are the obvious places where humanity presses the + thickest, but I know of others. Some day we will talk of them.” + </p> + <p> + Francis, too, although that evening, through sheer lack of sympathy, he + refused to admit it, shared to some extent Hilditch's passionate interest + in his fellow-creatures, and notwithstanding the strange confusion of + thought into which he had been thrown during the last twenty-four hours, + he felt something of the pungency of life, the thrill of new and appealing + surroundings, as he sat in his high-backed chair, sipping his wonderful + wine, eating almost mechanically what was set before him, fascinated + through all his being by his strange company. + </p> + <p> + For three days he had cast occasional glances at this man, seated in the + criminal dock with a gaoler on either side of him, his fine, nervous + features gaining an added distinction from the sordidness of his + surroundings. Now, in the garb of civilisation, seated amidst luxury to + which he was obviously accustomed, with a becoming light upon his face and + this strange, fascinating flow of words proceeding always from his lips, + the man, from every external point of view, seemed amongst the chosen ones + of the world. The contrast was in itself amazing. And then the woman! + Francis looked at her but seldom, and when he did it was with a curious + sense of mental disturbance; poignant but unanalysable. + </p> + <p> + It was amazing to see her here, opposite the man of whom she had told him + that ghastly story, mistress of his house, to all appearance his consort, + apparently engrossed in his polished conversation, yet with that subtle + withholding of her real self which Francis rather imagined than felt, and + which somehow seemed to imply her fierce resentment of her husband's + re-entry into the arena of life. It was a situation so strange that + Francis, becoming more and more subject to its influence, was inclined to + wonder whether he had not met with some accident on his way from the + Court, and whether this was not one of the heated nightmares following + unconsciousness. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” he asked his host, during one of the brief pauses in the + conversation, “have you ever tried to analyse this interest of yours in + human beings and crowded cities, this hatred of solitude and empty + spaces?” + </p> + <p> + Oliver Hilditch smiled thoughtfully, and gazed at a salted almond which he + was just balancing between the tips of his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said simply, “it is because I have no soul.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + The three diners lingered for only a short time over their dessert. + Afterwards, they passed together into a very delightful library on the + other side of the round, stone-paved hall. Hilditch excused himself for a + moment. + </p> + <p> + “I have some cigars which I keep in my dressing-room,” he explained, “and + which I am anxious for you to try. There is an electric stove there and I + can regulate the temperature.” + </p> + <p> + He departed, closing the door behind him. Francis came a little further + into the room. His hostess, who had subsided into an easy-chair and was + holding a screen between her face and the fire, motioned him to, seat + himself opposite. He did so without words. He felt curiously and + ridiculously tongue-tied. He fell to studying the woman instead of + attempting the banality of pointless speech. From the smooth gloss of her + burnished hair, to the daintiness of her low, black brocaded shoes, she + represented, so far as her physical and outward self were concerned, + absolute perfection. No ornament was amiss, no line or curve of her figure + other than perfectly graceful. Yet even the fire's glow which she had + seemed to dread brought no flush of colour to her cheeks. Her appearance + of complete lifelessness remained. It was as though some sort of crust had + formed about her being, a condition which her very physical perfection + seemed to render the more incomprehensible. + </p> + <p> + “You are surprised to see me here living with my husband, after what I + told you yesterday afternoon?” she said calmly, breaking at last the + silence which had reigned between them. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “It seems unnatural to you, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely.” + </p> + <p> + “You still believe all that I told you?” + </p> + <p> + “I must.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at the door and raised her head a little, as though either + listening or adjudging the time before her husband would return. Then she + glanced across at him once more. + </p> + <p> + “Hatred,” she said, “does not always drive away. Sometimes it attracts. + Sometimes the person who hates can scarcely bear the other out of his + sight. That is where hate and love are somewhat alike.” + </p> + <p> + The room was warm but Francis was conscious of shivering. She raised her + finger warningly. It seemed typical of the woman, somehow, that the + message could not be conveyed by any glance or gesture. + </p> + <p> + “He is coming,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + Oliver Hilditch reappeared, carrying cigars wrapped in gold foil which he + had brought with him from Cuba, the tobacco of which was a revelation to + his guest. The two men smoked and sipped their coffee and brandy. The + woman sat with half-closed eyes. It was obvious that Hilditch was still in + the mood for speech. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you, Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “why I am so happy to have you + here this evening. In the first place, I desire to tender you once more my + thanks for your very brilliant efforts on my behalf. The very fact that I + am able to offer you hospitality at all is without a doubt due to these.” + </p> + <p> + “I only did what I was paid to do,” Francis insisted, a little harshly. + “You must remember that these things come in the day's work with us.” + </p> + <p> + His host nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” he murmured. “There was another reason, too, why I was + anxious to meet you, Mr. Ledsam,” he continued. “You have gathered already + that I am something of a crank. I have a profound detestation of all + sentimentality and affected morals. It is a relief to me to come into + contact with a man who is free from that bourgeois incubus to modern + enterprise—a conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that your estimate of me?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? You practise your profession in the criminal courts, do you + not?” + </p> + <p> + “That is well-known,” was the brief reply. + </p> + <p> + “What measure of conscience can a man have,” Oliver Hilditch argued + blandly, “who pleads for the innocent and guilty alike with the same + simulated fervour? Confess, now, Mr. Ledsam—there is no object in + being hypocritical in this matter—have you not often pleaded for the + guilty as though you believed them innocent?” + </p> + <p> + “That has sometimes been my duty,” Francis acknowledged. + </p> + <p> + Hilditch laughed scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “It is all part of the great hypocrisy of society,” he proclaimed. “You + have an extra glass of champagne for dinner at night and are congratulated + by your friends because you have helped some poor devil to cheat the law, + while all the time you know perfectly well, and so do your high-minded + friends, that your whole attitude during those two hours of eloquence has + been a lie. That is what first attracted me to you, Mr. Ledsam.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear it,” Francis commented coldly. “The ethics of my + profession—” + </p> + <p> + His host stopped him with a little wave of the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Spare me that,” he begged. “While we are on the subject, though, I have a + question to ask you. My lawyer told me, directly after he had briefed you, + that, although it would make no real difference to your pleading, it would + be just as well for me to keep up my bluff of being innocent, even in + private conversation with you. Why was that?” + </p> + <p> + “For the very obvious reason,” Francis told him, “that we are not all such + rogues and vagabonds as you seem to think. There is more satisfaction to + me, at any rate, in saving an innocent man's life than a guilty one's.” + </p> + <p> + Hilditch laughed as though amused. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he threatened, “I am going to be ill-natured. You have shown signs + of smugness, a quality which I detest. I am going to rob you of some part + of your self-satisfaction. Of course I killed Jordan. I killed him in the + very chair in which you are now sitting.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's intense silence. The woman was still fanning herself + lazily. Francis leaned forward in his place. + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to hear this!” he exclaimed harshly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be foolish,” his host replied, rising to his feet and strolling + across the room. “You know the whole trouble of the prosecution. They + couldn't discover the weapon, or anything like it, with which the deed was + done. Now I'll show you something ingenious.” + </p> + <p> + Francis followed the other's movements with fascinated eyes. The woman + scarcely turned her head. Hilditch paused at the further end of the room, + where there were a couple of gun cases, some fishing rods and a bag, of + golf clubs. From the latter he extracted a very ordinary-looking putter, + and with it in his hands strolled back to them. + </p> + <p> + “Do you play golf, Ledsam?” he asked. “What do you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + Francis took the putter into his hand. It was a very ordinary club, which + had apparently seen a good deal of service, so much, indeed, that the + leather wrapping at the top was commencing to unroll. The maker's name was + on the back of the blade, also the name of the professional from whom it + had been purchased. Francis swung the implement mechanically with his + wrists. + </p> + <p> + “There seems to be nothing extraordinary about the club,” he pronounced. + “It is very much like a cleek I putt with myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet it contains a secret which would most certainly have hanged me,” + Oliver Hilditch declared pleasantly. “See!” + </p> + <p> + He held the shaft firmly in one hand and bent the blade away from it. In a + moment or two it yielded and he commenced to unscrew it. A little + exclamation escaped from Francis' lips. The woman looked on with tired + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The join in the steel,” Hilditch pointed out, “is so fine as to be + undistinguishable by the naked eye. Yet when the blade comes off, like + this, you see that although the weight is absolutely adjusted, the inside + is hollow. The dagger itself is encased in this cotton wool to avoid any + rattling. I put it away in rather a hurry the last time I used it, and as + you see I forgot to clean it.” + </p> + <p> + Francis staggered back and gripped at the mantelpiece. His eyes were + filled with horror. Very slowly, and with the air of one engaged upon some + interesting task, Oliver Hilditch had removed the blood-stained sheath of + cotton wool from around the thin blade of a marvellous-looking stiletto, + on which was also a long stain of encrusted blood. + </p> + <p> + “There is a handle,” he went on, “which is perhaps the most ingenious + thing of all. You touch a spring here, and behold!” + </p> + <p> + He pressed down two tiny supports which opened upon hinges about four + inches from the top of the handle. There was now a complete hilt. + </p> + <p> + “With this little weapon,” he explained, “the point is so sharpened and + the steel so wonderful that it is not necessary to stab. It has the + perfection of a surgical instrument. You have only to lean it against a + certain point in a man's anatomy, lunge ever so little and the whole thing + is done. Come here, Mr. Ledsam, and I will show you the exact spot.” + </p> + <p> + Francis made no movement. His eyes were fixed upon the weapon. + </p> + <p> + “If I had only known!” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, if you had,” the other protested soothingly, “you know + perfectly well that it would not have made the slightest difference. + Perhaps that little break in your voice would not have come quite so + naturally, the little sweep of your arm towards me, the man whom a + moment's thoughtlessness might sweep into Eternity, would have been a + little stiffer, but what matter? You would still have done your best and + you would probably still have succeeded. You don't care about trifling + with Eternity, eh? Very well, I will find the place for you.” + </p> + <p> + Hilditch's fingers strayed along his shirt-front until he found a certain + spot. Then he leaned the dagger against it, his forefinger and second + finger pressed against the hilt. His eyes were fixed upon his guest's. He + seemed genuinely interested. Francis, glancing away for a moment, was + suddenly conscious of a new horror. The woman had leaned a little forward + in her easy-chair until she had attained almost a crouching position. Her + eyes seemed to be measuring the distance from where she sat to that + quivering thread of steel. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Ledsam,” his host went on, “that point driven now at that angle + would go clean through the vital part of my heart. And it needs no force, + either—just the slow pressure of these two fingers. What did you + say, Margaret?” he enquired, breaking off abruptly. + </p> + <p> + The woman was seated upon the very edge of her chair, her eyes rivetted + upon the dagger. There was no change in her face, not a tremor in her + tone. + </p> + <p> + “I said nothing,” she replied. “I did not speak at all. I was just + watching.” + </p> + <p> + Hilditch turned back to his guest. + </p> + <p> + “These two fingers,” he repeated, “and a flick of the wrist—very + little more than would be necessary for a thirty yard putt right across + the green.” + </p> + <p> + Francis had recovered himself, had found his bearings to a certain extent. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry that you have told me this, Mr. Hilditch,” he said, a little + stiffly. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” was the puzzled reply. “I thought you would be interested.” + </p> + <p> + “I am interested to this extent,” Francis declared, “I shall accept no + more cases such as yours unless I am convinced of my client's innocence. I + look upon your confession to me as being in the worst possible taste, and + I regret very much my efforts on your behalf.” + </p> + <p> + The woman was listening intently. Hilditch's expression was one of cynical + wonder. Francis rose to his feet and moved across to his hostess. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Hilditch,” he said, “will you allow me to make my apologies? Your + husband and I have arrived at an understanding—or perhaps I should + say a misunderstanding—which renders the acceptance of any further + hospitality on my part impossible.” + </p> + <p> + She held out the tips of her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I had no idea,” she observed, with gentle sarcasm, “that you barristers + were such purists morally. I thought you were rather proud of being the + last hope of the criminal classes.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” Francis replied, “I am not proud of having saved the life of a + self-confessed murderer, even though that man may be your husband.” + </p> + <p> + Hilditch was laughing softly to himself as he escorted his departing guest + to the door. + </p> + <p> + “You have a quaint sense of humour,” Francis remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” Oliver Hilditch begged, “but your last few words rather + appealed to me. You must be a person of very scanty perceptions if you + could spend the evening here and not understand that my death is the one + thing in the world which would make my wife happy.” + </p> + <p> + Francis walked home with these last words ringing in his ears. They seemed + with him even in that brief period of troubled sleep which came to him + when he had regained his rooms and turned in. They were there in the + middle of the night when he was awakened, shivering, by the shrill summons + of his telephone bell. He stood quaking before the instrument in his + pajamas. It was the voice which, by reason of some ghastly premonition, he + had dreaded to hear—level, composed, emotionless. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam?” she enquired. + </p> + <p> + “I am Francis Ledsam,” he assented. “Who wants me?” + </p> + <p> + “It is Margaret Hilditch speaking,” she announced. “I felt that I must + ring up and tell you of a very strange thing which happened after you left + this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he begged hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “After you left,” she went on, “my husband persisted in playing with that + curious dagger. He laid it against his heart, and seated himself in the + chair which Mr. Jordan had occupied, in the same attitude. It was what he + called a reconstruction. While he was holding it there, I think that he + must have had a fit, or it may have been remorse, we shall never know. He + called out and I hurried across the room to him. I tried to snatch the + dagger away—I did so, in fact—but I must have been too late. + He had already applied that slight movement of the fingers which was + necessary. The doctor has just left. He says that death must have been + instantaneous.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is horrible!” Francis cried out into the well of darkness. + </p> + <p> + “A person is on the way from Scotland Yard,” the voice continued, without + change or tremor. “When he has satisfied himself, I am going to bed. He is + here now. Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + Francis tried to speak again but his words beat against a wall of silence. + He sat upon the edge of the bed, shivering. In that moment of agony he + seemed to hear again the echo of Oliver Hilditch's mocking words: + </p> + <p> + “My death is the one thing in the world which would make my wife happy!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + There was a good deal of speculation at the Sheridan Club, of which he was + a popular and much envied member, as to the cause for the complete + disappearance from their midst of Francis Ledsam since the culmination of + the Hilditch tragedy. + </p> + <p> + “Sent back four topping briefs, to my knowledge, last week,” one of the + legal luminaries of the place announced to a little group of friends and + fellow-members over a before-dinner cocktail. + </p> + <p> + “Griggs offered him the defence of William Bull, the Chippenham murderer, + and he refused it,” another remarked. “Griggs wrote him personally, and + the reply came from the Brancaster Golf Club! It isn't like Ledsam to be + taking golfing holidays in the middle of the session.” + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing wrong with Ledsam,” declared a gruff voice from the + corner. “And don't gossip, you fellows, at the top of your voices like a + lot of old women. He'll be calling here for me in a moment or two.” + </p> + <p> + They all looked around. Andrew Wilmore rose slowly to his feet and emerged + from behind the sheets of an evening paper. He laid his hand upon the + shoulder of a friend, and glanced towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “Ledsam's had a touch of nerves,” he confided. “There's been nothing else + the matter with him. We've been down at the Dormy House at Brancaster and + he's as right as a trivet now. That Hilditch affair did him in + completely.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why,” one of the bystanders observed. “He got Hilditch off + all right. One of the finest addresses to a jury I ever heard.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just the point,” Wilmore explained “You see, Ledsam had no idea + that Hilditch was really guilty, and for two hours that afternoon he + literally fought for his life, and in the end wrested a verdict from the + jury, against the judge's summing up, by sheer magnetism or eloquence or + whatever you fellows like to call it. The very night after, Hilditch + confesses his guilt and commits suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “I still don't see where Ledsam's worry comes in,” the legal luminary + remarked. “The fact that the man was guilty is rather a feather in the cap + of his counsel. Shows how jolly good his pleading must have been.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so,” Wilmore agreed, “but Ledsam, as you know, is a very + conscientious sort of fellow, and very sensitive, too. The whole thing was + a shock to him.” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been a queer experience,” a novelist remarked from the + outskirts of the group, “to dine with a man whose life you have juggled + away from the law, and then have him explain his crime to you, and the + exact manner of its accomplishment. Seems to bring one amongst the goats, + somehow.” + </p> + <p> + “Bit of a shock, no doubt,” the lawyer assented, “but I still don't + understand Ledsam's sending back all his briefs. He's not going to chuck + the profession, is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Not by any means,” Wilmore declared. “I think he has an idea, though, + that he doesn't want to accept any briefs unless he is convinced that the + person whom he has to represent is innocent, and lawyers don't like that + sort of thing, you know. You can't pick and choose, even when you have + Leadsam's gifts.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact of it is,” the novelist commented, “Francis Ledsam isn't callous + enough to be associated with you money-grubbing dispensers of the law. + He'd be all right as Public Prosecutor, a sort of Sir Galahad waving the + banner of virtue, but he hates to stuff his pockets at the expense of the + criminal classes.” + </p> + <p> + “Who the mischief are the criminal classes?” a police court magistrate + demanded. “Personally, I call war profiteering criminal, I call a good + many Stock Exchange deals criminal, and,” he added, turning to a member of + the committee who was hovering in the background, “I call it criminal to + expect us to drink French vermouth like this.” + </p> + <p> + “There is another point of view,” the latter retorted. “I call it a crime + to expect a body of intelligent men to administer without emolument to the + greed of such a crowd of rotters. You'll get the right stuff next week.” + </p> + <p> + The hall-porter approached and addressed Wilmore. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam is outside in a taxi, sir,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + “Outside in a taxi?” the lawyer repeated. “Why on earth can't he come in?” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard such rot,” another declared. “Let's go and rope him in.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam desired me to say, sir,” the hall porter continued, “to any of + his friends who might be here, that he will be in to lunch to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave him to me till then,” Wilmore begged. “He'll be all right directly. + He's simply altering his bearings and taking his time about it. If he's + promised to lunch here to-morrow, he will. He's as near as possible + through the wood. Coming up in the train, he suggested a little + conversation to-night and afterwards the normal life. He means it, too. + There's nothing neurotic about Ledsam.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Run along, then, my merry Andrew,” he said, “but see that Ledsam keeps + his word about to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Andrew Wilmore plunged boldly into the forbidden subject later on that + evening, as the two men sat side by side at one of the wall tables in + Soto's famous club restaurant. They had consumed an excellent dinner. An + empty champagne bottle had just been removed, double liqueur brandies had + taken its place. Francis, with an air of complete and even exuberant + humanity, had lit a huge cigar. The moment seemed propitious. + </p> + <p> + “Francis,” his friend began, “they say at the club that you refused to be + briefed in the Chippenham affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true,” was the calm reply. “I told Griggs that I wouldn't have + anything to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore knew then that all was well. Francis' old air of strength and + decision had returned. His voice was firm, his eyes were clear and bright. + His manner seemed even to invite questioning. + </p> + <p> + “I think I know why,” Wilmore said, “but I should like you to tell me in + your own words.” + </p> + <p> + Francis glanced around as though to be sure that they were not overheard. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” he replied, dropping his voice a little but still speaking with + great distinctness, “William Bull is a cunning and dangerous criminal whom + I should prefer to see hanged.” + </p> + <p> + “You know that?” + </p> + <p> + “I know that.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a great achievement to get him off,” Wilmore persisted. “The + evidence is very weak in places.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that I could get him off,” was the confident reply. “That is + why I will not touch the brief. I think,” Francis continued, “that I have + already conveyed it to you indirectly, but here you are in plain words, + Andrew. I have made up my mind that I will defend no man in future unless + I am convinced of his innocence.” + </p> + <p> + “That means—” + </p> + <p> + “It means practically the end of my career at the bar,” Francis admitted. + “I realise that absolutely: Fortunately, as you know, I am not dependent + upon my earnings, and I have had a wonderful ten years.” + </p> + <p> + “This is all because of the Hilditch affair, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore was still a little puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to imagine that you have something on your conscience as regards + that business,” he said boldly. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” was the calm reply. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” Wilmore protested, “I don't quite follow your line of thought. + Granted that Hilditch was a desperate criminal whom by the exercise of + your special gifts you saved from the law, surely his tragic death + balanced the account between you and Society?” + </p> + <p> + “It might have done,” Francis admitted, “if he had really committed + suicide.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore was genuinely startled. He looked at his companion curiously. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil do you mean, old chap?” he demanded. “Your own evidence at + the inquest was practically conclusive as to that.” + </p> + <p> + Francis glanced around him with apparent indifference but in reality with + keen and stealthy care. On their right was a glass division, through which + the sound of their voices could not possibly penetrate. On their left was + an empty space, and a table beyond was occupied by a well-known cinema + magnate engaged in testing the attractions in daily life of a would-be + film star. Nevertheless, Francis' voice was scarcely raised above a + whisper. + </p> + <p> + “My evidence at the coroner's inquest,” he confided, “was a subtly + concocted tissue of lies. I committed perjury freely. That is the real + reason why I've been a little on the nervy side lately, and why I took + these few months out of harness.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” Wilmore exclaimed, setting down untasted the glass of brandy + which he had just raised to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I want to finish this matter up,” Francis continued calmly, “by making a + clean breast of it to you, because from to-night I am starting afresh, + with new interests in my life, what will practically amount to a new + career. That is why I preferred not to dine at the club to-night, although + I am looking forward to seeing them all again. I wanted instead to have + this conversation with you. I lied at the inquest when I said that the + relations between Oliver Hilditch and his wife that night seemed perfectly + normal. I lied when I said that I knew of no cause for ill-will between + them. I lied when I said that I left them on friendly terms. I lied when I + said that Oliver Hilditch seemed depressed and nervous. I lied when I said + that he expressed the deepest remorse for what he had done. There was + every indication that night, of the hate which I happen to know existed + between the woman and the man. I have not the faintest doubt in my mind + but that she murdered him. In my judgment, she was perfectly justified in + doing so.” + </p> + <p> + There followed a brief but enforced silence as some late arrivals passed + their table. The room was well-ventilated but Andrew Wilmore felt suddenly + hot and choking. A woman, one of the little group of newcomers, glanced + towards Francis curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Francis Ledsam, the criminal barrister,” her companion whispered,—“the + man who got Oliver Hilditch off. The man with him is Andrew Wilmore, the + novelist. Discussing a case, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + The little party of late diners passed on their way to the further end of + the room, leaving a wave of artificiality behind, or was it, Andrew + Wilmore wondered, in a moment of half-dazed speculation, that it was they + and the rest of the gay company who represented the real things, and he + and his companion who were playing a sombre part in some unreal and + gloomier world. Francis' voice, however, when he recommenced his diatribe, + was calm and matter-of-fact enough. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he continued, argumentatively, “I was morally and actually + responsible for the man's being brought back into Society. And far worse + than that, I was responsible for his being thrust back again upon his + wife. Ergo, I was also responsible for what she did that night. The matter + seems as plain as a pikestaff to me. I did what I could to atone, rightly + or wrongly it doesn't matter, because it is over and done with. There you + are, old fellow, now you know what's been making me nervy. I've committed + wholesale perjury, but I acted according to my conscience and I think + according to justice. The thing has worried me, I admit, but it has + passed, and I'm glad it's off my chest. One more liqueur, Andrew, and if + you want to we'll talk about my plans for the future.” + </p> + <p> + The brandy was brought. Wilmore studied his friend curiously, not without + some relief. Francis had lost the harassed and nervous appearance upon + which his club friends had commented, which had been noticeable, even, to + a diminishing extent, upon the golf course at Brancaster. He was alert and + eager. He had the air of a man upon the threshold of some enterprise dear + to his heart. + </p> + <p> + “I have been through a queer experience,” Francis continued presently, as + he sipped his second liqueur. “Not only had I rather less than twelve + hours to make up my mind whether I should commit a serious offence against + the law, but a sensation which I always hoped that I might experience, has + come to me in what I suppose I must call most unfortunate fashion.” + </p> + <p> + “The woman?” Wilmore ventured. + </p> + <p> + Francis assented gloomily. There was a moment's silence. Wilmore, the + metaphysician, saw then a strange thing. He saw a light steal across his + friend's stern face. He saw his eyes for a moment soften, the hard mouth + relax, something incredible, transforming, shine, as it were, out of the + man's soul in that moment of self-revelation. It was gone like the + momentary passing of a strange gleam of sunshine across a leaden sea, but + those few seconds were sufficient. Wilmore knew well enough what had + happened. + </p> + <p> + “Oliver Hilditch's wife,” Francis went on, after a few minutes' pause, + “presents an enigma which at present I cannot hope to solve. The fact that + she received her husband back again, knowing what he was and what he was + capable of, is inexplicable to me. The woman herself is a mystery. I do + not know what lies behind her extraordinary immobility. Feeling she must + have, and courage, or she would never have dared to have ridded herself of + the scourge of her life. But beyond that my judgment tells me nothing. I + only know that sooner or later I shall seek her out. I shall discover all + that I want to know, one way or the other. It may be for happiness—it + may be the end of the things that count.” + </p> + <p> + “I guessed this,” Wilmore admitted, with a little shiver which he was + wholly unable to repress. + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Then keep it to yourself, my dear fellow,” he begged, “like everything + else I am telling you tonight. I have come out of my experience changed in + many ways,” he continued, “but, leaving out that one secret chapter, this + is the dominant factor which looms up before me. I bring into life a new + aversion, almost a passion, Andrew, born in a tea-shop in the city, and + ministered to by all that has happened since. I have lost that sort of + indifference which my profession engenders towards crime. I am at war with + the criminal, sometimes, I hope, in the Courts of Justice, but forever out + of them. I am no longer indifferent as to whether men do good or evil so + long as they do not cross my path. I am a hunter of sin. I am out to + destroy. There's a touch of melodrama in this for you, Andrew,” he + concluded, with a little laugh, “but, my God, I'm in earnest!” + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean so far as regards the routine of your daily life?” + Wilmore asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it brings us to the point we discussed down at Brancaster,” Francis + replied. “It will affect my work to this extent. I shall not accept any + brief unless, after reading the evidence, I feel convinced that the + accused is innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all very well,” Wilmore observed, “but you know what it will mean, + don't you? Lawyers aren't likely to single you out for a brief without + ever feeling sure whether you will accept it or not.” + </p> + <p> + “That doesn't worry me,” Francis declared. “I don't need the fees, + fortunately, and I can always pick up enough work to keep me going by + attending Sessions. One thing I can promise you—I certainly shall + not sit in my rooms and wait for things to happen. Mine is a militant + spirit and it needs the outlet of action.” + </p> + <p> + “Action, yes, but how?” Wilmore queried. “You can't be always hanging + about the courts, waiting for the chance of defending some poor devil + who's been wrongfully accused—there aren't enough of them, for one + thing. On the other hand, you can't walk down Regent Street, brandishing a + two-edged sword and hunting for pickpockets.” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing so flamboyant, I can assure you, Andrew,” he replied; “nor shall + I play the amateur detective with his mouth open for mysteries. But + listen,” he went on earnestly. “I've had some experience, as you know, + and, notwithstanding the Oliver Hilditch's of the world, I can generally + tell a criminal when I meet him face to face. There are plenty of them + about, too, Andrew—as many in this place as any other. I am not + going to be content with a negative position as regards evildoers. I am + going to set my heel on as many of the human vermin of this city as I can + find.” + </p> + <p> + “A laudable, a most exhilarating and delightful pursuit! `human vermin,' + too, is excellent. It opens up a new and fascinating vista for the modern + sportsman. My congratulations!” + </p> + <p> + It was an interruption of peculiar and wonderful significance, but Francis + did not for the moment appreciate the fact. Turning his head, he simply + saw a complete stranger seated unaccountably at the next table, who had + butted into a private conversation and whose tone of gentle sarcasm, + therefore, was the more offensive. + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil are you, sir,” he demanded, “and where did you come from?” + </p> + <p> + The newcomer showed no resentment at Francis' little outburst. He simply + smiled with deprecating amiability—a tall, spare man, with lean, + hard face, complexion almost unnaturally white; black hair, plentifully + besprinkled with grey; a thin, cynical mouth, notwithstanding its + distinctly humourous curve, and keen, almost brilliant dark eyes. He was + dressed in ordinary dinner garb; his linen and jewellery was indeed in the + best possible taste. Francis, at his second glance, was troubled with a + vague sense of familiarity. + </p> + <p> + “Let me answer your last question first, sir,” the intruder begged. “I was + seated alone, several tables away, when the couple next to you went out, + and having had pointed out to me the other evening at Claridge's Hotel, + and knowing well by repute, the great barrister, Mr. Francis Ledsam, and + his friend the world-famed novelist, Mr. Andrew Wilmore, I—er—unobtrusively + made my way, half a yard at a time, in your direction—and here I am. + I came stealthily, you may object? Without a doubt. If I had come in any + other fashion, I should have disturbed a conversation in which I was much + interested.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you find it convenient,” Francis asked, with icy politeness, “to + return to your own table, stealthily or not, as you choose?” + </p> + <p> + The newcomer showed no signs of moving. + </p> + <p> + “In after years,” he declared, “you would be the first to regret the fact + if I did so. This is a momentous meeting. It gives me an opportunity of + expressing my deep gratitude to you, Mr. Ledsam, for the wonderful + evidence you tendered at the inquest upon the body of my son-in-law, + Oliver Hilditch.” + </p> + <p> + Francis turned in his place and looked steadily at this unsought-for + companion, learning nothing, however, from the half-mocking smile and + imperturbable expression. + </p> + <p> + “Your son-in-law?” he repeated. “Do you mean to say that you are the + father of—of Oliver Hilditch's wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Widow,” the other corrected gently. “I have that honour. You will + understand, therefore, that I feel myself on this, the first opportunity, + compelled to tender my sincere thanks for evidence so chivalrously + offered, so flawlessly truthful.” + </p> + <p> + Francis was a man accustomed to self-control, but he clenched his hands so + that his finger nails dug into his flesh. He was filled with an insane and + unreasoning resentment against this man whose words were biting into his + conscience. Nevertheless, he kept his tone level. + </p> + <p> + “I do not desire your gratitude,” he said, “nor, if you will permit me to + say so, your further acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger shook his head regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong,” he protested. “We were bound, in any case, to know one + another. Shall I tell you why? You have just declared yourself anxious to + set your heel upon the criminals of the world. I have the distinction of + being perhaps the most famous patron of that maligned class now living—and + my neck is at your service.” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to me,” Francis said suavely, “to be a buffoon.” + </p> + <p> + It might have been fancy, but Francis could have sworn that he saw the + glitter of a sovereign malevolence in the other's dark eyes. If so, it was + but a passing weakness, for a moment later the half good-natured, half + cynical smile was back again upon the man's lips. + </p> + <p> + “If so, I am at least a buffoon of parts,” was the prompt rejoinder. “I + will, if you choose, prove myself.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's silence. Wilmore was leaning forward in his place, + studying the newcomer earnestly. An impatient invective was somehow + stifled upon Francis' lips. + </p> + <p> + “Within a few yards of this place, sometime before the closing hour + to-night,” the intruder continued, earnestly yet with a curious absence of + any human quality in his hard tone, “there will be a disturbance, and + probably what you would call a crime will be committed. Will you use your + vaunted gifts to hunt down the desperate criminal, and, in your own + picturesque phraseology, set your heel upon his neck? Success may bring + you fame, and the trail may lead—well, who knows where?” + </p> + <p> + Afterwards, both Francis and Andrew Wilmore marvelled at themselves, + unable at any time to find any reasonable explanation of their conduct, + for they answered this man neither with ridicule, rudeness nor civility. + They simply stared at him, impressed with the convincing arrogance of his + challenge and unable to find words of reply. They received his mocking + farewell without any form of reciprocation or sign of resentment. They + watched him leave the room, a dignified, distinguished figure, sped on his + way with marks of the deepest respect by waiters, maitres d'hotels and + even the manager himself. They behaved, indeed, as they both admitted + afterwards, like a couple of moonstruck idiots. When he had finally + disappeared, however, they looked at one another and the spell was broken. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm damned!” Francis exclaimed. “Soto, come here at once.” + </p> + <p> + The manager hastened smilingly to their table. + </p> + <p> + “Soto,” Francis invoked, “tell us quickly—tell us the name of the + gentleman who has just gone out, and who he is?” + </p> + <p> + Soto was amazed. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know Sir Timothy Brast, sir?” he exclaimed. “Why, he is + supposed to be one of the richest men in the world! He spends money like + water. They say that when he is in England, his place down the river alone + costs a thousand pounds a week. When he gives a party here, we can find + nothing good enough. He is our most generous client.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy Brast,” Wilmore repeated. “Yes, I have heard of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, everybody knows Sir Timothy,” Soto went on eloquently. “He is the + greatest living patron of boxing. He found the money for the last + international fight.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he often come in alone like this?” Francis asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Either alone,” Soto replied, “or with a very large party. He entertains + magnificently.” + </p> + <p> + “I've seen his name in the paper in connection with something or other, + during the last few weeks,” Wilmore remarked reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Probably about two months ago, sir,” Soto suggested. “He gave a donation + of ten thousand pounds to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to + Animals, and they made him a Vice President.... In one moment, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The manager hurried away to receive a newly-arrived guest. Francis and his + friend exchanged a wondering glance. + </p> + <p> + “Father of Oliver Hilditch's wife,” Wilmore observed, “the most munificent + patron of boxing in the world, Vice President of the Society for the + Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and self-confessed arch-criminal! He + pulled our legs pretty well!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” Francis assented absently. + </p> + <p> + Wilmore glanced at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “What about moving on somewhere?” he suggested. “We might go into the + Alhambra for half-an-hour, if you like. The last act of the show is the + best.” + </p> + <p> + Francis shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “We've got to see this thing out,” he replied. “Have you forgotten that + our friend promised us a sensation before we left?” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore began to laugh a little derisively. Then, suddenly aware of some + lack of sympathy between himself and his friend, he broke off and glanced + curiously at the latter. + </p> + <p> + “You're not taking him seriously, are you?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I am,” he confessed. + </p> + <p> + “You don't believe that he was getting at us?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “You believe that something is going to happen here in this place, or + quite close?” + </p> + <p> + “I am convinced of it,” was the calm reply. + </p> + <p> + Wilmore was silent. For a moment he was troubled with his old fears as to + his friend's condition. A glance, however, at Francis' set face and + equable, watchful air, reassured him. + </p> + <p> + “We must see the thing through, of course, then,” he assented. “Let us see + if we can spot the actors in the coming drama.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + It happened that the two men, waiting in the vestibule of the restaurant + for Francis' car to crawl up to the entrance through the fog which had + unexpectedly rolled up, heard the slight altercation which was afterwards + referred to as preceding the tragedy. The two young people concerned were + standing only a few feet away, the girl pretty, a little peevish, an + ordinary type; her companion, whose boyish features were marred with + dissipation, a very passable example of the young man about town going a + little beyond his tether. + </p> + <p> + “It's no good standing here, Victor!” the girl exclaimed, frowning. “The + commissionaire's been gone ages already, and there are two others before + us for taxis.” + </p> + <p> + “We can't walk,” her escort replied gloomily. “It's a foul night. Nothing + to do but wait, what? Let's go back and have another drink.” + </p> + <p> + The girl stamped her satin-shod foot impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be silly,” she expostulated. “You know I promised Clara we'd be + there early.” + </p> + <p> + “All very well,” the young man grumbled, “but what can we do? We shall + have to wait our turn.” + </p> + <p> + “Why can't you slip out and look for a taxi yourself?” she suggested. “Do, + Victor,” she added, squeezing his arm. “You're so clever at picking them + up.” + </p> + <p> + He made a little grimace, but lit a cigarette and turned up his coat + collar. + </p> + <p> + “I'll do my best,” he promised. “Don't go on without me.” + </p> + <p> + “Try up towards Charing Cross Road, not the other way,” she advised + earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Right-oh!” he replied, which illuminative form of assent, a word spoken + as he plunged unwillingly into the thick obscurity on the other side of + the revolving doors, was probably the last he ever uttered on earth. + </p> + <p> + Left alone, the girl began to shiver, as though suddenly cold. She turned + around and glanced hurriedly back into the restaurant. At that moment she + met the steady, questioning scrutiny of Francis' eyes. She stood as though + transfixed. Then came the sound which every one talked of for months + afterwards, the sound which no one who heard it ever forgot—the + death cry of Victor Bidlake, followed a second afterwards by a muffled + report. A strain of frenzied surprise seemed mingled with the horror. + Afterwards, silence. + </p> + <p> + There was the sound of some commotion outside, the sound of hurried + footsteps and agitated voices. Then a terrible little procession appeared. + Something—it seemed to be a shapeless heap of clothes—was + carried in and laid upon the floor, in the little space between the + revolving doors and the inner entrance. Two blue-liveried attendants kept + back the horrified but curious crowd. Francis, vaguely recognised as being + somehow or other connected with the law, was one of the few people allowed + to remain whilst a doctor, fetched out from the dancing-room, kneeled over + the prostrate form. He felt that he knew beforehand the horrible verdict + which the latter whispered in his ear after his brief examination. + </p> + <p> + “Quite dead! A ghastly business!” + </p> + <p> + Francis gazed at the hole in the shirt-front, disfigured also by a + scorching stain. + </p> + <p> + “A bullet?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The doctor nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Fired within a foot of the poor fellow's heart,” he whispered. “The + murderer wasn't taking any chances, whoever he was.” + </p> + <p> + “Have the police been sent for?” + </p> + <p> + The head-porter stepped forward. + </p> + <p> + “There was a policeman within a few yards of the spot, sir,” he replied. + “He's gone down to keep every one away from the place where we found the + body. We've telephoned to Scotland Yard for an inspector.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more can be done,” he pronounced. “Keep the people out of here + whilst I go and fetch my hat and coat. Afterwards, I'll take the body to + the mortuary when the ambulance arrives.” + </p> + <p> + An attendant pushed his way through the crowd of people on the inner side + of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Daisy Hyslop, young lady who was with Mr. Bidlake, has just fainted + in the ladies' room, sir,” he announced. “Could you come?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be there immediately,” the doctor promised. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the proceedings followed a normal course. The police arrived, + took various notes, the ambulance followed a little later, the body was + removed, and the little crowd of guests, still infected with a sort of + awed excitement, were allowed to take their leave. Francis and Wilmore + drove almost in silence to the former's rooms in Clarges Street. + </p> + <p> + “Come up and have a drink, Andrew,” Francis invited. + </p> + <p> + “I need it,” was the half-choked response. + </p> + <p> + Francis led the way in silence up the two flights of stairs into his + sitting-room, mixed whiskies and sodas from the decanter and syphon which + stood upon the sideboard, and motioned his friend to an easy-chair. Then + he gave form to the thought which had been haunting them both. + </p> + <p> + “What about our friend Sir Timothy Brast?” he enquired. “Do you believe + now that he was pulling our legs?” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief. It was a chilly + evening, but there were drops of perspiration still standing there. + </p> + <p> + “Francis,” he confessed, “it's horrible! I don't think realism like this + attracts me. It's horrible! What are we going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing for the present,” was the brief reply. “If we were to tell our + story, we should only be laughed at. What there is to be done falls to my + lot.” + </p> + <p> + “Had the police anything to say about it?” Wilmore asked. + </p> + <p> + “Only a few words,” Francis replied. “Shopland has it in hand. A good man + but unimaginative. I've come across him in one or two cases lately. You'll + find a little bit like this in the papers to-morrow: 'The murder is + believed to have been committed by one of the gang of desperadoes who have + infested the west-end during the last few months.' You remember the + assault in the Albany Court Yard, and the sandbagging in Shepherd Market + only last week?” + </p> + <p> + “That seems to let Sir Timothy out,” Wilmore remarked. + </p> + <p> + “There are many motives for crime besides robbery,” Francis declared. + “Don't be afraid, Andrew, that I am going to turn amateur detective and + make the unravelment of this case all the more difficult for Scotland + Yard. If I interfere, it will be on a certainty. Andrew, don't think I'm + mad but I've taken up the challenge our great philanthropist flung at me + to-night. I've very little interest in who killed this boy Victor Bidlake, + or why, but I'm convinced of one thing—Brast knew about it, and if + he is posing as a patron of crime on a great scale, sooner or later I + shall get him. He may think himself safe, and he may have the courage of + Beelzebub—he seems rather that type—but if my presentiment + about him—comes true, his number's up. I can almost divine the + meaning of his breaking in upon our conversation to-night. He needs an + enemy—he is thirsting for danger. He has found it!” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore filled his pipe thoughtfully. At the first whiff of tobacco he + began to feel more normal. + </p> + <p> + “After all, Francis,” he said, “aren't we a little overstrung to-night? + Sir Timothy Brast is no adventurer. He is a prince in the city, a persona + grata wherever he chooses to go. He isn't a hanger-on in Society. He isn't + even dependent upon Bohemia for his entertainment. You can't seriously + imagine that a man with his possessions is likely to risk his life and + liberty in becoming the inspiration of a band of cutthroats?” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled. He, too, had lit his pipe and had thrown himself into his + favourite chair. He smiled confidently across at his friend. + </p> + <p> + “A millionaire with brains,” he argued, “is just the one person in the + world likely to weary of all ordinary forms of diversion. I begin to + remember things about him already. Haven't you heard about his wonderful + parties down at The Walled House?” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore struck the table by his side with his clenched fist. + </p> + <p> + “By George, that's it!” he exclaimed. “Who hasn't!” + </p> + <p> + “I remember Baker talking about one last year,” Francis continued, “never + any details, but all kinds of mysterious hints—a sort of mixture + between a Roman orgy and a chapter from the 'Arabian Nights'—singers + from Petrograd, dancers from Africa and fighting men from Chicago.” + </p> + <p> + “The fellow's magnificent, at any rate,” Wilmore remarked. + </p> + <p> + His host smoked furiously for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “That's the worst of these multi-millionaires,” he declared. “They think + they can rule the world, traffic in human souls, buy morals, mock at the + law. We shall see!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the thing that I found most interesting about him?” Wilmore + asked. + </p> + <p> + “His black opals,” the other suggested. “You're by the way of being a + collector, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “The fact that he is the father of Oliver Hilditch's widow.” + </p> + <p> + Francis sat quite still for a moment. There was a complete change in his + expression. He looked like a man who has received a shock. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot that,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + Francis met Shopland one morning about a week later, on his way from + Clarges Street to his chambers in the Temple. The detective raised his hat + and would have passed on, but Francis accosted him. + </p> + <p> + “Any progress, Mr. Shopland?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + The detective fingered his small, sandy moustache. He was an + insignificant-looking little man, undersized, with thin frame and watery + eyes. His mouth, however, was hard, and there were some tell-tale little + lines at its corners. + </p> + <p> + “None whatever, I am sorry to say, Mr. Ledsam,” he admitted. “At present + we are quite in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + “You found the weapon, I hear?” + </p> + <p> + Shopland nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It was just an ordinary service revolver, dating from the time of the + war, exactly like a hundred thousand others. The enquiries we were able to + make from it came to nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Where was it picked up?” + </p> + <p> + “In the middle of the waste plot of ground next to Soto's. The murderer + evidently threw it there the moment he had discharged it. He must have + been wearing rubber-soled shoes, for not a soul heard him go.” + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” he said, after a slight pause, “whether it ever occurred to + you to interview Miss Daisy Hyslop, the young lady who was with Bidlake on + the night of his murder?” + </p> + <p> + “I called upon her the day afterwards,” the detective answered. + </p> + <p> + “She had nothing to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “Indirectly, of course,” Francis continued, “the poor girl was the cause + of his death. If she had not insisted upon his going out for a taxicab, + the man who was loitering about would probably have never got hold of + him.” + </p> + <p> + The detective glanced up furtively at the speaker. He seemed to reflect + for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I gathered,” he said, “in conversation with the commissionaire, that Miss + Hyslop was a little impatient that night. It seems, however, that she was + anxious to get to a ball which was being given down in Kensington.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a ball, was there?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt,” the detective replied. “It was given by a Miss Clara + Bultiwell. She happens to remember urging Miss Hyslop to come on as early + as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “So that's that,” Francis observed. + </p> + <p> + “Just so, Mr. Ledsam,” the detective murmured. + </p> + <p> + They were walking along the Mall now, eastwards. The detective, who seemed + to have been just a saunterer, had accommodated himself to Francis' + destination. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see, there was nothing stolen from the young man's person, was + there?” Francis asked presently. + </p> + <p> + “Apparently nothing at all, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And I gather that you have made every possible enquiry as to the young + man's relations with his friends?” + </p> + <p> + “So far as one can learn, sir, they seem to have been perfectly amicable.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” Francis remarked presently, “this may have been quite a + purposeless affair. The deed may have been committed by a man who was + practically a lunatic, without any motive or reason whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely so, sir,” the detective agreed. + </p> + <p> + “But, all the same, I don't think it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Shopland,” he said, “if there is no further external evidence to be + collected, I suggest that there is only one person likely to prove of + assistance to you.” + </p> + <p> + “And that one person, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Daisy Hyslop.” + </p> + <p> + “The young lady whom I have already seen?” + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded. + </p> + <p> + “The young lady whom you have already seen,” he assented. “At the same + time, Mr. Shopland, we must remember this. If Miss Hyslop has any + knowledge of the facts which are behind Mr. Bidlake's murder, it is more + likely to be to her interest to keep them to herself, than to give them + away to the police free gratis and for nothing. Do you follow me?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “That being so,” Francis continued, “I am going to make a proposition to + you for what it is worth. Where were you going when I met you this + morning, Shopland?” + </p> + <p> + “To call upon you in Clarges Street, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “I was going to ask you if you would be so kind as to call upon Miss Daisy + Hyslop, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Great minds,” he murmured. “I will see the young lady this afternoon, + Shopland.” + </p> + <p> + The detective raised his hat. They had reached the spot where his + companion turned off by the Horse Guards Parade. + </p> + <p> + “I may hope to hear from you, then, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Within the course of a day or two, perhaps earlier,” Francis promised. + </p> + <p> + Francis continued his walk along the Embankment to his chambers in the + Temple. He glanced in the outer office as he passed to his consulting + room. + </p> + <p> + “Anything fresh, Angrave?” he asked his head-clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever, sir,” was the quiet reply. + </p> + <p> + He passed on to his own den—a bare room with long windows looking + out over the gardens. He glanced at the two or three letters which lay on + his desk, none of them of the least interest, and leaning back in his + chair commenced to fill his pipe. There was a knock at the door. Fawsitt, + a young beginner at the bar, in whom he had taken some interest and who + deviled for him, presented himself. + </p> + <p> + “Can I have a word with you, Mr. Ledsam?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” was the prompt response. “Sit down.” + </p> + <p> + Fawsitt seated himself on the other side of the table. He had a long, thin + face, dark, narrow eyes, unwholesome complexion, a slightly hooked nose, + and teeth discoloured through constant smoking. His fingers, too, bore the + tell-tale yellow stains. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I think, with your permission, I should like to + leave at the end of my next three months.” + </p> + <p> + Francis glanced across at him. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry to hear that, Fawsitt. Are you going to work for any one else?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't made arrangements yet, sir,” the young man replied. “I thought + of offering myself to Mr. Barnes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you want to leave me?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “There isn't enough for me to do, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Francis lit his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “It's probably just a lull, Fawsitt,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! You've been gossiping with some of these solicitors' clerks, + Fawsitt.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't call it gossiping, sir. I am always interested to hear + anything that may concern our—my future. I have reason to believe, + sir, that we are being passed over for briefs.” + </p> + <p> + “The reason being?” + </p> + <p> + “One can't pick and choose, sir. One shouldn't, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You evidently don't approve of any measure of personal choice as to the + work which one takes up.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I do not, sir, in our profession. The only brief I would refuse + would be a losing or an ill-paid one. I don't conceive it to be our + business to prejudge a case.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Francis murmured. “Go on, Fawsitt.” + </p> + <p> + “There's a rumour about,” the young man continued, “that you are only + going to plead where the chances are that your client is innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “There's some truth in that,” Francis admitted. + </p> + <p> + “If I could leave a little before the three months, sir, I should be + glad,” Fawsitt said. “I look at the matter from an entirely different + point of view.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall leave when you like, of course, Fawsitt, but tell me what that + point of view is?” + </p> + <p> + “Just this, sir. The simplest-minded idiot who ever stammered through his + address, can get an innocent prisoner off if he knows enough of the facts + and the law. To my mind, the real triumph in our profession is to be able + to unwind the meshes of damning facts and force a verdict for an + indubitably guilty client.” + </p> + <p> + “How does the moral side of that appeal to you?” his senior enquired. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't become a barrister to study morals, or even to consider them,” + was the somewhat caustic reply. “When once a brief is in my mind, it is a + matter of brain, cunning and resource. The guiltier a man, the greater the + success if you can get him off.” + </p> + <p> + “And turn him loose again upon Society?” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't our job to consider that, sir. The moral question is only + confusing in the matter. Our job is to make use of the law for the benefit + of our client. That's what we're paid for. That's the measure of our + success or failure.” + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Very reasonably put, Fawsitt,” he conceded. “I'll give you a letter to + Barnes whenever you like.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be glad if you would do so, sir,” the young man said. “I'm only + wasting my time here....” + </p> + <p> + Francis wrote a letter of recommendation to Barnes, the great K.C., + considered a stray brief which had found its way in, and strolled up + towards the Milan as the hour approached luncheon-time. In the American + bar of that palatial hotel he found the young man he was looking for—a + flaxen-haired youth who was seated upon one of the small tables, with his + feet upon a chair, laying down the law to a little group of acquaintances. + He greeted Francis cordially but without that due measure of respect which + nineteen should accord to thirty-five. + </p> + <p> + “Cheerio, my elderly relative!” he exclaimed. “Have a cocktail.” + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded assent. + </p> + <p> + “Come into this corner with me for a moment, Charles,” he invited. “I have + a word for your ear.” + </p> + <p> + The young man rose and sat by his uncle's side on a settee. + </p> + <p> + “In my declining years,” the latter began, “I find myself reverting to the + follies of youth. I require a letter of introduction from you to a young + lady of your acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! Not one of my own special little pets, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Her name is Miss Daisy Hyslop,” Francis announced. + </p> + <p> + Lord Charles Southover pursed his lips and whistled. He glanced at Francis + sideways. + </p> + <p> + “Is this the beginning of a campaign amongst the butterflies,” he + enquired, “because, if so, I feel it my duty, uncle, to address to you a + few words of solemn warning. Miss Daisy Hyslop is hot stuff.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, young fellow,” Francis said equably, “I don't know what the + state of your exchequer is—” + </p> + <p> + “I owe you forty,” Lord Charles interrupted. “Spring another tenner, make + it fifty, that is, and the letter of introduction I will write for you + will bring tears of gratitude to your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll spring the tenner,” Francis promised, “but you'll write just what I + tell you—no more and no less.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything extra for keeping mum at home?” the young man ventured + tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “You're a nice sort of nephew to have!” Francis declared. “Abandon these + futile attempts at blackmail and just come this way to the writing-table.” + </p> + <p> + “You've got the tenner with you?” the young man asked anxiously. + </p> + <p> + Francis produced a well-filled pocketbook. His nephew led the way to a + writing-table, lit a cigarette which he stuck into the corner of his + mouth, and in painstaking fashion wrote the few lines which Francis + dictated. The ten pounds changed hands. + </p> + <p> + “Have one with me for luck?” the young man invited brightly. “No? Perhaps + you're right,” he added, in valedictory fashion. “You'd better keep your + head clear for Daisy!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + Miss Daisy Hyslop received Francis that afternoon, in the sitting-room of + her little suite at the Milan. Her welcoming smile was plaintive and a + little subdued, her manner undeniably gracious. She was dressed in black, + a wonderful background for her really gorgeous hair, and her deportment + indicated a recent loss. + </p> + <p> + “How nice of you to come and see me,” she murmured, with a lingering touch + of the fingers. “Do take that easy-chair, please, and sit down and talk to + me. Your roses were beautiful, but whatever made you send them to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Impulse,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “Then please yield to such impulses as often as you feel them,” she + begged. “I adore flowers. Just now, too,” she added, with a little sigh, + “anything is welcome which helps to keep my mind off my own affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “It was very good of you to let me come,” he declared. “I can quite + understand that you don't feel like seeing many people just now.” + </p> + <p> + Francis' manner, although deferential and courteous, had nevertheless some + quality of aloofness in it to which she was unused and which she was quick + to recognise. The smile, faded from her face. She seemed suddenly not + quite so young. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I seen you before somewhere quite lately?” she asked, a little + sharply. + </p> + <p> + “You saw me at Soto's, the night that Victor Bidlake was murdered,” he + reminded her. “I stood quite close to you both while you were waiting for + your taxi.” + </p> + <p> + The animation evoked by this call from a presumably new admirer, suddenly + left her. She became nervous and constrained. She glanced again at his + card. + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell me,” she begged, “that you have come to ask me any questions + about that night! I simply could not bear it. The police have been here + twice, and I had nothing to tell them, absolutely nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” he assented soothingly. “Police have such a clumsy way of + expecting valuable information for nothing. I'm always glad to hear of + their being disappointed.” + </p> + <p> + She studied her visitor for a moment carefully. Then she turned to the + table by her side, picked up a note and read it through. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Southover tells me here,” she said, “that you are just a pal of his + who wants to make my acquaintance. He doesn't say why.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that necessary?” Francis asked good-naturedly. + </p> + <p> + She moved in her chair a little nervously, crossing and uncrossing her + legs more than once. Her white silk stockings underneath her black skirt + were exceedingly effective, a fact of which she never lost consciousness, + although at that moment she was scarcely inspired to play the coquette. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to think it wasn't,” she admitted frankly. + </p> + <p> + “I've seen you repeatedly upon the stage,” he told her, “and, though + musical comedy is rather out of my line, I have always admired you + immensely.” + </p> + <p> + She studied him once more almost wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “You look very nice,” she acknowledged, “but you don't look at all the + kind of man who admires girls who do the sort of rubbish I do on the + stage.” + </p> + <p> + “What do I look like?” he asked, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “A man with a purpose,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “I begin to think,” he ventured, “that we shall get on. You are really a + very astute young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite sure you're not one of these amateur detectives one reads + about?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” he assured her. “I will confess that I am interested in + Victor Bidlake's death, and I should like to discover the truth about it, + but I have a reason for that which I may tell you some day. It has nothing + whatever to do with the young man himself. To the best of my belief, I + never saw or heard of him before in my life. My interest lies with another + person. You have lost a great friend, I know. If you felt disposed to tell + me the whole story, it might make such a difference.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed. Her confidence was returning—also her self-pity. The + latter at once betrayed itself. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” she confided, “Victor and I were engaged to be married, so + naturally I let him help me a little. I shan't be able to stay on here + now. They are bothering me about their bill already,” she added, with a + side-glance at an envelope which stood on a table by her side. + </p> + <p> + He drew a little nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Hyslop—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Daisy,” she interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Daisy Hyslop, then,” he continued, smiling, “I suggested just now + that I did not want to come and bother you for information without any + return. If I can be of any assistance to you in that matter,” he added, + glancing towards the envelope, “I shall be very pleased.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed gratefully. + </p> + <p> + “Just till Victor's people return to town,” she said. “I know that they + mean to do something for me.” + </p> + <p> + “How much?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred pounds would keep me going,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + He wrote out a cheque. Miss Hyslop drew a sigh of relief as she laid it on + one side with the envelope. Then she swung round in her chair to face him + where he sat at the writing-table. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you will think that what I have to tell is very + insignificant,” she confessed. “Victor was one of those boys who always + fancied themselves bored. He was bored with polo, bored with motoring, + bored with the country and bored with town. Then quite suddenly during the + last few weeks he seemed changed. All that he would tell me was that he + had found a new interest in life. I don't know what it was but I don't + think it was a nice one. He seemed to drop all his old friends, too, and + go about with a new set altogether—not a nice set at all. He used to + stay out all night, and he quite gave up going to dances and places where + he could take me. Once or twice he came here in the afternoon, dead beat, + without having been to bed at all, and before he could say half-a-dozen + words he was asleep in my easy-chair. He used to mutter such horrible + things that I had to wake him up.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he ever short of money?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Not seriously,” she answered. “He was quite well-off, besides what his + people allowed him. I was going to have a wonderful settlement as soon as + our engagement was announced. However, to go on with what I was telling + you, the very night before—it happened—he came in to see me, + looking like nothing on earth. He cried like a baby, behaved like a + lunatic, and called himself all manner of names. He had had a great deal + too much to drink, and I gathered that he had seen something horrible. It + was then he asked me to dine with him the next night, and told me that he + was going to break altogether with his new friends. Something in + connection with them seemed to have given him a terrible fright.” + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded. He had the tact to abandon his curiosity at this precise + point. + </p> + <p> + “The old story,” he declared, “bad company and rotten habits. I suppose + some one got to know that the young man usually carried a great deal of + money about with him.” + </p> + <p> + “It was so foolish of him,” she assented eagerly: “I warned him about it + so often. The police won't listen to it but I am absolutely certain that + he was robbed. I noticed when he paid the bill that he had a great wad of + bank-notes which were never discovered afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + Francis rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing to-night?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she acknowledged eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Then let's dine somewhere and see the show at the Frivolity,” he + suggested. + </p> + <p> + “You dear man!” she assented with enthusiasm. “The one thing I wanted to + do, and the one person I wanted to do it with.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + It was after leaving Miss Daisy Hyslop's flat that the event to which + Francis Ledsam had been looking forward more than anything else in the + world, happened. It came about entirely by chance. There were no taxis in + the Strand. Francis himself had finished work for the day, and feeling + disinclined for his usual rubber of bridge, he strolled homewards along + the Mall. At the corner of Green Park, he came face to face with the woman + who for the last few months had scarcely been out of his thoughts. Even in + that first moment he realised to his pain that she would have avoided him + if she could. They met, however, where the path narrowed, and he left her + no chance to avoid him. That curious impulse of conventionality which + opens a conversation always with cut and dried banalities, saved them + perhaps from a certain amount of embarrassment. Without any conscious + suggestion, they found themselves walking side by side. + </p> + <p> + “I have been wanting to see you very much indeed,” he said. “I even went + so far as to wonder whether I dared call.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you?” she asked. “Our acquaintance began and ended in tragedy. + There is scarcely any purpose in carrying it further.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her for a moment before replying. She was wearing black, but + scarcely the black of a woman who sorrows. She was still frigidly + beautiful, redolent, in all the details of her toilette, of that almost + negative perfection which he had learnt to expect from her. She suggested + to him still that same sense of aloofness from the actualities of life. + </p> + <p> + “I prefer not to believe that it is ended,” he protested. “Have you so + many friends that you have no room for one who has never consciously done + you any harm?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with some faint curiosity in her immobile features. + </p> + <p> + “Harm? No! On the contrary, I suppose I ought to thank you for your + evidence at the inquest.” + </p> + <p> + “Some part of it was the truth,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” she admitted drily. “You told it very cleverly.” + </p> + <p> + He looked her in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My profession helped me to be a good witness,” he said. “As for the gist + of my evidence, that was between my conscience and myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Your conscience?” she repeated. “Are there really men who possess such + things?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will discover that for yourself some day,” he answered. “Tell + me your plans? Where are you living?” + </p> + <p> + “For the present with my father in Curzon Street.” + </p> + <p> + “With Sir Timothy Brast?” + </p> + <p> + She assented. + </p> + <p> + “You know him?” she asked indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Very slightly,” Francis replied. “We talked together, some nights ago, at + Soto's Restaurant. I am afraid that I did not make a very favourable + impression upon him. I gathered, too, that he has somewhat eccentric + tastes.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not see a great deal of my father,” she said. “We met, a few months + ago, for the first time since my marriage, and things have been a little + difficult between us—just at first. He really scarcely ever puts in + an appearance at Curzon Street. I dare say you have heard that he makes a + hobby of an amazing country house which he has down the river.” + </p> + <p> + “The Walled House?” he ventured. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I see you have heard of it. All London, they tell me, gossips about the + entertainments there.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they really so wonderful?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have never been to one,” she replied. “As a matter of fact, I have + spent scarcely any time in England since my marriage. My husband, as I + remember he told you, was fond of travelling.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the warm spring air he was conscious of a certain + chilliness. Her level, indifferent tone seemed to him almost abnormally + callous. A horrible realisation flashed for a moment in his brain. She was + speaking of the man whom she had killed! + </p> + <p> + “Your father overheard a remark of mine,” Francis told her. “I was at + Soto's with a friend—Andrew Wilmore, the novelist—and to tell + you the truth we were speaking of the shock I experienced when I realised + that I had been devoting every effort of which I was capable, to saving + the life of—shall we say a criminal? Your father heard me say, in + rather a flamboyant manner, perhaps, that in future I declared war against + all crime and all criminals.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled very faintly, a smile which had in it no single element of joy + or humour. + </p> + <p> + “I can quite understand my father intervening,” she said. “He poses as + being rather a patron of artistically-perpetrated crime. Sue is his + favourite author, and I believe that he has exceedingly grim ideas as to + duelling and fighting generally. He was in prison once for six months at + New Orleans for killing a man who insulted my mother. Nothing in the world + would ever have convinced him that he had not done a perfectly legitimate + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I am expecting to find him quite an interesting study, when I know him + better,” Francis pronounced. “My only fear is that he will count me an + unfriendly person and refuse to have anything to do with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not at all sure,” she said indifferently, “that it would not be very + much better for you if he did.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot admit that,” he answered, smiling. “I think that our paths in + life are too far apart for either of us to influence the other. You don't + share his tastes, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Which ones?” she asked, after a moment's silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, boxing for one,” he replied. “They tell me that he is the greatest + living patron of the ring, both here and in America.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never been to a fight in my life,” she confessed. “I hope that I + never may.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't go so far as that,” he declared, “but boxing isn't altogether one + of my hobbies. Can't we leave your father and his tastes alone for the + present? I would rather talk about—ourselves. Tell me what you care + about most in life?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she answered listlessly. + </p> + <p> + “But that is only a phase,” he persisted. “You have had terrible trials, I + know, and they must have affected your outlook on life, but you are still + young, and while one is young life is always worth having.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so once,” she assented. “I don't now.” + </p> + <p> + “But there must be—there will be compensations,” he assured her. “I + know that just now you are suffering from the reaction—after all you + have gone through. The memory of that will pass.” + </p> + <p> + “The memory of what I have gone through will never pass,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's intense silence, a silence pregnant with reminiscent + drama. The little room rose up before his memory—the woman's + hopeless, hating eyes, the quivering thread of steel, the dead man's + mocking words. He seemed at that moment to see into the recesses of her + mind. Was it remorse that troubled her, he wondered? Did she lack strength + to realise that in that half-hour at the inquest he had placed on record + for ever his judgment of her deed? Even to think of it now was morbid. + Although he would never have confessed it even to himself, there was + growing daily in his mind some idea of reward. She had never thanked him—he + hoped that she never would—but he had surely a right to claim some + measure of her thoughts, some light place in her life. + </p> + <p> + “Please look at me,” he begged, a little abruptly. + </p> + <p> + She turned her head in some surprise. Francis was almost handsome in the + clear Spring sunlight, his face alight with animation, his deep-set grey + eyes full of amused yet anxious solicitude. Even as she appreciated these + things and became dimly conscious of his eager interest, her perturbation + seemed to grow. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she ventured. + </p> + <p> + “Do I look like a person who knew what he was talking about?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “On the whole, I should say that you did,” she admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” he went on cheerfully, “believe me when I say that the + shadow which depresses you all the time now will pass. I say this + confidently,” he added, his voice softening, “because I hope to be allowed + to help. Haven't you guessed that I am very glad indeed to see you again?” + </p> + <p> + She came to a sudden standstill. They had just passed through Lansdowne + Passage and were in the quiet end of Curzon Street. + </p> + <p> + “But you must not talk to me like that!” she expostulated. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he demanded. “We have met under strange and untoward + circumstances, but are you so very different from other women?” + </p> + <p> + For a single moment she seemed infinitely more human, startled, a little + nervous, exquisitely sympathetic to an amazing and unexpected impression. + She seemed to look with glad but terrified eyes towards the vision of + possible things—and then to realise that it was but a trick of the + fancy and to come shivering back to the world of actualities. + </p> + <p> + “I am very different,” she said quietly. “I have lived my life. What I + lack in years has been made up to me in horror. I have no desire now but + to get rid of this aftermath of years as smoothly and quickly as possible. + I do not wish any man, Mr. Ledsam, to talk to me as you are doing.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not accept my friendship?” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “May I be allowed to call upon you?” he went on, doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “I do not receive visitors,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + They were walking slowly up Curzon Street now. She had given him every + opportunity to leave her, opportunities to which he was persistently + blind. Her obstinacy had been a shock to him. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said, “but I cannot accept my dismissal like this. I + shall appeal to your father. However much he may dislike me, he has at + least common-sense.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a touch of the old horror in her coldly-questioning + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “In your way you have been kind to me,” she admitted. “Let me in return + give you a word of advice. Let me beg you to have nothing whatever to do + with my father, in friendship or in enmity. Either might be equally + disastrous. Either, in the long run, is likely to cost you dear.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is your opinion of your father, why do you live with him?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + She had become entirely callous again. Her smile, with its mocking + quality, reminded him for a moment of the man whom they were discussing. + </p> + <p> + “Because I am a luxury and comfort-loving parasite,” she answered + deliberately, “because my father gladly pays my accounts at Lucille and + Worth and Reville, because I have never learnt to do without things. And + please remember this. My father, so far as I am concerned, has no faults. + He is a generous and courteous companion. Nevertheless, number 70 b, + Curzon Street is no place for people who desire to lead normal lives.” + </p> + <p> + And with that she was gone. Her gesture of dismissal was so complete and + final that he had no courage for further argument. He had lost her almost + as soon as he had found her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + Four men were discussing the verdict at the adjourned inquest upon Victor + Bidlake, at Soto's American Bar about a fortnight later. They were Robert + Fairfax, a young actor in musical comedy, Peter Jacks, a cinema producer, + Gerald Morse, a dress designer, and Sidney Voss, a musical composer and + librettist, all habitues of the place and members of the little circle + towards which the dead man had seemed, during the last few weeks of his + life, to have become attracted. At a table a short distance away, Francis + Ledsam was seated with a cocktail and a dish of almonds before him. He + seemed to be studying an evening paper and to be taking but the scantiest + notice of the conversation at the bar. + </p> + <p> + “It just shows,” Peter Jacks declared, “that crime is the easiest game in + the world. Given a reasonable amount of intelligence, and a murderer's + business is about as simple as a sandwich-man's.” + </p> + <p> + “The police,” Gerald Morse, a pale-faced, anaemic-looking youth, declared, + “rely upon two things, circumstantial evidence and motive. In the present + case there is no circumstantial evidence, and as to motive, poor old + Victor was too big a fool to have an enemy in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Sidney Voss, who was up for the Sheridan Club and had once been there, + glanced respectfully across at Francis. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to know something about crime and criminals, Mr. Ledsam,” he + said. “Have you any theory about the affair?” + </p> + <p> + Francis set down the glass from which he had been drinking, and, folding + up the evening paper, laid it by the side of him. + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of fact,” he answered calmly, “I have.” + </p> + <p> + The few words, simply spoken, yet in their way charged with menace, + thrilled through the little room. Fairfax swung round upon his stool, a + tall, aggressive-looking youth whose good-looks were half eaten up with + dissipation. His eyes were unnaturally bright, the cloudy remains in his + glass indicated absinthe. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, you fellows!” he exclaimed. “Mr. Francis Ledsam, the great + criminal barrister, is going to solve the mystery of poor old Victor's + death for us!” + </p> + <p> + The three other young men all turned around from the bar. Their eyes and + whole attention seemed rivetted upon Francis. No one seemed to notice the + newcomer who passed quietly to a chair in the background, although he was + a person of some note and interest to all of them. Imperturbable and + immaculate as ever, Sir Timothy Brast smiled amiably upon the little + gathering, summoned a waiter and ordered a Dry Martini. + </p> + <p> + “I can scarcely promise to do that,” Francis said slowly, his eyes resting + for a second or two upon each of the four faces. “Exact solutions are a + little out of my line. I think I can promise to give you a shock, though, + if you're strong enough to stand it.” + </p> + <p> + There was another of those curiously charged silences. The bartender + paused with the cocktail shaker still in his hand. Voss began to beat + nervously upon the counter with his knuckles. + </p> + <p> + “We can stand anything but suspense,” he declared. “Get on with your + shock-giving.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that the person responsible for the death of Victor Bidlake is + in this room at the present moment,” Francis declared. + </p> + <p> + Again the silence, curious, tense and dramatic. Little Jimmy, the + bartender, who had leaned forward to listen, stood with his mouth slightly + open and the cocktail-shaker which was in his hand leaked drops upon the + counter. The first conscious impulse of everybody seemed to be to glance + suspiciously around the room. The four young men at the bar, Jimmy and one + waiter, Francis and Sir Timothy Brast, were its only occupants. + </p> + <p> + “I say, you know, that's a bit thick, isn't it?” Sidney Voss stammered at + last. “I wasn't in the place at all, I was in Manchester, but it's a bit + rough on these other chaps, Victor's pals.” + </p> + <p> + “I was dining at the Cafe Royal,” Jacks declared, loudly. + </p> + <p> + Morse drew a little breath. + </p> + <p> + “Every one knows that I was at Brighton,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “I went home directly the bar here closed,” Jimmy said, in a still dazed + tone. “I heard nothing about it till the next morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Alibis by the bushel,” Fairfax laughed harshly. “As for me, I was doing + my show—every one knows that. I was never in the place at all.” + </p> + <p> + “The murder was not committed in the place,” Francis commented calmly. + </p> + <p> + Fairfax slid off his stool. A spot of colour blazed in his pale cheeks, + the glass which he was holding snapped in his fingers. He seemed suddenly + possessed. + </p> + <p> + “I say, what the hell are you getting at?” he cried. “Are you accusing me—or + any of us Victor's pals?” + </p> + <p> + “I accuse no one,” Francis replied, unperturbed. “You invited a statement + from me and I made it.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy Brast rose from his place and made his way to the end of the + counter, next to Fairfax and nearest Francis. He addressed the former. + There was an inscrutable smile upon his lips, his manner was reassuring. + </p> + <p> + “Young gentleman,” he begged, “pray do not disturb yourself. I will answer + for it that neither you nor any of your friends are the objects of Mr. + Leadsam's suspicion. Without a doubt, it is I to whom his somewhat bold + statement refers.” + </p> + <p> + They all stared at him, immersed in another crisis, bereft of speech. He + tapped a cigarette upon the counter and lit it. Fairfax, whose glass had + just been refilled by the bartender, was still ghastly pale, shaking with + nervousness and breathing hoarsely. Francis, tense and alert in his chair, + watched the speaker but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” Sir Timothy continued, addressing himself to the four young men + at the bar, “I happen to have two special aversions in life. One is sweet + champagne and the other amateur detectives—their stories, their + methods and everything about them. I chanced to sit upstairs in the + restaurant, within hearing of Mr. Ledsam and his friend Mr. Wilmore, the + novelist, the other night, and I heard Mr. Ledsam, very much to my + chagrin, announce his intention of abandoning a career in which he has, if + he will allow me to say so,”—with a courteous bow to Francis—“attained + considerable distinction, to indulge in the moth-eaten, flamboyant and + melodramatic antics of the lesser Sherlock Holmes. I fear that I could not + resist the opportunity of—I think you young men call it—pulling + his leg.” + </p> + <p> + Every one was listening intently, including Shopland, who had just drifted + into the room and subsided into a chair near Francis. + </p> + <p> + “I moved my place, therefore,” Sir Timothy continued, “and I whispered in + Mr. Ledsam's ear some rodomontade to the effect that if he were planning + to be the giant crime-detector of the world, I was by ambition the + arch-criminal—or words to that effect. And to give emphasis to my + words, I wound up by prophesying a crime in the immediate vicinity of the + place within a few hours.” + </p> + <p> + “A somewhat significant prophecy, under the circumstances,” Francis + remarked, reaching out for a dish of salted almonds and drawing them + towards him. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. + </p> + <p> + “I will confess,” he admitted, “that I had not in my mind an affair of + such dimensions. My harmless remark, however, has produced cataclysmic + effects. The conversation to which I refer took place on the night of + young Bidlake's murder, and Mr. Ledsam, with my somewhat, I confess, + bombastic words in his memory, has pitched upon me as the bloodthirsty + murderer.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on for a moment, sir,” Peter Jacks begged, wiping the perspiration + from his forehead. “We've got to have another drink quick. Poor old Bobby + here looks knocked all of a heap, and I'm kind of jumpy myself. You'll + join us, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you,” was the courteous reply. “I do not as a rule indulge to the + extent of more than one cocktail, but I will recognise the present as an + exceptional occasion. To continue, then,” he went on, after the glasses + had been filled, “I have during the last few weeks experienced the + ceaseless and lynx-eyed watch of Mr. Ledsam and presumably his myrmidons. + I do not know whether you are all acquainted with my name, but in case you + are not, let me introduce myself. I am Sir Timothy Brast, Chairman, as I + dare say you know, of the United Transvaal Gold Mines, Chairman, also, of + two of the principal hospitals in London, Vice President of the Society + for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, a patron of sport in many forms, + a traveller in many countries, and a recipient of the honour of knighthood + from His Majesty, in recognition of my services for various philanthropic + works. These facts, however, have availed me nothing now that the bungling + amateur investigator into crime has pointed the finger of suspicion + towards me. My servants and neighbours have alike been plagued to death + with cunning questions as to my life and habits. I have been watched in + the streets and watched in my harmless amusements. My simple life has been + peered into from every perspective and direction. In short, I am suspect. + Mr. Ledsam's terrifying statement a few minutes ago was directed towards + me and me only.” + </p> + <p> + There were murmurs of sympathy from the four young men, who each in his + own fashion appeared to derive consolation from Sir Timothy's frank and + somewhat caustic statement. Francis, who had listened unmoved to this flow + of words, glanced towards the door behind which dark figures seemed to be + looming. + </p> + <p> + “That is all you have to say, Sir Timothy?” he asked politely. + </p> + <p> + “For the present, yes,” was the guarded reply. “I trust that I have + succeeded in setting these young gentlemen's minds at ease.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one of them,” Francis said gravely, “whose mind not even your + soothing words could lighten.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland had risen unobtrusively to his feet. He laid his hand suddenly on + Fairfax's shoulder and whispered in his ear. Fairfax, after his first + start, seemed cool enough. He stretched out his hand towards the glass + which as yet he had not touched; covered it with his fingers for a moment + and drained its contents. The gently sarcastic smile left Sir Timothy's + lips. His eyebrows met in a quick frown, his eyes glittered. + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded sharply. + </p> + <p> + A policeman in plain clothes had advanced from the door. The manager + hovered in the background. Shopland saw that all was well. + </p> + <p> + “It means,” he announced, “that I have just arrested Mr. Robert Fairfax + here on a charge of wilful murder. There is a way out through the + kitchens, I believe. Take his other arm, Holmes. Now, gentlemen, if you + please.” + </p> + <p> + There were a few bewildered exclamations—then a dramatic hush. + Fairfax had fallen forward on his stool. He seemed to have relapsed into a + comatose state. Every scrap of colour was drained from his sallow cheeks, + his eyes were covered with a film and he was breathing heavily. The + detective snatched up the glass from which the young man had been + drinking, and smelt it. + </p> + <p> + “I saw him drop a tablet in just now,” Jimmy faltered. “I thought it was + one of the digestion pills he uses sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland and the policeman placed their hands underneath the armpits of + the unconscious man. + </p> + <p> + “He's done, sir,” the former whispered to Francis. “We'll try and get him + to the station if we can.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + The greatest tragedies in the world, provided they happen to other people, + have singularly little effect upon the externals of our own lives. There + was certainly not a soul in Soto's that night who did not know that Bobby + Fairfax had been arrested in the bar below for the murder of Victor + Bidlake, had taken poison and died on the way to the police station. Yet + the same number of dinners were ordered and eaten, the same quantity of + wine drunk. The management considered that they had shown marvellous + delicacy of feeling by restraining the orchestra from their usual musical + gymnastics until after the service of dinner. Conversation, in + consequence, buzzed louder than ever. One speculation in particular + absorbed the attention of every single person in the room—why had + Bobby Fairfax, at the zenith of a very successful career, risked the + gallows and actually accepted death for the sake of killing Victor + Bidlake, a young man with whom, so far as anybody knew, he had no cause of + quarrel whatever? There were many theories, many people who knew the real + facts and whispered them into a neighbour's ear, only to have them + contradicted a few moments later. Yet, curiously enough, the two men who + knew most about it were the two most silent men in the room, for each was + dining alone. Francis, who had remained only in the hope that something of + the sort might happen, was conscious of a queer sense of excitement when, + with the service of coffee, Sir Timothy, glass in hand, moved up from a + table lower down and with a word of apology took the vacant place by his + side. It was what he had desired, and yet he felt a thrill almost of fear + at Sir Timothy's murmured words. He felt that he was in the company of one + who, if not an enemy, at any rate had no friendly feeling towards him. + </p> + <p> + “My congratulations, Mr. Ledsam,” Sir Timothy said quietly. “You appear to + have started your career with a success.” + </p> + <p> + “Only a partial one,” Francis acknowledged, “and as a matter of fact I + deny that I have started in any new career. It was easy enough to make use + of a fluke and direct the intelligence of others towards the right person, + but when the real significance of the thing still eludes you, one can + scarcely claim a triumph.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy gently knocked the ash from the very fine cigar which he was + smoking. + </p> + <p> + “Still, your groundwork was good,” he observed. + </p> + <p> + Francis shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he admitted, “was due to chance.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we exchange notes?” Sir Timothy suggested gently. “It might be + interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “As you will,” Francis assented. “There is no particular secret in the way + I stumbled upon the truth. I was dining here that night, as you know, with + Andrew Wilmore, and while he was ordering the dinner and talking to some + friends, I went down to the American Bar to have a cocktail. Miss Daisy + Hyslop and Fairfax were seated there alone and talking confidentially. + Fairfax was insisting that Miss Hyslop should do something which puzzled + her. She consented reluctantly, and Fairfax then hurried off to the + theatre. Later on, Miss Hyslop and the unfortunate young man occupied a + table close to ours, and I happened to notice that she made a point of + leaving the restaurant at a particular time. While they were waiting in + the vestibule she grew very impatient. I was standing behind them and I + saw her glance at the clock just before she insisted upon her companion's + going out himself to look for a taxicab. Ergo, one enquires at Fairfax's + theatre. For that exact three-quarters of an hour he is off the stage. At + that point my interest in the matter ceases. Scotland Yard was quite + capable of the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Disappointing,” Sir Timothy murmured. “I thought at first that you were + over-modest. I find that I was mistaken. It was chance alone which set you + on the right track.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is my story, at any rate,” Francis declared. “With how much + of your knowledge of the affair are you going to indulge me?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy slowly revolved his brandy glass. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “I will tell you this. The two young men concerned, + Bidlake and Fairfax, were both guests of mine recently at my country + house. They had discovered for one another a very fierce and reasonable + antipathy. With that recurrence to primitivism with which I have always + been a hearty sympathiser, they agreed, instead of going round their + little world making sneering remarks about each other, to fight it out.” + </p> + <p> + “At your suggestion, I presume?” Francis interposed. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” Sir Timothy assented. “I recommended that course, and I + offered them facilities for bringing the matter to a crisis. The fight, + indeed, was to have come off the day after the unfortunate episode which + anticipâtéd it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me that you knew—” Francis began. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy checked him quietly but effectively. + </p> + <p> + “I knew nothing,” he said, “except this. They were neither of them young + men of much stomach, and I knew that the one who was the greater coward + would probably try to anticipâté the matter by attacking the other first + if he could. I knew that Fairfax was the greater coward—not that + there was much to choose between them—and I also knew that he was + the injured person. That is really all there is about it. My somewhat + theatrical statement to you was based upon probability, and not upon any + certain foreknowledge. As you see, it came off.” + </p> + <p> + “And the cause of their quarrel?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “There might have been a hundred reasons,” Sir Timothy observed. “As a + matter of fact, it was the eternal one. There is no need to mention a + woman's name, so we will let it go at that.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's silence—a strange, unforgettable moment for + Francis Ledsam, who seemed by some curious trick of the imagination to + have been carried away into an impossible and grotesque world. The hum of + eager conversation, the popping of corks, the little trills of feminine + laughter, all blended into one sensual and not unmusical chorus, seemed to + fade from his ears. He fancied himself in some subterranean place of vast + dimensions, through the grim galleries of which men and women with evil + faces crept like animals. And towering above them, unreal in size, his + scornful face an epitome of sin, the knout which he wielded symbolical and + ghastly, driving his motley flock with the leer of the evil shepherd, was + the man from whom he had already learnt to recoil with horror. The picture + came and went in a flash. Francis found himself accepting a courteously + offered cigar from his companion. + </p> + <p> + “You see, the story is very much like many others,” Sir Timothy murmured, + as he lit a fresh Cigar himself and leaned back with the obvious enjoyment + of the cultivated smoker. “In every country of the world, the animal world + as well as the human world, the male resents his female being taken from + him. Directly he ceases to resent it, he becomes degenerate. Surely you + must agree with me, Mr. Leddam?” + </p> + <p> + “It comes to this, then,” Francis pronounced deliberately, “that you + stage-managed the whole affair.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled. + </p> + <p> + “It is my belief, Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “that you grow more and more + intelligent every hour.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy glanced presently at his thin gold watch and put it back in + his pocket regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” he sighed, “I fear that I must tear myself away. I particularly + want to hear the last act of 'Louise.' The new Frenchwoman sings, and my + daughter is alone. You will excuse me.” + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded silently. His companion's careless words had brought a + sudden dazzling vision into his mind. Sir Timothy scrawled his name at the + foot of his bill. + </p> + <p> + “It is one of my axioms in life, Mr. Ledsam,” he continued, “that there is + more pleasure to be derived from the society of one's enemies than one's + friends. If I thought you sufficiently educated in the outside ways of the + world to appreciate this, I would ask if you cared to accompany me?” + </p> + <p> + Francis did not hesitate for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy,” he said, “I have the greatest detestation for you, and I am + firmly convinced that you represent all the things in life abhorrent to + me. On the other hand, I should very much like to hear the last act of + 'Louise,' and it would give me the greatest pleasure to meet your + daughter. So long as there is no misunderstanding.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, “we will get our hats. I am becoming more and more + grateful to you, Mr. Ledsam. You are supplying something in my life which + I have lacked. You appeal alike to my sense of humour and my imagination. + We will visit the opera together.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + The two men left Soto's together, very much in the fashion of two ordinary + acquaintances sallying out to spend the evening together. Sir Timothy's + Rolls-Royce limousine was in attendance, and in a few minutes they were + threading the purlieus of Covent Garden. It was here that an incident + occurred which afforded Francis considerable food for thought during the + next few days. + </p> + <p> + It was a Friday night, and one or two waggons laden with vegetable produce + were already threading their way through the difficult thoroughfares. + Suddenly Sir Timothy, who was looking out of the window, pressed the + button of the car, which was at once brought to a standstill. Before the + footman could reach the door Sir Timothy was out in the street. For the + first time Francis saw him angry. His eyes were blazing. His voice—Francis + had followed him at once into the street—shook with passion. His + hand had fallen heavily upon the shoulder of a huge carter, who, with whip + in hand, was belabouring a thin scarecrow of a horse. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil are you doing?” Sir Timothy demanded. + </p> + <p> + The man stared at his questioner, and the instinctive antagonism of race + vibrated in his truculent reply. The carter was a beery-faced, + untidy-looking brute, but powerfully built and with huge shoulders. Sir + Timothy, straight as a dart, without overcoat or any covering to his thin + evening clothes, looked like a stripling in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “I'm whippin' 'er, if yer want to know,” was the carter's reply. “I've got + to get up the 'ill, 'aven't I? Garn and mind yer own business!” + </p> + <p> + “This is my business,” Sir Timothy declared, laying his hand upon the neck + of the horse. “I am an official of the Society for the Prevention of + Cruelty to Animals. You are laying yourself open to a fine for your + treatment of this poor brute.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll lay myself open for a fine for the treatment of something else, if + you don't quid 'old of my 'oss,” the carter retorted, throwing his whip + back into the waggon and coming a step nearer. “D'yer 'ear? I don't want + any swells interferin' with my business. You 'op it. Is that strite + enough? 'Op it, quick!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy's anger seemed to have abated. There was even the beginning of + a smile upon his lips. All the time his hand caressed the neck of the + horse. Francis noticed with amazement that the poor brute had raised his + head and seemed to be making some faint effort at reciprocation. + </p> + <p> + “My good man,” Sir Timothy said, “you seem to be one of those brutal + persons unfit to be trusted with an animal. However—” + </p> + <p> + The carter had heard quite enough. Sir Timothy's tone seemed to madden + him. He clenched his fist and rushed in. + </p> + <p> + “You take that for interferin', you big toff!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + The result of the man's effort at pugilism was almost ridiculous. His arms + appeared to go round like windmills beating the air. It really seemed as + though he had rushed upon the point of Sir Timothy's knuckles, which had + suddenly shot out like the piston of an engine. The carter lay on his back + for a moment. Then he staggered viciously to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Don't,” Sir Timothy begged, as he saw signs of another attack. “I don't + want to hurt you. I have been amateur champion of two countries. Not quite + fair, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Wot d'yer want to come interferin' with a chap's business for?” the man + growled, dabbing his cheek with a filthy handkerchief but keeping at a + respectful distance. + </p> + <p> + “It happens to be my business also,” Sir Timothy replied, “to interfere + whenever I see animals ill-treated. Now I don't want to be unreasonable. + That animal has done all the work it ought to do in this world. How much + is she worth to you?” + </p> + <p> + Through the man's beer-clogged brain a gleam of cunning began to find its + way. He looked at the Rolls-Royce, with the two motionless servants on the + box, at Francis standing by, at Sir Timothy, even to his thick + understanding the very prototype of a “toff.” + </p> + <p> + “That 'oss,” he said, “ain't what she was, it's true, but there's a lot of + work in 'er yet. She may not be much to look at but she's worth forty quid + to me—ay, and one to spit on!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy counted out some notes from the pocketbook which he had + produced, and handed them to the man. + </p> + <p> + “Here are fifty pounds,” he said. “The mare is mine. Johnson!” + </p> + <p> + The second man sprang from his seat and came round. + </p> + <p> + “Unharness that mare,” his master ordered, “help the man push his trolley + back out of the way, then lead the animal to the mews in Curzon Street. + See that she is well bedded down and has a good feed of corn. To-morrow I + shall send her down to the country, but I will come and have a look at her + first.” + </p> + <p> + The man touched his hat and hastened to commence his task. The carter, who + had been busy counting the notes, thrust them into his pocket with a grin. + </p> + <p> + “Good luck to yer, guvnor!” he shouted out, in valedictory fashion. “'Ope + I meets yer again when I've an old crock on the go.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy turned his head. + </p> + <p> + “If ever I happen to meet you, my good man,” he threatened, “using your + whip upon a poor beast who's doing his best, I promise you you won't get + up in two minutes, or twenty.... We might walk the last few yards, Mr. + Ledsam.” + </p> + <p> + The latter acquiesced at once, and in a moment or two they were underneath + the portico of the Opera House. Sir Timothy had begun to talk about the + opera but Francis was a little distrait. His companion glanced at him + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “You are puzzled, Mr. Ledsam?” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Very,” was the prompt response. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You are one of these primitive Anglo-Saxons,” he said, “who can see the + simple things with big eyes, but who are terribly worried at an unfamiliar + constituent. You have summed me up in your mind as a hardened brute, a + criminal by predilection, a patron of murderers. Ergo, you ask yourself + why should I trouble to save a poor beast of a horse from being chastised, + and go out of my way to provide her with a safe asylum for the rest of her + life? Shall I help you, Mr. Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would,” Francis confessed. + </p> + <p> + They had passed now through the entrance to the Opera House and were in + the corridor leading to the grand tier boxes. On every side Sir Timothy + had been received with marks of deep respect. Two bowing attendants were + preceding them. Sir Timothy leaned towards his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” he whispered, “I like animals better than human beings.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret Hilditch, her chair pushed back into the recesses of the box, + scarcely turned her head at her father's entrance. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought an acquaintance of yours, Margaret,” the latter announced, + as he hung up his hat. “You remember Mr. Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + Francis drew a little breath of relief as he bowed over her hand. For the + second time her inordinate composure had been assailed. She was her usual + calm and indifferent self almost immediately, but the gleam of surprise, + and he fancied not unpleasant surprise, had been unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + “Are you a devotee, Mr. Ledsam?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am fond of music,” Francis answered, “especially this opera.” + </p> + <p> + She motioned to the chair in the front of the box, facing the stage. + </p> + <p> + “You must sit there,” she insisted. “I prefer always to remain here, and + my father always likes to face the audience. I really believe,” she went + on, “that he likes to catch the eye of the journalist who writes little + gossipy items, and to see his name in print.” + </p> + <p> + “But you yourself?” Francis ventured. + </p> + <p> + “I fancy that my reasons for preferring seclusion should be obvious + enough,” she replied, a little bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter is inclined, I fear, to be a little morbid,” Sir Timothy + said, settling down in his place. + </p> + <p> + Francis made no reply. A triangular conversation of this sort was almost + impossible. The members of the orchestra were already climbing up to their + places, in preparation for the overture to the last act. Sir Timothy rose + to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse me for a moment,” he begged. “I see a lady to whom I must + pay my respects.” + </p> + <p> + Francis drew a sigh of relief at his departure. He turned at once to his + companion. + </p> + <p> + “Did you mind my coming?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Mind it?” she repeated, with almost insolent nonchalance. “Why should it + affect me in any way? My father's friends come and go. I have no interest + in any of them.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” he protested, “I want you to be interested in me.” + </p> + <p> + She moved a little uneasily in her place. Her tone, nevertheless, remained + icy. + </p> + <p> + “Could you possibly manage to avoid personalities in your conversation, + Mr. Ledsam?” she begged. + </p> + <p> + “I have tried already to tell you how I feel about such things.” + </p> + <p> + She was certainly difficult. Francis realised that with a little sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Were you surprised to see me with your father?” he asked, a little + inanely. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot conceive what you two have found in common,” she admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps our interest in you,” he replied. “By-the-bye, I have just seen + him perform a quixotic but a very fine action,” Francis said. “He stopped + a carter from thrashing his horse; knocked him down, bought the horse from + him and sent it home.” + </p> + <p> + She was mildly interested. + </p> + <p> + “An amiable side of my father's character which no one would suspect,” she + remarked. “The entire park of his country house at Hatch End is given over + to broken-down animals.” + </p> + <p> + “I am one of those,” he confessed, “who find this trait amazing.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am another,” she remarked coolly. “If any one settled down + seriously to try and understand my father, he would need the spectacles of + a De Quincey, the outlook of a Voltaire, and the callousness of a Borgia. + You see, he doesn't lend himself to any of the recognised standards.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do you,” he said boldly. + </p> + <p> + She looked away from him across the House, to where Sir Timothy was + talking to a man and woman in one of the ground-floor boxes. Francis + recognised them with some surprise—an agricultural Duke and his + daughter, Lady Cynthia Milton, one of the most, beautiful and famous young + women in London. + </p> + <p> + “Your father goes far afield for his friends,” Francis remarked. + </p> + <p> + “My father has no friends,” she replied. “He has many acquaintances. I + doubt whether he has a single confidant. I expect Cynthia is trying to + persuade him to invite her to his next party at The Walled House.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think she would fail, won't she?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you think that?” + </p> + <p> + Francis shrugged his shoulders slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Your father's entertainments have the reputation of being somewhat + unique,” he remarked. “You do not, by-the-bye, attend them yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “You must remember that I have had very few opportunities so far,” she + observed. “Besides, Cynthia has tastes which I do not share.” + </p> + <p> + “As, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + “She goes to the National Sporting Club. She once travelled, I know, over + a hundred miles to go to a bull fight.” + </p> + <p> + “On the whole,” Francis said, “I am glad that you do not share her + tastes.” + </p> + <p> + “You know her?” Margaret enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Indifferently well,” Francis replied. “I knew her when she was a child, + and we seem to come together every now and then at long intervals. As a + debutante she was charming. Lately it seems to me that she has got into + the wrong set.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you call the wrong set?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Please don't think that I am laying down the law,” he said. “I have been + out so little, the last few years, that I ought not, perhaps, to + criticise. Lady Cynthia, however, seems to me to belong to the extreme + section of the younger generation, the section who have a sort of craze + for the unusual, whose taste in art and living is distorted and bizarre. + You know what I mean, don't you—black drawing-rooms, futurist + wall-papers, opium dens and a cocaine box! It's to some extent + affectation, of course, but it's a folly that claims its victims.” + </p> + <p> + She studied him for a moment attentively. His leanness was the leanness of + muscular strength and condition, his face was full of vigour and + determination. + </p> + <p> + “You at least have escaped the abnormal,” she remarked. “I am not quite + sure how the entertainments at The Walled House would appeal to you, but + if my father should invite you there, I should advise you not to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I really don't know why I should trouble to give you advice,” she said. + “As a matter of fact, I don't care whether you go or not. In any case, you + are scarcely likely to be asked.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure that I agree with you,” he protested. “Your father seems to + have taken quite a fancy to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I like the way he bought that horse,” Francis admitted. “And I am + beginning to realise that there may be something in the theory which he + advanced when he invited me to accompany him here this evening—that + there is a certain piquancy in one's intercourse with an enemy, which + friendship lacks. There may be complexities in his character which as yet + I have not appreciated.” + </p> + <p> + The curtain had gone up and the last act of the opera had commenced. She + leaned back in her chair. Without a word or even a gesture, he understood + that a curtain had been let down between them. He obeyed her unspoken wish + and relapsed into silence. Her very absorption, after all, was a hopeful + sign. She would have him believe that she felt nothing, that she was + living outside all the passion and sentiment of life. Yet she was absorbed + in the music.... Sir Timothy came back and seated himself silently. It was + not until the tumult of applause which broke out after the great song of + the French ouvrier, that a word passed between them. + </p> + <p> + “Cavalisti is better,” Sir Timothy commented. “This man has not the + breadth of passion. At times he is merely peevish.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Cavalisti would be too egotistical for the part,” she said quietly. “It + is difficult.” + </p> + <p> + Not another word was spoken until the curtain fell. Francis lingered for a + moment over the arrangement of her cloak. Sir Timothy was already outside, + talking to some acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + “It has been a great pleasure to see you like this unexpectedly,” he said, + a little wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot imagine why,” she answered, with an undernote of trouble in her + tone. “Remember the advice I gave you before. No good can come of any + friendship between my father and you.” + </p> + <p> + “There is this much of good in it, at any rate,” he answered, as he held + open the door for her. “It might give me the chance of seeing you + sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not a matter worth considering,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “I find it very much worth considering,” he whispered, losing his head for + a moment as they stood close together in the dim light of the box, and a + sudden sense of the sweetness of her thrilled his pulses. “There isn't + anything in the world I want so much as to see you oftener—to have + my chance.” + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary glow in her eyes. Her lips quivered. The few words + which he saw framed there—he fancied of reproof—remained + unspoken. Sir Timothy was waiting for them at the entrance. + </p> + <p> + “I have been asking Mrs. Hilditch's permission to call in Curzon Street,” + Francis said boldly. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure my daughter will be delighted,” was the cold but courteous + reply. + </p> + <p> + Margaret herself made no comment. The car drew up and she stepped into it—a + tall, slim figure, wonderfully graceful in her unrelieved black, her hair + gleaming as though with some sort of burnish, as she passed underneath the + electric light. She looked back at him with a smile of farewell as he + stood bareheaded upon the steps, a smile which reminded him somehow of her + father, a little sardonic, a little tender, having in it some faintly + challenging quality. The car rolled away. People around were gossiping—rather + freely. + </p> + <p> + “The wife of that man Oliver Hilditch,” he heard a woman say, “the man who + was tried for murder, and committed suicide the night after his acquittal. + Why, that can't be much more than three months ago.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are the daughter of a millionaire,” her escort observed, “you can + defy convention.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that was Sir Timothy Brast,” another man was saying. “He's supposed + to be worth a cool five millions.” + </p> + <p> + “If the truth about him were known,” his companion confided, dropping his + voice, “it would cost him all that to keep out of the Old Bailey. They say + that his orgies at Hatch End—Our taxi. Come on, Sharpe.” + </p> + <p> + Francis strolled thoughtfully homewards. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + Francis Ledsam was himself again, the lightest-hearted and most popular + member of his club, still a brilliant figure in the courts, although his + appearances there were less frequent, still devoting the greater portion + of his time, to his profession, although his work in connection with it + had become less spectacular. One morning, at the corner of Clarges Street + and Curzon Street, about three weeks after his visit to the Opera, he came + face to face with Sir Timothy Brast. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my altruistic peerer into other people's affairs, how goes it?” the + latter enquired pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “How does it seem, my arch-criminal, to be still breathing God's fresh + air?” Francis retorted in the same vein. “Make the most of it. It may not + last for ever.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled. He was looking exceedingly well that morning, the very + prototype of a man contented with life and his part in it. He was wearing + a morning coat and silk hat, his pâtént boots were faultlessly polished, + his trousers pressed to perfection, his grey silk tie neat and + fashionable. Notwithstanding his waxenlike pallor, his slim figure and + lithe, athletic walk seemed to speak of good health. + </p> + <p> + “You may catch the minnow,” he murmured. “The big fish swim on. + By-the-bye,” he added, “I do not notice that your sledge-hammer blows at + crime are having much effect. Two undetected murders last week, and one + the week before. What are you about, my astute friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Those are matters for Scotland Yard,” Francis replied, with an + indifferent little wave of the hand which held his cigarette. “Details are + for the professional. I seek that corner in Hell where the thunders are + welded and the poison gases mixed. In other words, I seek for the brains + of crime.” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, we do not see enough of one another, my young friend,” Sir + Timothy said earnestly. “You interest me more and more every time we meet. + I like your allegories, I like your confidence, which in any one except a + genius would seem blatant. When can we dine together and talk about + crime?” + </p> + <p> + “The sooner the better,” Francis replied promptly. “Invite me, and I will + cancel any other engagement I might happen to have.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy considered for a moment. The June sunshine was streaming down + upon them and the atmosphere was a little oppressive. + </p> + <p> + “Will you dine with me at Hatch End to-night?” he asked. “My daughter and + I will be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be delighted,” Francis replied promptly. “I ought to tell you, + perhaps, that I have called three times upon your daughter but have not + been fortunate enough to find her at home.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy was politely apologetic. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that my daughter is a little inclined to be morbid,” he confessed. + “Society is good for her. I will undertake that you are a welcome guest.” + </p> + <p> + “At what time do I come and how shall I find your house?” Francis + enquired. + </p> + <p> + “You motor down, I suppose?” Sir Timothy observed. “Good! In Hatch End any + one will direct you. We dine at eight. You had better come down as soon as + you have finished your day's work. Bring a suitcase and spend the night.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be delighted,” Francis replied. + </p> + <p> + “Do not,” Sir Timothy continued, “court disappointment by + over-anticipation. You have without doubt heard of my little gatherings at + Hatch End. They are viewed, I am told, with grave suspicion, alike by the + moralists of the City and, I fear, the police. I am not inviting you to + one of those gatherings. They are for people with other tastes. My + daughter and I have been spending a few days alone in the little bungalow + by the side of my larger house. That is where you will find us—The + Sanctuary, we call it.” + </p> + <p> + “Some day,” Francis ventured, “I shall hope to be asked to one of your + more notorious gatherings. For the present occasion I much prefer the + entertainment you offer.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we are both content,” Sir Timothy said, smiling. “Au revoir!” + </p> + <p> + Francis walked across Green Park, along the Mall, down Horse Guards + Parade, along the Embankment to his rooms on the fringe of the Temple. + Here he found his clerk awaiting his arrival in some disturbance of + spirit. + </p> + <p> + “There is a young gentleman here to see you, sir,” he announced. “Mr. + Reginald Wilmore his name is, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Wilmore?” Francis repeated. “What have you done with him?” + </p> + <p> + “He is in your room, sir. He seems very impatient. He has been out two or + three times to know how long I thought you would be.” + </p> + <p> + Francis passed down the stone passage and entered his room, a large, shady + apartment at the back of the building. To his surprise it was empty. He + was on the point of calling to his clerk when he saw that the + writing-paper on his desk had been disturbed. He went over and read a few + lines written in a boy's hasty writing: + </p> + <p> + DEAR Mr. LEDSAM: + </p> + <p> + I am in a very strange predicament and I have come to ask your advice. You + know my brother Andrew well, and you may remember playing tennis with me + last year. I am compelled— + </p> + <p> + At that point the letter terminated abruptly. There was a blot and a + smudge. The pen lay where it seemed to have rolled—on the floor. The + ink was not yet dry. Francis called to his clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Angrave,” he said, “Mr. Wilmore is not here.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk looked around in obvious surprise. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't five minutes since he came out to my office, sir!” he exclaimed. + “I heard him go back again afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + Francis shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he decided not to wait and you didn't hear him go by.” + </p> + <p> + Angrave shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I do not see how he could have left the place without my hearing him, + sir,” he declared. “The door of my office has been open all the time, and + I sit opposite to it. Besides, on these stone floors one can hear any one + so distinctly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what,” Francis asked, “has become of him?” + </p> + <p> + The clerk shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't any idea, sir,” he confessed. + </p> + <p> + Francis plunged into his work and forgot all about the matter. He was + reminded of it, however, at luncheon-time, when, on entering the + dining-room of the club, he saw Andrew Wilmore seated alone at one of the + small tables near the wall. He went over to him at once. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Andrew,” he greeted him, “what are you doing here by yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Bit hipped, old fellow,” was the depressed reply. “Sit down, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Francis sat down and ordered his lunch. + </p> + <p> + “By-the-bye,” he said, “I had rather a mysterious visit this morning from + your brother Reggie.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore stared at him for a moment, half in relief, half in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Good God, Francis, you don't say so!” he exclaimed. “How was he? What did + he want? Tell me about it at once? We've been worried to death about the + boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as a matter of fact, I didn't see him,” Francis explained. “He + arrived before I reached my rooms—as you know, I don't live there—waited + some time, began to write me this note,”—drawing the sheet of paper + from his pocket—“and when I got there had disappeared without + leaving a message or anything.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore adjusted his pince nez with trembling fingers. Then he read the + few lines through. + </p> + <p> + “Francis,” he said, when he had finished them, “do you know that this is + the first word we've heard of him for three days?” + </p> + <p> + “Great heavens!” Francis exclaimed. “He was living with his mother, wasn't + he?” + </p> + <p> + “Down at Kensington, but he hasn't been there since Monday,” Andrew + replied. “His mother is in a terrible state. And now this, I don't + understand it at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Was the boy hard up?” + </p> + <p> + “Not more than most young fellows are,” was the puzzled reply. “His + allowance was due in a few days, too. He had money in the bank, I feel + sure. He was saving up for a motorcar.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I seen him once or twice at restaurants lately?” Francis + enquired. “Soto's, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” his brother assented. “Why not? He's fond of dancing, and + we none of us ever encouraged him to be a stay-at-home.” + </p> + <p> + “Any particular girl was he interested in?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that we know of. Like most young fellows of his age, he was rather + keen on young women with some connection with the stage, but I don't + believe there was any one in particular. Reggie was too fond of games to + waste much time that way. He's at the gymnasium three evenings a week.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I'd been at the office a few minutes earlier this morning,” + Francis observed. “I tell you what, Andrew. I have some pals down at + Scotland Yard, and I'll go down and see them this afternoon. They'll want + a photograph, and to ask a few questions, I dare say, but I shouldn't talk + about the matter too much.” + </p> + <p> + “You're very kind, Francis,” his friend replied, “but it isn't so easy to + sit tight. I was going to the police myself this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Take my advice and leave it to me,” Francis begged. “I have a particular + pal down at Scotland Yard who I know will be interested, and I want him to + take up the case.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't any theory, I suppose?” Wilmore asked, a little wistfully. + </p> + <p> + Francis shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Not the ghost of one,” he admitted. “The reason I am advising you to keep + as quiet as possible, though, is just this. If you create a lot of + interest in a disappearance, you have to satisfy the public curiosity when + the mystery is solved.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Wilmore murmured. “All the same, I can't imagine Reggie getting + mixed up in anything discreditable.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither can I, from what I remember of the boy,” Francis agreed. “Let me + see, what was he doing in the City?” + </p> + <p> + “He was with Jameson & Scott, the stockbrokers,” Wilmore replied. “He + was only learning the business and he had no responsibilities. Curiously + enough, though, when I went to see Mr. Jameson he pointed out one or two + little matters that Reggie had attended to, which looked as though he were + clearing up, somehow or other.” + </p> + <p> + “He left no message there, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a line or a word. He gave the porter five shillings, though, on the + afternoon before he disappeared—a man who has done some odd jobs for + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, a voluntary disappearance is better than an involuntary one,” + Francis remarked. “What was his usual programme when he left the office?” + </p> + <p> + “He either went to Queen's and played racquets, or he went straight to his + gymnasium in the Holborn. I telephoned to Queen's. He didn't call there on + the Wednesday night, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's the gymnasium?” + </p> + <p> + “At 147 a Holborn. A lot of city young men go there late in the evening, + but Reggie got off earlier than most of them and used to have the place + pretty well to himself. I think that's why he stuck to it.” + </p> + <p> + Francis made a note of the address. + </p> + <p> + “I'll get Shopland to step down there some time,” he said. “Or better + still, finish your lunch and we'll take a taxi there ourselves. I'm going + to the country later on, but I've half-an-hour to spare. We can go without + our coffee and be there in ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “A great idea,” Wilmore acquiesced. “It's probably the last place Reggie + visited, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + The gymnasium itself was a source of immense surprise to both Francis and + Wilmore. It stretched along the entire top storey of a long block of + buildings, and was elaborately fitted with bathrooms, a restaurant and a + reading-room. The trapezes, bars, and all the usual appointments were of + the best possible quality. The manager, a powerful-looking man dressed + with the precision of the prosperous city magnate, came out of his office + to greet them. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do for you, gentlemen?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + “First of all,” Francis replied, “accept our heartiest congratulations + upon your wonderful gymnasium.” + </p> + <p> + The man bowed. + </p> + <p> + “It is the best appointed in the country, sir,” he said proudly. + “Absolutely no expense has been spared in fitting it up. Every one of our + appliances is of the latest possible description, and our bathrooms are an + exact copy of those in a famous Philadelphia club.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the subscription?” Wilmore asked. + </p> + <p> + “Five shillings a year.” + </p> + <p> + “And how many members?” + </p> + <p> + “Two thousand.” + </p> + <p> + The manager smiled as he saw his two visitors exchange puzzled glances. + </p> + <p> + “Needless to say, sir,” he added, “we are not self-supporting. We have + very generous patrons.” + </p> + <p> + “I lave heard my brother speak of this place as being quite wonderful,” + Wilmore remarked, “but I had no idea that it was upon this scale.” + </p> + <p> + “Is your brother a member?” the man asked. + </p> + <p> + “He is. To tell you the truth, we came here to ask you a question about + him.” + </p> + <p> + “What is his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Reginald Wilmore. He was here, I think, last Wednesday night.” + </p> + <p> + While Wilmore talked, Francis watched. He was conscious of a curious + change in the man's deportment at the mention of Reginald Wilmore's name. + From being full of bumptious, almost condescending good-nature, his + expression had changed into one of stony incivility. There was something + almost sinister in the tightly-closed lips and the suspicious gleam in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What questions did you wish to ask?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Reginald Wilmore has disappeared,” Francis explained simply. “He came + here on leaving the office last Monday. He has not been seen or heard of + since.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” the manager asked. + </p> + <p> + “We came to ask whether you happen to remember his being here on that + evening, and whether he gave any one here any indication of his future + movements. We thought, perhaps, that the instructor who was with him might + have some information.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a chance,” was the uncompromising reply. “I remember Mr. Wilmore + being here perfectly. He was doing double turns on the high bar. I saw + more of him myself than any one. I was with him when he went down to have + his swim.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he seem in his usual spirits?” Wilmore ventured. + </p> + <p> + “I don't notice what spirits my pupils are in,” the man answered, a little + insolently. “There was nothing the matter with him so far as I know.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't say anything about going away?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word. You'll excuse me, gentlemen—” + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” Francis interrupted. “We came here ourselves sooner than + send a detective. Enquiries are bound to be made as to the young man's + disappearance, and we have reason to know that this is the last place at + which he was heard of. It is not unreasonable, therefore, is it, that we + should come to you for information?” + </p> + <p> + “Reasonable or unreasonable, I haven't got any,” the man declared gruffly. + “If Mr. Wilmore's cleared out, he's cleared out for some reason of his + own. It's not my business and I don't know anything about it.” + </p> + <p> + “You understand,” Francis persisted, “that our interest in young Mr. + Wilmore is entirely a friendly one?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care whether it's friendly or unfriendly. I tell you I don't know + anything about him. And,” he added, pressing his thumb upon the button for + the lift, “I'll wish you two gentlemen good afternoon. I've business to + attend to.” + </p> + <p> + Francis looked at him curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I seen you somewhere before?” he asked, a little abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I can't say. My name is John Maclane.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavy-weight champion about seven years ago?” + </p> + <p> + “I was,” the man acknowledged. “You may have seen me in the ring. Now, + gentlemen, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + The lift had stopped opposite to them. The manager's gesture of dismissal + was final. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, Mr. Maclane, if we have annoyed you with our questions,” + Francis said. “I wish you could remember a little more of Mr. Wilmore's + last visit.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can't, and that's all there is to it,” was the blunt reply. “As + to being annoyed, I am only annoyed when my time's wasted. Take these + gents down, Jim. Good afternoon!” + </p> + <p> + The door was slammed to and they shot downwards. Francis turned to the + lift man. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know a Mr. Wilmore who comes here sometimes?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not likely!” the man scoffed. “They're comin' and goin' all the time from + four o'clock in the afternoon till eleven at night. If I heard a name I + shouldn't remember it. This way out, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore's hand was in his pocket but the man turned deliberately away. + They walked out into the street. + </p> + <p> + “For downright incivility,” the former observed, “commend me to the + attendants of a young men's gymnasium!” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled. + </p> + <p> + “All the same, old fellow,” he said, “if you worry for another five + minutes about Reggie, you're an ass.” + </p> + <p> + At six o'clock that evening Francis turned his two-seater into a winding + drive bordered with rhododendrons, and pulled up before the porch of a + charming two-storied bungalow, covered with creepers, and with + French-windows opening from every room onto the lawns. A man-servant who + had heard the approach of the car was already standing in the porch. Sir + Timothy, in white flannels and a panama hat, strolled across the lawn to + greet his approaching guest. + </p> + <p> + “Excellently timed, my young friend,” he said. “You will have time for + your first cocktail before you change. My daughter you know, of course. + Lady Cynthia Milton I think you also know.” + </p> + <p> + Francis shook hands with the two girls who were lying under the cedar + tree. Margaret Hilditch seemed to him more wonderful than ever in her + white serge boating clothes. Lady Cynthia, who had apparently just arrived + from some function in town, was still wearing muslin and a large hat. + </p> + <p> + “I am always afraid that Mr. Ledsam will have forgotten me,” she observed, + as she gave him her hand. “The last time I met you was at the Old Bailey, + when you had been cheating the gallows of a very respectable wife + murderer. Poynings, I think his name was.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember it perfectly,” Francis assented. “We danced together that + night, I remember, at your aunt's, Mrs. Malcolm's, and you were intensely + curious to know how Poynings had spent his evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Cynthia's reminder is perhaps a little unfortunate,” Sir Timothy + observed. “Mr. Ledsam is no longer the last hope of the enterprising + criminal. He has turned over a new leaf. To secure the services of his + silver tongue, you have to lay at his feet no longer the bags of gold from + your ill-gotten gains but the white flower of the blameless life.” + </p> + <p> + “This is all in the worst possible taste,” Margaret Hilditch declared, in + her cold, expressionless tone. “You might consider my feelings.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia only laughed. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Margaret,” she said, “if I thought that you had any, I should + never believe that you were your father's daughter. Here's to them, + anyway,” she added, accepting the cocktail from the tray which the butler + had just brought out. “Mr. Ledsam, are you going to attach yourself to me, + or has Margaret annexed you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have offered myself to Mrs. Hilditch,” Francis rejoined promptly, “but + so far I have made no impression.” + </p> + <p> + “Try her with a punt and a concertina after dinner,” Lady Cynthia + suggested. “After all, I came down here to better my acquaintance with my + host. You flirted with me disgracefully when I was a debutante, and have + never taken any notice of me since. I hate infidelity in a man. Sir + Timothy, I shall devote myself to you. Can you play a concertina?” + </p> + <p> + “Where the higher forms of music are concerned,” he replied, “I have no + technical ability. I should prefer to sit at your feet.” + </p> + <p> + “While I punt, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “There are backwaters,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia sipped her cocktail appreciatively. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how it is,” she observed, “that in these days, although we have + become callous to everything else in life, cocktails and flirtations still + attract us. You shall take me to a backwater after dinner, Sir Timothy. I + shall wear my silver-grey and take an armful of those black cushions from + the drawing-room. In that half light, there is no telling what success I + may not achieve.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” he said, “before dinner is over you will probably have changed + your mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so,” she admitted, “but you must remember that Mr. Ledsam is my + only alternative, and I am not at all sure that he likes me. I am not + sufficiently Victorian for his taste.” + </p> + <p> + The dressing-bell rang. Sir Timothy passed his arm through Francis'. + </p> + <p> + “The sentimental side of my domain;” he said, “the others may show you. My + rose garden across the stream has been very much admired. I am now going + to give you a glimpse of The Walled House, an edifice the possession of + which has made me more or less famous.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way through a little shrubbery, across a further strip of + garden and through a door in a high wall, which he opened with a key + attached to his watch-chain. They were in an open park now, studded with + magnificent trees, in the further corner of which stood an imposing + mansion, with a great domed roof in the centre, and broad stone terraces, + one of which led down to the river. The house itself was an amazingly + blended mixture of old and new, with great wings supported by pillars + thrown out on either side. It seemed to have been built without regard to + any definite period of architecture, and yet to have attained a certain + coherency—a far-reaching structure, with long lines of outbuildings. + In the park itself were a score or more of horses, and in the distance + beyond a long line of loose boxes with open doors. Even as they stood + there, a grey sorrel mare had trotted up to their side and laid her head + against Sir Timothy's shoulder. He caressed her surreptitiously, affecting + not to notice the approach of other animals from all quarters. + </p> + <p> + “Let me introduce you to The Walled House,” its owner observed, “so + called, I imagine, because this wall, which is a great deal older than you + or I, completely encloses the estate. Of course, you remember the old + house, The Walled Palace, they called it? It belonged for many years to + the Lynton family, and afterwards to the Crown.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember reading of your purchase,” Francis said, “and of course I + remember the old mansion. You seem to have wiped it out pretty + effectually.” + </p> + <p> + “I was obliged to play the vandal,” his host confessed. “In its previous + state, the house was picturesque but uninhabitable. As you see it now, it + is an exact reproduction of the country home of one of the lesser known of + the Borgias—Sodina, I believe the lady's name was. You will find + inside some beautiful arches, and a sense of space which all modern houses + lack. It cost me a great deal of money, and it is inhabited, when I am in + Europe, about once a fortnight. You know the river name for it? 'Timothy's + Folly!”' + </p> + <p> + “But what on earth made you build it, so long as you don't care to live + there?” Francis enquired. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he explained, “I like sometimes to entertain, and I like to + entertain, when I do, on a grand scale. In London, if I give a party, the + invitations are almost automatic. I become there a very insignificant link + in the chain of what is known as Society, and Society practically helps + itself to my entertainment, and sees that everything is done according to + rule. Down here things are entirely different. An invitation to The Walled + House is a personal matter. Society has nothing whatever to do with my + functions here. The reception-rooms, too, are arranged according to my own + ideas. I have, as you may have heard, the finest private gymnasium in + England. The ballroom and music-room and private theatre, too, are + famous.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you mean to say that you keep that huge place empty?” Francis + asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + “I have a suite of rooms there which I occasionally occupy,” Sir Timothy + replied, “and there are always thirty or forty servants and attendants of + different sorts who have their quarters there. I suppose that my daughter + and I would be there at the present moment but for the fact that we own + this cottage. Both she and I, for residential purposes, prefer the + atmosphere there.” + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely wonder at it,” Francis agreed. + </p> + <p> + They were surrounded now by various quadrupeds. As well as the horses, + half-a-dozen of which were standing patiently by Sir Timothy's side, + several dogs had made their appearance and after a little preliminary + enthusiasm had settled down at his feet. He leaned over and whispered + something in the ear of the mare who had come first. She trotted off, and + the others followed suit in a curious little procession. Sir Timothy + watched them, keeping his head turned away from Francis. + </p> + <p> + “You recognise the mare the third from the end?” he pointed out. “That is + the animal I bought in Covent Garden. You see how she has filled out?” + </p> + <p> + “I should never have recognised her,” the other confessed. + </p> + <p> + “Even Nero had his weaknesses,” Sir Timothy remarked, waving the dogs + away. “My animals' quarters are well worth a visit, if you have time. + There is a small hospital, too, which is quite up to date.” + </p> + <p> + “Do any of the horses work at all?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you a very human thing about my favourites,” he said. “In the + gardens on the other side of the house we have very extensive lawns, and + my head groom thought he would make use of one of a my horses who had + recovered from a serious accident and was really quite a strong beast, for + one of the machines. He found the idea quite a success, and now he no + sooner appears in the park with a halter than, instead of stampeding, + practically every one of those horses comes cantering up with the true + volunteering spirit. The one which he selects, arches his neck and goes + off to work with a whole string of the others following. Dodsley—that + is my groom's name—tells me that he does a great deal more mowing + now than he need, simply because they worry him for the work. Gratitude, + you see, Mr. Ledsam, sheer gratitude. If you were to provide a dozen + alms-houses for your poor dependants, I wonder how many of them would be + anxious to mow your lawn.... Come, let me show you your room now.” + </p> + <p> + They passed back through the postern-gate into the gardens of The + Sanctuary. Sir Timothy led the way towards the house. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that you decided to spend the night, Mr. Ledsam,” he said. “The + river sounds a terribly hackneyed place to the Londoner, but it has + beauties which only those who live with it can discover. Mind your head. + My ceilings are low.” + </p> + <p> + Francis followed his host along many passages, up and down stairs, until + he reached a little suite of rooms at the extreme end of the building. The + man-servant who had unpacked his bag stood waiting. Sir Timothy glanced + around critically. + </p> + <p> + “Small but compact,” he remarked. “There is a little sitting-room down + that stair, and a bathroom beyond. If the flowers annoy you, throw them + out of the window. And if you prefer to bathe in the river to-morrow + morning, Brooks here will show you the diving pool. I am wearing a short + coat myself to-night, but do as you please. We dine at half-past eight.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy disappeared with a courteous little inclination of the head. + Francis dismissed the manservant at once as being out of keeping with his + quaint and fascinating surroundings. The tiny room with its flowers, its + perfume of lavender, its old-fashioned chintzes, and its fragrant linen, + might still have been a room in a cottage. The sitting-room, with its + veranda looking down upon the river, was provided with cigars, whisky and + soda and cigarettes; a bookcase, with a rare copy of Rabelais, an original + Surtees, a large paper Decameron, and a few other classics. Down another + couple of steps was a perfectly white bathroom, with shower and plunge. + Francis wandered from room to room, and finally threw himself into a chair + on the veranda to smoke a cigarette. From the river below him came now and + then the sound of voices. Through the trees on his right he could catch a + glimpse, here and there, of the strange pillars and green domed roof of + the Borghese villa. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + It was one of those faultless June evenings when the only mission of the + faintly stirring breeze seems to be to carry perfumes from garden to + garden and to make the lightest of music amongst the rustling leaves. The + dinner-table had been set out of doors, underneath the odorous cedar-tree. + Above, the sky was an arc of the deepest blue through which the web of + stars had scarcely yet found its way. Every now and then came the sound of + the splash of oars from the river; more rarely still, the murmur of light + voices as a punt passed up the stream. The little party at The Sanctuary + sat over their coffee and liqueurs long after the fall of the first + twilight, till the points of their cigarettes glowed like little specks of + fire through the enveloping darkness. Conversation had been from the first + curiously desultory, edited, in a way, Francis felt, for his benefit. + There was an atmosphere about his host and Lady Cynthia, shared in a + negative way by Margaret Hilditch, which baffled Francis. It seemed to + establish more than a lack of sympathy—to suggest, even, a life + lived upon a different plane. Yet every now and then their references to + everyday happenings were trite enough. Sir Timothy had assailed the recent + craze for drugs, a diatribe to which Lady Cynthia had listened in silence + for reasons which Francis could surmise. + </p> + <p> + “If one must soothe the senses,” Sir Timothy declared, “for the purpose of + forgetting a distasteful or painful present, I cannot see why the average + mind does not turn to the contemplation of beauty in some shape or other. + A night like to-night is surely sedative enough. Watch these lights, drink + in these perfumes, listen to the fall and flow of the water long enough, + and you would arrive at precisely the same mental inertia as though you + had taken a dose of cocaine, with far less harmful an aftermath.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Cocaine is in one's dressing-room,” she objected, “and beauty is hard to + seek in Grosvenor Square.” + </p> + <p> + “The common mistake of all men,” Sir Timothy continued, “and women, too, + for the matter of that, is that we will persist in formulating doctrines + for other people. Every man or woman is an entity of humanity, with a + separate heaven and a separate hell. No two people can breathe the same + air in the same way, or see the same picture with the same eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia rose to her feet and shook out the folds of her diaphanous + gown, daring alike in its shapelessness and scantiness. She lit a + cigarette and laid her hand upon Sir Timothy's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said, “must I remind you of your promise? You are to show me + the stables at The Walled House before it is dark.” + </p> + <p> + “You would see them better in the morning,” he reminded her, rising with + some reluctance to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she answered, “but I have a fancy to see them now.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy looked back at the table. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said, “will you look after Mr. Ledsam for a little time? + You will excuse us, Ledsam? We shall not be gone long.” + </p> + <p> + They moved away together towards the shrubbery and the door in the wall + behind. Francis resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not also curious to penetrate the mysteries behind the wall, Mr. + Ledsam?” Margaret asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not so curious but that I would much prefer to remain here,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “With me?” + </p> + <p> + “With you.” + </p> + <p> + She knocked the ash from her cigarette. She was looking directly at him, + and he fancied that there was a gleam of curiosity in her beautiful eyes. + There was certainly a little more abandon about her attitude. She was + leaning back in a corner of her high-backed chair, and her gown, although + it lacked the daring of Lady Cynthia's, seemed to rest about her like a + cloud of blue-grey smoke. + </p> + <p> + “What a curious meal!” she murmured. “Can you solve a puzzle for me, Mr. + Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + “I would do anything for you that I could,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, then, why my father asked you here to-night? I can understand + his bringing you to the opera, that was just a whim of the moment, but an + invitation down here savours of deliberation. Studiously polite though you + are to one another, one is conscious all the time of the hostility beneath + the surface.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that so far as your father is concerned, it is part of his + peculiar disposition,” Francis replied. “You remember he once said that he + was tired of entertaining his friends—that there was more pleasure + in having an enemy at the board.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you an enemy, Mr. Ledsam?” she asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + He rose a little abruptly to his feet, ignoring her question. There were + servants hovering in the background. + </p> + <p> + “Will you walk with me in the gardens?” he begged. “Or may I take you upon + the river?” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet. For a moment she seemed to hesitate. + </p> + <p> + “The river, I think,” she decided. “Will you wait for three minutes while + I get a wrap. You will find some punts moored to the landing-stage there + in the stream. I like the very largest and most comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + Francis strolled to the edge of the stream, and made his choice of punts. + Soon a servant appeared with his arms full of cushions, and a moment or + two later, Margaret herself, wrapped in an ermine cloak. She smiled a + little deprecatingly as she picked her way across the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “Don't laugh at me for being such a chilly mortal, please,” she enjoined. + “And don't be afraid that I am going to propose a long expedition. I want + to go to a little backwater in the next stream.” + </p> + <p> + She settled herself in the stern and they glided down the narrow + thoroughfare. The rose bushes from the garden almost lapped the water as + they passed. Behind, the long low cottage, the deserted dinner-table, the + smooth lawn with its beds of scarlet geraniums and drooping lilac shrubs + in the background, seemed like a scene from fairyland, to attain a + perfection of detail unreal, almost theatrical. + </p> + <p> + “To the right when you reach the river, please,” she directed. “You will + find there is scarcely any current. We turn up the next stream.” + </p> + <p> + There was something almost mysterious, a little impressive, about the + broad expanse of river into which they presently turned. Opposite were + woods and then a sloping lawn. From a house hidden in the distance they + heard the sound of a woman singing. They even caught the murmurs of + applause as she concluded. Then there was silence, only the soft gurgling + of the water cloven by the punt pole. They glided past the front of the + great unlit house, past another strip of woodland, and then up a narrow + stream. + </p> + <p> + “To the left here,” she directed, “and then stop.” + </p> + <p> + They bumped against the bank. The little backwater into which they had + turned seemed to terminate in a bed of lilies whose faint fragrance almost + enveloped them. The trees on either side made a little arch of darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Please ship your pole and listen,” Margaret said dreamily. “Make yourself + as comfortable as you can. There are plenty of cushions behind you. This + is where I come for silence.” + </p> + <p> + Francis obeyed her orders without remark. For a few moments, speech seemed + impossible. The darkness was so intense that although he was acutely + conscious of her presence there, only a few feet away, nothing but the + barest outline of her form was visible. The silence which she had brought + him to seek was all around them. There was just the faintest splash of + water from the spot where the stream and the river met, the distant + barking of a dog, the occasional croaking of a frog from somewhere in the + midst of the bed of lilies. Otherwise the silence and the darkness were + like a shroud. Francis leaned forward in his place. His hands, which + gripped the sides of the punt, were hot. The serenity of the night mocked + him. + </p> + <p> + “So this is your paradise,” he said, a little hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + She made no answer. Her silence seemed to him more thrilling than words. + He leaned forward. His hands fell upon the soft fur which encompassed her. + They rested there. Still she did not speak. He tightened his grasp, moved + further forward, the passion surging through his veins, his breath almost + failing him. He was so near now that he heard her breathing, saw her face, + as pale as ever. Her lips were a little parted, her eyes looked out, as it + seemed to him, half in fear, half in hope. He bent lower still. She + neither shrank away nor invited him. + </p> + <p> + “Dear!” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + Her arms stole from underneath the cloak, her fingers rested upon his + shoulders. He scarcely knew whether it was a caress or whether she were + holding him from her. In any case it was too late. With a little sob of + passion his lips were pressed to hers. Even as she closed her eyes, the + scent of the lilies seemed to intoxicate him. + </p> + <p> + He was back in his place without conscious movement. His pulses were + quivering, the passion singing in his blood, the joy of her faint caress + living proudly in his memory. It had been the moment of his life, and yet + even now he felt sick at heart with fears, with the torment of her + passiveness. She had lain there in his arms, he had felt the thrill of her + body, some quaint inspiration had told him that she had sought for joy in + that moment and had not wholly failed. Yet his anxiety was tumultuous, + overwhelming. Then she spoke, and his heart leaped again. Her voice was + more natural. It was not a voice which he had ever heard before. + </p> + <p> + “Give me a cigarette, please—and I want to go back.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned over her again, struck a match with trembling fingers and gave + her the cigarette. She smiled at him very faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Please go back now,” she begged. “Smoke yourself, take me home slowly and + say nothing.” + </p> + <p> + He obeyed, but his knees were shaking when he stood up. Slowly, a foot at + a time, they passed from the mesh of the lilies out into the broad stream. + Almost as they did so, the yellow rim of the moon came up over the low + hills. As they turned into their own stream, the light was strong enough + for him to see her face. She lay there like a ghost, her eyes half closed, + the only touch of colour in the shining strands of her beautiful hair. She + roused herself a little as they swung around. He paused, leaning upon the + pole. + </p> + <p> + “You are not angry?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not angry,” she answered. “Why should I be? But I cannot talk to + you about it tonight.” + </p> + <p> + They glided to the edge of the landing-stage. A servant appeared and + secured the punt. + </p> + <p> + “Is Sir Timothy back yet?” Margaret enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, madam.” + </p> + <p> + She turned to Francis. + </p> + <p> + “Please go and have a whisky and soda in the smoking-room,” she said, + pointing to the open French windows. “I am going to my favourite seat. You + will find me just across the bridge there.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, filled with a passionate disinclination to leave her side + even for a moment. She seemed to understand but she pointed once more to + the room. + </p> + <p> + “I should like very much,” she added, “to be alone for five minutes. If + you will come and find me then—please!” + </p> + <p> + Francis stepped through the French windows into the smoking-room, where + all the paraphernalia for satisfying thirst were set out upon the + sideboard. He helped himself to whisky and soda and drank it absently, + with his eyes fixed upon the clock. In five minutes he stepped once more + back into the gardens, soft and brilliant now in the moonlight. As he did + so, he heard the click of the gate in the wall, and footsteps. His host, + with Lady Cynthia upon his arm, came into sight and crossed the lawn + towards him. Francis, filled though his mind was with other thoughts, + paused for a moment and glanced towards them curiously. Lady Cynthia + seemed for a moment to have lost all her weariness. Her eyes were very + bright, she walked with a new spring in her movements. Even her voice, as + she addressed Francis, seemed altered. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy has been showing me some of the wonders of his villa—do + you call it a villa or a palace?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is certainly not a palace,” Sir Timothy protested, “and I fear that it + has scarcely the atmosphere of a villa. It is an attempt to combine + certain ideas of my own with the requirements of modern entertainment. + Come and have a drink with us, Ledsam.” + </p> + <p> + “I have just had one,” Francis replied. “Mrs. Hilditch is in the rose + garden and I am on my way to join her.” + </p> + <p> + He passed on and the two moved towards the open French windows. He crossed + the rustic bridge that led into the flower garden, turned down the pergola + and came to a sudden standstill before the seat which Margaret had + indicated. It was empty, but in the corner lay the long-stalked lily which + she had picked in the backwater. He stood there for a moment, transfixed. + There were other seats and chairs in the garden, but he knew before he + started his search that it was in vain. She had gone. The flower, drooping + a little now though the stalk was still wet with the moisture of the + river, seemed to him like her farewell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + Francis was surprised, when he descended for breakfast the next morning, + to find the table laid for one only. The butler who was waiting, handed + him the daily papers and wheeled the electric heater to his side. + </p> + <p> + “Is no one else breakfasting?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy and Mrs. Hilditch are always served in their rooms, sir. Her + ladyship is taking her coffee upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + Francis ate his breakfast, glanced through the Times, lit a cigarette and + went round to the garage for his car. The butler met him as he drove up + before the porch. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy begs you to excuse him this morning, sir,” he announced. “His + secretary has arrived from town with a very large correspondence which + they are now engaged upon.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mrs. Hilditch?” Francis ventured. + </p> + <p> + “I have not seen her maid this morning, sir,” the man replied, “but Mrs. + Hilditch never rises before midday. Sir Timothy hopes that you slept well, + sir, and would like you to sign the visitors' book.” + </p> + <p> + Francis signed his name mechanically, and was turning away when Lady + Cynthia called to him from the stairs. She was dressed for travelling and + followed by a maid, carrying her dressing-case. + </p> + <p> + “Will you take me up to town, Mr. Ledsam?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Delighted,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Their dressing-cases were strapped together behind and Lady Cynthia sank + into the cushions by his side. They drove away from the house, Francis + with a backward glance of regret. The striped sun-blinds had been lowered + over all the windows, thrushes and blackbirds were twittering on the lawn, + the air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, a boatman was busy with the + boats. Out beyond, through the trees, the river wound its placid way. + </p> + <p> + “Quite a little paradise,” Lady Cynthia murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Delightful,” her companion assented. “I suppose great wealth has its + obligations, but why any human being should rear such a structure as what + he calls his Borghese villa, when he has a charming place like that to + live in, I can't imagine.” + </p> + <p> + Her silence was significant, almost purposeful. She unwound the veil from + her motoring turban, took it off altogether and attached it to the + cushions of the car with a hatpin. + </p> + <p> + “There,” she said, leaning back, “you can now gaze upon a horrible example + to the young women of to-day. You can see the ravages which late hours, + innumerable cocktails, a thirst for excitement, a contempt of the simple + pleasures of life, have worked upon my once comely features. I was quite + good-looking, you know, in the days you first knew me.” + </p> + <p> + “You were the most beautiful debutante of your season,” he agreed. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of me now?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + She met his gaze without flinching. Her face was unnaturally thin, with + disfiguring hollows underneath her cheekbones; her lips lacked colour; + even her eyes were lustreless. Her hair seemed to lack brilliancy. Only + her silken eyebrows remained unimpaired, and a certain charm of expression + which nothing seemed able to destroy. + </p> + <p> + “You look tired,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Be honest, my dear man,” she rejoined drily. “I am a physical wreck, + dependent upon cosmetics for the looks which I am still clever enough to + palm off on the uninitiated.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you lead a quieter life?” he asked. “A month or so in the + country would put you all right.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed a little hardly. Then for a moment she looked at him + appraisingly. + </p> + <p> + “I was going to speak to you of nerves,” she said, “but how would you ever + understand? You look as though you had not a nerve in your body. I can't + think how you manage it, living in London. I suppose you do exercises and + take care of what you eat and drink.” + </p> + <p> + “I do nothing of the sort,” he assured her indignantly. “I eat and drink + whatever I fancy. I have always had a direct object in life—my work—and + I believe that has kept me fit and well. Nerve troubles come as a rule, I + think, from the under-used brain.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have been born with a butterfly disposition,” she said. “I am + quite sure that mine come because I find it so hard to be amused. I am + sure I am most enterprising. I try whatever comes along, but nothing + satisfies me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not try being in love with one of these men who've been in love with + you all their lives?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “The men who have cared for me and have been worth caring about,” she + said, “gave me up years ago. I mocked at them when they were in earnest, + scoffed at sentiment, and told them frankly that when I married it would + only be to find a refuge for broader life. The right sort wouldn't have + anything to say to me after that, and I do not blame them. And here is the + torture of it. I can't stand the wrong sort near me—physically, I + mean. Mind, I believe I'm attracted towards people with criminal tastes + and propensities. I believe that is what first led me towards Sir Timothy. + Every taste I ever had in life seems to have become besmirched. I'm all + the time full of the craving to do horrible things, but all the same I + can't bear to be touched. That's the torment of it. I wonder if you can + understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can,” he answered. “Your trouble lies in having the wrong + friends and in lack of self-discipline. If you were my sister, I'd take + you away for a fortnight and put you on the road to being cured.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I wish I were your sister,” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Don't think I'm unsympathetic,” he went on, “because I'm not. Wait till + we've got into the main road here and I'll try and explain.” + </p> + <p> + They were passing along a country lane, so narrow that twigs from the + hedges, wreathed here and there in wild roses, brushed almost against + their cheeks. On their left was the sound of a reaping-machine and the + perfume of new-mown hay. The sun was growing stronger at every moment. A + transitory gleam of pleasure softened her face. + </p> + <p> + “It is ages since I smelt honeysuckle,” she confessed, “except in a + perfumer's shop. I was wondering what it reminded me of.” + </p> + <p> + “That,” he said, as they turned out into the broad main road, with its + long vista of telegraph poles, “is because you have been neglecting the + real for the sham, flowers themselves for their artificially distilled + perfume. What I was going to try and put into words without sounding too + priggish, Lady Cynthia,” he went on, “is this. It is just you people who + are cursed with a restless brain who are in the most dangerous position, + nowadays. The things which keep us healthy and normal physically—games, + farces, dinner-parties of young people, fresh air and exercise—are + the very things which after a time fail to satisfy the person with + imagination. You want more out of life, always the something you don't + understand, the something beyond. And so you keep on trying new things, + and for every new thing you try, you drop an old one. Isn't it something + like that?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is,” she admitted wearily. + </p> + <p> + “Drugs take the place of wholesome wine,” he went on, warming to his + subject. “The hideous fascination of flirting with the uncouth or the + impossible some way or another, stimulates a passion which simple means + have ceased to gratify. You seek for the unusual in every way—in + food, in the substitution of absinthe for your harmless Martini, of + cocaine for your stimulating champagne. There is a horrible wave of all + this sort of thing going on to-day in many places, and I am afraid,” he + concluded, “that a great many of our very nicest young women are caught up + in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Guilty,” she confessed. “Now cure me.” + </p> + <p> + “I could point out the promised land, but how, could I lead you to it?” he + answered. + </p> + <p> + “You don't like me well enough,” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I like you better than you believe,” he assured her, slackening his speed + a little. “We have met, I suppose, a dozen times in our lives. I have + danced with you here and there, talked nonsense once, I remember, at a + musical reception—” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to flirt with you then,” she interrupted. + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I was in the midst of a great case,” he said, “and everything that + happened to me outside it was swept out of my mind day by day. What I was + going to say is that I have always liked you, from the moment when your + mother presented me to you at your first dance.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you'd told me so,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't have made any difference,” he declared. “I wasn't in a + position to think of a duke's daughter, in those days. I don't suppose I + am now.” + </p> + <p> + “Try,” she begged hopefully. + </p> + <p> + He smiled back at her. The reawakening of her sense of humour was + something. + </p> + <p> + “Too late,” he regretted. “During the last month or so the thing has come + to me which we all look forward to, only I don't think fate has treated me + kindly. I have always loved normal ways and normal people, and the woman I + care for is different.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about her?” she insisted. + </p> + <p> + “You will be very surprised when I tell you her name,” he said. “It is + Margaret Hilditch.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him for a moment in blank astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” she exclaimed. “Oliver Hilditch's wife!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help that,” he declared, a little doggedly. “She's had a + miserable time, I know. She was married to a scamp. I'm not quite sure + that her father isn't as bad a one. Those things don't make any + difference.” + </p> + <p> + “They wouldn't with you,” she said softly. “Tell me, did you say anything + to her last night?” + </p> + <p> + “I did,” he replied. “I began when we were out alone together. She gave me + no encouragement to speak of, but at any rate she knows.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia leaned a little forward in her place. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where she is now?” + </p> + <p> + He was a little startled. + </p> + <p> + “Down at the cottage, I suppose. The butler told me that she never rose + before midday.” + </p> + <p> + “Then for once the butler was mistaken,” his companion told him. “Margaret + Hilditch left at six o'clock this morning. I saw her in travelling clothes + get into the car and drive away.” + </p> + <p> + “She left the cottage this morning before us?” Francis repeated, amazed. + </p> + <p> + “I can assure you that she did,” Lady Cynthia insisted. “I never sleep, + amongst my other peculiarities,” she went on bitterly, “and I was lying on + a couch by the side of the open window when the car came for her. She + stopped it at the bend of the avenue—so that it shouldn't wake us + up, I suppose. I saw her get in and drive away.” + </p> + <p> + Francis was silent for several moments. Lady Cynthia watched him + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate,” she observed, “in whatever mood she went away this morning, + you have evidently succeeded in doing what I have never seen any one else + do—breaking through her indifference. I shouldn't have thought that + anything short of an earthquake would have stirred Margaret, these days.” + </p> + <p> + “These days?” he repeated quickly. “How long have you known her?” + </p> + <p> + “We were at school together for a short time,” she told him. “It was while + her father was in South America. Margaret was a very different person in + those days.” + </p> + <p> + “However was she induced to marry a person like Oliver Hilditch?” Francis + speculated. + </p> + <p> + His companion shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” she answered indifferently. “Are you going to drop me?” + </p> + <p> + “Wherever you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Take me on to Grosvenor Square, if you will, then,” she begged, “and + deposit me at the ancestral mansion. I am really rather annoyed about + Margaret,” she went on, rearranging her veil. “I had begun to have hopes + that you might have revived my taste for normal things.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had had the slightest intimation—” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “It would have made no difference,” she interrupted dolefully. “Now I come + to think of it, the Margaret whom I used to know—and there must be + plenty of her left yet—is just the right type of woman for you.” + </p> + <p> + They drew up outside the house in Grosvenor Square. Lady Cynthia held out + her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Come and see me one afternoon, will you?” she invited. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to very much,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + She lingered on the steps and waved her hand to him—a graceful, + somewhat insolent gesture. + </p> + <p> + “All the same, I think I shall do my best to make you forget Margaret,” + she called out. “Thanks for the lift up. A bientôt!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + Francis drove direct from Grosvenor Square to his chambers in the Temple, + and found Shopland, his friend from Scotland Yard, awaiting his arrival. + </p> + <p> + “Any news?” Francis enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing definite, I am sorry, to say,” was the other's reluctant + admission. + </p> + <p> + Francis hung up his hat, threw himself into his easy-chair and lit a + cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “The lad's brother is one of my oldest friends, Shopland,” he said. “He is + naturally in a state of great distress.” + </p> + <p> + The detective scratched his chin thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I said 'nothing definite' just now, sir,” he observed. “As a rule, I + never mention suspicions, but with you it is a different matter. I haven't + discovered the slightest trace of Mr. Reginald Wilmore, or the slightest + reason for his disappearance. He seems to have been a well-conducted young + gentleman, a little extravagant, perhaps, but able to pay his way and with + nothing whatever against him. Nothing whatever, that is to say, except one + almost insignificant thing.” + </p> + <p> + “And that?” + </p> + <p> + “A slight tendency towards bad company, sir. I have heard of his being + about with one or two whom we are keeping our eye upon.” + </p> + <p> + “Bobby Fairfax's lot, by any chance?” + </p> + <p> + Shopland nodded. + </p> + <p> + “He was with Jacks and Miss Daisy Hyslop, a night or two before he + disappeared. I am not sure that a young man named Morse wasn't of the + party, too.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you make of that lot?” Francis asked curiously. “Are they + gamesters, dope fiends, or simply vicious?” + </p> + <p> + The detective was silent. He was gazing intently at his rather square-toed + shoes. + </p> + <p> + “There are rumours, sir,” he said, presently, “of things going on in the + West End which want looking into very badly—very badly indeed. You + will remember speaking to me of Sir Timothy Brast?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember quite well,” Francis acknowledged. + </p> + <p> + “I've nothing to go on,” the other continued. “I am working almost on your + own lines, Mr. Ledsam, groping in the dark to find a clue, as it were, but + I'm beginning to have ideas about Sir Timothy Brast, just ideas.” + </p> + <p> + “As, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he stands on rather queer terms with some of his acquaintances, + sir. Now you saw, down at Soto's Bar, the night we arrested Mr. Fairfax, + that not one of those young men there spoke to Sir Timothy as though they + were acquainted, nor he to them. Yet I happened to find out that every one + of them, including Mr. Fairfax himself, was present at a party Sir Timothy + Brast gave at his house down the river a week or two before.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid there isn't much in that,” Francis declared. “Sir Timothy has + the name of being an eccentric person everywhere, especially in this + respect—he never notices acquaintances. I heard, only the other day, + that while he was wonderfully hospitable and charming to all his guests, + he never remembered them outside his house.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland nodded. + </p> + <p> + “A convenient eccentricity,” he remarked, a little drily. “I have heard + the same thing myself. You spent the night at his country cottage, did you + not, Mr. Ledsam? Did he offer to show you over The Walled House?” + </p> + <p> + “How the dickens did you know I was down there?” Francis demanded, with + some surprise. “I was just thinking as I drove up that I hadn't left my + address either here or at Clarges Street.” + </p> + <p> + “Next time you visit Sir Timothy,” the detective observed, “I should + advise you to do so. I knew you were there, Mr. Ledsam, because I was in + the neighbourhood myself. I have been doing a little fishing, and keeping + my eye on that wonderful estate of Sir Timothy's.” + </p> + <p> + Francis was interested. + </p> + <p> + “Shopland,” he said, “I believe that our intelligences, such as they are, + are akin.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you suspect Sir Timothy of?” the detective asked bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “I suspect him of nothing,” Francis replied. “He is simply, to my mind, an + incomprehensible, somewhat sinister figure, who might be capable of + anything. He may have very excellent qualities which he contrives to + conceal, or he may be an arch-criminal. His personality absolutely puzzles + me.” + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door and Angrave appeared. Apparently he had + forgotten Shopland's presence, for he ushered in another visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy Brast to see you, sir,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + The moment was one of trial to every one, admirably borne. Shopland + remained in his chair, with only a casual glance at the newcomer. Francis + rose to his feet with a half-stifled expression of anger at the clumsiness + of his clerk. Sir Timothy, well-shaven and groomed, attired in a + perfectly-fitting suit of grey flannel, nodded to Francis in friendly + fashion and laid his Homburg hat upon the table with the air of a + familiar. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ledsam,” he said, “I do hope that you will excuse this early + call. I could only have been an hour behind you on the road. I dare say + you can guess what I have come to see you about. Can we have a word + together?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” was the ready reply. “You remember my friend Shopland, Sir + Timothy? It was Mr. Shopland who arrested young Fairfax that night at + Soto's.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember him perfectly,” Sir Timothy declared. “I fancied, directly I + entered, that your face was familiar,” he added, turning to Shopland. “I + am rather ashamed of myself about that night. My little outburst must have + sounded almost ridiculous to you two. To tell you the truth, I quite + failed at that time to give Mr. Ledsam credit for gifts which I have since + discovered him to possess.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Shopland and I are now discussing another matter,” Francis went on, + pushing a box of cigarettes towards Sir Timothy, who was leaning against + the table in an easy attitude. “Don't go, Shopland, for a minute. We were + consulting together about the disappearance of a young man, Reggie + Wilmore, the brother of a friend of mine—Andrew Wilmore, the + novelist.” + </p> + <p> + “Disappearance?” Sir Timothy repeated, as he lit a cigarette. “That is + rather a vague term.” + </p> + <p> + “The young man has been missing from home for over a week,” Francis said, + “and left no trace whatever of his whereabouts. He was not in financial + trouble, he does not seem to have been entangled with any young woman, he + had not quarrelled with his people, and he seems to have been on the best + of terms with the principal at the house of business where he was + employed. His disappearance, therefore, is, to say the least of it, + mysterious.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy assented gravely. + </p> + <p> + “The lack of motive to which you allude,” he pointed out, “makes the case + interesting. Still, one must remember that London is certainly the city of + modern mysteries. If a new 'Arabian Nights' were written, it might well be + about London. I dare say Mr. Shopland will agree with me,” he continued, + turning courteously towards the detective, “that disappearances of this + sort are not nearly so uncommon as the uninitiated would believe. For one + that is reported in the papers, there are half-a-dozen which are not. Your + late Chief Commissioner, by-the-bye,” he added meditatively, “once a very + intimate friend of mine, was my informant.” + </p> + <p> + “Where do you suppose they disappear to?” Francis enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Who can tell?” was the speculative reply. “For an adventurous youth there + are a thousand doors which lead to romance. Besides, the lives of none of + us are quite so simple as they seem. Even youth has its secret chapters. + This young man, for instance, might be on his way to Australia, happy in + the knowledge that he has escaped from some murky chapter of life which + will now never be known. He may write to his friends, giving them a hint. + The whole thing will blow over.” + </p> + <p> + “There may be cases such as you suggest, Sir Timothy,” the detective said + quietly. “Our investigations, so far as regards the young man in question, + however, do not point that way.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy turned over his cigarette to look at the name of the maker. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent tobacco,” he murmured. “By-the-bye, what did you say the young + man's name was?” + </p> + <p> + “Reginald Wilmore,” Francis told him. + </p> + <p> + “A good name,” Sir Timothy murmured. “I am sure I wish you both every good + fortune in your quest. Would it be too much to ask you now, Mr. Ledsam, + for that single minute alone?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means,” Francis answered. + </p> + <p> + “I'll wait in the office, if I may,” Shopland suggested, rising to his + feet. “I want to have another word with you before I go.” + </p> + <p> + “My business with Mr. Ledsam is of a family nature,” Sir Timothy said + apologetically, as Shopland passed out. “I will not keep him for more than + a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland closed the door behind him. Sir Timothy waited until he heard his + departing footsteps. Then he turned back to Francis. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I have come to ask you if you know anything of my + daughter's whereabouts?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever,” Francis replied. “I was on the point of ringing you up + to ask you the same question.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she tell you that she was leaving The Sanctuary?” + </p> + <p> + “She gave me not the slightest intimation of it,” Francis assured his + questioner, “in fact she invited me to meet her in the rose garden last + night. When I arrived there, she was gone. I have heard nothing from her + since.” + </p> + <p> + “You spent the evening with her?” + </p> + <p> + “To my great content.” + </p> + <p> + “What happened between you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing happened. I took the opportunity, however, of letting your + daughter understand the nature of my feelings for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! May I ask what they are?” + </p> + <p> + “I will translate them into facts,” Francis replied. “I wish your daughter + to become my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “You amaze me!” Sir Timothy exclaimed, with the old mocking smile at his + lips. “How can you possibly contemplate association with the daughter of a + man whom you suspect and distrust as you do me?” + </p> + <p> + “If I suspect and distrust you, it is your own fault,” Francis reminded + him. “You have declared yourself to be a criminal and a friend of + criminals. I am inclined to believe that you have spoken the truth. I care + for that fact just as little as I care for the fact that you are a + millionaire, or that Margaret has been married to a murderer. I intend her + to become my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you encourage her to leave me?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not. I had not the slightest idea that she had left The Sanctuary + until Lady Cynthia told me, halfway to London this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy was silent for several moments. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any idea in your own mind,” he persisted, “as to where she has + gone and for what purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the slightest in the world,” Francis declared. “I am just as anxious + to hear from her; and to know where she is, as you seem to be.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I am disappointed,” he admitted. “I had hoped to obtain some information + from you. I must try in another direction.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you are here, Sir Timothy,” Francis said, as his visitor prepared + to depart, “may I ask whether you have any objection to my marrying your + daughter?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy frowned. + </p> + <p> + “The question places me in a somewhat difficult position,” he replied + coldly. “In a certain sense I have a liking for you. You are not quite the + ingenuous nincompoop I took you for on the night of our first meeting. On + the other hand, you have prejudices against me. My harmless confession of + sympathy with criminals and their ways seems to have stirred up a cloud of + suspicion in your mind. You even employ a detective to show the world what + a fool he can look, sitting in a punt attempting to fish, with one eye on + the supposed abode of crime.” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing whatever to do with the details of Shopland's + investigations,” Francis protested. “He is in search of Reggie Wilmore.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he think I have secret dungeons in my new abode,” Sir Timothy + demanded, “or oubliettes in which I keep and starve brainless youths for + some nameless purpose? Be reasonable, Mr. Ledsam. What the devil benefit + could accrue to me from abducting or imprisoning or in any way laying my + criminal hand upon this young man?” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever that we have been able to discover as yet,” Francis + admitted. + </p> + <p> + “A leaning towards melodrama, admirable in its way, needs the leaven of a + well-balanced discretion and a sense of humour,” Sir Timothy observed. + “The latter quality is as a rule singularly absent amongst the myrmidons + of Scotland Yard. I do not think that Mr. Shopland will catch even fish in + the neighbourhood of The Walled House. As regards your matrimonial + proposal, let us waive that until my daughter returns.” + </p> + <p> + “As you will,” Francis agreed. “I will be frank to this extent, at any + rate. If I can persuade your daughter to marry me, your consent will not + affect the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “I can leave Margaret a matter of two million pounds,” Sir Timothy said + pensively. + </p> + <p> + “I have enough money to support my wife myself,” Francis observed. + </p> + <p> + “Utopian but foolish,” Sir Timothy declared. “All the same, Mr. Ledsam, + let me tell you this. You have a curious attraction for me. When I was + asked why I had invited you to The Sanctuary last night, I frankly could + not answer the question. I didn't know. I don't know. Your dislike of me + doesn't seem to affect the question. I was glad to have you there last + night. It pleases me to hear you talk, to hear your views of things. I + feel that I shall have to be very careful, Mr. Ledsam, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Or what?” Francis demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Or I shall even welcome the idea of having you for a son-in-law,” Sir + Timothy concluded reluctantly. “Make my excuses to Mr. Shopland. Au + revoir!” + </p> + <p> + Shopland came in as the door closed behind the departing visitor. He + listened to all that Francis had to say, without comment. + </p> + <p> + “If The Walled House,” he said at last, “is so carefully guarded that Sir + Timothy has been informed of my watching the place and has been made aware + of my mild questionings, it must be because there is something to conceal. + I may or may not be on the track of Mr. Reginald Wilmore, but,” the + detective concluded, “of one thing I am becoming convinced—The + Walled House will pay for watching.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + It was a day when chance was kind to Francis. After leaving his rooms at + the Temple, he made a call at one of the great clubs in Pall Mall, to + enquire as to the whereabouts of a friend. On his way back towards the + Sheridan, he came face to face with Margaret Hilditch, issuing from the + doors of one of the great steamship companies. For a moment he almost + failed to recognise her. She reminded him more of the woman of the + tea-shop. Her costume, neat and correct though it was, was studiously + unobtrusive. Her motoring veil, too, was obviously worn to assist her in + escaping notice. + </p> + <p> + She, too, came to a standstill at seeing him. Her first ejaculations + betrayed a surprise which bordered on consternation. Then Francis, with a + sudden inspiration, pointed to the long envelope which she was carrying in + her hand. + </p> + <p> + “You have been to book a passage somewhere!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + The monosyllable was in her usual level tone. Nevertheless, he could see + that she was shaken: + </p> + <p> + “You were going away without seeing me again?”' he asked reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” she admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up and down a little helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “I owe you no explanation for my conduct,” she said. “Please let me pass.” + </p> + <p> + “Could we talk for a few minutes, please?” he begged. “Tell me where you + were going?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, back to lunch, I suppose,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Your father has been up, looking for you,” he told her. + </p> + <p> + “I telephoned to The Sanctuary,” she replied. “He had just left.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very anxious,” he continued, “not to distress you, but I cannot let + you go away like this. Will you come to my rooms and let us talk for a + little time?” + </p> + <p> + She made no answer. Somehow, he realised that speech just then was + difficult. He called a taxi and handed her in. They drove to Clarges + Street in silence. He led the way up the stairs, gave some quick orders to + his servant whom he met coming down, ushered her into his sitting-room and + saw her ensconced in an easy-chair. + </p> + <p> + “Please take off that terrible veil,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + “It is pinned on to my hat,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + “Then off with both,” he insisted. “You can't eat luncheon like that. I'm + not going to try and bully you. If you've booked your passage to Timbuctoo + and you really want to go—why, you must. I only want the chance of + letting you know that I am coming after you.” + </p> + <p> + She took off her hat and veil and threw them on to the sofa, glancing + sideways at a mirror let into the door of a cabinet. + </p> + <p> + “My hair is awful,” she declared: + </p> + <p> + He laughed gaily, and turned around from the sideboard, where he was busy + mixing cocktails. + </p> + <p> + “Thank heavens for that touch of humanity!” he exclaimed. “A woman who can + bother about her hair when she takes her hat off, is never past praying + for. Please drink this.” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed. He took the empty glass away from her. Then he came over to + the hearthrug by her side. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that I kissed you last night?” he reminded her. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” she answered. “That is why I have just paid eighty-four pounds for + a passage to Buenos Ayres.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have enjoyed the trip,” he said. “Still, I'm glad I haven't to + go.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean that you would have come after me?” she asked + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I should,” he assured her. “Believe me, there isn't such an + obstinate person in the world as the man of early middle-age who suddenly + discovers the woman he means to marry.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can't marry me,” she protested. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because I was Oliver Hilditch's wife, for one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, “if you had been Beelzebub's wife, it wouldn't make + the least difference to me. You haven't given me much of a chance to tell + you so yet, Margaret, but I love you.” + </p> + <p> + She sat a little forward in her chair. Her eyes were fixed upon his + wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “But how can you?” she exclaimed. “You know, nothing of me except my + associations, and they have been horrible. What is there to love in me? I + am a frozen-up woman. Everything is dead here,” she went on, clasping her + hand to her heart. “I have no sentiment, no passion, nothing but an animal + desire to live my life luxuriously and quickly.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled confidently. Then, with very little warning, he sank on one + knee, drew her face to his, kissed her lips and then her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Are you so sure of all these things, Margaret?” he whispered. “Don't you + think it is, perhaps, because there has been no one to care for you as I + do—as I shall—to the end of my days? The lily you left on your + chair last night was like you—fair and stately and beautiful, but a + little bruised. You will come back as it has done, come back to the world. + My love will bring you. My care. Believe it, please!” + </p> + <p> + Then he saw the first signs of change in her face. There was the faintest + shade of almost shell-like pink underneath the creamy-white of her cheeks. + Her lips were trembling a little, her eyes were misty. With a sudden + passionate little impulse, her arms were around his neck, her lips sought + his of their own accord. + </p> + <p> + “Let me forget,” she sobbed. “Kiss me let me forget!” + </p> + <p> + Francis' servant was both heavy-footed and discreet. When he entered the + room with a tray, his master was standing at the sideboard. + </p> + <p> + “I've done the best I could, sir,” he announced, a little apologetically. + “Shall I lay the cloth?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave everything on the tray, Brooks,” Francis directed. “We will help + ourselves. In an hour's time bring coffee.” + </p> + <p> + The man glanced around the room. + </p> + <p> + “There are glasses on the sideboard, sir, and the corkscrew is here. I + think you will have everything you want.” + </p> + <p> + He departed, closing the door behind him. Francis held out his hands to + Margaret. She rose slowly to her feet, looked in the glass helplessly and + then back at him. She was very beautiful but a little dazed. + </p> + <p> + “Are we going to have luncheon?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he answered. “Did you think I meant to starve you?” + </p> + <p> + He picked up the long envelope which she had dropped upon the carpet, and + threw it on to the sofa. Then he drew up two chairs to the table, and + opened a small bottle of champagne. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you won't mind a picnic,” he said. “Really, Brooks hasn't done so + badly—pâté de foie gras, hot toast and Devonshire butter. Let me + spread some for you. A cold chicken afterwards, and some strawberries. + Please be hungry, Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed at him. It occurred to him suddenly, with a little pang, that + he had never heard her laugh before. It was like music. + </p> + <p> + “I'm too happy,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me,” he assured her, as he buttered a piece of toast, “happiness + and hunger might well be twins. They go so well together. Misery can take + away one's appetite. Happiness, when one gets over the gulpiness of it, is + the best tonic in the world. And I never saw any one, dear, with whom + happiness agreed so well,” he added, pausing in his task to bend over and + kiss her. “Do you know you are the most beautiful thing on earth? It is a + lucky thing we are going to live in England, and that these are sober, + matter-of-fact days, or I should find myself committed to fighting duels + all the time.” + </p> + <p> + She had a momentary relapse. A look of terror suddenly altered her face. + She caught at his wrist. + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” she cried. “Don't talk about such things!” + </p> + <p> + He was a little bewildered. The moment passed. She laughed almost + apologetically. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” she begged, “but I hate the thought of fighting of any sort. + Some day I'll explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Clumsy ass I was!” he declared, completing his task and setting the + result before her. “Now how's that for a first course? Drink a little of + your wine.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned his glass against hers. + </p> + <p> + “My love,” he whispered, “my love now, dear, and always, and you'll find + it quite strong enough,” he went on, “to keep you from all the ugly + things. And now away with sentiment. I had a very excellent but solitary + breakfast this morning, and it seems a long time ago.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems amazing to think that you spent last night at The Sanctuary,” + she reflected. + </p> + <p> + “And that you and I were in a punt,” he reminded her, “in the pool of + darkness where the trees met, and the lilies leaned over to us.” + </p> + <p> + “And you nearly upset the punt.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the sort! As a matter of fact, I was very careful. But,” he + proceeded, with a sudden wave of memory, “I don't think my heart will ever + beat normally again. It seemed as though it would tear its way out of my + side when I leaned towards you, and you knew, and you lay still.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “You surely didn't expect I was going to get up? It was quite + encouragement enough to remain passive. As a matter of fact,” she went on, + “I couldn't have moved. I couldn't have uttered a sound. I suppose I must + have been like one of those poor birds you read about, when some devouring + animal crouches for its last spring.” + </p> + <p> + “Compliments already!” he remarked. “You won't forget that my name is + Francis, will you? Try and practise it while I carve the chicken.” + </p> + <p> + “You carve very badly, Francis,” she told him demurely. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” he said, “thank heavens we shall be able to afford a butler! + By-the-bye, I told your father this morning that I was going to marry you, + and he didn't seem to think it possible because he had two million + pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Braggart!” she murmured. “When did you see my father?” + </p> + <p> + “He came to my rooms in the Temple soon after I arrived this morning. He + seemed to think I might know where you were. I dare say he won't like me + for a son-in-law,” Francis continued with a smile. “I can't help that. He + shouldn't have let me go out with you in a punt.” + </p> + <p> + There was a discreet knock at the door. Brooks made his apologetic and + somewhat troubled entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy Brast is here to see you, sir,” he announced. “I ventured to + say that you were not at home—” + </p> + <p> + “But I happened to know otherwise,” a still voice remarked from outside. + “May I come in, Mr. Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy stepped past the servant, who at a sign from Francis + disappeared, closing the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + After his first glance at Sir Timothy, Francis' only thought was for + Margaret. To his intense relief, she showed no signs whatever of terror, + or of any relapse to her former state. She was entirely mistress of + herself and the occasion. Sir Timothy's face was cold and terrible. + </p> + <p> + “I must apologise for this second intrusion, Mr. Ledsam,” he said + cuttingly. “I think you will admit that the circumstances warrant it. Am I + to understand that you lied to me this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “You are to understand nothing of the sort,” Francis answered. “I told you + everything I knew at that time of your daughter's movements.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” Sir Timothy murmured. “This little banquet, then, was + unpremeditated?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely,” Francis replied. “Here is the exact truth, so far as I am + concerned. I met your daughter little more than an hour ago, coming out of + a steamship office, where she had booked a passage to Buenos Ayres to get + away from me. I was fortunate enough to induce her to change her mind. She + has consented instead to remain in England as my wife. We were, as you + see, celebrating the occasion.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy laid his hat upon the sideboard and slowly removed his gloves. + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” he said, “that this pint bottle does not represent your cellar. + I will drink a glass of wine with you, and with your permission make + myself a pâté sandwich. I was just sitting down to luncheon when I + received the information which brought me here.” + </p> + <p> + Francis produced another bottle of wine from the sideboard and filled his + visitor's glass. + </p> + <p> + “You will drink, I hope, to our happiness,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I shall do nothing of the sort,” Sir Timothy declared, helping himself + with care to the pâté. “I have no superstitions about breaking bread with + an enemy, or I should not have asked you to visit me at The Sanctuary, Mr. + Ledsam. I object to your marriage with my daughter, and I shall take what + steps I can to prevent it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy did not at once reply. He seemed to be enjoying his sandwich; + he also appreciated the flavour of his wine. + </p> + <p> + “Your question,” he said, “strikes me as being a little ingenuous. You are + at the present moment suspecting me of crimes beyond number. You encourage + Scotland Yard detectives to make asses of themselves in my stream. Your + myrmidons scramble on to the top of my walls and try to bribe my servants + to disclose the mysteries of my household. You have accepted to the + fullest extent my volunteered statement that I am a patron of crime. You + are, in short—forgive me if I help myself to a little more of this + pâté—engaged in a strenuous attempt to bring me to justice.” + </p> + <p> + “None of these things affects your daughter,” Francis pointed out. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” Sir Timothy objected. “You are a great and shining light of + the English law. People speak of you as a future Chancellor. How can you + contemplate an alliance with the widow of one criminal and the daughter of + another?” + </p> + <p> + “As to Margaret being Oliver Hilditch's widow,” Francis replied, “you were + responsible for that, and no one else. He was your protegé; you gave your + consent to the marriage. As to your being her father, that again is not + Margaret's fault. I should marry her if Oliver Hilditch had been three + times the villain he was, and if you were the Devil himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I am getting quite to like you, Mr. Ledsam,” Sir Timothy declared, + helping himself to another piece of toast and commencing to butter it. + “Margaret, what have you to say about all this?” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to say,” she answered. “Francis is speaking for me. I + never dreamed that after what I have gone through I should be able to care + for any one again in this world. I do care, and I am very happy about it. + All last night I lay awake, making up my mind to run away, and this + morning I actually booked my passage to Buenos Ayres. Then we met—just + outside the steamship office—and I knew at once that I was making a + mistake. I shall marry Francis exactly when he wants me to.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy passed his glass towards his proposed son-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “Might one suggest,” he began—“thank you very much. This is of + course very upsetting to me. I seem to be set completely at defiance. It + is a very excellent wine, this, and a wonderful vintage.” + </p> + <p> + Francis bent over Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Please finish your lunch, dear,” he begged. “It is perhaps just as well + that your father came. We shall know exactly where we are.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so,” Sir Timothy agreed. + </p> + <p> + There was a queer constrained silence for several moments. Then Sir + Timothy leaned back in his chair and with a word of apology lit a + cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Let us,” he said, “consider the situation. Margaret is my daughter. You + wish to marry her. Margaret is of age and has been married before. She is + at liberty, therefore, to make her own choice. You agree with me so far?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely,” Francis assented. + </p> + <p> + “It happens,” Sir Timothy went on, “that I disapprove of her choice. She + desires to marry a young man who belongs to a profession which I detest, + and whose efforts in life are directed towards the extermination of a + class of people for whom I have every sympathy. To me he represents the + smug as against the human, the artificially moral as against the + freethinker. He is also my personal enemy. I am therefore naturally + desirous that my daughter should not marry this young man.” + </p> + <p> + “We will let it go at that,” Francis commented, “but I should like to + point out to you that the antagonism between us is in no way personal. You + have declared yourself for forces with which I am at enmity, like any + other decent-living citizen. Your declaration might at any time be + amended.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy bowed. + </p> + <p> + “The situation is stated,” he said. “I will ask you this question as a + matter of form. Do you recognise my right to forbid your marriage with my + daughter, Mr. Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + “I most certainly do not,” was the forcible reply. + </p> + <p> + “Have I any rights at all?” Sir Timothy asked. “Margaret has lived under + my roof whenever it has suited her to do so. Since she has taken up her + residence at Curzon Street, she has been her own mistress, her banking + account has known no limit whatsoever. I may be a person of evil + disposition, but I have shown no unkindness to her.” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite true,” Margaret admitted, turning a little pale. “Since I + have been alone, you have been kindness itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me repeat my question,” Sir Timothy went on, “have I the right + to any consideration at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Francis replied. “Short of keeping us apart, you have the ordinary + rights of a parent.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I ask you to delay the announcement of your engagement, or taking + any further steps concerning it, for fourteen days,” Sir Timothy said. “I + place no restrictions on your movements during that time. Such hospitality + as you, Mr. Ledsam, care to accept at my hands, is at your disposal. I am + Bohemian enough, indeed, to find nothing to complain of in such little + celebrations as you are at present indulging in—most excellent pâté, + that. But I request that no announcement of your engagement be made, or + any further arrangements made concerning it, for that fourteen days.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite willing, father,” Margaret acquiesced. + </p> + <p> + “And I, sir,” Francis echoed. + </p> + <p> + “In which case,” Sir Timothy concluded, rising to his feet, lighting a + cigarette and taking up his hat and gloves, “I shall go peaceably away. + You will admit, I trust,” he added, with that peculiar smile at the corner + of his lips, “that I have not in any way tried to come the heavy father? I + can even command a certain amount of respect, Margaret, for a young man + who is able to inaugurate his engagement by an impromptu meal of such + perfection. I wish you both good morning. Any invitation which Margaret + extends, Ledsam, please consider as confirmed by me.” + </p> + <p> + He closed the door softly. They heard his footsteps descending the stairs. + Francis leaned once more over Margaret. She seemed still dazed, confused + with new thoughts. She responded, however, readily to his touch, yielded + to his caress with an almost pathetic eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Francis,” she murmured, as his arms closed around her, “I want to + forget.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + There followed a brief period of time, the most wonderful of his life, the + happiest of hers. They took advantage of Sir Timothy's absolute license, + and spent long days at The Sanctuary, ideal lovers' days, with their punt + moored at night amongst the lilies, where her kisses seemed to come to him + with an aroma and wonder born of the spot. Then there came a morning when + he found a cloud on her face. She was looking at the great wall, and away + at the minaret beyond. They had heard from the butler that Sir Timothy had + spent the night at the villa, and that preparations were on hand for + another of his wonderful parties. Francis, who was swift to read her + thoughts, led her away into the rose garden where once she had failed him. + </p> + <p> + “You have been looking over the wall, Margaret,” he said reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a little twitch at the corners of her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Francis dear,” she confessed, “I am afraid you are right. I cannot even + look towards The Walled House without wondering why it was built—or + catch a glimpse of that dome without stupid guesses as to what may go on + underneath.” + </p> + <p> + “I think very likely,” he said soothingly, “we have both exaggerated the + seriousness of your father's hobbies. We know that he has a wonderful + gymnasium there, but the only definite rumour I have ever heard about the + place is that men fight there who have a grudge against one another, and + that they are not too particular about the weight of the gloves. That + doesn't appeal to us, you know, Margaret, but it isn't criminal.” + </p> + <p> + “If that were all!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say it is,” he declared. “London, as you know, is a hot-bed of + gossip. Everything that goes on is ridiculously exaggerated, and I think + that it rather appeals to your father's curious sense of humour to pose as + the law-breaker.” + </p> + <p> + She pressed his arm a little. The day was overcast, a slight rain was + beginning to fall. + </p> + <p> + “Francis,” she whispered, “we had a perfect day here yesterday. Now the + sun has gone and I am shivery.” + </p> + <p> + He understood in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “We'll lunch at Ranelagh,” he suggested. “It is almost on the way up. Then + we can see what the weather is like. If it is bad, we can dine in town + tonight and do a theatre.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a dear,” she told him fervently. “I am going in to get ready.” + </p> + <p> + Francis went round to the garage for his car, and brought it to the front. + While he was sitting there, Sir Timothy came through the door in the wall. + He was smoking a cigar and he was holding an umbrella to protect his white + flannel suit. He was as usual wonderfully groomed and turned out, but he + walked as though he were tired, and his smile, as he greeted Francis, + lacked a little of its usual light-hearted mockery. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going up to town?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + Francis pointed to the grey skies. + </p> + <p> + “Just for the day,” he answered. “Lady Cynthia went by the early train. We + missed you last night.” + </p> + <p> + “I came down late,” Sir Timothy explained, “and I found it more convenient + to stay at The Walled House. I hope you find that Grover looks after you + while I am away? He has carte blanche so far as regards my cellar.” + </p> + <p> + “We have been wonderfully served,” Francis assured him. + </p> + <p> + In the distance they could hear the sound of hammering on the other side + of the wall. Francis moved his head in that direction. + </p> + <p> + “I hear that they are preparing for another of your wonderful + entertainments over there,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “On Thursday,” Sir Timothy assented. “I shall have something to say to you + about it later on.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to take it that I am likely to receive an invitation?” Francis + asked. + </p> + <p> + “I should think it possible,” was the calm reply. + </p> + <p> + “What about Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “My entertainment would not appeal to her,” Sir Timothy declared. “The + women whom I have been in the habit of asking are not women of Margaret's + type.” + </p> + <p> + “And Lady Cynthia?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy frowned slightly. + </p> + <p> + “I find myself in some difficulty as regards Lady Cynthia,” he admitted. + “I am the guardian of nobody's morals, nor am I the censor of their + tastes, but my entertainments are for men. The women whom I have hitherto + asked have been women in whom I have taken no personal interest. They are + necessary to form a picturesque background for my rooms, in the same way + that I look to the gardeners to supply the floral decorations. Lady + Cynthia's instincts, however, are somewhat adventurous. She would scarcely + be content to remain a decoration.” + </p> + <p> + “The issuing of your invitations,” Francis remarked, “is of course a + matter which concerns nobody else except yourself. If you do decide to + favour me with one, I shall be delighted to come, provided Margaret has no + objection.” + </p> + <p> + “Such a reservation promises well for the future,” Sir Timothy observed, + with gentle sarcasm. “Here comes Margaret, looking very well, I am glad to + see.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret came forward to greet her father before stepping into the car. + They exchanged only a few sentences, but Francis, whose interest in their + relations was almost abnormally keen, fancied that he could detect signs + of some change in their demeanour towards one another. The cold propriety + of deportment which had characterised her former attitude towards her + father, seemed to have given place to something more uncertain, to + something less formal, something which left room even for a measure of + cordiality. She looked at him differently. It was as though some evil + thought which lived in her heart concerning him had perished. + </p> + <p> + “You are busy over there, father?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “In a way,” he replied. “We are preparing for some festivities on + Thursday.” + </p> + <p> + Her face fell. + </p> + <p> + “Another party?” + </p> + <p> + “One more,” he replied. “Perhaps the last—for the present, at any + rate.” + </p> + <p> + She waited as though expecting him to explain. He changed the subject, + however. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are wise to run up to town this morning,” he said, glancing + up at the grey skies. “By-the-bye, if you dine at Curzon Street to-night, + do ask Hedges to serve you some of the '99 Cliquot. A marvellous wine, as + you doubtless know, Ledsam, but it should be drunk. Au revoir!” + </p> + <p> + Francis, after a pleasant lunch at Ranelagh, and having arranged with + Margaret to dine with her in Curzon Street, spent an hour or two that + afternoon at his chambers. As he was leaving, just before five, he came + face to face with Shopland descending from a taxi. + </p> + <p> + “Are you busy, Mr. Ledsam?” the latter enquired. “Can you spare me + half-an-hour?” + </p> + <p> + “An hour, if you like,” Francis assented. + </p> + <p> + Shopland gave the driver an address and the two men seated themselves in + the taxicab. + </p> + <p> + “Any news?” Francis asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” was the cautious reply. “It will not be long, however.” + </p> + <p> + “Before you discover Reggie Wilmore?” + </p> + <p> + The detective smiled in a superior way. + </p> + <p> + “I am no longer particularly interested in Mr. Reginald Wilmore,” he + declared. “I have come to the conclusion that his disappearance is not a + serious affair.” + </p> + <p> + “It's serious enough for his relatives,” Francis objected. + </p> + <p> + “Not if they understood the situation,” the detective rejoined. “Assure + them from me that nothing of consequence has happened to that young man. I + have made enquiries at the gymnasium in Holborn, and in other directions. + I am convinced that his absence from home is voluntary, and that there is + no cause for alarm as to his welfare.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the sooner you make your way down to Kensington and tell his mother + so, the better,” Francis said, a little severely. “Don't forget that I put + you on to this.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, sir,” the detective acquiesced, “and I am grateful to you. + The fact of it is that in making my preliminary investigations with regard + to the disappearance of Mr. Wilmore, I have stumbled upon a bigger thing. + Before many weeks are past, I hope to be able to unearth one of the + greatest scandals of modern times.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” Francis muttered. + </p> + <p> + He looked thoughtfully, almost anxiously at his companion. Shopland's face + reflected to the full his usual confidence. He had the air of a man + buoyant with hope and with stifled self-satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “I am engaged,” he continued, “upon a study of the methods and habits of + one whom I believe to be a great criminal. I think that when I place my + prisoner in the bar, Wainwright and these other great artists in crime + will fade from the memory.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Sir Timothy Brast your man?” Francis asked quietly. + </p> + <p> + His companion frowned portentously. + </p> + <p> + “No names,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + “Considering that it was I who first put you on to him,” Francis + expostulated, “I don't think you need be so sparing of your confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” the detective assured him, “I shall tell you everything that + is possible. At the same time, I will be frank with you. You are right + when you say that it was you who first directed my attention towards Sir + Timothy Brast. Since that time, however, your own relations with him, to + an onlooker, have become a little puzzling.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Francis murmured. “You've been spying on me?” + </p> + <p> + Shopland shook his head in deprecating fashion. + </p> + <p> + “A study of Sir Timothy during the last month,” he said, “has brought you + many a time into the focus.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are we going to now?” Francis asked, a little abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Just a side show, sir. It's one of those outside things I have come + across which give light and shade to the whole affair. We get out here, if + you please.” + </p> + <p> + The two men stepped on to the pavement. They were in a street a little + north of Wardour Street, where the shops for the most part were of a + miscellaneous variety. Exactly in front of them, the space behind a large + plate-glass window had been transformed into a sort of show-place for + dogs. There were twenty or thirty of them there, of all breeds and + varieties. + </p> + <p> + “What the mischief is this?” Francis demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Come in and make enquiries,” Shopland replied. “I can promise that you + will find it interesting. It's a sort of dog's home.” + </p> + <p> + Francis followed his companion into the place. A pleasant-looking, + middle-aged woman came forward and greeted the latter. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mind telling my friend what you told me the other day?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” she replied. “We collect stray animals here, sir,” she + continued, turning to Francis. “Every one who has a dog or a cat he can't + afford to keep, or which he wants to get rid of, may bring it to us. We + have agents all the time in the streets, and if any official of the + Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals brings us news of a dog + or a cat being ill-treated, we either purchase it or acquire it in some + way or other and keep it here.” + </p> + <p> + “But your dogs in the window,” Francis observed, “all seem to be in + wonderful condition.” + </p> + <p> + The woman smiled. + </p> + <p> + “We have a large dog and cat hospital behind,” she explained, “and a + veterinary surgeon who is always in attendance. The animals are treated + there as they are brought in, and fed up if they are out of condition. + When they are ready to sell, we show them.” + </p> + <p> + “But is this a commercial undertaking,” Francis enquired carefully, “or is + it a branch of the S.P.C.A.?” + </p> + <p> + “It's quite a private affair, sir,” the woman told him. “We charge only + five shillings for the dogs and half-a-crown for the cats, but every one + who has one must sign our book, promising to give it a good home, and has + to be either known to us or to produce references. We do not attempt, of + course, to snake a profit.” + </p> + <p> + “Who on earth is responsible for the upkeep?” + </p> + <p> + “We are not allowed to mention any names here, sir, but as a matter of + fact I think that your friend knows. He met the gentleman in here one day. + Would you care to have a look at the hospital, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Francis spent a quarter of an hour wandering around. When they left the + place, Shopland turned to him with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” he said, “shall I tell you at whose expense that place is + run?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can guess,” Francis replied. “I should say that Sir Timothy + Brast was responsible for it.” + </p> + <p> + The detective nodded. He was a little disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “You know about his collection of broken-down horses in the park at The + Walled House, too, then, I suppose? They come whinnying after him like a + flock of sheep whenever he shows himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I know about them, too,” Francis admitted. “I was present once when he + got out of his car, knocked a carter down who was ill-treating a horse, + bought it on the spot and sent it home.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland smiled, inscrutably yet with the air of one vastly pleased. + </p> + <p> + “These little side-shows,” he said, “are what help to make this, which I + believe will be the greatest case of my life, so supremely interesting. + Any one of my fraternity,” he continued, with an air of satisfaction, “can + take hold of a thread and follow it step by step, and wind up with the + handcuffs, as I did myself with the young man Fairfax. But a case like + this, which includes a study of temperament, requires something more.” + </p> + <p> + They were seated once more in the taxicab, on their way westward. Francis + for the first time was conscious of an utterly new sensation with regard + to his companion. He watched him through half-closed eyes—an + insignificant-looking little man whose clothes, though neat, were + ill-chosen, and whose tie was an offense. There was nothing in the face to + denote unusual intelligence, but the eyes were small and cunning and the + mouth dogged. Francis looked away out of the window. A sudden flash of + realisation had come to him, a wave of unreasoning but positive dislike. + </p> + <p> + “When do you hope to bring your case to an end?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The man smiled once more, and the very smile irritated his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Within the course of the next few days, sir,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “And the charge?” + </p> + <p> + The detective turned around. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “we have been old friends, if you will allow me to + use the word, ever since I was promoted to my present position in the + Force. You have trusted me with a good many cases, and I acknowledge + myself your debtor, but in the matter of Sir Timothy Brast, you will + forgive my saying with all respect, sir, that our ways seem to lie a + little apart.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me why you have arrived at that conclusion?” Francis asked. + “It was I who first incited you to set a watch upon Sir Timothy. It was to + you I first mentioned certain suspicions I myself had with regard to him. + I treated you with every confidence. Why do you now withhold yours from + me?” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite true, Mr. Ledsam,” Shopland admitted, “that it was you who + first pointed out Sir Timothy as an interesting study for my profession, + but that was a matter of months ago. If you will forgive my saying so, + your relations with Sir Timothy have altered since then. You have been his + guest at The Sanctuary, and there is a rumour, sir—you will pardon + me if I seem to be taking a liberty—that you are engaged to be + married to his daughter, Oliver Hilditch's widow.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be tolerably well informed as to my affairs, Shopland,” + Francis remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Only so far as regards your associations with Sir Timothy,” was the + deprecating reply. “If you will excuse me, sir, this is where I should + like to descend.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no message for Mr. Wilmore, then?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing definite, sir, but you can assure him of this. His brother is not + likely to come to any particular harm. I have no absolute information to + offer, but it is my impression that Mr. Reginald Wilmore will be home + before a week is past. Good afternoon, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland stepped out of the taxicab and, raising his hat, walked quickly + away. Francis directed the man to drive to Clarges Street. As they drove + off, he was conscious of a folded piece of paper in the corner where his + late companion had been seated. He picked it up, opened it, realised that + it was a letter from a firm of lawyers, addressed to Shopland, and + deliberately read it through. It was dated from a small town not far from + Hatch End: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SIR: + + Mr. John Phillips of this firm, who is coroner for the +district, has desired me to answer the enquiry contained in your +official letter of the 13th. The number of inquests held upon bodies +recovered from the Thames in the neighbourhood to which you allude, +during the present year has been seven. Four of these have been +identified. Concerning the remaining three nothing has ever been heard. +Such particulars as are on our file will be available to any accredited +representative of the police at any time. + + Faithfully yours, + PHILLIPS & SON. +</pre> + <p> + The taxicab came to a sudden stop. Francis glanced up. Very breathless, + Shopland put his head in at the window. + </p> + <p> + “I dropped a letter,” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + Francis folded it up and handed it to him. + </p> + <p> + “What about these three unidentified people, Shopland?” he asked, looking + at him intently. + </p> + <p> + The man frowned angrily. There was a note of defiance in his tone as he + stowed the letter away in his pocketbook. + </p> + <p> + “There were two men and one woman,” he replied, “all three of the upper + classes. The bodies were recovered from Wilson's lock, some three hundred + yards from The Walled House.” + </p> + <p> + “Do they form part of your case?” Francis persisted. + </p> + <p> + Shopland stepped back. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I told you, some little time ago, that so far as + this particular case was concerned I had no confidences to share with you. + I am sorry that you saw that letter. Since you did, however, I hope you + will not take it as a liberty from one in my position if I advise you most + strenuously to do nothing which might impede the course of the law. Good + day, sir!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + Francis, in that pleasant half-hour before dinner which he spent in + Margaret's sitting-room, told her of the dogs' home near Wardour Street. + She listened sympathetically to his description of the place. + </p> + <p> + “I had never heard of it,” she acknowledged, “but I am not in anyway + surprised. My father spends at least an hour of every day, when he is down + at Hatch End, amongst the horses, and every time a fresh crock is brought + down, he is as interested as though it were a new toy.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a remarkable trait in a very remarkable character,” Francis + commented. + </p> + <p> + “I could tell you many things that would surprise you,” Margaret + continued. “One night, for instance, when we were staying at The + Sanctuary, he and I were going out to dine with some neighbours and he + heard a cat mewing in the hedge somewhere. He stopped the car, got out + himself, found that the cat had been caught in a trap, released it, and + sent me on to the dinner alone whilst he took the animal back to the + veterinary surgeon at The Walled House. He was simply white with fury + whilst he was tying up the poor thing's leg. I couldn't help asking him + what he would have done if he could have found the farmer who set the + trap. He looked up at me and I was almost frightened. 'I should have + killed him,' he said,—and I believe he meant it. And, Francis, the + very next day we were motoring to London and saw a terrible accident. A + motor bicyclist came down a side road at full speed and ran into a + motor-lorry. My father got out of the car, helped them lift the body from + under the wheels of the lorry, and came back absolutely unmoved. 'Serve + the silly young fool right!' was his only remark. He was so horribly + callous that I could scarcely bear to sit by his side. Do you understand + that?” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't easy,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door. Margaret glanced at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “Surely dinner can't be served already!” she exclaimed. “Come in.” + </p> + <p> + Very much to their surprise, it was Sir Timothy himself who entered. He + was in evening dress and wearing several orders, one of which Francis + noted with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “My apologies,” he said. “Hedges told me that there were cocktails here, + and as I am on my way to a rather weary dinner, I thought I might inflict + myself upon you for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret rose at once to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “I am a shocking hostess,” she declared. “Hedges brought the things in + twenty minutes ago.” + </p> + <p> + She took up the silver receptacle, shook it vigorously and filled three + glasses. Sir Timothy accepted his and bowed to them both. + </p> + <p> + “My best wishes,” he said. “Really, when one comes to think of it, however + much it may be against my inclinations I scarcely see how I shall be able + to withhold my consent. I believe that you both have at heart the flair + for domesticity. This little picture, and the thought of your tête-à-tête + dinner, almost touches me.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't make fun of us, father,” Margaret begged. “Tell us where you are + going in all that splendour?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “A month or so ago,” he explained, “I was chosen to induct a scion of + Royalty into the understanding of fighting as it is indulged in at the + National Sporting Club. This, I suppose, is my reward—an invitation + to something in the nature of a State dinner, which, to tell you the + truth, I had forgotten until my secretary pointed it out to me this + afternoon. I have grave fears of being bored or of misbehaving myself. I + have, as Ledsam here knows, a distressing habit of truthfulness, + especially to new acquaintances. However, we must hope for the best. + By-the-bye, Ledsam, in case you should have forgotten, I have spoken to + Hedges about the '99 Cliquot.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we see you here later?” Margaret asked, after Francis had murmured + his thanks. + </p> + <p> + “I shall probably return direct to Hatch End,” Sir Timothy replied. “There + are various little matters down there which are interesting me just now + preparations for my party. Au revoir! A delicious cocktail, but I am + inclined to resent the Angostura.” + </p> + <p> + He sauntered out, after a glance at the clock. They heard his footsteps as + he descended the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, what manner of a man is your father?” Francis asked impulsively. + </p> + <p> + “I am his daughter and I do not know,” Margaret answered. “Before he came, + I was going to speak to you of a strange misunderstanding which has + existed between us and which has just been removed. Now I have a fancy to + leave it until later. You will not mind?” + </p> + <p> + “When you choose,” Francis assented. “Nothing will make any difference. We + are past the days when fathers or even mothers count seriously in the + things that exist between two people like you and me, who have felt life. + Whatever your father may be, whatever he may turn out to be, you are the + woman I love—you are the woman who is going to be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned towards him for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “You have an amazing gift,” she whispered, “of saying just the thing one + loves to hear in the way that convinces.” + </p> + <p> + Dinner was served to them in the smaller of the two dining-rooms, an + exquisite meal, made more wonderful still by the wine, which Hedges + himself dispensed with jealous care. The presence of servants, with its + restraining influence upon conversation, was not altogether unwelcome to + Francis. He and Margaret had had so little opportunity for general + conversation that to discuss other than personal subjects in this + pleasant, leisurely way had its charm. They spoke of music, of which she + knew far more than he; of foreign travel, where they met on common ground, + for each had only the tourist's knowledge of Europe, and each was anxious + for a more individual acquaintance with it. She had tastes in books which + delighted him, a knowledge of games which promised a common resource. It + was only whilst they were talking that he realised with a shock how young + she was, how few the years that lay between her serene school-days and the + tempestuous years of her married life. Her school-days in Naples were most + redolent of delightful memories. She broke off once or twice into the + language, and he listened with delight to her soft accent. Finally the + time came when dessert was set upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “I have ordered coffee up in the little sitting-room again,” she said, a + little shyly. “Do you mind, or would you rather have it here?” + </p> + <p> + “I much prefer it there,” he assured her. + </p> + <p> + They sat before an open window, looking out upon some elm trees in the + boughs of which town sparrows twittered, and with a background of roofs + and chimneys. Margaret's coffee was untasted, even her cigarette lay unlit + by her side. There was a touch of the old horror upon her face. The + fingers which he drew into his were as cold as ice. + </p> + <p> + “You must have wondered sometimes,” she began, “why I ever married Oliver + Hilditch.” + </p> + <p> + “You were very young,” he reminded her, with a little shiver, “and very + inexperienced. I suppose he appealed to you in some way or another.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't that,” she replied. “He came to visit, me at Eastbourne, and he + certainly knew all the tricks of making himself attractive and agreeable. + But he never won my heart—he never even seriously took my fancy. I + married him because I believed that by doing so I was obeying my father's + wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where was your father at the time, then?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “In South America. Oliver Hilditch was nothing more than a discharged + employé of his, discharged for dishonesty. He had to leave South America; + within a week to escape prosecution, and on the way to Europe he concocted + the plot which very nearly ruined my life. He forged a letter from my + father, begging me, if I found it in any way possible, to listen to Oliver + Hilditch's proposals, and hinting guardedly at a very serious financial + crisis which it was in his power to avert. It never occurred to me or to + my chaperon to question his bona fides. He had lived under the same roof + as my father, and knew all the intimate details of his life. He was very + clever and I suppose I was a fool. I remember thinking I was doing quite a + heroic action when I went to the registrar with him. What it led to you + know.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's throbbing silence. Francis, notwithstanding his deep + pity, was conscious of an overwhelming sensation of relief. She had never + cared for Oliver Hilditch! She had never pretended to! He put the thought + into words. + </p> + <p> + “You never cared for him, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to,” she replied simply, “but I found it impossible. Within a + week of our marriage I hated him.” + </p> + <p> + Francis leaned back, his eyes half closed. In his ears was the sonorous + roar of Piccadilly, the hooting of motor-cars, close at hand the rustling + of a faint wind in the elm trees. It was a wonderful moment. The nightmare + with which he had grappled so fiercely, which he had overthrown, but whose + ghost still sometimes walked by his side, had lost its chief and most + poignant terror. She had been tricked into the marriage. She had never + cared or pretended to care. The primal horror of that tragedy which he had + figured so often to himself, seemed to have departed with the thought. Its + shadow must always remain, but in time his conscience would acquiesce in + the pronouncement of his reason. It was the hand of justice, not any human + hand, which had slain Oliver Hilditch. + </p> + <p> + “What did your father say when he discovered the truth?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “He did not know it until he came to England—on the day that Oliver + Hilditch was acquitted. My husband always pretended that he had a special + mail bag going out to South America, so he took away all the letters I + wrote to my father, and he took care that I received none except one or + two which I know now were forgeries. He had friends in South America + himself who helped him—one a typist in my father's office, of whom I + discovered afterwards—but that really doesn't matter. He was a + wonderful master of deceit.” + </p> + <p> + Francis suddenly took her hands. He had an overwhelming desire to escape + from the miasma of those ugly days, with their train of attendant thoughts + and speculations. + </p> + <p> + “Let us talk about ourselves,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + After that, the evening glided away incoherently, with no sustained + conversation, but with an increasing sense of well-being, of soothed + nerves and happiness, flaming seconds of passion, sign-posts of the + wonderful world which lay before them. They sat in the cool silence until + the lights of the returning taxicabs and motor-cars became more frequent, + until the stars crept into the sky and the yellow arc of the moon stole up + over the tops of the houses. Presently they saw Sir Timothy's Rolls-Royce + glide up to the front door below and Sir Timothy himself enter the house, + followed by another man whose appearance was somehow familiar. + </p> + <p> + “Your father has changed his mind,” Francis observed. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he has called for something,” she suggested, “or he may want to + change his clothes before he goes down to the country.” + </p> + <p> + Presently, however, there was a knock at the door. Hedges made his + diffident appearance. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” he began, addressing Francis. “Sir Timothy has + been asking if you are still here. He would be very glad if you could + spare him a moment in the library.” + </p> + <p> + Francis rose at once to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “I was just leaving,” he said. “I will look in at the library and see Sir + Timothy on my way out.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + Sir Timothy was standing upon the hearthrug of the very wonderful + apartment which he called his library. By his side, on a black marble + pedestal, stood a small statue by Rodin. Behind him, lit by a shielded + electric light, was a Vandyck, “A Portrait of a Gentleman Unknown,” and + Francis, as he hesitated for a moment upon the threshold, was struck by a + sudden quaint likeness between the face of the man in the picture, with + his sunken cheeks, his supercilious smile, his narrowed but powerful eyes, + to the face of Sir Timothy himself. There was something of the same spirit + there—the lawless buccaneer, perhaps the criminal. + </p> + <p> + “You asked for me, Sir Timothy,” Francis said. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I was fortunate to find that you had not left,” he answered. “I want you + to be present at this forthcoming interview. You are to a certain extent + in the game. I thought it might amuse you.” + </p> + <p> + Francis for the first time was aware that his host was not alone. The + room, with its odd splashes of light, was full of shadows, and he saw now + that in an easy-chair a little distance away from Sir Timothy, a girl was + seated. Behind her, still standing, with his hat in his hand, was a man. + Francis recognised them both with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Hyslop!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + She nodded a little defiantly. Sir Timothy smiled. “Ah!” he said. “You + know the young lady, without a doubt. Mr. Shopland, your coadjutor in + various works of philanthropy, you recognise, of course? I do not mind + confessing to you, Ledsam, that I am very much afraid of Mr. Shopland. I + am not at all sure that he has not a warrant for my arrest in his pocket.” + </p> + <p> + The detective came a little further into the light. He was attired in an + ill-fitting dinner suit, a soft-fronted shirt of unpleasing design, a + collar of the wrong shape, and a badly arranged tie. He seemed, + nevertheless, very pleased with himself. + </p> + <p> + “I came on here, Mr. Ledsam, at Sir Timothy's desire,” he said. “I should + like you to understand,” he added, with a covert glance of warning, “that + I have been devoting every effort, during the last few days, to the + discovery of your friend's brother, Mr. Reginald Wilmore.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to hear it,” Francis replied shortly. “The boy's brother + is one of my greatest friends.” + </p> + <p> + “I have come to the conclusion,” the detective pronounced, “that the young + man has been abducted, and is being detained at The Walled House against + his will for some illegal purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “In other respects,” Sir Timothy said, stretching out his hand towards a + cedar-wood box of cigarettes and selecting one, “this man seems quite + sane. I have watched him very closely on the way here, but I could see no + signs of mental aberration. I do not think, at any rate, that he is + dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy,” Shopland explained, with some anger in his tone, “declines + to take me seriously. I can of course apply for a search warrant, as I + shall do, but it occurred to me to be one of those cases which could be + better dealt with, up to a certain point, without recourse to the + extremities of the law.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy, who had lit his cigarette, presented a wholly undisturbed + front. + </p> + <p> + “What I cannot quite understand,” he said, “is the exact meaning of that + word 'abduction.' Why should I be suspected of forcibly removing a + harmless and worthy young man from his regular avocation, and, as you term + it, abducting him, which I presume means keeping him bound and gagged and + imprisoned? I do not eat young men. I do not even care for the society of + young men. I am not naturally a gregarious person, but I think I would go + so far,” he added, with a bow towards Miss Hyslop, “as to say that I + prefer the society of young women. Satisfy my curiosity, therefore, I beg + of you. For what reason do you suppose that I have been concerned in the + disappearance of this Mr. Reginald Wilmore?” + </p> + <p> + Francis opened his lips, but Shopland, with a warning glance, intervened. + </p> + <p> + “I work sometimes as a private person, sir,” he said, “but it is not to be + forgotten that I am an officer of the law. It is not for us to state + motives or even to afford explanations for our behaviour. I have watched + your house at Hatch End, Sir Timothy, and I have come to the conclusion + that unless you are willing to discuss this matter with me in a different + spirit, I am justified in asking the magistrates for a search warrant.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I think, after all, that yours is the most + interesting end of this espionage business. It is you who search for + motives, is it not, and pass them on to our more automatic friend, who + does the rest. May I ask, have you supplied the motive in the present + case?” + </p> + <p> + “I have failed to discover any motive at all for Reginald Wilmore's + disappearance,” Francis admitted, “nor have I at any time been able to + connect you with it. Mr. Shopland's efforts, however, although he has not + seen well to take me into his entire confidence, have my warmest approval + and sympathy. Although I have accepted your very generous hospitality, Sir + Timothy, I think there has been no misunderstanding between us on this + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Most correct,” Sir Timothy murmured. “The trouble seems to be, so far as + I am concerned, that no one will tell me exactly of what I am suspected? I + am to give Mr. Shopland the run of my house, or he will make his + appearance in the magistrate's court and the evening papers will have + placards with marvellous headlines at my expense. How will it run, Mr. + Shopland— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN. + MILLIONAIRE'S HOUSE TO BE SEARCHED.'” + </pre> + <p> + “We do not necessarily acquaint the press with our procedure,” Shopland + rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” Sir Timothy continued, “I have known awkward consequences + arise from a search warrant too rashly applied for or granted. However, we + are scarcely being polite. So far, Miss Hyslop has had very little to + say.” + </p> + <p> + The young lady was not altogether at her ease. + </p> + <p> + “I have had very little to say,” she repeated, “because I did not expect + an audience.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy drew a letter from his pocket, opened it and adjusted his + eyeglass. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are,” he said. “After leaving my dinner-party tonight, I called + at the club and found this note. Quite an inviting little affair, you see + young lady's writing, faint but very delicate perfume, excellent + stationery, Milan Court—the home of adventures!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “DEAR SIR TIMOTHY BRAST: + + “Although I am not known to you personally, there is a +certain matter concerning which information has come into my possession, +which I should like to discuss with you. Will you call and see me as +soon as possible?” Sincerely yours, + “DAISY HYSLOP.” + </pre> + <p> + “On receipt of this note,” Sir Timothy continued, folding it up, “I + telephoned to the young lady and as I was fortunate enough to find her at + home I asked her to come here. I then took the liberty of introducing + myself to Mr. Shopland, whose interest in my evening has been unvarying, + and whose uninvited company I have been compelled to bear with, and + suggested that, as I was on my way back to Curzon Street, he had better + come in and have a drink and tell me what it was all about. I arranged + that he should find Miss Hyslop here, and for a person of observation, + which I flatter myself to be, it was easy to discover the interesting fact + that Mr. Shopland and Miss Daisy Hyslop were not strangers. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me, young lady,” Sir Timothy went on. “You see, I have placed + myself entirely in your hands. Never mind the presence of these two + gentlemen. Tell me exactly what you wanted to say to me?” + </p> + <p> + “The matter is of no great importance,” Miss Hyslop declared, “in any case + I should not discuss it before these two gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't go for a moment, please,” Sir Timothy begged, as she showed signs + of departure. “Listen. I want to make a suggestion to you. There is an + impression abroad that I was interested in the two young men, Victor + Bidlake and Fairfax, and that I knew something of their quarrel. You were + an intimate friend of young Bidlake's and presumably in his confidence. It + occurs to me, therefore, that Mr. Shopland might very well have visited + you in search of information, linking me up with that unfortunate affair. + Hence your little note to me.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Hyslop rose to her feet. She had the appearance of being very angry + indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to insinuate—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Madam, I insinuate nothing,” Sir Timothy interrupted sternly. “I only + desire to suggest this. You are a young lady whose manner of living, I + gather, is to a certain extent precarious. It must have seemed to you a + likelier source of profit to withhold any information you might have to + give at the solicitation of a rich man, than to give it free gratis and + for nothing to a detective. Now am I right?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Hyslop turned towards the door. She had the air of a person who had + been entirely misunderstood. + </p> + <p> + “I wrote you out of kindness, Sir Timothy,” she said in an aggrieved + manner. “I shall have nothing more to say on the matter—to you, at + any rate.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy sighed. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he said, turning to the others, “I have lost my chance of + conciliating a witness. My cheque-book remains locked up and she has gone + over to your side.” + </p> + <p> + She turned around suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “You know that you made Bobby Fairfax kill Victor!” she almost shouted. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled in triumph. + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady,” he begged, “let us now be friends again. I desired + to know your trump card. For that reason I fear that I have been a little + brutal. Now please don't hurry away. You have shot your bolt. Already Mr. + Shopland is turning the thing over in his mind. Was I lurking outside that + night, Mr. Shopland, to guide that young man's flabby arm? He scarcely + seemed man enough for a murderer, did he, when he sat quaking on that + stool in Soto's Bar while Mr. Ledsam tortured him? I beg you again not to + hurry, Miss Hyslop. At any rate wait while my servants fetch you a taxi. + It was clouding over when I came in. We may even have a thunderstorm.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to get out of this house,” Daisy Hyslop declared. “I think you are + all horrible. Mr. Ledsam did behave like a gentleman when he came to see + me, and Mr. Shopland asked questions civilly. But you—” she added, + turning round to Sir Timothy. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, my dear,” he interrupted, holding out his hand. “Don't abuse me. I + am not angry with you—not in the least—and I am going to prove + it. I shall oppose any search warrant which you might apply for, Mr. + Shopland, and I think I can oppose it with success. But I invite you two, + Miss Hyslop and Mr. Ledsam, to my party on Thursday night. Once under my + roof you shall have carte blanche. You can wander where you please, knock + the walls for secret hiding-places, stamp upon the floor for oubliettes. + Upstairs or down, the cellars and the lofts, the grounds and the park, the + whole of my domain is for you from midnight on Thursday until four + o'clock. What do you say, Mr. Shopland? Does my offer satisfy you?” + </p> + <p> + The detective hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I should prefer an invitation for myself,” he declared bluntly. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my dear Mr. Shopland,” he regretted, “that is impossible! If I had + only myself to consider I would not hesitate. Personally I like you. You + amuse me more than any one I have met for a long time. But unfortunately I + have my guests to consider! You must be satisfied with Mr. Ledsam's + report.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland stroked his stubbly moustache. It was obvious that he was not in + the least disconcerted. + </p> + <p> + “There are three days between now and then,” he reflected. + </p> + <p> + “During those three days, of course,” Sir Timothy said drily, “I shall do + my best to obliterate all traces of my various crimes. Still, you are a + clever detective, and you can give Mr. Ledsam a few hints. Take my advice. + You won't get that search warrant, and if you apply for it none of you + will be at my party.” + </p> + <p> + “I accept,” Shopland decided. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy crossed the room, unlocked the drawer of a magnificent + writing-table, and from a little packet drew out two cards of invitation. + They were of small size but thick, and the colour was a brilliant scarlet. + On one he wrote the name of Francis, the other he filled in for Miss + Hyslop. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Daisy Hyslop,” he said, “shall we drink a glass of wine together on + Thursday evening, and will you decide that although, perhaps, I am not a + very satisfactory correspondent, I can at least be an amiable host?” + </p> + <p> + The girl's eyes glistened. She knew very well that the possession of that + card meant that for the next few days she would be the envy of every one + of her acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Sir Timothy,” she replied eagerly. “You have quite + misunderstood me but I should like to come to your party.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy handed over the cards. He rang for a servant and bowed the + others out. Francis he detained for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Our little duel, my friend, marches,” he said. “After Thursday night we + will speak again of this matter concerning Margaret. You will know then + what you have to face.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret herself opened the door and looked in. + </p> + <p> + “What have those people been doing here?” she asked. “What is happening?” + </p> + <p> + Her father unlocked his drawer once more and drew out another of the red + cards. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said, “Ledsam here has accepted my invitation for Thursday + night. You have never, up till now, honoured me, nor have I ever asked + you. I suggest that for the first part of the entertainment, you give me + the pleasure of your company.” + </p> + <p> + “For the first part?” + </p> + <p> + “For the first part only,” he repeated, as he wrote her name upon the + card. + </p> + <p> + “What about Francis?” she asked. “Is he to stay all the time?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled. He locked up his drawer and slipped the key into his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Ledsam and I,” he said, “have promised one another a more complete mutual + understanding on Thursday night. I may not be able to part with him quite + so soon.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + Bored and listless, like a tired and drooping lily in the arms of her + somewhat athletic partner, Lady Cynthia brought her dance to a somewhat + abrupt conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “There is some one in the lounge there to whom I wish to speak,” she said. + “Perhaps you won't mind if we finish later. The floor seems sticky + tonight, or my feet are heavy.” + </p> + <p> + Her partner made the best of it, as Lady Cynthia's partners, nowadays, + generally had to. She even dispensed with his escort, and walked across + the lounge of Claridge's alone. Sir Timothy rose to his feet. He had been + sitting in a corner, half sheltered by a pillar, and had fancied himself + unseen. + </p> + <p> + “What a relief!” she exclaimed. “Another turn and I should have fainted + through sheer boredom.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you are quite wonderful dancing,” he said. “I have been watching you + for some time.” + </p> + <p> + “It is one of my expiring efforts,” she declared, sinking into the chair + by his side. “You know whose party it is, of course? Old Lady + Torrington's. Quite a boy and girl affair. Twenty-four of us had dinner in + the worst corner of the room. I can hear the old lady ordering the dinner + now. Charles with a long menu. She shakes her head and taps him on the + wrist with her fan. 'Monsieur Charles, I am a poor woman. Give me what + there is—a small, plain dinner—and charge me at your minimum.' + The dinner was very small and very plain, the champagne was horribly + sweet. My partner talked of a new drill, his last innings for the + Household Brigade, and a wonderful round of golf he played last Sunday + week. I was turned on to dance with a man who asked me to marry him, a + year ago, and I could feel him vibrating with gratitude, as he looked at + me, that I had refused. I suppose I am very haggard.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that matter, nowadays?” Sir Timothy asked. + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it does. The bone and the hank of hair stuff is played out. + The dairy-maid style is coming in. Plump little Fanny Torrington had a + great success to-night, in one of those simple white dresses, you know, + which look like a sack with a hole cut in the top. What are you doing here + by yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I have an engagement in a few minutes,” he explained. “My car is waiting + now. I looked in at the club to dine, found my favourite table taken and + nearly every man I ever disliked sidling up to tell me that he hears I am + giving a wonderful party on Thursday. I decided not to dine there, after + all, and Charles found me a corner here. I am going in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” she asked. “Can't I come with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I fear not,” he answered. “I am going down in the East End.” + </p> + <p> + “Adventuring?” + </p> + <p> + “More or less,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia became beautiful. She was always beautiful when she was not + tired. + </p> + <p> + “Take me with you, please,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Not to be done!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't shake your head like that,” she enjoined, with a little grimace. + “People will think I am trying to borrow money from you and that you are + refusing me! Just take me with you some of the way. I shall scream if I go + back into that dancing-room again.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy glanced at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “If there is any amusement to you in a rather dull drive eastwards—” + </p> + <p> + She was on her feet with the soft, graceful speed which had made her so + much admired before her present listlessness had set in. + </p> + <p> + “I'll get my cloak,” she said. + </p> + <p> + They drove along the Embankment, citywards. The heat of the city seemed to + rise from the pavements. The wall of the Embankment was lined with people, + leaning over to catch the languid breeze that crept up with the tide. They + crossed the river and threaded their way through a nightmare of squalid + streets, where half-dressed men and women hung from the top windows and + were even to be seen upon the roof, struggling for air. The car at last + pulled up at the corner of a long street. + </p> + <p> + “I am going down here,” Sir Timothy announced. “I shall be gone perhaps an + hour. The neighbourhood is not a fit one for you to be left alone in. I + shall have time to send you home. The car will be back here for me by the + time I require it.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” she asked curiously. “Why can't I come with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going where I cannot take you,” was the firm reply. “I told you that + before I started.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall sit here and wait for you,” she decided. “I rather like the + neighbourhood. There is a gentleman in shirt-sleeves, leaning over the + rail of the roof there, who has his eye on me. I believe I shall be a + success here—which is more than I can say of a little further + westwards.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled slightly. He had exchanged his hat for a tweed cap, and + had put on a long dustcoat. + </p> + <p> + “There is no gauge by which you may know the measure of your success,” he + said. “If there were—” + </p> + <p> + “If there were?” she asked, leaning a little forward and looking at him + with a touch of the old brilliancy in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “If there were,” he said, with a little show of mock gallantry, “a very + jealously-guarded secret might escape me. I think you will be quite all + right here,” he continued. “It is an open thoroughfare, and I see two + policemen at the corner. Hassell, my chauffeur, too, is a reliable fellow. + We will be back within the hour.” + </p> + <p> + “We?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + He indicated a man who had silently made his appearance during the + conversation and was standing waiting on the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + “Just a companion. I do not advise you to wait. If you insist—au + revoir!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia leaned back in a corner of the car. + </p> + <p> + Through half-closed eyes she watched the two men on their way down the + crowded thoroughfare—Sir Timothy tall, thin as a lath, yet with a + certain elegance of bearing; the man at his side shorter, his hands thrust + into the pockets of his coat, his manner one of subservience. She wondered + languidly as to their errand in this unsavoury neighbourhood. Then she + closed her eyes altogether and wondered about many things. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy and his companion walked along the crowded, squalid street + without speech. Presently they turned to the right and stopped in front of + a public-house of some pretensions. + </p> + <p> + “This is the place?” Sir Timothy asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Both men entered. Sir Timothy made his way to the counter, his companion + to a table near, where he took a seat and ordered a drink. Sir Timothy did + the same. He was wedged in between a heterogeneous crowd of shabby, + depressed but apparently not ill-natured men and women. A man in a flannel + shirt and pair of shabby plaid trousers, which owed their precarious + position to a pair of worn-out braces, turned a beery eye upon the + newcomer. + </p> + <p> + “I'll 'ave one with you, guvnor,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You shall indeed,” Sir Timothy assented. + </p> + <p> + “Strike me lucky but I've touched first time!” the man exclaimed. “I'll + 'ave a double tot of whisky,” he added, addressing the barman. “Will it + run to it, guvnor?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” was the cordial reply, “and the same to your friends, if you + will answer a question.” + </p> + <p> + “Troop up, lads,” the man shouted. “We've a toff 'ere. He ain't a 'tec—I + know the cut of them. Out with the question.” + </p> + <p> + “Serve every one who desires it with drinks,” Sir Timothy directed the + barman. “My question is easily answered. Is this the place which a man + whom I understand they call Billy the Tanner frequents?” + </p> + <p> + The question appeared to produce an almost uncomfortable sensation. The + enthusiasm for the free drinks, however, was only slightly damped, and a + small forest of grimy hands was extended across the counter. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you ask no questions about 'im, guvnor,” Sir Timothy's immediate + companion advised earnestly. “He'd kill you as soon as look at you. When + Billy the Tanner's in a quarrelsome mood, I've see 'im empty this place + and the whole street, quicker than if a mad dog was loose. 'E's a fair and + 'oly terror, 'e is. 'E about killed 'is wife, three nights ago, but there + ain't a living soul as 'd dare to stand in the witness-box about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't the police take a hand in the matter if the man is such a + nuisance?” Sir Timothy asked. + </p> + <p> + His new acquaintance, gripping a thick tumbler of spirits and water with a + hand deeply encrusted with the stains of his trade, scoffed. + </p> + <p> + “Police! Why, 'e'd take on any three of the police round these parts!” he + declared. “Police! You tell one on 'em that Billy the Tanner's on the + rampage, and you'll see 'em 'op it. Cheero, guvnor and don't you get + curious about Billy. It ain't 'ealthy.” + </p> + <p> + The swing-door was suddenly opened. A touslehaired urchin shoved his face + in. + </p> + <p> + “Billy the Tanner's coming!” he shouted. “Cave, all! He's been 'avin' a + rare to-do in Smith's Court.” + </p> + <p> + Then a curious thing happened. The little crowd at the bar seemed somehow + to melt away. Half-a-dozen left precipitately by the door. Half-a-dozen + more slunk through an inner entrance into some room beyond. Sir Timothy's + neighbour set down his tumbler empty. He was the last to leave. + </p> + <p> + “If you're going to stop 'ere, guvnor,” he begged fervently, “you keep a + still tongue in your 'ead. Billy ain't particular who it is. 'E'd kill 'is + own mother, if 'e felt like it. 'E'll swing some day, sure as I stand + 'ere, but 'e'll do a bit more mischief first. 'Op it with me, guvnor, or + get inside there.” + </p> + <p> + “Jim's right,” the man behind the bar agreed. “He's a very nasty customer, + Bill the Tanner, sir. If he's coming down, I'd clear out for a moment. You + can go in the guvnor's sitting-room, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Billy the Tanner will not hurt me,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I came + down to see him.” + </p> + <p> + His new friend hesitated no longer but made for the door through which + most of his companions had already disappeared. The barman leaned across + the counter. + </p> + <p> + “Guvnor,” he whispered hoarsely, “I don't know what the game is, but I've + given you the office. Billy won't stand no truck from any one. He's a holy + terror.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I quite understand,” he said. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's ominous silence. The barman withdrew to the further + end of his domain and busied himself cleaning some glasses. Suddenly the + door was swung open. A man entered whose appearance alone was calculated + to inspire a certain amount of fear. He was tall, but his height escaped + notice by reason of the extraordinary breadth of his shoulders. He had a + coarse and vicious face, a crop of red hair, and an unshaven growth of the + same upon his face. He wore what appeared to be the popular dress in the + neighbourhood—a pair of trousers suspended by a belt, and a dirty + flannel shirt. His hands and even his chest, where the shirt fell away, + were discoloured by yellow stains. He looked around the room at first with + an air of disappointment. Then he caught sight of Sir Timothy standing at + the counter, and he brightened up. + </p> + <p> + “Where's all the crowd, Tom?” he asked the barman. + </p> + <p> + “Scared of you, I reckon,” was the brief reply. “There was plenty here a + few minutes ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Scared of me, eh?” the other repeated, staring hard at Sir Timothy. “Did + you 'ear that, guvnor?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard it,” Sir Timothy acquiesced. + </p> + <p> + Billy the Tanner began to cheer up. He walked all round this stranger. + </p> + <p> + “A toff! A big toff! I'll 'ave a drink with you, guvnor,” he declared, + with a note of incipient truculence in his tone. + </p> + <p> + The barman had already reached up for two glasses but Sir Timothy shook + his head. + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” he said. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's silence. The barman made despairing signs at Sir + Timothy. Billy the Tanner was moistening his lips with his tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Because I don't know you and I don't like you,” was the bland reply. + </p> + <p> + Billy the Tanner wasted small time upon preliminaries. He spat upon his + hands. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno you and I don't like you,” he retorted. “D'yer know wot I'm going + to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea,” Sir Timothy confessed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to make you look so that your own mother wouldn't know you—then + I'm going to pitch you into the street,” he added, with an evil grin. + “That's wot we does with big toffs who come 'anging around 'ere.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” Sir Timothy said calmly. “Perhaps my friend may have something + to say about that.” + </p> + <p> + The man of war was beginning to be worked up. + </p> + <p> + “Where's your big friend?” he shouted. “Come on! I'll take on the two of + you.” + </p> + <p> + The man who had met Sir Timothy in the street had risen to his feet. He + strolled up to the two. Billy the Tanner eyed him hungrily. + </p> + <p> + “The two of you, d'yer 'ear?” he shouted. “And 'ere's just a flick for the + toff to be going on with!” + </p> + <p> + He delivered a sudden blow at Sir Timothy—a full, vicious, jabbing + blow which had laid many a man of the neighbourhood in the gutter. To his + amazement, the chin at which he had aimed seemed to have mysteriously + disappeared. Sir Timothy himself was standing about half-a-yard further + away. Billy the Tanner was too used to the game to be off his balance, but + he received at that moment the surprise of his life. With the flat of his + hand full open, Sir Timothy struck him across the cheek such a blow that + it resounded through the place, a blow that brought both the inner doors + ajar, that brought peering eyes from every direction. There was a moment's + silence. The man's fists were clenched now, there was murder in his face. + Sir Timothy stepped on one side. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a fighter,” he said coolly, leaning back against the marble + table. “My friend will deal with you.” + </p> + <p> + Billy the Tanner glared at the newcomer, who had glided in between him and + Sir Timothy. + </p> + <p> + “You can come and join in, too,” he shouted to Sir Timothy. “I'll knock + your big head into pulp when I've done with this little job!” + </p> + <p> + The bully knew in precisely thirty seconds what had happened to him. So + did the crowds who pressed back into the place through the inner door. So + did the barman. So did the landlord, who had made a cautious appearance + through a trapdoor. Billy the Tanner, for the first time in his life, was + fighting a better man. For two years he had been the terror of the + neighbourhood, and he showed now that at least he had courage. His + smattering of science, however, appeared only ridiculous. Once, through + sheer strength and blundering force, he broke down his opponent's guard + and struck him in the place that had dispatched many a man before—just + over the heart. His present opponent scarcely winced, and Billy the Tanner + paid the penalty then for his years of bullying. His antagonist paused for + a single second, as though unnerved by the blow. Red fire seemed to stream + from his eyes. Then it was all over. With a sickening crash, Billy the + Tanner went down upon the sanded floor. It was no matter of a count for + him. He lay there like a dead man, and from the two doors the hidden + spectators streamed into the room. Sir Timothy laid some money upon the + table. + </p> + <p> + “This fellow insulted me and my friend,” he said. “You see, he has paid + the penalty. If he misbehaves again, the same thing will happen to him. I + am leaving some money here with your barman. I shall be glad for every one + to drink with me. Presently, perhaps, you had better send for an ambulance + or a doctor.” + </p> + <p> + A little storm of enthusiastic excitement, evidenced for the most part in + expletives of a lurid note, covered the retreat of Sir Timothy and his + companion. Out in the street a small crowd was rushing towards the place. + A couple of policemen seemed to be trying to make up their minds whether + it was a fine night. An inspector hurried up to them. + </p> + <p> + “What's doing in 'The Rising Sun'?” he demanded sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Some one's giving Billy the Tanner a hiding,” one of the policemen + replied. + </p> + <p> + “Honest?” + </p> + <p> + “A fair, ripe, knock-out hiding,” was the emphatic confirmation. “I looked + in at the window.” + </p> + <p> + The inspector grinned. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you had the sense not to interfere,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy and his companion reached the car. The latter took a seat by + the chauffeur. Sir Timothy stepped in. It struck him that Lady Cynthia was + a little breathless. Her eyes, too, were marvellously bright. Wrapped + around her knees was the chauffeur's coat. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” she declared. “I haven't had such a wonderful five minutes + since I can remember! You are a dear to have brought me, Sir Timothy.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Mean?” she laughed, as the car swung around and they glided away. “You + didn't suppose I was going to sit here and watch you depart upon a + mysterious errand? I borrowed your chauffeur's coat and his cap, and slunk + down after you. I can assure you I looked the most wonderful female apache + you ever saw! And I saw the fight. It was better than any of the prize + fights I have ever been to. The real thing is better than the sham, isn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy leaned back in his place and remained silent. Soon they passed + out of the land of tired people, of stalls decked out with unsavoury + provender, of foetid smells and unwholesome-looking houses. They passed + through a street of silent warehouses on to the Embankment. A stronger + breeze came down between the curving arc of lights. + </p> + <p> + “You are not sorry that you brought me?” Lady Cynthia asked, suddenly + holding out her hand. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy took it in his. For some reason or other, he made no answer at + all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <p> + The car stopped in front of the great house in Grosvenor Square. Lady + Cynthia turned to her companion. + </p> + <p> + “You must come in, please,” she said. “I insist, if it is only for five + minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy followed her across the hall to a curved recess, where the + footman who had admitted them touched a bell, and a small automatic lift + came down. + </p> + <p> + “I am taking you to my own quarters,” she explained. “They are rather cut + off but I like them—especially on hot nights.” + </p> + <p> + They glided up to the extreme top of the house. She opened the gates and + led the way into what was practically an attic sitting-room, decorated in + black and white. Wide-flung doors opened onto the leads, where comfortable + chairs, a small table and an electric standard were arranged. They were + far above the tops of the other houses, and looked into the green of the + Park. + </p> + <p> + “This is where I bring very few people,” she said. “This is where, even + after my twenty-eight years of fraudulent life, I am sometimes myself. + Wait.” + </p> + <p> + There were feminine drinks and sandwiches arranged on the table. She + opened the cupboard of a small sideboard just inside the sitting-room, + however, and produced whisky and a syphon of soda. There was a pail of ice + in a cool corner. From somewhere in the distance came the music of violins + floating through the window of a house where a dance was in progress. They + could catch a glimpse of the striped awning and the long line of waiting + vehicles with their twin eyes of fire. She curled herself up on a settee, + flung a cushion at Sir Timothy, who was already ensconced in a luxurious + easy-chair, and with a tumbler of iced sherbet in one hand, and a + cigarette in the other, looked across at him. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure,” she said, “that you have not to-night dispelled an + illusion.” + </p> + <p> + “What manner of one?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Above all things,” she went on, “I have always looked upon you as wicked. + Most people do. I think that is one reason why so many of the women find + you attractive. I suppose it is why I have found you attractive.” + </p> + <p> + The smile was back upon his lips. He bowed a little, and, leaning forward, + dropped a chunk of ice into his whisky and soda. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Lady Cynthia,” he murmured, “don't tell me that I am going to slip + back in your estimation into some normal place.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not quite sure,” she said deliberately. “I have always looked upon + you as a kind of amateur criminal, a man who loved black things and dark + ways. You know how weary one gets of the ordinary code of morals in these + days. You were such a delightful antidote. And now, I am not sure that you + have not shaken my faith in you.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way?” + </p> + <p> + “You really seem to have been engaged to-night in a very sporting and + philanthropic enterprise. I imagined you visiting some den of vice and + mixing as an equal with these terrible people who never seem to cross the + bridges. I was perfectly thrilled when I put on your chauffeur's coat and + hat and followed you.” + </p> + <p> + “The story of my little adventure is a simple one,” Sir Timothy said. “I + do not think it greatly affects my character. I believe, as a matter of + fact, that I am just as wicked as you would have me be, but I have friends + in every walk of life, and, as you know, I like to peer into the + unexpected places. I had heard of this man Billy the Tanner. He beats + women, and has established a perfect reign of terror in the court and + neighbourhood where he lives. I fear I must agree with you that there were + some elements of morality—of conforming, at any rate, to the + recognised standards of justice—in what I did. You know, of course, + that I am a great patron of every form of boxing, fencing, and the various + arts of self-defence and attack. I just took along one of the men from my + gymnasium who I knew was equal to the job, to give this fellow a lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “He did it all right,” Lady Cynthia murmured. + </p> + <p> + “But this is where I think I re-establish myself,” Sir Timothy continued, + the peculiar nature of his smile reasserting itself. “I did not do this + for the sake of the neighbourhood. I did not do it from any sense of + justice at all. I did it to provide for myself an enjoyable and delectable + spectacle.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled lazily. + </p> + <p> + “That does rather let you out,” she admitted. “However, on the whole I am + disappointed. I am afraid that you are not so bad as people think.” + </p> + <p> + “People?” he repeated. “Francis Ledsam, for instance—my son-in-law + in posse?” + </p> + <p> + “Francis Ledsam is one of those few rather brilliant persons who have + contrived to keep sane without becoming a prig,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “You know why?” he reminded her. “Francis Ledsam has been a tremendous + worker. It is work which keeps a man sane. Brilliancy without the capacity + for work drives people to the madhouse.” + </p> + <p> + “Where we are all going, I suppose,” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Not you,” he answered. “You have just enough—I don't know what we + moderns call it—soul, shall I say?—to keep you from the muddy + ways.” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet and leaned over the rails. Sir Timothy watched her + thoughtfully. Her figure, notwithstanding its suggestions of delicate + maturity, was still as slim as a young girl's. She was looking across the + tree-tops towards an angry bank of clouds—long, pencil-like streaks + of black on a purple background. Below, in the street, a taxi passed with + grinding of brakes and noisy horn. The rail against which she leaned + looked very flimsy. Sir Timothy stretched out his hand and held her arm. + </p> + <p> + “My nerves are going with my old age,” he apologised. “That support seems + too fragile.” + </p> + <p> + She did not move. The touch of his fingers grew firmer. + </p> + <p> + “We have entered upon an allegory,” she murmured. “You are preserving me + from the depths.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed harshly. + </p> + <p> + “I!” he exclaimed, with a sudden touch of real and fierce bitterness which + brought the light dancing into her eyes and a spot of colour to her + cheeks. “I preserve you! Why, you can never hear my name without thinking + of sin, of crime of some sort! Do you seriously expect me to ever preserve + any one from anything?” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't made any very violent attempts to corrupt me,” she reminded + him. + </p> + <p> + “Women don't enter much into my scheme of life,” he declared. “They played + a great part once. It was a woman, I think, who first headed me off from + the pastures of virtue.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” she said softly. “It was Margaret's mother.” + </p> + <p> + His voice rang out like a pistol-shot. + </p> + <p> + “How did you know that?” + </p> + <p> + She turned away from the rail and threw herself back in her chair. His + hand, however, she still kept in hers. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Joe was Minister at Rio, you know, the year it all happened,” she + explained. “He told us the story years ago—how you came back from + Europe and found things were not just as they should be between Margaret's + mother and your partner, and how you killed your partner.” + </p> + <p> + His nostrils quivered a little. One felt that the fire of suffering had + touched him again for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I killed him,” he admitted. “That is part of my creed. The men who + defend their honour in the Law Courts are men I know nothing of. This man + would have wronged me and robbed me of my honour. I bade him defend + himself in any way he thought well. It was his life or mine. He was a poor + fighter and I killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “And Margaret's mother died from the shock.” + </p> + <p> + “She died soon afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + The stars grew paler. The passing vehicles, with their brilliant lights, + grew fewer and fewer. The breeze which had been so welcome at first, + turned into a cold night wind. She led the way back into the room. + </p> + <p> + “I must go,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + “You must go,” she echoed, looking up at him. “Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + She was so close to him that his embrace, sudden and passionate though it + was, came about almost naturally. She lay in his arms with perfect content + and raised her lips to his. + </p> + <p> + He broke away. He was himself again, self-furious. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Cynthia,” he said, “I owe you my most humble apologies. The evil + that is in me does not as a rule break out in this direction.” + </p> + <p> + “You dear, foolish person,” she laughed, “that was good, not evil. You + like me, don't you? But I know you do. There is one crime you have always + forgotten to develop—you haven't the simplest idea in the world how + to lie.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I like you,” he admitted. “I have the most absurd feeling for you + that any man ever found it impossible to put into words. We have indeed + strayed outside the world of natural things,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she murmured. “I never felt more natural or normal in my life. I + can assure you that I am loving it. I feel like muslin gowns and primroses + and the scent of those first March violets underneath a warm hedge where + the sun comes sometimes. I feel very natural indeed, Sir Timothy.” + </p> + <p> + “What about me?” he asked harshly. “In three weeks' time I shall be fifty + years old.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “And in no time at all I shall be thirty—and entering upon a + terrible period of spinsterhood!” + </p> + <p> + “Spinsterhood!” he scoffed. “Why, whenever the Society papers are at a + loss for a paragraph, they report a few more offers of marriage to the + ever-beautiful Lady Cynthia.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be sarcastic,” she begged. “I haven't yet had the offer of marriage + I want, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll get one you don't want in a moment,” he warned her. + </p> + <p> + She made a little grimace. + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” she laughed nervously. “How am I to preserve my romantic notions + of you as the emperor of the criminal world, if you kiss me as you did + just now—you kissed me rather well—and then ask me to marry + you? It isn't your role. You must light a cigarette now, pat the back of + my hand, and swagger off to another of your haunts of vice.” + </p> + <p> + “In other words, I am not to propose?” Sir Timothy said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “You see how decadent I am,” she sighed. “I want to toy with my pleasures. + Besides, there's that scamp of a brother of mine coming up to have a drink—I + saw him get out of a taxi—and you couldn't get it through in time, + not with dignity.” + </p> + <p> + The rattle of the lift as it stopped was plainly audible. He stooped and + kissed her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I fear some day,” he murmured, “I shall be a great disappointment to + you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + There was a great deal of discussion, the following morning at the + Sheridan Club, during the gossipy half-hour which preceded luncheon, + concerning Sir Timothy Brast's forthcoming entertainment. One of the men, + Philip Baker, who had been for many years the editor of a famous sporting + weekly, had a ticket of invitation which he displayed to an envious little + crowd. + </p> + <p> + “You fellows who get invitations to these parties,” a famous actor + declared, “are the most elusive chaps on earth. Half London is dying to + know what really goes on there, and yet, if by any chance one comes across + a prospective or retrospective guest, he is as dumb about it as though it + were some Masonic function. We've got you this time, Baker, though. We'll + put you under the inquisition on Friday morning.” + </p> + <p> + “There won't be any need,” the other replied. “One hears a great deal of + rot talked about these affairs, but so far as I know, nothing very much + out of the way goes on. There are always one or two pretty stiff fights in + the gymnasium, and you get the best variety show and supper in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is there this aroma of mystery hanging about the affair, then?” some + one asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, for one or two reasons,” Baker answered. “One, no doubt, is because + Sir Timothy has a great idea of arranging the fights himself, and the + opponents actually don't know until the fight begins whom they are + meeting, and sometimes not even then. There has been some gossiping, too, + about the rules, and the weight of the gloves, but that I know, nothing + about.” + </p> + <p> + “And the rest of the show?” a younger member enquired. “Is it simply + dancing and music and that sort of thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Just a variety entertainment,” the proud possessor of the scarlet-hued + ticket declared. “Sir Timothy always has something up his sleeve. Last + year, for instance, he had those six African girls over from Paris in that + queer dance which they wouldn't allow in London at all. This time no one + knows what is going to happen. The house, as you know, is absolutely + surrounded by that hideous stone wall, and from what I have heard, + reporters who try to get in aren't treated too kindly. Here's Ledsam. Very + likely he knows more about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ledsam,” some one demanded, as Francis joined the group, “are you going + to Sir Timothy Brast's show to-morrow night?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” Francis replied, producing his strip of pasteboard. + </p> + <p> + “Ever been before?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what sort of a show it's going to be?” the actor enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Not the slightest idea. I don't think any one does. That's rather a + feature of the affair, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the envious outsider who has never received an invitation, like + myself,” some one remarked, “who probably spreads these rumours, for one + always hears it hinted that some disgraceful and illegal exhibition is on + tap there—a new sort of drugging party, or some novel form of + debauchery.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think,” Francis said quietly, “that Sir Timothy is quite that + sort of man.” + </p> + <p> + “Dash it all, what sort of man is he?” the actor demanded. “They tell me + that financially he is utterly unscrupulous, although he is rolling in + money. He has the most Mephistophelian expression of any man I ever met—looks + as though he'd set his heel on any one's neck for the sport of it—and + yet they say he has given at least fifty thousand pounds to the Society + for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and that the whole of the park + round that estate of his down the river is full of lamed and decrepit + beasts which he has bought himself off the streets.” + </p> + <p> + “The man must have an interesting personality,” a novelist who had joined + the party observed. “Of course, you know that he was in prison for six + months?” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” some one asked. + </p> + <p> + “Murder, only they brought it in manslaughter,” was the terse reply. “He + killed his partner. It was many years ago, and no one knows all the facts + of the story.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not holding a brief for Sir Timothy,” Francis remarked, as he sipped + his cocktail. “As a matter of fact, he and I are very much at + cross-purposes. But as regards that particular instance, I am not sure + that he was very much to be blamed, any more than you can blame any + injured person who takes the law into his own hands.” + </p> + <p> + “He isn't a man I should care to have for an enemy,” Baker declared. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll shake the truth out of you fellows, somehow or other,” one of + the group threatened. “On Friday morning we are going to have the whole + truth—none of this Masonic secrecy which Baker indulged in last + year.” + </p> + <p> + The men drifted in to luncheon and Francis, leaving them, took a taxi on + to the Ritz. Looking about in the vestibule for Margaret, he came face to + face with Lady Cynthia. She was dressed with her usual distinction in a + gown of yellow muslin and a beflowered hat, and was the cynosure of a good + many eyes. + </p> + <p> + “One would almost imagine, Lady Cynthia,” he said, as they exchanged + greetings, “that you had found that elixir we were talking about.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I have,” she answered, smiling. “Are you looking for Margaret? + She is somewhere about. We were just having a chat when I was literally + carried off by that terrible Lanchester woman. Let's find her.” + </p> + <p> + They strolled up into the lounge. Margaret came to meet them. Her smile, + as she gave Francis her left hand, transformed and softened her whole + appearance. + </p> + <p> + “You don't mind my having asked Cynthia to lunch with us?” she said. “I + really couldn't get rid of the girl. She came in to see me this morning + the most aggressively cheerful person I ever knew. I believe that she had + an adventure last night. All that she will tell me is that she dined and + danced at Claridge's with a party of the dullest people in town.” + </p> + <p> + A tall, familiar figure passed down the vestibule. Lady Cynthia gave a + little start, and Francis, who happened to be watching her, was amazed at + her expression. + </p> + <p> + “Your father, Margaret!” she pointed out. “I wonder if he is lunching + here.” + </p> + <p> + “He told me that he was lunching somewhere with a South American friend—one + of his partners, I believe,” Margaret replied. “I expect he is looking for + him.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy caught sight of them, hesitated for a moment and came slowly + in their direction. + </p> + <p> + “Have you found your friend?” Margaret asked. + </p> + <p> + “The poor fellow is ill in bed,” her father answered. “I was just + regretting that I had sent the car away, or I should have gone back to + Hatch End.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay and lunch with us,” Lady Cynthia begged, a little impetuously. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be very pleased if you will,” Francis put in. “I'll go and tell + the waiter to enlarge my table.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried off. On his way back, a page-boy touched him on the arm. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir,” he announced, “you are wanted on the telephone.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” Francis exclaimed. “Some mistake, I should think. Nobody knows that I + am here.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” the boy said. “This way, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Francis walked down the vestibule to the row of telephone boxes at the + further end. The attendant who was standing outside, indicated one of them + and motioned the boy to go away. Francis stepped inside. The man followed, + closing the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + “I am asking your pardon, sir, for taking a great liberty,” he confessed. + “No one wants you on the telephone. I wished to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + Francis looked at him in surprise. The man was evidently agitated. Somehow + or other, his face was vaguely familiar. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, and what do you want with me?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “I was butler to Mr. Hilditch, sir,” the man replied. “I waited upon you + the night you dined there, sir—the night of Mr. Hilditch's death.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a revelation to make with regard to that night, sir,” the man went + on, “which I should like to place in your hands. It is a very serious + matter, and there are reasons why something must be done about it at once. + Can I come and see you at your rooms, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Francis studied the man for a moment intently. He was evidently agitated—evidently, + too, in very bad health. His furtive manner was against him. On the other + hand, that might have arisen from nervousness. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be in at half-past three, number 13 b, Clarges Street,” Francis + told him. + </p> + <p> + “I can get off for half-an-hour then, sir,” the man replied. “I shall be + very glad to come. I must apologise for having troubled you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Francis went slowly back to his trio of guests. All the way down the + carpeted vestibule he was haunted by the grim shadow of a spectral fear. + The frozen horror of that ghastly evening was before him like a hateful + tableau. Hilditch's mocking words rang in his cars: “My death is the one + thing in the world which would make my wife happy.” The Court scene, with + all its gloomy tragedy, rose before his eyes—only in the dock, + instead of Hilditch, he saw another! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + There were incidents connected with that luncheon which Francis always + remembered. In the first place, Sir Timothy was a great deal more silent + than usual. A certain vein of half-cynical, half-amusing comment upon + things and people of the moment, which seemed, whenever he cared to exert + himself, to flow from his lips without effort, had deserted him. He sat + where the rather brilliant light from the high windows fell upon his face, + and Francis wondered more than once whether there were not some change + there, perhaps some prescience of trouble to come, which had subdued him + and made him unusually thoughtful. Another slighter but more amusing + feature of the luncheon was the number of people who stopped to shake + hands with Sir Timothy and made more or less clumsy efforts to obtain an + invitation to his coming entertainment. Sir Timothy's reply to these + various hints was barely cordial. The most he ever promised was that he + would consult with his secretary and see if their numbers were already + full. Lady Cynthia, as a somewhat blatant but discomfited Peer of the + Realm took his awkward leave of them, laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I think they all deserve what they get,” she declared. “I + never heard such brazen impudence in my life—from people who ought + to know better, too.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Meadowson, a sporting peer, who was one of Sir Timothy's few + intimates, came over to the table. He paid his respects to the two ladies + and Francis, and turned a little eagerly to Sir Timothy. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy nodded. + </p> + <p> + “We shall be quite prepared for you,” he said. “Better bring your + cheque-book.” + </p> + <p> + “Capital!” the other exclaimed. “As I hadn't heard anything, I was + beginning to wonder whether you would be ready with your end of the show.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be no hitch so far as we are concerned,” Sir Timothy assured + him. + </p> + <p> + “More mysteries?” Margaret enquired, as Meadowson departed with a smile of + satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Her father shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely that,” he replied. “It is a little wager between Lord Meadowson + and myself which is to be settled to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Torrington, a fussy little woman, her hostess of the night before, on + her way down the room stopped and shook hands with Lady Cynthia. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear,” she exclaimed, “wherever did you vanish to last night? + Claude told us all that, in the middle of a dance with him, you excused + yourself for a moment and he never saw you again. I quite expected to read + in the papers this morning that you had eloped.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely what I did,” Lady Cynthia declared. “The only trouble was that + my partner had had enough of me before the evening was over, and deposited + me once more in Grosvenor Square. It is really very humiliating,” she went + on meditatively, “how every one always returns me.” + </p> + <p> + “You talk such nonsense, Cynthia!” Lady Torrington exclaimed, a little + pettishly. “However, you found your way home all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite safely, thank you. I was going to write you a note this afternoon. + I went away on an impulse. All I can say is that I am sorry. Do forgive + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!” was the somewhat chilly reply. “Somehow or other, you seem to + have earned the right to do exactly as you choose. Some of my young men + whom you had promised to dance with, were disappointed, but after all, I + suppose that doesn't matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Not much,” Lady Cynthia assented sweetly. “I think a few disappointments + are good for most of the young men of to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do last night, Cynthia?” Margaret asked her presently, when + Lady Torrington had passed on. + </p> + <p> + “I eloped with your father,” Lady Cynthia confessed, smiling across at Sir + Timothy. “We went for a little drive together and I had a most amusing + time. The only trouble was, as I have been complaining to that tiresome + woman, he brought me home again.” + </p> + <p> + “But where did you go to?” Margaret persisted. + </p> + <p> + “It was an errand of charity,” Sir Timothy declared. + </p> + <p> + “It sounds very mysterious,” Francis observed. “Is that all we are to be + told?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” Sir Timothy complained, “that very few people sympathise + with my hobbies or my prosecution of them. That is why such little + incidents as last night's generally remain undisclosed. If you really wish + to know what happened,” he went on, after a moment's pause, “I will tell + you. As you know, I have a great many friends amongst the boxing + fraternity, and I happened to hear of a man down in the East End who has + made himself a terror to the whole community in which he lives. I took + Peter Fields, my gymnasium instructor, down to the East End last night, + and Peter Fields—dealt with him.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a fight?” Margaret exclaimed, with a little shudder. + </p> + <p> + “There was a fight,” Sir Timothy repeated, “if you can call it such. + Fields gave him some part of the punishment he deserved.” + </p> + <p> + “And you were there, Cynthia?” + </p> + <p> + “I left Lady Cynthia in the car,” Sir Timothy explained. “She most + improperly bribed my chauffeur to lend her his coat and hat, and followed + me.” + </p> + <p> + “You actually saw the fight, then?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “I did,” Lady Cynthia admitted. “I saw it from the beginning to the end.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret looked across the table curiously. It seemed to her that her + friend had turned a little paler. + </p> + <p> + “Did you like it?” she asked simply. + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia was silent for a moment. She glanced at Sir Timothy. He, too, + was waiting for her answer with evident interest. + </p> + <p> + “I was thrilled,” she acknowledged. “That was the pleasurable part of it I + have been so, used to looking on at shows that bored me, listening to + conversations that wearied me, attempting sensations which were repellent, + that I just welcomed feeling, when it came—feeling of any sort. I + was excited. I forgot everything else. I was so fascinated that I could + not look away. But if you ask me whether I liked it, and I have to answer + truthfully, I hated it! I felt nothing of the sort at the time, but when I + tried to sleep I found myself shivering. It was justice, I know, but it + was ugly.” + </p> + <p> + She watched Sir Timothy, as she made her confession, a little wistfully. + He said nothing, but there was a very curious change in his expression. He + smiled at her in an altogether unfamiliar way. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” she said, appealing to him, “that you are very disappointed + in me?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” he answered, “I am delighted.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that?” she asked incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” he declared. “Companionship between our sexes is very delightful + so far as it goes, but the fundamental differences between a man's outlook + and tastes and a woman's should never be bridged over. I myself do not + wish to learn to knit. I do not care for the womenkind in whom I am + interested to appreciate and understand fighting.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret looked across the table in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “You are most surprising this morning, father,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “I am perhaps misunderstood,” he sighed, “perhaps have acquired a + reputation for greater callousness than I possess. Personally, I love + fighting. I was born a fighter, and I should find no happier way of ending + my life than fighting, but, to put it bluntly, fighting is a man's job.” + </p> + <p> + “What about women going to see fights at the National Sporting Club?” Lady + Cynthia asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + “It is their own affair, but if you ask my opinion I do not approve of + it,” Sir Timothy replied. “I am indifferent upon the subject, because I am + indifferent upon the subject of the generality of your sex,” he added, + with a little smile, “but I simply hold that it is not a taste which + should be developed in women, and if they do develop it, it is at the + expense of those very qualities which make them most attractive.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia took a cigarette from her case and leaned over to Francis for + a light. + </p> + <p> + “The world is changing,” she declared. “I cannot bear many more shocks. I + fancied that I had written myself for ever out of Sir Timothy's good books + because of my confession just now.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled across at her. His words were words of courteous badinage, but + Lady Cynthia was conscious of a strange little sense of pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” he assured her, “you found your way just a little + further into my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, in a general sort of way,” Margaret observed, leaning + back in her chair, “that you and my father are becoming extraordinarily + friendly, Cynthia.” + </p> + <p> + “I am hopefully in love with your father,” Lady Cynthia confessed. “It has + been coming on for a long time. I suspected it the first time I ever met + him. Now I am absolutely certain.” + </p> + <p> + “It's quite a new idea,” Margaret remarked. “Shall we like her in the + family, Francis?” + </p> + <p> + “No airs!” Lady Cynthia warned her. “You two are not properly engaged yet. + It may devolve upon me to give my consent.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” Francis replied, “I hope that we may at least count upon + your influence with Sir Timothy?” + </p> + <p> + “If you'll return the compliment and urge my suit with him,” Lady Cynthia + laughed. “I am afraid he can't quite make up his mind about me, and I am + so nice. I haven't flirted nearly so much as people think, and my + instincts are really quite domestic.” + </p> + <p> + “My position,” Sir Timothy remarked, as he made an unsuccessful attempt to + possess himself of the bill which Francis had called for, “is becoming a + little difficult.” + </p> + <p> + “Not really difficult,” Lady Cynthia objected, “because the real decision + rests in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Just listen to the woman!” Margaret exclaimed. “Do you realise, father, + that Cynthia is making the most brazen advances to you? And I was going to + ask her if she'd like to come back to The Sanctuary with us this evening!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia was suddenly eager. Margaret glanced across at her father. + Sir Timothy seemed almost imperceptibly to stiffen a little. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret has carte blanche at The Sanctuary as regards her visitors,” he + said. “I am afraid that I shall be busy over at The Walled House.” + </p> + <p> + “But you'd come and dine with us?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy hesitated. An issue which had been looming in his mind for + many hours seemed to be suddenly joined. + </p> + <p> + “Please!” Lady Cynthia begged. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy followed the example of the others and rose to his feet. He + avoided Lady Cynthia's eyes. He seemed suddenly a little tired. + </p> + <p> + “I will come and dine,” he assented quietly. “I am afraid that I cannot + promise more than that. Lady Cynthia, as she knows, is always welcome at + The Sanctuary.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + Punctual to his appointment that afternoon, the man who had sought an + interview with Francis was shown into the latter's study in Clarges + Street. + </p> + <p> + He wore an overcoat over his livery, and directly he entered the room + Francis was struck by his intense pallor. He had been trying feverishly to + assure himself that all that the man required was the usual sort of help, + or assistance into a hospital. Yet there was something furtive in his + visitor's manner, something which suggested the bearer of a guilty secret. + </p> + <p> + “Please tell me what you want as quickly as you can,” Francis begged. “I + am due to start down into the country in a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't keep you long, sir,” the man replied. “The matter is rather a + serious one.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “You had better sit down.” + </p> + <p> + The man relapsed gratefully into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “I'll leave out everything that doesn't count, sir,” he said. “I'll be as + brief as I can. I want you to go back to the night I waited upon you at + dinner the night Mr. Oliver Hilditch was found dead. You gave evidence. + The jury brought it in 'suicide.' It wasn't suicide at all, sir. Mr. + Hilditch was murdered.” + </p> + <p> + The sense of horror against which he had been struggling during the last + few hours, crept once more through the whole being of the man who + listened. He was face to face once more with that terrible issue. Had he + perjured himself in vain? Was the whole structure of his dreams about to + collapse, to fall about his ears? + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “By Sir Timothy Brast, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Francis, who had been standing with his hand upon the table, felt suddenly + inclined to laugh. Facile though his brain was, the change of issues was + too tremendous for him to readily assimilate it. He picked up a cigarette + from an open box, with shaking fingers, lit it, and threw himself into an + easy-chair. He was all the time quite unconscious of what he was doing. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy Brast?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” the man reiterated. “I wish to tell you the whole story.” + </p> + <p> + “I am listening,” Francis assured him. + </p> + <p> + “That evening before dinner, Sir Timothy Brast called to see Mr. Hilditch, + and a very stormy interview took place. I do not know the rights of that, + sir. I only know that there was a fierce quarrel. Mrs. Hilditch came in + and Sir Timothy left the house. His last words to Mr. Hilditch were, 'You + will hear from me again.' As you know, sir—I mean as you remember, + if you followed the evidence—all the servants slept at the back of + the house. I slept in the butler's room downstairs, next to the plate + pantry. I was awake when you left, sitting in my easy-chair, reading. Ten + minutes after you had left, there was a sound at the front door as though + some one had knocked with their knuckles. I got up, to open it but Mr. + Hilditch was before me. He admitted Sir Timothy. They went back into the + library together. It struck me that Mr. Hilditch had had a great deal to + drink, and there was a queer look on Sir Timothy's face that I didn't + understand. I stepped into the little room which communicates with the + library by folding doors. There was a chink already between the two. I got + a knife from the pantry and widened it until I could see through. I heard + very little of the conversation but there was no quarrel. Mr. Hilditch + took up the weapon which you know about, sat in a chair and held it to his + heart. I heard him say something like this. 'This ought to appeal to you, + Sir Timothy. You're a specialist in this sort of thing. One little touch, + and there you are.' Mrs. Hilditch said something about putting it away. My + master turned to Sir Timothy and said something in a low tone. Suddenly + Sir Timothy leaned over. He caught hold of Mr. Hilditch's hand which held + the hilt of the dagger, and and—well, he just drove it in, sir. Then + he stood away. Mrs. Hilditch sprang up and would have screamed, but Sir + Timothy placed his hand over her mouth. In a moment I heard her say, 'What + have you done?' Sir Timothy looked at Mr. Hilditch quite calmly. 'I have + ridded the world of a verminous creature,' he said. My knees began to + shake. My nerves were always bad. I crept back into my room, took off my + clothes and got into bed. I had just put the light out when they called + for me.” + </p> + <p> + Francis was himself again. There was an immense relief, a joy in his + heart. He had never for a single moment blamed Margaret, but he had never + for a single moment forgotten. It was a closed chapter but the stain was + on its pages. It was wonderful to tear it out and scatter the fragments. + </p> + <p> + “I remember you at the inquest,” he said. “Your name is John Walter.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Your evidence was very different.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You kept all this to yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I did, sir. I thought it best.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what has happened since?” + </p> + <p> + The man looked down at the table. + </p> + <p> + “I have always been a poor man, sir,” he said. “I have had bad luck + whenever I've made a try to start at anything. I thought there seemed a + chance for me here. I went to Sir Timothy and I told him everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy never turned a hair, sir. When I had finished he was very + short with me, almost curt. 'You have behaved like a man of sense, + Walter,' he said. 'How much?' I hesitated for some time. Then I could see + he was getting impatient. I doubled what I had thought of first. 'A + thousand pounds, sir,' I said. Sir Timothy he went to a safe in the wall + and he counted out a thousand pounds in notes, there and then. He brought + them over to me. 'Walter,' he said, 'there is your thousand pounds. For + that sum I understand you promise to keep what you saw to yourself?' 'Yes, + sir,' I agreed. 'Take it, then,' he said, 'but I want you to understand + this. There have been many attempts but no one yet has ever succeeded in + blackmailing me. No one ever will. I give you this thousand pounds + willingly. It is what you have asked for. Never let me see your face + again. If you come to me starving, it will be useless. I shall not part + with another penny.'” + </p> + <p> + The man's simple way of telling his story, his speech, slow and uneven on + account of his faltering breath, seemed all to add to the dramatic nature + of his disclosure. Francis found himself sitting like a child who listens + to a fairy story. + </p> + <p> + “And then?” he asked simply. + </p> + <p> + “I went off with the money,” Walter continued, “and I had cruel bad luck. + I put it into a pub. I was robbed a little, I drank a little, my wife + wasn't any good. I lost it all, sir. I found myself destitute. I went back + to Sir Timothy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + The man shifted his feet nervously. He seemed to have come to the + difficult part of his story. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy was as hard as nails,” he said slowly. “He saw me. The moment + I had finished, he rang the bell. 'Hedges,' he said to the manservant who + came in, 'this man has come here to try and blackmail me. Throw him out. + If he gives any trouble, send for the police. If he shows himself here + again, send for the police.”' + </p> + <p> + “What happened then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I nearly blurted out the whole story,” the man confessed, “and then + I remembered that wouldn't do me any good, so I went away. I got a job at + the Ritz, but I was took ill a few days afterwards. I went to see a + doctor. From him I got my death-warrant, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it heart?” + </p> + <p> + “It's heart, sir,” the man acknowledged. “The doctor told me I might snuff + out at any moment. I can't live, anyway, for more than a year. I've got a + little girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Now just why have you come to see me?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “For just this, sir,” the man replied. “Here's my account of what + happened,” he went on, drawing some sheets of foolscap from his pocket. + “It's written in my own hand and there are two witnesses to my signature—one + a clergyman, sir, and the other a doctor, they thinking it was a will or + something. I had it in my mind to send that to Scotland Yard, and then I + remembered that I hadn't a penny to leave my little girl. I began to + wonder—think as meanly of me as you like, sir—how I could + still make some money out of this. I happened to know that you were none + too friendly disposed towards Sir Timothy. This confession of mine, if it + wouldn't mean hanging, would mean imprisonment for the rest of his life. + You could make a better bargain with him than me, sir. Do you want to hold + him in your power? If so, you can have this confession, all signed and + everything, for two hundred pounds, and as I live, sir, that two hundred + pounds is to pay for my funeral, and the balance for my little girl.” + </p> + <p> + Francis took the papers and glanced them through. + </p> + <p> + “Supposing I buy this document from you,” he said, “what is its actual + value? You could write out another confession, get that signed, and sell + it to another of Sir Timothy's enemies, or you could still go to Scotland + Yard yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't do that, sir, I assure you,” the man declared nervously, “not + on my solemn oath. I want simply to be quit of the whole matter and have a + little money for the child.” + </p> + <p> + Francis considered for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “There is only one way I can see,” he said, “to make this document worth + the money to me. If you will sign a confession that any statement you have + made as to the death of Mr. Hilditch is entirely imaginary, that you did + not see Sir Timothy in the house that night, that you went to bed at your + usual time and slept until you were awakened, and that you only made this + charge for the purpose of extorting money—if you will sign a + confession to that effect and give it me with these papers, I will pay you + the two hundred pounds and I will never use the confession unless you + repeat the charge.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it, sir,” the man assented. + </p> + <p> + Francis drew up a document, which his visitor read through and signed. + Then he wrote out an open cheque. + </p> + <p> + “My servant shall take you to the bank in a taxi,” he said. “They would + scarcely pay you this unless you were identified. We understand one + another?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Francis rang the bell, gave his servant the necessary orders, and + dismissed the two men. Half-an-hour later, already changed into flannels, + he was on his way into the country. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <p> + Sir Timothy walked that evening amongst the shadows. Two hours ago, the + last of the workmen from the great furnishing and catering establishments + who undertook the management of his famous entertainments, had ceased work + for the day and driven off in the motor-brakes hired to take them to the + nearest town. The long, low wing whose use no one was able absolutely to + divine, was still full of animation, but the great reception-rooms and + stately hall were silent and empty. In the gymnasium, an enormous + apartment as large as an ordinary concert hall, two or three electricians + were still at work, directed by the man who had accompanied Sir Timothy to + the East End on the night before. The former crossed the room, his + footsteps awaking strange echoes. + </p> + <p> + “There will be seating for fifty, sir, and standing room for fifty,” he + announced. “I have had the ring slightly enlarged, as you suggested, and + the lighting is being altered so that the start is exactly north and + south.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy nodded thoughtfully. The beautiful oak floor of the place was + littered with sawdust and shavings of wood. Several tiers of seats had + been arranged on the space usually occupied by swings, punching-balls and + other artifices. On a slightly raised dais at the further end was an exact + replica of a ring, corded around and with sawdust upon the floor. Upon the + walls hung a marvellous collection of weapons of every description, from + the modern rifle to the curved and terrible knife used by the most savage + of known tribes. + </p> + <p> + “How are things in the quarters?” Sir Timothy asked. + </p> + <p> + “Every one is well, sir. Doctor Ballantyne arrived this afternoon. His + report is excellent.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy nodded and turned away. He looked into the great gallery, its + waxen floors shining with polish, ready for the feet of the dancers on the + morrow; looked into a beautiful concert-room, with an organ that reached + to the roof; glanced into the banquetting hall, which extended far into + the winter-garden; made his way up the broad stairs, turned down a little + corridor, unlocked a door and passed into his own suite. There was a small + dining-room, a library, a bedroom, and a bathroom fitted with every sort + of device. A man-servant who had heard him enter, hurried from his own + apartment across the way. + </p> + <p> + “You are not dining here, sir?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am dining late at The Sanctuary,” he replied. “I just strolled over + to see how the preparations were going on. I shall be sleeping over there, + too. Any prowlers?” + </p> + <p> + “Photographer brought some steps and photographed the horses in the park + from the top of the wall this afternoon, sir,” the man announced. “Jenkins + let him go. Two or three pressmen sent in their cards to you, but they + were not allowed to pass the lodge.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy nodded. Soon he left the house and crossed the park towards + The Sanctuary. He was followed all the way by horses, of which there were + more than thirty in the great enclosure. One mare greeted him with a neigh + of welcome and plodded slowly after him. Another pressed her nose against + his shoulder and walked by his side, with his hand upon her neck. Sir + Timothy looked a little nervously around, but the park itself lay almost + like a deep green pool, unobserved, and invisible from anywhere except the + house itself. He spoke a few words to each of the horses, and, producing + his key, passed through the door in the wall into The Sanctuary garden, + closing it quickly as he recognised Francis standing under the cedar-tree. + </p> + <p> + “Has Lady Cynthia arrived yet?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” Francis replied. “Margaret will be here in a minute. She told + me to say that cocktails are here and that she has ordered dinner served + on the terrace.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” Sir Timothy murmured. “Let me try one of your cigarettes.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything ready for the great show to-morrow night?” Francis asked, as + he served the cocktails. + </p> + <p> + “Everything is in order. I wonder, really,” Sir Timothy went on, looking + at Francis curiously, “what you expect to see?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think we any of us have any definite idea,” Francis replied. “We + have all, of course, made our guesses.” + </p> + <p> + “You will probably be disappointed,” Sir Timothy warned him. “For some + reason or other—perhaps I have encouraged the idea—people look + upon my parties as mysterious orgies where things take place which may not + be spoken of. They are right to some extent. I break the law, without a + doubt, but I break it, I am afraid, in rather a disappointing fashion.” + </p> + <p> + A limousine covered in dust raced in at the open gates and came to a + standstill with a grinding of brakes. Lady Cynthia stepped lightly out and + came across the lawn to them. + </p> + <p> + “I am hot and dusty and I was disagreeable,” she confided, “but the peace + of this wonderful place, and the sight of that beautiful silver thing have + cheered me. May I have a cocktail before I go up to change? I am a little + late, I know,” she went on, “but that wretched garden-party! I thought my + turn would never come to receive my few words. Mother would have been + broken-hearted if I had left without them. What slaves we are to royalty! + Now shall I hurry and change? You men have the air of wanting your dinner, + and I am rather that way myself. You look tired, dear host,” she added, a + little hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “The heat,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Why you ever leave this spot I can't imagine,” she declared, as she + turned away, with a lingering glance around. “It seems like Paradise to + come here and breathe this air. London is like a furnace.” + </p> + <p> + The two men were alone again. In Francis' pocket were the two documents, + which he had not yet made up his mind how to use. Margaret came out to + them presently, and he strolled away with her towards the rose garden. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said, “is it my fancy or has there been a change in your + father during the last few days?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a change of some sort,” she admitted. “I cannot describe it. I + only know it is there. He seems much more thoughtful and less hard. The + change would be an improvement,” she went on, “except that somehow or + other it makes me feel uneasy. It is as though he were grappling with some + crisis.” + </p> + <p> + They came to a standstill at the end of the pergola, where the masses of + drooping roses made the air almost faint with their perfume. Margaret + stretched out her hand, plucked a handful of the creamy petals and held + them against her cheek. A thrush was singing noisily. A few yards away + they heard the soft swish of the river. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she asked curiously, “my father still speaks of you as being in + some respects an enemy. What does he mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you exactly,” he answered. “The first time I ever spoke to + your father I was dining at Soto's. I was talking to Andrew Wilmore. It + was only a short time after you had told me the story of Oliver Hilditch, + a story which made me realise the horror of spending one's life keeping + men like that out of the clutch of the law.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, please,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was talking to Andrew. I told him that in future I should accept + no case unless I not only believed in but was convinced of the innocence + of my client. I added that I was at war with crime. I think, perhaps, I + was so deeply in earnest that I may have sounded a little flamboyant. At + any rate, your father, who had overheard me, moved up to our table. I + think he deduced from what I was saying that I was going to turn into a + sort of amateur crime-investigator, a person who I gathered later was + particularly obnoxious to him. At any rate, he held out a challenge. 'If + you are a man who hates crime,' he said, or something like it, 'I am one + who loves it.' He then went on to prophesy that a crime would be committed + close to where we were, within an hour or so, and he challenged me to + discover the assassin. That night Victor Bidlake was murdered just outside + Soto's.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember! Do you mean to tell me, then,” Margaret went on, with a + little shiver, “that father told you this was going to happen?” + </p> + <p> + “He certainly did,” Francis replied. “How his knowledge came I am not sure—yet. + But he certainly knew.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you anything else against him?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “There was the disappearance of Andrew Wilmore's younger brother, Reginald + Wilmore. I have no right to connect your father with that, but Shopland, + the Scotland Yard detective, who has charge of the case, seems to believe + that the young man was brought into this neighbourhood, and some other + indirect evidence which came into my hands does seem to point towards your + father being concerned in the matter. I appealed to him at once but he + only laughed at me. That matter, too, remains a mystery.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was thoughtful for a moment. Then she turned towards the house. + They heard the soft ringing of the gong. + </p> + <p> + “Will you believe me when I tell you this?” she begged, as they passed arm + in arm down the pergola. “I am terrified of my father, though in many ways + he is almost princely in his generosity and in the broad view he takes of + things. Then his kindness to all dumb animals, and the way they love him, + is the most amazing thing I ever knew. If we were alone here to-night, + every animal in the house would be around his chair. He has even the cats + locked up if we have visitors, so that no one shall see it. But I am quite + honest when I tell you this—I do not believe that my father has the + ordinary outlook upon crime. I believe that there is a good deal more of + the Old Testament about him than the New.” + </p> + <p> + “And this change which we were speaking about?” he asked, lowering his + voice as they reached the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “I believe that somehow or other the end is coming,” she said. “Francis, + forgive me if I tell you this—or rather let me be forgiven—but + I know of one crime my father has committed, and it makes me fear that + there may be others. And I have the feeling, somehow, that the end is + close at hand and that he feels it, just as we might feel a thunder-storm + in the air.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to prove the immemorial selfishness of my sex,” he whispered, + as they drew near the little table. “Promise me one thing and I don't care + if your father is Beelzebub himself. Promise me that, whatever happens, it + shall not make any difference to us?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him very wonderfully, a smile which had to take the place of + words, for there were servants now within hearing, and Sir Timothy himself + was standing in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + Lady Cynthia and Sir Timothy strolled after dinner to the bottom of the + lawn and watched the punt which Francis was propelling turn from the + stream into the river. + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly idyllic,” Lady Cynthia sighed. + </p> + <p> + “We have another punt,” her companion suggested. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I am one of those unselfish people,” she declared, “whose idea of repose + is not only to rest oneself but to see others rest. I think these two + chairs, plenty of cigarettes, and you in your most gracious and + discoursive mood, will fill my soul with content.” + </p> + <p> + “Your decision relieves my mind,” her companion declared, as he arranged + the cushions behind her back. “I rather fancy myself with a pair of + sculls, but a punt-pole never appealed to me. We will sit here and enjoy + the peace. To-morrow night you will find it all disturbed—music and + raucous voices and the stampede of my poor, frightened horses in the park. + This is really a very gracious silence.” + </p> + <p> + “Are those two really going to marry?” Lady Cynthia asked, moving her head + lazily in the direction of the disappearing punt. + </p> + <p> + “I imagine so.” + </p> + <p> + “And you? What are you going to do then?” + </p> + <p> + “I am planning a long cruise. I telegraphed to Southampton to-day. I am + having my yacht provisioned and prepared. I think I shall go over to South + America.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” she asked presently. + </p> + <p> + “I am always alone,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “That is rather a matter of your own choice, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so. I have always found it hard to make friends. Enemies seem to + be more in my line.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not found it difficult to become your friend,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “You are one of my few successes,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + She leaned back with half-closed eyes. There was nothing new about their + environment—the clusters of roses, the perfume of the lilies in the + rock garden, the even sweeter fragrance of the trim border of mignonette. + Away in the distance, the night was made momentarily ugly by the sound of + a gramophone on a passing launch, yet this discordant note seemed only to + bring the perfection of present things closer. Back across the velvety + lawn, through the feathery strips of foliage, the lights of The Sanctuary, + shaded and subdued, were dimly visible. The dining-table under the + cedar-tree had already been cleared. Hedges, newly arrived from town to + play the major domo, was putting the finishing touches to a little array + of cool drinks. And beyond, dimly seen but always there, the wall. She + turned to him suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “You build a wall around your life,” she said, “like the wall which + encircles your mystery house. Last night I thought that I could see a + little way over the top. To-night you are different.” + </p> + <p> + “If I am different,” he answered quietly, “it is because, for the first + time for many years, I have found myself wondering whether the life I had + planned for myself, the things which I had planned should make life for + me, are the best. I have had doubts—perhaps I might say regrets.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to go to South America,” Lady Cynthia declared softly. + </p> + <p> + He finished the cigarette which he was smoking and deliberately threw away + the stump. Then he turned and looked at her. His face seemed harder than + ever, clean-cut, the face of a man able to defy Fate, but she saw + something in his eyes which she had never seen before. + </p> + <p> + “Dear child,” he said, “if I could roll back the years, if from all my + deeds of sin, as the world knows sin, I could cancel one, there is nothing + in the world would make me happier than to ask you to come with me as my + cherished companion to just whatever part of the world you cared for. But + I have been playing pitch and toss with fortune all my life, since the + great trouble came which changed me so much. Even at this moment, the coin + is in the air which may decide my fate.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean?” she ventured. + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” he continued, “that after the event of which we spoke last + night, nothing in life has been more than an incident, and I have striven + to find distraction by means which none of you—not even you, Lady + Cynthia, with all your breadth of outlook and all your craving after new + things—would justify.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing that you may have done troubles me in the least,” she assured + him. “I do wish that you could put it all out of your mind and let me help + you to make a fresh start.” + </p> + <p> + “I may put the thing itself out of my mind,” he answered sadly, “but the + consequences remain.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a consequence which threatens?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, he had recovered all his + courage. + </p> + <p> + “There is the coin in the air of which I spoke,” he replied. “Let us + forget it for a moment. Of the minor things I will make you my judge. + Ledsam and Margaret are coming to my party to-morrow night. You, too, + shall be my guest. Such secrets as lie on the other side of that wall + shall be yours. After that, if I survive your judgment of them, and if the + coin which I have thrown into the air comes, down to the tune I call—after + that—I will remind you of something which happened last night—of + something which, if I live for many years, I shall never forget.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned towards him. Her eyes were heavy with longing. Her arms, sweet + and white in the dusky twilight, stole hesitatingly out. + </p> + <p> + “Last night was so long ago. Won't you take a later memory?” + </p> + <p> + Once again she lay in his arms, still and content. + </p> + <p> + As they crossed the lawn, an hour or so later, they were confronted by + Hedges—who hastened, in fact, to meet them. + </p> + <p> + “You are being asked for on the telephone, sir,” he announced. “It is a + trunk call. I have switched it through to the study.” + </p> + <p> + “Any name?” Sir Timothy asked indifferently. + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated. His eyes sought his master's respectfully but charged + with meaning. + </p> + <p> + “The person refuses to give his name, sir, but I fancied that I recognised + his voice. I think it would be as well for you to speak, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia sank into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “You shall go and answer your telephone call,” she said, “and leave Hedges + to serve me with one of these strange drinks. I believe I see some of my + favourite orangeade.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy made his way into the house and into the low, oak-beamed study + with its dark furniture and latticed windows. The telephone bell began to + ring again as he entered. He took up the receiver. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy?” a rather hoarse, strained voice asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am speaking,” Sir Timothy replied. “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + The man at the other end spoke as though he were out of breath. + Nevertheless, what he said was distinct enough. + </p> + <p> + “I am John Walter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I am just ringing you up,” the voice went on, “to give you what's called + a sporting chance. There's a boat from Southampton midday tomorrow. If + you're wise, you'll catch it. Or better still, get off on your own yacht. + They carry a wireless now, these big steamers. Don't give a criminal much + of a chance, does it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am to understand, then,” Sir Timothy said calmly, “that you have laid + your information?” + </p> + <p> + “I've parted with it and serve you right,” was the bitter reply. “I'm not + saying that you're not a brave man, Sir Timothy, but there's such a thing + as being foolhardy, and that's what you are. I wasn't asking you for half + your fortune, nor even a dab of it, but if your life wasn't worth a few + hundred pounds—you, with all that money—well, it wasn't worth + saving. So now you know. I've spent ninepence to give you a chance to hop + it, because I met a gent who has been good to me. I've had a good dinner + and I feel merciful. So there you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I gather,” Sir Timothy asked, in a perfectly level tone, “that the + deed is already done?” + </p> + <p> + “It's already done and done thoroughly,” was the uncompromising answer. + “I'm not ringing up to ask you to change your mind. If you were to offer + me five thousand now, or ten, I couldn't stop the bally thing. You've a + sporting chance of getting away if you start at once. That's all there is + to it.” + </p> + <p> + “You have nothing more to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! Only I wish to God I'd never stepped into that Mayfair agency. I + wish I'd never gone to Mrs. Hilditch's as a temporary butler. I wish I'd + never seen any one of you! That's all. You can go to Hell which way you + like, only, if you take my advice, you'll go by the way of South America. + The scaffold isn't every man's fancy.” + </p> + <p> + There was a burr of the instrument and then silence. Sir Timothy carefully + replaced the receiver, paused on his way out of the room to smell a great + bowl of lavender, and passed back into the garden. + </p> + <p> + “More applicants for invitations?” Lady Cynthia enquired lazily. + </p> + <p> + Her host smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly! Although,” he added, “as a matter of fact my party would + have been perhaps a little more complete with the presence of the person + to whom I have been speaking.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia pointed to the stream, down which the punt was slowly + drifting. The moon had gone behind a cloud, and Francis' figure, as he + stood there, was undefined and ghostly. A thought seemed to flash into her + mind. She leaned forward. + </p> + <p> + “Once,” she said, “he told me that he was your enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “The term is a little melodramatic,” Sir Timothy protested. “We look at + certain things from opposite points of view. You see, my prospective + son-in-law, if ever he becomes that, represents the law—the Law with + a capital 'L'—which recognises no human errors or weaknesses, and + judges crime out of the musty books of the law-givers of old. He makes of + the law a mechanical thing which can neither bend nor give, and he judges + humanity from the same standpoint. Yet at heart he is a good fellow and I + like him.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” + </p> + <p> + “My weakness lies the other way,” he confessed, “and my sympathy is with + those who do not fear to make their own laws.” + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand, white and spectral in the momentary gloom. At the + other end of the lawn, Francis and Margaret were disembarking from the + punt. + </p> + <p> + “Does it sound too shockingly obvious,” she murmured, “if I say that I + want to make you my law?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + It would have puzzled anybody, except, perhaps, Lady Cynthia herself, to + have detected the slightest alteration in Sir Timothy's demeanour during + the following day, when he made fitful appearances at The Sanctuary, or at + the dinner which was served a little earlier than usual, before his final + departure for the scene of the festivities. Once he paused in the act of + helping himself to some dish and listened for a moment to the sound of + voices in the hall, and when a taxicab drove up he set down his glass and + again betrayed some interest. + </p> + <p> + “The maid with my frock, thank heavens!” Lady Cynthia announced, glancing + out of the window. “My last anxiety is removed. I am looking forward now + to a wonderful night.” + </p> + <p> + “You may very easily be disappointed,” her host warned her. “My + entertainments appeal more, as a rule, to men.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you be thoroughly original and issue no invitations to women at + all?” Margaret enquired. + </p> + <p> + “For the same reason that you adorn your rooms and the dinner-table with + flowers,” he answered. “One needs them—as a relief. Apart from that, + I am really proud of my dancing-room, and there again, you see, your sex + is necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “We are flattered,” Margaret declared, with a little bow. “It does seem + queer to think that you should own what Cynthia's cousin, Davy Hinton, + once told me was the best floor in London, and that I have never danced on + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” Lady Cynthia put in. “There might have been some excuse for not + asking you, Margaret, but why an ultra-Bohemian like myself has had to beg + and plead for an invitation, I really cannot imagine.” + </p> + <p> + “You might find,” Sir Timothy said, “you may even now—that some of + my men guests are not altogether to your liking.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite content to take my risk,” Lady Cynthia declared cheerfully. “The + man with the best manners I ever met—it was at one of Maggie's + studio dances, too—was a bookmaker. And a retired prize-fighter + brought me home once from an Albert Hall dance.” + </p> + <p> + “How did he behave?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “He was wistful but restrained,” Lady Cynthia replied, “quite the + gentleman, in fact.” + </p> + <p> + “You encourage me to hope for the best,” Sir Timothy said, rising to his + feet. “You will excuse me now? I have a few final preparations to make.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we to be allowed,” Margaret enquired, “to come across the park?” + </p> + <p> + “You would not find it convenient,” her father assured her. “You had + better order a car, say for ten o'clock. Don't forget to bring your cards + of invitation, and find me immediately you arrive. I wish to direct your + proceedings to some extent.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia strolled across with him to the postern-gate and stood by his + side after he had opened it. Several of the animals, grazing in different + parts of the park, pricked up their ears at the sound. An old mare came + hobbling towards him; a flea-bitten grey came trotting down the field, his + head in the air, neighing loudly. + </p> + <p> + “You waste a great deal of tenderness upon your animal friends, dear + host,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + He deliberately looked away from her. + </p> + <p> + “The reciprocation, at any rate, has its disadvantages,” he remarked, + glancing a little disconsolately at the brown hairs upon his coat-sleeve. + “I shall have to find another coat before I can receive my guests—which + is a further reason,” he added, “why I must hurry.” + </p> + <p> + At the entrance to the great gates of The Walled House, two men in livery + were standing. One of them examined with care the red cards of invitation, + and as soon as he was satisfied the gates were opened by some unseen + agency. The moment the car had passed through, they were closed again. + </p> + <p> + “Father seems thoroughly mediaeval over this business,” Margaret remarked, + looking about her with interest. “What a quaint courtyard, too! It really + is quite Italian.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems almost incredible that you have never been here!” Lady Cynthia + exclaimed. “Curiosity would have brought me if I had had to climb over the + wall!” + </p> + <p> + “It does seem absurd in one way,” Margaret agreed, “but, as a matter of + fact, my father's attitude about the place has always rather set me + against it. I didn't feel that there was any pleasure to be gained by + coming here. I won't tell you really what I did think. We must keep to our + bargain. We are not to anticipâté.” + </p> + <p> + At the front entrance, under the covered portico, the white tickets which + they had received in exchange for their tickets of invitation, were + carefully collected by another man, who stopped the car a few yards from + the broad, curving steps. After that, there was no more suggestion of + inhospitality. The front doors, which were of enormous size and height, + seemed to have been removed, and in the great domed hall beyond Sir + Timothy was already receiving his guests. Being without wraps, the little + party made an immediate entrance. Sir Timothy, who was talking to one of + the best-known of the foreign ambassadors, took a step forward to meet + them. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome,” he said, “you, the most unique party, at least, amongst my + guests. Prince, may I present you to my daughter, Mrs. Hilditch? Lady + Cynthia Milton and Mr. Ledsam you know, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father has just been preparing me for this pleasure,” the Prince + remarked, with a smile. “I am delighted that his views as regards these + wonderful parties are becoming a little more—would it be correct to + say latitudinarian? He has certainly been very strict up to now.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the first time I have been vouchsafed an invitation,” Margaret + confessed. + </p> + <p> + “You will find much to interest you,” the Prince observed. “For myself, I + love the sport of which your father is so noble a patron. That, without + doubt, though, is a side of his entertainment of which you will know + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy, choosing a moment's respite from the inflowing stream of + guests, came once more across to them. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to leave you, my honoured guests from The Sanctuary,” he said, + with a faint smile, “to yourselves for a short time. In the room to your + left, supper is being served. In front is the dancing-gallery. To the + right, as you see, is the lounge leading into the winter-garden. The + gymnasium is closed until midnight. Any other part of the place please + explore at your leisure, but I am going to ask you one thing. I want you + to meet me in a room which I will show you, at a quarter to twelve.” + </p> + <p> + He led them down one of the corridors which opened from the hall. Before + the first door on the right a man-servant was standing as though on sentry + duty. Sir Timothy tapped the panel of the door with his forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “This is my sanctum,” he announced. “I allow no one in here without + special permission. I find it useful to have a place to which one can come + and rest quite quietly sometimes. Williams here has no other duty except + to guard the entrance. Williams, you will allow this gentleman and these + two ladies to pass in at a quarter to twelve.” + </p> + <p> + The man looked at them searchingly. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” he said. “No one else?” + </p> + <p> + “No one, under any pretext.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy hurried back to the hall, and the others followed him in more + leisurely fashion. They were all three full of curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “I never dreamed,” Margaret declared, as she looked around her, “that I + should ever find myself inside this house. It has always seemed to me like + one great bluebeard's chamber. If ever my father spoke of it at all, it + was as of a place which he intended to convert into a sort of miniature + Hell.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy leaned back to speak to them as they passed. + </p> + <p> + “You will find a friend over there, Ledsam,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Wilmore turned around and faced them. The two men exchanged somewhat + surprised greetings. + </p> + <p> + “No idea that I was coming until this afternoon,” Wilmore explained. “I + got my card at five o'clock, with a note from Sir Timothy's secretary. I + am racking my brains to imagine what it can mean.” + </p> + <p> + “We're all a little addled,” Francis confessed. “Come and join our tour of + exploration. You know Lady Cynthia. Let me present you to Mrs. Hilditch.” + </p> + <p> + The introduction was effected and they all, strolled on together. Margaret + and Lady Cynthia led the way into the winter-garden, a palace of glass, + tall palms, banks of exotics, flowering shrubs of every description, and a + fountain, with wonderfully carved water nymphs, brought with its basin + from Italy. Hidden in the foliage, a small orchestra was playing very + softly. The atmosphere of the place was languorous and delicious. + </p> + <p> + “Leave us here,” Margaret insisted, with a little exclamation of content. + “Neither Cynthia nor I want to go any further. Come back and fetch us in + time for our appointment.” + </p> + <p> + The two men wandered off. The place was indeed a marvel of architecture, a + country house, of which only the shell remained, modernised and made + wonderful by the genius of a great architect. The first room which they + entered when they left the winter-garden, was as large as a small + restaurant, panelled in cream colour, with a marvellous ceiling. There + were tables of various sizes laid for supper, rows of champagne bottles in + ice buckets, and servants eagerly waiting for orders. Already a sprinkling + of the guests had found their way here. The two men crossed the floor to + the cocktail bar in the far corner, behind which a familiar face grinned + at them. It was Jimmy, the bartender from Soto's, who stood there with a + wonderful array of bottles on a walnut table. + </p> + <p> + “If it were not a perfectly fatuous question, I should ask what you were + doing here, Jimmy?” Francis remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I always come for Sir Timothy's big parties, sir,” Jimmy explained. “Your + first visit, isn't it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “My first,” Francis assented. + </p> + <p> + “And mine,” his companion echoed. + </p> + <p> + “What can I have the pleasure of making for you, sir?” the man enquired. + </p> + <p> + “A difficult question,” Francis admitted. “It is barely an hour and a half + since we finished dinner. On the other hand, we are certainly going to have + some supper some time or other.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy nodded understandingly. + </p> + <p> + “Leave it to me, sir,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + He served them with a foaming white concoction in tall glasses. A genuine + lime bobbed up and down in the liquid. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy has the limes sent over from his own estate in South + America,” Jimmy announced. “You will find some things in that drink you + don't often taste.” + </p> + <p> + The two men sipped their beverage and pronounced it delightful. Jimmy + leaned a little across the table. + </p> + <p> + “A big thing on to-night, isn't there, sir?” he asked cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “Is there?” Francis replied. “You mean—?” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy motioned towards the open window, close to which the river was + flowing by. + </p> + <p> + “You going down, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Francis shook his head dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” + </p> + <p> + The bartender looked with narrowed eyes from one to the other of the two + men. Then he suddenly froze up. Wilmore leaned a little further over the + impromptu counter. + </p> + <p> + “Jimmy,” he asked, “what goes on here besides dancing and boxing and + gambling?” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of any gambling,” Jimmy answered, shaking his head. “Sir + Timothy doesn't care about cards being played here at all.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the principal entertainment, then?” Francis demanded. “The + boxing?” + </p> + <p> + The bartender shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No one understands very much about this house, sir,” he said, “except + that it offers the most wonderful entertainment in Europe. That is for the + guests to find out, though. We servants have to attend to our duties. Will + you let me mix you another drink, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks,” Francis answered. “The last was too good to spoil. But you + haven't answered my question, Jimmy. What did you mean when you asked if + we were going down?” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy's face had become wooden. + </p> + <p> + “I meant nothing, sir,” he said. “Sorry I spoke.” + </p> + <p> + The two men turned away. They recognised many acquaintances in the + supper-room, and in the long gallery beyond, where many couples were + dancing now to the music of a wonderful orchestra. By slow stages they + made their way back to the winter-garden, where Lady Cynthia and Margaret + were still lost in admiration of their surroundings. They all walked the + whole length of the place. Beyond, down a flight of stone steps, was a + short, paved way to the river. A large electric launch was moored at the + quay. The grounds outside were dimly illuminated with cunningly-hidden + electric lights shining through purple-coloured globes into the cloudy + darkness. In the background, enveloping the whole of the house and + reaching to the river on either side, the great wall loomed up, unlit, + menacing almost in its suggestions. A couple of loiterers stood within a + few yards of them, looking at the launch. + </p> + <p> + “There she is, ready for her errand, whatever it may be,” one said to the + other curiously. “We couldn't play the stowaway, I suppose, could we?” + </p> + <p> + “Dicky Bell did that once,” the other answered. “Sir Timothy has only one + way with intruders. He was thrown into the river and jolly nearly + drowned.” + </p> + <p> + The two men passed out of hearing. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what part the launch plays in the night's entertainment,” + Wilmore observed. + </p> + <p> + Francis shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I have given up wondering,” he said. “Margaret, do you hear that music?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Are we really to dance?” she murmured. “Do you want to make a girl of me + again?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shouldn't be a magician, should I?” he answered. + </p> + <p> + They passed into the ballroom and danced for some time. The music was + seductive and perfect, without any of the blatant notes of too many of the + popular orchestras. The floor seemed to sway under their feet. + </p> + <p> + “This is a new joy come back into life!” Margaret exclaimed, as they + rested for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “The first of many,” he assured her. + </p> + <p> + They stood in the archway between the winter-garden and the + dancing-gallery, from which they could command a view of the passing + crowds. Francis scanned the faces of the men and women with intense + interest. Many of them were known to him by sight, others were strangers. + There was a judge, a Cabinet Minister, various members of the aristocracy, + a sprinkling from the foreign legations, and although the stage was not + largely represented, there were one or two well-known actors. The guests + seemed to belong to no universal social order, but to Francis, watching + them almost eagerly, they all seemed to have something of the same + expression, the same slight air of weariness, of restless and unsatisfied + desires. + </p> + <p> + “I can't believe that the place is real, or that these people we see are + not supers,” Margaret whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I feel every moment that a clock will strike and that it will all fade + away.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I'm too material for such imaginings,” Francis replied, “but + there is a quaintly artificial air about it all. We must go and look for + Wilmore and Lady Cynthia.” + </p> + <p> + They turned back into the enervating atmosphere of the winter-garden, and + came suddenly face to face with Sir Timothy, who had escorted a little + party of his guests to see the fountain, and was now returning alone. + </p> + <p> + “You have been dancing, I am glad to see,” the latter observed. “I trust + that you are amusing yourselves?” + </p> + <p> + “Excellently, thank you,” Francis replied. + </p> + <p> + “And so far,” Sir Timothy went on, with a faint smile, “you find my + entertainment normal? You have no question yet which you would like to + ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Only one—what do you do with your launch up the river on moonless + nights, Sir Timothy?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy's momentary silence was full of ominous significance. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, after a brief pause, “I have given you almost carte + blanche to explore my domains here. Concerning the launch, however, I + think that you had better ask no questions at present.” + </p> + <p> + “You are using it to-night?” Francis persisted. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come and see, my venturesome guest?” + </p> + <p> + “With great pleasure,” was the prompt reply. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy glanced at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he said, “is one of the matters of which we will speak at a + quarter to twelve. Meanwhile, let me show you something. It may amuse you + as it has done me.” + </p> + <p> + The three moved back towards one of the arched openings which led into the + ballroom. + </p> + <p> + “Observe, if you please,” their host continued, “the third couple who pass + us. The girl is wearing green—the very little that she does wear. + Watch the man, and see if he reminds you of any one.” + </p> + <p> + Francis did as he was bidden. The girl was a well-known member of the + chorus of one of the principal musical comedies, and she seemed to be + thoroughly enjoying both the dance and her partner. The latter appeared to + be of a somewhat ordinary type, sallow, with rather puffy cheeks, and eyes + almost unnaturally dark. He danced vigorously and he talked all the time. + Something about him was vaguely familiar to Francis, but he failed to + place him. + </p> + <p> + “Notwithstanding all my precautions,” Sir Timothy continued, “there, + fondly believing himself to be unnoticed, is an emissary of Scotland Yard. + Really, of all the obvious, the dry-as-dust, + hunt-your-criminal-by-rule-of-three kind of people I ever met, the class + of detective to which this man belongs can produce the most blatant + examples.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do about him?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I have not yet made up my mind,” he said. “I happen to know that he has + been laying his plans for weeks to get here, frequenting Soto's and other + restaurants, and scraping acquaintances with some of my friends. The Duke + of Tadchester brought him—won a few hundreds from him at baccarat, I + suppose. His grace will never again find these doors open to him.” + </p> + <p> + Francis' attention had wandered. He was gazing fixedly at the man whom Sir + Timothy had pointed out. + </p> + <p> + “You still do not fully recognise our friend,” the latter observed + carelessly. “He calls himself Manuel Loito, and he professes to be a + Cuban. His real name I understood, when you introduced us, to be + Shopland.” + </p> + <p> + “Great heavens, so it is!” Francis exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Let us leave him to his precarious pleasures,” Sir Timothy suggested. “I + am free for a few moments. We will wander round together.” + </p> + <p> + They found Lady Cynthia and Wilmore, and looked in at the supper-room, + where people were waiting now for tables, a babel of sound and gaiety. The + grounds and winter-gardens were crowded. Their guide led the way to a + large apartment on the other side of the hall, from which the sound of + music was proceeding. + </p> + <p> + “My theatre,” he said. “I wonder what is going on.” + </p> + <p> + They passed inside. There was a small stage with steps leading down to the + floor, easy-chairs and round tables everywhere, and waiters serving + refreshments. A girl was dancing. Sir Timothy watched her approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “Nadia Ellistoff,” he told them. “She was in the last Russian ballet, and + she is waiting now for the rest of the company to start again at Covent + Garden. You see, it is Metzger who plays there. They improvise. Rather a + wonderful performance, I think.” + </p> + <p> + They watched her breathlessly, a spirit in grey tulle, with great black + eyes now and then half closed. + </p> + <p> + “It is 'Wind before Dawn,'” Lady Cynthia whispered. “I heard him play it + two days after he composed it, only there are variations now. She is the + soul of the south wind.” + </p> + <p> + The curtain went down amidst rapturous applause. The dancer had left the + stage, floating away into some sort of wonderfully-contrived nebulous + background. Within a few moments, the principal comedian of the day was + telling stories. Sir Timothy led them away. + </p> + <p> + “But how on earth do you get all these people?” Lady Cynthia asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is arranged for me,” Sir Timothy replied. “I have an agent who sees to + it all. Every man or woman who is asked to perform, has a credit at + Cartier's for a hundred guineas. I pay no fees. They select some little + keepsake.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder they call this place a sort of Arabian Nights!” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there isn't much else for you to see,” Sir Timothy said + thoughtfully. “My gymnasium, which is one of the principal features here, + is closed just now for a special performance, of which I will speak in a + moment. The concert hall I see they are using for an overflow dance-room. + What you have seen, with the grounds and the winter-garden, comprises + almost everything.” + </p> + <p> + They moved back through the hall with difficulty. People were now crowding + in. Lady Cynthia laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is like a gala night at the Opera, Sir Timothy!” she exclaimed. + “How dare you pretend that this is Bohemia!” + </p> + <p> + “It has never been I who have described my entertainments,” he reminded + her. “They have been called everything—orgies, debauches—everything + you can think of. I have never ventured myself to describe them.” + </p> + <p> + Their passage was difficult. Every now and then Sir Timothy was compelled + to shake hands with some of his newly-arriving guests. At last, however, + they reached the little sitting-room. Sir Timothy turned back to Wilmore, + who hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “You had better come in, too, Mr. Wilmore, if you will,” he invited. “You + were with Ledsam, the first day we met, and something which I have to say + now may interest you.” + </p> + <p> + “If I am not intruding,” Wilmore murmured. + </p> + <p> + They entered the room, still jealously guarded. Sir Timothy closed the + door behind them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + The apartment was one belonging to the older portion of the house, and had + been, in fact, an annex to the great library. The walls were oak-panelled, + and hung with a collection of old prints. There were some easy-chairs, a + writing-table, and some well-laden bookcases. There were one or two bronze + statues of gladiators, a wonderful study of two wrestlers, no minor + ornaments. Sir Timothy plunged at once into what he had to say. + </p> + <p> + “I promised you, Lady Cynthia, and you, Ledsam,” he said, “to divulge + exactly the truth as regards these much-talked-of entertainments here. + You, Margaret, under present circumstances, are equally interested. You, + Wilmore, are Ledsam's friend, and you happen to have an interest in this + particular party. Therefore, I am glad to have you all here together. The + superficial part of my entertainment you have seen. The part which renders + it necessary for me to keep closed doors, I shall now explain. I give + prizes here of considerable value for boxing contests which are conducted + under rules of our own. One is due to take place in a very few minutes. + The contests vary in character, but I may say that the chief officials of + the National Sporting Club are usually to be found here, only, of course, + in an unofficial capacity. The difference between the contests arranged by + me, and others, is that my men are here to fight. They use sometimes an + illegal weight of glove and they sometimes hurt one another. If any two of + the boxing fraternity have a grudge against one another, and that often + happens, they are permitted here to fight it out, under the strictest + control as regards fairness, but practically without gloves at all. You + heard of the accident, for instance, to Norris? That happened in my + gymnasium. He was knocked out by Burgin. It was a wonderful fight. + </p> + <p> + “However, I pass on. There is another class of contest which frequently + takes place here. Two boxers place themselves unreservedly in my hands. + The details of the match are arranged without their knowledge. They come + into the ring without knowing whom they are going to fight. Sometimes they + never know, for my men wear masks. Then we have private matches. There is + one to-night. Lord Meadowson and I have a wager of a thousand guineas. He + has brought to-night from the East End a boxer who, according to the terms + of our bet, has never before engaged in a professional contest. I have + brought an amateur under the same conditions. The weight is within a few + pounds the same, neither has ever seen the other, only in this case the + fight is with regulation gloves and under Queensberry rules.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is your amateur, Sir Timothy?” Wilmore asked harshly. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother, Mr. Wilmore,” was the prompt reply. “You shall see the + fight if I have your promise not to attempt in any way to interfere.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me,” he demanded, “that my brother has been decoyed + here, kept here against his will, to provide amusement for your guests?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilmore, I beg that you will be reasonable,” Sir Timothy + expostulated. “I saw your brother box at his gymnasium in Holborn. My + agent made him the offer of this fight. One of my conditions had to be + that he came here to train and that whilst he was here he held no + communication whatever with the outside world. My trainer has ideas of his + own and this he insists upon. Your brother in the end acquiesced. He was + at first difficult to deal with as regards this condition, and he did, in + fact, I believe, Mr. Ledsam, pay a visit to your office, with the object + of asking you to become an intermediary between him and his relatives.” + </p> + <p> + “He began a letter to me,” Francis interposed, “and then mysteriously + disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + “The mystery is easily explained,” Sir Timothy continued. “My trainer, + Roger Hagon, a Varsity blue, and the best heavyweight of his year, + occupies the chambers above yours. He saw from the window the arrival of + Reginald Wilmore—which was according to instructions, as they were + to come down to Hatch End together—went down the stairs to meet him, + and, to cut a long story short, fetched him out of your office, Ledsam, + without allowing him to finish his letter. This absolute isolation seems a + curious condition, perhaps, but Hagon insists upon it, and I can assure + you that he knows his business. The mystery, as you have termed it, of his + disappearance that morning, is that he went upstairs with Hagon for + several hours to undergo a medical examination, instead of leaving the + building forthwith.” + </p> + <p> + “Queer thing I never thought of Hagon,” Francis remarked. “As a matter of + fact, I never see him in the Temple, and I thought that he had left.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask,” Wilmore intervened, “when my brother will be free to return + to his home?” + </p> + <p> + “To-night, directly the fight is over,” Sir Timothy replied. “Should he be + successful, he will take with him a sum of money sufficient to start him + in any business he chooses to enter.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore frowned slightly. + </p> + <p> + “But surely,” he protested, “that would make him a professional pugilist?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Sir Timothy replied. “For one thing, the match is a private + one in a private house, and for another the money is a gift. There is no + purse. If your brother loses, he gets nothing. Will you see the fight, Mr. + Wilmore?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will see it,” was the somewhat reluctant assent. + </p> + <p> + “You will give me your word not to interfere in any way?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not interfere,” Wilmore promised. “If they are wearing regulation + gloves, and the weights are about equal, and the conditions are what you + say, it is the last thing I should wish to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Capital!” Sir Timothy exclaimed. “Now to pass on. There is one other + feature of my entertainments concerning which I have something to say—a + series of performances which takes place on my launch at odd times. There + is one fixed for tonight. I can say little about it except that it is + unusual. I am going to ask you, Lady Cynthia, and you, Ledsam, to witness + it. When you have seen that, you know everything. Then you and I, Ledsam, + can call one another's hands. I shall have something else to say to you, + but that is outside the doings here.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we to see the fight in the gymnasium?” Lady Cynthia enquired. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I do not allow women there under any conditions,” he said. “You and + Margaret had better stay here whilst that takes place. It will probably be + over in twenty minutes. It will be time then for us to find our way to the + launch. After that, if you have any appetite, supper. I will order some + caviare sandwiches for you,” Sir Timothy went on, ringing the bell, “and + some wine.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia smiled. + </p> + <p> + “It is really a very wonderful party,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Their host ushered the two men across the hall, now comparatively + deserted, for every one had settled down to his or her chosen amusement—down + a long passage, through a private door which he unlocked with a Yale key, + and into the gymnasium. There were less than fifty spectators seated + around the ring, and Francis, glancing at them hastily, fancied that he + recognised nearly every one of them. There was Baker, a judge, a couple of + actors, Lord Meadowson, the most renowned of sporting peers, and a dozen + who followed in his footsteps; a little man who had once been amateur + champion in the bantam class, and who was now considered the finest judge + of boxing in the world; a theatrical manager, the present amateur boxing + champion, and a sprinkling of others. Sir Timothy and his companions took + their chairs amidst a buzz of welcome. Almost immediately, the man who was + in charge of the proceedings, and whose name was Harrison, rose from his + place. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” he said, “this is a sporting contest, but one under unusual + rules and unusual conditions. An amateur, who tips the scales at twelve + stone seven, who has never engaged in a boxing contest in his life, is + matched against a young man from a different sphere of life, who intends + to adopt the ring as his profession, but who has never as yet fought in + public. Names, gentlemen, as you know, are seldom mentioned here. I will + only say that the first in the ring is the nominee of our friend and host, + Sir Timothy Brast; second comes the nominee of Lord Meadowson.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore, notwithstanding his pre-knowledge, gave a little gasp. The young + man who stood now within a few yards of him, carelessly swinging his + gloves in his hand, was without a doubt his missing brother. He looked + well and in the pink of condition; not only well but entirely confident + and at his ease. His opponent, on the other hand, a sturdier man, a few + inches shorter, was nervous and awkward, though none the less + determined-looking. Sir Timothy rose and whispered in Harrison's ear. The + latter nodded. In a very few moments the preliminaries were concluded, the + fight begun. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV + </h2> + <p> + Francis, glad of a moment or two's solitude in which to rearrange his + somewhat distorted sensations, found an empty space in the stern of the + launch and stood leaning over the rail. His pulses were still tingling + with the indubitable excitement of the last half-hour. It was all there, + even now, before his eyes like a cinematograph picture—the duel + between those two men, a duel of knowledge, of strength, of science, of + courage. From beginning to end, there had been no moment when Francis had + felt that he was looking on at what was in any way a degrading or immoral + spectacle. Each man had fought in his way to win. Young Wilmore, graceful + as a panther, with a keen, joyous desire of youth for supremacy written in + his face and in the dogged lines of his mouth; the budding champion from + the East End less graceful, perhaps, but with even more strength and at + least as much determination, had certainly done his best to justify his + selection. There were no points to be scored. There had been no undue + feinting, no holding, few of the tricks of the professional ring. It was a + fight to a finish, or until Harrison gave the word. And the better man had + won. But even that knock-out blow which Reggie Wilmore had delivered after + a wonderful feint, had had little that was cruel in it. There was + something beautiful almost in the strength and grace with which it had + been delivered—the breathless eagerness, the waiting, the end. + </p> + <p> + Francis felt a touch upon his arm and looked around. A tall, sad-faced + looking woman, whom he had noticed with a vague sense of familiarity in + the dancing-room, was standing by his side. + </p> + <p> + “You have forgotten me, Mr. Ledsam,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “For the moment,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “I am Isabel Culbridge,” she told him, watching his face. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Isabel?” Francis repeated incredulously. “But surely—” + </p> + <p> + “Better not contradict me,” she interrupted. “Look again.” + </p> + <p> + Francis looked again. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry,” he said. “It is some time, is it not, since we met?” + </p> + <p> + She stood by his side, and for a few moments neither of them spoke. The + little orchestra in the bows had commenced to play softly, but there was + none of the merriment amongst the handful of men and women generally + associated with a midnight river picnic. The moon was temporarily + obscured, and it seemed as though some artist's hand had so dealt with the + few electric lights that the men, with their pale faces and white + shirt-fronts, and the three or four women, most of them, as it happened, + wearing black, were like some ghostly figures in some sombre procession. + Only the music kept up the pretence that this was in any way an ordinary + excursion. Amongst the human element there was an air of tenseness which + seemed rather to increase as they passed into the shadowy reaches of the + river. + </p> + <p> + “You have been ill, I am afraid?” Francis said tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “If you will,” she answered, “but my illness is of the soul. I have become + one of a type,” she went on, “of which you will find many examples here. + We started life thinking that it was clever to despise the conventional + and the known and to seek always for the daring and the unknown. New + experiences were what we craved for. I married a wonderful husband. I + broke his heart and still looked for new things. I had a daughter of whom + I was fond—she ran away with my chauffeur and left me; a son whom I + adored, and he was killed in the war; a lover who told me that he + worshipped me, who spent every penny I had and made me the laughing-stock + of town. I am still looking for new things.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy's parties are generally supposed to provide them,” Francis + observed. + </p> + <p> + The woman shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “So far they seem very much like anybody's else,” she said. “The fight + might have been amusing, but no women were allowed. The rest was very + wonderful in its way, but that is all. I am still hoping for what we are + to see downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + They heard Sir Timothy's voice a few yards away, and turned to look at + him. He had just come from below, and had paused opposite a man who had + been standing a little apart from the others, one of the few who was + wearing an overcoat, as though he felt the cold. In the background were + the two servants who had guarded the gangway. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Manuel Loito,” Sir Timothy said—“or shall I say Mr. Shopland?—my + invited guests are welcome. I have only one method of dealing with + uninvited ones.” + </p> + <p> + The two men suddenly stepped forward. Shopland made no protest, attempted + no struggle. They lifted him off his feet as though he were a baby, and a + moment later there was a splash in the water. They threw a life-belt after + him. + </p> + <p> + “Always humane, you see,” Sir Timothy remarked, as he leaned over the + side. “Ah! I see that even in his overcoat our friend is swimmer enough to + reach the bank. You find our methods harsh, Ledsam?” he asked, turning a + challenging gaze towards the latter. + </p> + <p> + Francis, who had been watching Shopland come to the surface, shrugged his + shoulders. He delayed answering for a moment while he watched the + detective, disdaining the life-belt, swim to the opposite shore. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that under the circumstances,” Francis said, “he was prepared + to take his risk.” + </p> + <p> + “You should know best about that,” Sir Timothy rejoined. “I wonder whether + you would mind looking after Lady Cynthia? I shall be busy for a few + moments.” + </p> + <p> + Francis stepped across the deck towards where Lady Cynthia had been + sitting by her host's side. They had passed into the mouth of a tree-hung + strip of the river. The engine was suddenly shut off. A gong was sounded. + There was a murmur, almost a sob of relief, as the little sprinkling of + men and women rose hastily to their feet and made their way towards the + companion-way. Downstairs, in the saloon, with its white satinwood panels + and rows of swing chairs, heavy curtains were drawn across the portholes, + all outside light was shut out from the place. At the further end, raised + slightly from the floor, was a sanded circle. Sir Timothy made his way to + one of the pillars by its side and turned around to face the little + company of his guests. His voice, though it seemed scarcely raised above a + whisper, was extraordinarily clear and distinct. Even Francis, who, with + Lady Cynthia, had found seats only just inside the door, could hear every + word he said. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” he began, “you have often before been my guests at such + small fights as we have been able to arrange in as unorthodox a manner as + possible between professional boxers. There has been some novelty about + them, but on the last occasion I think it was generally observed that they + had become a little too professional, a little ultra-scientific. There was + something which they lacked. With that something I am hoping to provide + you to-night. Thank you, Sir Edgar,” he murmured, leaning down towards his + neighbour. + </p> + <p> + He held his cigarette in the flame of a match which the other had kindled. + Francis, who was watching intently, was puzzled at the expression with + which for a moment, as he straightened himself, Sir Timothy glanced down + the room, seeking for Lady Cynthia's eyes. In a sense it was as though he + were seeking for something he needed—approbation, sympathy, + understanding. + </p> + <p> + “Our hobby, as you know, has been reality,” he continued. “That is what we + have not always been able to achieve. Tonight I offer you reality. There + are two men here, one an East End coster, the other an Italian until + lately associated with an itinerant vehicle of musical production. These + two men have not outlived sensation as I fancy so many of us have. They + hate one another to the death. I forget their surnames, but Guiseppe has + stolen Jim's girl, is living with her at the present moment, and proposes + to keep her. Jim has sworn to have the lives of both of them. Jim's + career, in its way, is interesting to us. He has spent already six years + in prison for manslaughter, and a year for a brutal assault upon a + constable. Guiseppe was tried in his native country for a particularly + fiendish murder, and escaped, owing, I believe, to some legal + technicality. That, however, has nothing to do with the matter. These men + have sworn to fight to the death, and the girl, I understand, is willing + to return to Jim if he should be successful, or to remain with Guiseppe if + he should show himself able to retain her. The fight between these men, my + friends, has been transferred from Seven Dials for your entertainment. It + will take place before you here and now.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little shiver amongst the audience. Francis, almost to his + horror, was unable to resist the feeling of queer excitement which stole + through his veins. A few yards away, Lady Isabel seemed to have become + transformed. She was leaning forward in her chair, her eyes glowing, her + lips parted, rejuvenated, dehumanised. Francis' immediate companion, + however, rather surprised him. Her eyes were fixed intently upon Sir + Timothy's. She seemed to have been weighing every word he had spoken. + There was none of that hungry pleasure in her face which shone from the + other woman's and was reflected in the faces of many of the others. She + seemed to be bracing herself for a shock. Sir Timothy looked over his + shoulder towards the door which opened upon the sanded space. + </p> + <p> + “You can bring your men along,” he directed. + </p> + <p> + One of the attendants promptly made his appearance. He was holding tightly + by the arm a man of apparently thirty years of age, shabbily dressed, + barefooted, without collar or necktie, with a mass of black hair which + looked as though it had escaped the care of any barber for many weeks. His + complexion was sallow; he had high cheekbones and a receding chin, which + gave him rather the appearance of a fox. He shrank a little from the + lights as though they hurt his eyes, and all the time he looked furtively + back to the door, through which in a moment or two his rival was presently + escorted. The latter was a young man of stockier build, ill-conditioned, + and with the brutal face of the lowest of his class. Two of his front + teeth were missing, and there was a livid mark on the side of his cheek. + He looked neither to the right nor to the left. His eyes were fixed upon + the other man, and they looked death. + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman who first appeared,” Sir Timothy observed, stepping up into + the sanded space but still half facing the audience, “is Guiseppe, the + Lothario of this little act. The other is Jim, the wronged husband. You + know their story. Now, Jim,” he added, turning towards the Englishman, “I + put in your trousers pocket these notes, two hundred pounds, you will + perceive. I place in the trousers pocket of Guiseppe here notes to the + same amount. I understand you have a little quarrel to fight out. The one + who wins will naturally help himself to the other's money, together with + that other little reward which I imagine was the first cause of your + quarrel. Now... let them go.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy resumed his seat and leaned back in leisurely fashion. The two + attendants solemnly released their captives. There was a moment's intense + silence. The two men seemed fencing for position. There was something + stealthy and horrible about their movements as they crept around one + another. Francis realised what it was almost as the little sobbing breath + from those of the audience who still retained any emotion, showed him that + they, too, foresaw what was going to happen. Both men had drawn knives + from their belts. It was murder which had been let loose. + </p> + <p> + Francis found himself almost immediately upon his feet. His whole being + seemed crying out for interference. Lady Cynthia's death-white face and + pleading eyes seemed like the echo of his own passionate aversion to what + was taking place. Then he met Sir Timothy's gaze across the room and he + remembered his promise. Under no conditions was he to protest or + interfere. He set his teeth and resumed his seat. The fight went on. There + were little sobs and tremors of excitement, strange banks of silence. Both + men seemed out of condition. The sound of their hoarse breathing was + easily heard against the curtain of spellbound silence. For a time their + knives stabbed the empty air, but from the first the end seemed certain. + The Englishman attacked wildly. His adversary waited his time, content + with avoiding the murderous blows struck at him, striving all the time to + steal underneath the other's guard. And then, almost without warning, it + was all over. Jim was on his back in a crumpled heap. There was a horrid + stain upon his coat. The other man was kneeling by his side, hate, glaring + out of his eyes, guiding all the time the rising and falling of his knife. + There was one more shriek—then silence only the sound of the + victor's breathing as he rose slowly from his ghastly task. Sir Timothy + rose to his feet and waved his hand. The curtain went down. + </p> + <p> + “On deck, if you please, ladies and gentlemen,” he said calmly. + </p> + <p> + No one stirred. A woman began to sob. A fat, unhealthy-looking man in + front of Francis reeled over in a dead faint. Two other of the guests near + had risen from their seats and were shouting aimlessly like lunatics. Even + Francis was conscious of that temporary imprisonment of the body due to + his lacerated nerves. Only the clinging of Lady Cynthia to his arm kept + him from rushing from the spot. + </p> + <p> + “You are faint?” he whispered hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Upstairs—air,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + They rose to their feet. The sound of Sir Timothy's voice reached them as + they ascended the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “On deck, every one, if you please,” he insisted. “Refreshments are being + served there. There are inquisitive people who watch my launch, and it is + inadvisable to remain here long.” + </p> + <p> + People hurried out then as though their one desire was to escape from the + scene of the tragedy. Lady Cynthia, still clinging to Francis' arm, led + him to the furthermost corner of the launch. There were real tears in her + eyes, her breath was coming in little sobs. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was horrible!” she cried. “Horrible! Mr. Ledsam—I can't help + it—I never want to speak to Sir Timothy again!” + </p> + <p> + One final horror arrested for a moment the sound of voices. There was a + dull splash in the river. Something had been thrown overboard. The + orchestra began to play dance music. Conversation suddenly burst out. + Every one was hysterical. A Peer of the Realm, red-eyed and shaking like + an aspen leaf, was drinking champagne out of the bottle. Every one seemed + to be trying to outvie the other in loud conversation, in outrageous + mirth. Lady Isabel, with a glass of champagne in her hand, leaned back + towards Francis. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she asked, “how are you feeling, Mr. Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + “As though I had spent half-an-hour in Hell,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She screamed with laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Hear this man,” she called out, “who will send any poor ragamuffin to the + gallows if his fee is large enough! Of course,” she added, turning back to + him, “I ought to remember you are a normal person and to-night's + entertainment was not for normal persons. For myself I am grateful to Sir + Timothy. For a few moments of this aching aftermath of life, I forgot.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly all the lights around the launch flamed out, the music stopped. + Sir Timothy came up on deck. On either side of him was a man in ordinary + dinner clothes. The babel of voices ceased. Everyone was oppressed by some + vague likeness. A breathless silence ensued. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies and gentlemen,” Sir Timothy said, and once more the smile upon his + lips assumed its most mocking curve, “let me introduce you to the two + artists who have given us to-night such a realistic performance, Signor + Guiseppe Elito and Signor Carlos Marlini. I had the good fortune,” he went + on, “to witness this very marvellous performance in a small music-hall at + Palermo, and I was able to induce the two actors to pay us a visit over + here. Steward, these gentlemen will take a glass of champagne.” + </p> + <p> + The two Sicilians raised their glasses and bowed expectantly to the little + company. They received, however, a much greater tribute to their + performance than the applause which they had been expecting. There reigned + everywhere a deadly, stupefied silence. Only a half-stifled sob broke from + Lady Cynthia's lips as she leaned over the rail, her face buried in her + hands, her whole frame shaking. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI + </h2> + <p> + Francis and Margaret sat in the rose garden on the following morning. + Their conversation was a little disjointed, as the conversation of lovers + in a secluded and beautiful spot should be, but they came back often to + the subject of Sir Timothy. + </p> + <p> + “If I have misunderstood your father,” Francis, declared, “and I admit + that I have, it has been to some extent his own fault. To me he was always + the deliberate scoffer against any code of morals, a rebel against the law + even if not a criminal in actual deeds. I honestly believed that The + Walled House was the scene of disreputable orgies, that your father was + behind Fairfax in that cold-blooded murder, and that he was responsible in + some sinister way for the disappearance of Reggie Wilmore. Most of these + things seem to have been shams, like the fight last night.” + </p> + <p> + She moved uneasily in her place. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad I did not see that,” she said, with a shiver. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he went on, “that the reason why your father insisted upon Lady + Cynthia's and my presence there was that he meant it as a sort of + allegory. Half the vices in life he claims are unreal.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret passed her arm through his and leaned a little towards him. + </p> + <p> + “If you knew just one thing I have never told you,” she confided, “I think + that you would feel sorry for him. I do, more and more every day, because + in a way that one thing is my fault.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the warm sunshine, she suddenly shivered. Francis took her + hands in his. They were cold and lifeless. + </p> + <p> + “I know that one thing, dear,” he told her quietly. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him stonily. There was a questioning fear in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You know—” + </p> + <p> + “I know that your father killed Oliver Hilditch.” + </p> + <p> + She suddenly broke out into a stream of words. There was passion in her + tone and in her eyes. She was almost the accuser. + </p> + <p> + “My father was right, then!” she exclaimed. “He told me this morning that + he believed that it was to you or to your friend at Scotland Yard that + Walter had told his story. But you don't know you don't know how terrible + the temptation was how—you see I say it quite coolly—how + Oliver Hilditch deserved to die. He was trusted by my father in South + America and he deceived him, he forged the letters which induced me to + marry him. It was part of his scheme of revenge. This was the first time + we had any of us met since. I told my father the truth that afternoon. He + knew for the first time how my marriage came about. My husband had prayed + me to keep silent. I refused. Then he became like a devil. We were there, + we three, that night after you left, and Francis, as I live, if my father + had not killed him, I should have!” + </p> + <p> + “There was a time when I believed that you had,” he reminded her. “I + didn't behave like a pedagogic upholder of the letter of the law then, did + I?” + </p> + <p> + She drew closer to him. + </p> + <p> + “You were wonderful,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest, your father has nothing to fear from me,” he assured her + tenderly. “On the contrary, I think that I can show him the way to + safety.” + </p> + <p> + She rose impulsively to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “He will be here directly,” she said. “He promised to come across at + half-past twelve. Let us go and meet him. But, Francis—” + </p> + <p> + For a single moment she crept into his arms. Their lips met, her eyes + shone into his. He held her away from him a moment later. The change was + amazing. She was no longer a tired woman. She had become a girl again. Her + eyes were soft with happiness, the little lines had gone from about her + mouth, she walked with all the spring of youth and happiness. + </p> + <p> + “It is marvellous,” she whispered. “I never dreamed that I should ever be + happy again.” + </p> + <p> + They crossed the rustic bridge which led on to the lawn. Lady Cynthia came + out of the house to meet them. She showed no signs of fatigue, but her + eyes and her tone were full of anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” she cried, “do you know that the hall is filled with your + father's luggage, and that the car is ordered to take him to Southampton + directly after lunch?” + </p> + <p> + Margaret and Francis exchanged glances. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy may change his mind,” the latter observed. “I have news for + him directly he arrives.” + </p> + <p> + On the other side of the wall they heard the whinnying of the old mare, + the sound of galloping feet from all directions. + </p> + <p> + “Here he comes!” Lady Cynthia exclaimed. “I shall go and meet him.” + </p> + <p> + Francis laid his hand upon her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Let me have a word with him first,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “You are not going to say anything—that will make him want to go + away?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to tell him something which I think will keep him at home.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy came through the postern-gate, a moment or two later. He waved + his hat and crossed the lawn in their direction. Francis went alone to + meet him and, as he drew near, was conscious of a little shock. His host, + although he held himself bravely, seemed to have aged in the night. + </p> + <p> + “I want one word with you, sir, in your study, please,” Francis said. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders and led the way. He turned to wave his + hand once more to Margaret and Lady Cynthia, however, and he looked with + approval at the luncheon-table which a couple of servants were laying + under the cedar tree. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful thing, these alfresco meals,” he declared. “I hope Hedges won't + forget the maraschino with the melons. Come into my den, Ledsam.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way in courtly fashion. He was the ideal host leading a valued + guest to his sanctum for a few moments' pleasant conversation. But when + they arrived in the little beamed room and the door was closed, his manner + changed. He looked searchingly, almost challengingly at Francis. + </p> + <p> + “You have news for me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” Francis answered. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. He threw himself a little wearily into + an easy-chair. His hands strayed out towards a cigarette box. He selected + one and lit it. + </p> + <p> + “I expected your friend, Mr. Shopland,” he murmured. “I hope he is none + the worse for his ducking.” + </p> + <p> + “Shopland is a fool,” Francis replied. “He has nothing to do with this + affair, anyway. I have something to give you, Sir Timothy.” + </p> + <p> + He took the two papers from his pocket and handed them over. + </p> + <p> + “I bought these from John Walter the day before yesterday,” he continued. + “I gave him two hundred pounds for them. The money was just in time. He + caught a steamer for Australia late in the afternoon. I had this wireless + from him this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy studied the two documents, read the wireless. There was little + change in his face. Only for a single moment his lips quivered. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” he asked, rising to his feet with the documents in + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “It means that those papers are yours to do what you like with. I drafted + the second one so that you should be absolutely secure against any further + attempt at blackmail. As a matter of fact, though, Walter is on his last + legs. I doubt whether he will live to land in Australia.” + </p> + <p> + “You know that I killed Oliver Hilditch?” Sir Timothy said, his eyes fixed + upon the other's. + </p> + <p> + “I know that you killed Oliver Hilditch,” Francis repeated. “If I had been + Margaret's father, I think that I should have done the same.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy seemed suddenly very much younger. The droop of his lips was + no longer pathetic. There was a little humourous twitch there. + </p> + <p> + “You, the great upholder of the law?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard the story of Oliver Hilditch's life,” Francis replied. “I + was partially responsible for saving him from the gallows. I repeat what I + have said. And if you will—” + </p> + <p> + He held out his hand. Sir Timothy hesitated for one moment. Instead of + taking it, he laid his hand upon Francis' shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Ledsam,” he said, “we have thought wrong things of one another. I thought + you a prig, moral to your finger-tips with the morality of the law and the + small places. Perhaps I was tempted for that reason to give you a wrong + impression of myself. But you must understand this. Though I have had my + standard and lived up to it all my life, I am something of a black sheep. + A man stole my wife. I did not trouble the Law Courts. I killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “I have the blood of generations of lawyers in my veins,” Francis + declared, “but I have read many a divorce case in which I think it would + have been better and finer if the two men had met as you and that man + met.” + </p> + <p> + “I was born with the love of fighting in my bones,” Sir Timothy went on. + “In my younger days, I fought in every small war in the southern + hemisphere. I fought, as you know, in our own war. I have loved to see men + fight honestly and fairly.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a man's hobby,” Francis pronounced. + </p> + <p> + “I encouraged you deliberately to think,” Sir Timothy went on, “what half + the world thinks that—my parties at The Walled House were mysterious + orgies of vice. They have, as a matter of fact, never been anything of the + sort. The tragedies which are supposed to have taken place on my launch + have been just as much mock tragedies as last night's, only I have not + previously chosen to take the audiences into my confidence. The greatest + pugilists in the world have fought in my gymnasium, often, if you will, + under illegal conditions, but there has never been a fight that was not + fair.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that,” Francis said. + </p> + <p> + “And there is another matter for which I take some blame,” Sir Timothy + went on, “the matter of Fairfax and Victor Bidlake. They were neither of + them young men for whose loss the world is any the worse. Fairfax to some + extent imposed upon me. He was brought to The Walled House by a friend who + should have known better. He sought my confidence. The story he told was + exactly that of the mock drama upon the launch. Bidlake had taken his + wife. He had no wish to appeal to the Courts. He wished to fight, a point + of view with which I entirely sympathised. I arranged a fight between the + two. Bidlake funked it and never turned up. My advice to Fairfax was, + whenever he met Bidlake, to give him the soundest thrashing he could. That + night at Soto's I caught sight of Fairfax some time before dinner. He was + talking to the woman who had been his wife, and he had evidently been + drinking. He drew me on one side. 'To-night,' he told me, 'I am going to + settle accounts with Bidlake.' 'Where?' I asked. 'Here,' he answered. He + went out to the theatre, I upstairs to dine. That was the extent of the + knowledge I possessed which enabled me to predict some unwonted happening + that night. Fairfax was a bedrugged and bedrunken decadent who had not the + courage afterwards to face what he had done. That is all.” + </p> + <p> + The hand slipped from Francis' shoulder. Francis, with a smile, held out + his own. They stood there for a moment with clasped hands—a queer, + detached moment, as it seemed to Francis, in a life which during the last + few months had been full of vivid sensations. From outside came the lazy + sounds of the drowsy summer morning—the distant humming of a mowing + machine, the drone of a reaper in the field beyond, the twittering of + birds in the trees, even the soft lapping of the stream against the stone + steps. The man whose hand he was holding seemed to Francis to have become + somehow transformed. It was as though he had dropped a mask and were + showing a more human, a more kindly self. Francis wondered no longer at + the halting gallop of the horses in the field. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be good to Margaret?” Sir Timothy begged. “She's had a wretched + time.” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled confidently. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to make up for it, sir,” he promised. “And this South American + trip,” he continued, as they turned towards the French windows, “you'll + call that off?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I am not quite sure.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the garden, Lady Cynthia was alone. She scarcely glanced + at Francis. Her eyes were anxiously fixed upon his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret has gone in to make the cocktails herself,” she explained. “We + have both sworn off absinthe for the rest of our lives, and we know Hedges + can't be trusted to make one without.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go and help her,” Francis declared. + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia passed her arm through Sir Timothy's. + </p> + <p> + “I want to know about South America,” she begged. “The sight of those + trunks worries me.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy's casual reply was obviously a subterfuge. They crossed the + lawn and the rustic bridge, almost in silence, passing underneath the + pergola of roses to the sheltered garden at the further end. Then Lady + Cynthia paused. + </p> + <p> + “You are not going to South America,” she pleaded, “alone?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy took her hands. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” he said, “listen, please, to my confession. I am a fraud. I am + not a purveyor of new sensations for a decadent troop of weary, + fashionable people. I am a fraud sometimes even to myself. I have had good + luck in material things. I have had bad luck in the precious, the + sentimental side of life. It has made something of an artificial character + of me, on the surface at any rate. I am really a simple, elderly man who + loves fresh air, clean, honest things, games, and a healthy life. I have + no ambitions except those connected with sport. I don't even want to climb + to the topmost niches in the world of finance. I think you have looked at + me through the wrong-coloured spectacles. You have had a whimsical fancy + for a character which does not exist.” + </p> + <p> + “What I have seen,” Lady Cynthia answered, “I have seen through no + spectacles at all—with my own eyes. But what I have seen, even, does + not count. There is something else.” + </p> + <p> + “I am within a few weeks of my fiftieth birthday,” Sir Timothy reminded + her, “and you, I believe, are twenty-nine.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear man,” Lady Cynthia assured him fervently, “you are the only + person in the world who can keep me from feeling forty-nine.” + </p> + <p> + “And your people—” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! My people, for the first time in their lives, will count me a + brilliant success,” Lady Cynthia declared. “You'll probably have to lend + dad money, and I shall be looked upon as the fairy child who has restored + the family fortunes.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy leaned a little towards her. + </p> + <p> + “Last of all,” he said, and this time his voice was not quite so steady, + “are you really sure that you care for me, dear, because I have loved you + so long, and I have wanted love so badly, and it is so hard to believe—” + </p> + <p> + It was the moment, it seemed to her, for which she had prayed. She was in + his arms, tired no longer, with all the splendid fire of life in her + love-lit eyes and throbbing pulses. Around them the bees were humming, and + a soft summer breeze shook the roses and brought little wafts of perfume + from the carnation bed. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing in life,” Lady Cynthia murmured brokenly, “so wonderful + as this.” + </p> + <p> + Francis and Margaret came out from the house, the former carrying a silver + tray. They had spent a considerable time over their task, but Lady Cynthia + and Sir Timothy were still absent. Hedges followed them, a little worried. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I ring the gong, madam?” he asked Margaret. “Cook has taken such + pains with her omelette.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you had better, Hedges,” Margaret assented. + </p> + <p> + The gong rang out—and rang again. Presently Lady Cynthia and Sir + Timothy appeared upon the bridge and crossed the lawn. They were walking a + little apart. Lady Cynthia was looking down at some roses which she had + gathered. Sir Timothy's unconcern seemed a trifle overdone. Margaret + laughed very softly. + </p> + <p> + “A stepmother, Francis!” she whispered. “Just fancy Cynthia as a + stepmother!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Evil Shepherd, by E. 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Philips Oppenheim + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Evil Shepherd, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +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 Evil Shepherd + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: June 13, 2009 [EBook #5743] +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVIL SHEPHERD *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE EVIL SHEPHERD + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By E. Philips Oppenheim + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + Francis Ledsam, alert, well-satisfied with himself and the world, the echo + of a little buzz of congratulations still in his ears, paused on the steps + of the modern Temple of Justice to light a cigarette before calling for a + taxi to take him to his club. Visions of a whisky and soda—his + throat was a little parched—and a rubber of easy-going bridge at his + favourite table, were already before his eyes. A woman who had followed + him from the Court touched him on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Can I speak to you for a moment, Mr. Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + The barrister frowned slightly as he swung around to confront his + questioner. It was such a familiar form of address. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” he asked, a little curtly. + </p> + <p> + “A few minutes' conversation with you,” was the calm reply. “The matter is + important.” + </p> + <p> + The woman's tone and manner, notwithstanding her plain, inconspicuous + clothes, commanded attention. Francis Ledsam was a little puzzled. Small + things meant much to him in life, and he had been looking forward almost + with the zest of a schoolboy to that hour of relaxation at his club. He + was impatient of even a brief delay, a sentiment which he tried to express + in his response. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to speak to me about?” he repeated bluntly. “I shall be + in my rooms in the Temple to-morrow morning, any time after eleven.” + </p> + <p> + “It is necessary for me to speak to you now,” she insisted. “There is a + tea-shop across the way. Please accompany me there.” + </p> + <p> + Ledsam, a little surprised at the coolness of her request, subjected his + accoster to a closer scrutiny. As he did so, his irritation diminished. He + shrugged his shoulders slightly. + </p> + <p> + “If you really have business with me,” he said, “I will give you a few + minutes.” + </p> + <p> + They crossed the street together, the woman self-possessed, negative, + wholly without the embarrassment of one performing an unusual action. Her + companion felt the awakening of curiosity. Zealously though she had, to + all appearance, endeavoured to conceal the fact, she was without a doubt + personable. Her voice and manner lacked nothing of refinement. Yet her + attraction to Francis Ledsam, who, although a perfectly normal human + being, was no seeker after promiscuous adventures, did not lie in these + externals. As a barrister whose success at the criminal bar had been + phenomenal, he had attained to a certain knowledge of human nature. He was + able, at any rate, to realise that this woman was no imposter. He knew + that she had vital things to say. + </p> + <p> + They passed into the tea-shop and found an empty corner. Ledsam hung up + his hat and gave an order. The woman slowly began to remove her gloves. + When she pushed back her veil, her vis-a-vis received almost a shock. She + was quite as good-looking as he had imagined, but she was far younger—she + was indeed little more than a girl. Her eyes were of a deep shade of hazel + brown, her eyebrows were delicately marked, her features and poise + admirable. Yet her skin was entirely colourless. She was as pale as one + whose eyes have been closed in death. Her lips, although in no way highly + coloured, were like streaks of scarlet blossom upon a marble image. The + contrast between her appearance and that of her companion was curiously + marked. Francis Ledsam conformed in no way to the accepted physical type + of his profession. He was over six feet in height, broad-shouldered and + powerfully made. His features were cast in a large mould, he was of fair, + almost sandy complexion, even his mouth was more humourous than incisive. + His eyes alone, grey and exceedingly magnetic, suggested the gifts which + without a doubt lay behind his massive forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I am anxious to avoid any possible mistake,” she began. “Your name is + Francis Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “You are the very successful criminal barrister,” she continued, “who has + just been paid an extravagant fee to defend Oliver Hilditch.” + </p> + <p> + “I might take exception to the term 'extravagant',” Ledsam observed drily. + “Otherwise, your information appears to be singularly correct. I do not + know whether you have heard the verdict. If not, you may be interested to + know that I succeeded in obtaining the man's acquittal.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that you did,” the woman replied. “I was in the Court when the + verdict was brought in. It has since occurred to me that I should like you + to understand exactly what you have done, the responsibility you have + incurred.” + </p> + <p> + Ledsam raised his eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Responsibility?” he repeated. “What I have done is simple enough. I have + earned a very large fee and won my case.” + </p> + <p> + “You have secured the acquittal of Oliver Hilditch,” she persisted. “He is + by this time a free man. Now I am going to speak to you of that + responsibility. I am going to tell you a little about the man who owes his + freedom to your eloquence.” + </p> + <p> + It was exactly twenty minutes after their entrance into the teashop when + the woman finished her monologue. She began to draw on her gloves again. + Before them were two untasted cups of tea and an untouched plate of bread + and butter. From a corner of the room the waitress was watching them + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” Francis Ledsam exclaimed at last, suddenly realising his + whereabouts. “Do you mean to affirm solemnly that what you have been + telling me is the truth?” + </p> + <p> + The woman continued to button her gloves. “It is the truth,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Ledsam sat up and looked around him. He was a little dazed. He had almost + the feeling of a man recovering from the influence of some anaesthetic. + Before his eyes were still passing visions of terrible deeds, of naked, + ugly passion, of man's unscrupulous savagery. During those few minutes he + had been transported to New York and Paris, London and Rome. Crimes had + been spoken of which made the murder for which Oliver Hilditch had just + been tried seem like a trifling indiscretion. Hard though his mentality, + sternly matter-of-fact as was his outlook, he was still unable to fully + believe in himself, his surroundings, or in this woman who had just + dropped a veil over her ashen cheeks. Reason persisted in asserting + itself. + </p> + <p> + “But if you knew all this,” he demanded, “why on earth didn't you come + forward and give evidence?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” she answered calmly, as she rose to her feet, “my evidence + would not have been admissible. I am Oliver Hilditch's wife.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + Francis Ledsam arrived at his club, the Sheridan, an hour later than he + had anticipâtéd. He nodded to the veteran hall-porter, hung up his hat and + stick, and climbed the great staircase to the card-room without any + distinct recollection of performing any of these simple and reasonable + actions. In the cardroom he exchanged a few greetings with friends, + accepted without comment or without the slightest tinge of gratification a + little chorus of chafing congratulations upon his latest triumph, and left + the room without any inclination to play, although there was a vacant + place at his favourite table. From sheer purposelessness he wandered back + again into the hall, and here came his first gleam of returning sensation. + He came face to face with his most intimate friend, Andrew Wilmore. The + latter, who had just hung up his coat and hat, greeted him with a growl of + welcome. + </p> + <p> + “So you've brought it off again, Francis!” + </p> + <p> + “Touch and go,” the barrister remarked. “I managed to squeak home.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore laid his hand upon his friend's shoulder and led the way towards + two easy-chairs in the lounge. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what it is, old chap,” he confided, “you'll be making yourself + unpopular before long. Another criminal at large, thanks to that glib + tongue and subtle brain of yours. The crooks of London will present you + with a testimonial when you're made a judge.” + </p> + <p> + “So you think that Oliver Hilditch was guilty, then?” Francis asked + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, how do I know or care?” was the indifferent reply. “I + shouldn't have thought that there had been any doubt about it. You + probably know, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just what I didn't when I got up to make my speech,” Francis + assured his friend emphatically. “The fellow was given an opportunity of + making a clean breast of it, of course—Wensley, his lawyer, advised + him to, in fact—but the story he told me was precisely the story he + told at the inquest.” + </p> + <p> + They were established now in their easy-chairs, and Wilmore summoned a + waiter. + </p> + <p> + “Two large whiskies and sodas,” he ordered. “Francis,” he went on, + studying his companion intently, “what's the matter with you? You don't + look as though your few days in the country last week had done you any + good.” + </p> + <p> + Francis glanced around as though to be sure that they were alone. + </p> + <p> + “I was all right when I came up, Andrew,” he muttered. “This case has + upset me.” + </p> + <p> + “Upset you? But why the dickens should it?” the other demanded, in a + puzzled tone. “It was quite an ordinary case, in its way, and you won it.” + </p> + <p> + “I won it,” Francis admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Your defence was the most ingenious thing I ever heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Mostly suggested, now I come to think of it,” the barrister remarked + grimly, “by the prisoner himself.” + </p> + <p> + “But why are you upset about it, anyway?” Wilmore persisted. + </p> + <p> + Francis rose to his feet, shook himself, and with his elbow resting upon + the mantelpiece leaned down towards his friend. He could not rid himself + altogether of this sense of unreality. He had the feeling that he had + passed through one of the great crises of his life. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you, Andrew. You're about the only man in the world I could + tell. I've gone crazy.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you looked as though you'd been seeing spooks,” Wilmore + murmured sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen a spook,” Francis rejoined, with almost passionate + seriousness, “a spook who lifted an invisible curtain with invisible + fingers, and pointed to such a drama of horrors as De Quincey, Poe and Sue + combined could never have imagined. Oliver Hilditch was guilty, Andrew. He + murdered the man Jordan—murdered him in cold blood.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not surprised to hear that,” was the somewhat puzzled reply. + </p> + <p> + “He was guilty, Andrew, not only of the murder of this man, his partner, + but of innumerable other crimes and brutalities,” Francis went on. “He is + a fiend in human form, if ever there was one, and I have set him loose + once more to prey upon Society. I am morally responsible for his next + robbery, his next murder, the continued purgatory of those forced to + associate with him.” + </p> + <p> + “You're dotty, Francis,” his friend declared shortly. + </p> + <p> + “I told you I was crazy,” was the desperate reply. “So would you be if + you'd sat opposite that woman for half-an-hour, and heard her story.” + </p> + <p> + “What woman?” Wilmore demanded, leaning forward in his chair and gazing at + his friend with increasing uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “A woman who met me outside the Court and told me the story of Oliver + Hilditch's life.” + </p> + <p> + “A stranger?” + </p> + <p> + “A complete stranger to me. It transpired that she was his wife.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore lit a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Believe her?” + </p> + <p> + “There are times when one doesn't believe or disbelieve,” Francis + answered. “One knows.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore nodded. + </p> + <p> + “All the same, you're crazy,” he declared. “Even if you did save the + fellow from the gallows, you were only doing your job, doing your duty to + the best of poor ability. You had no reason to believe him guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just as it happened,” Francis pointed out. “I really didn't care + at the time whether he was or not. I had to proceed on the assumption that + he was not, of course, but on the other hand I should have fought just as + hard for him if I had known him to be guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “And you wouldn't now—to-morrow, say?” + </p> + <p> + “Never again.” + </p> + <p> + “Because of that woman's story?” + </p> + <p> + “Because of the woman.” + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence. Then Wilmore asked a very obvious question. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a person was she?” + </p> + <p> + Francis Ledsam was several moments before he replied. The question was one + which he had been expecting, one which he had already asked himself many + times, yet he was unprepared with any definite reply. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could answer you, Andrew,” his friend confessed. “As a matter of + fact, I can't. I can only speak of the impression she left upon me, and + you are about the only person breathing to whom I could speak of that.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore nodded sympathetically. He knew that, man of the world though + Francis Ledsam appeared, he was nevertheless a highly imaginative person, + something of an idealist as regards women, unwilling as a rule to discuss + them, keeping them, in a general way, outside his daily life. + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead, old fellow,” he invited. “You know I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “She left the impression upon me,” Francis continued quietly, “of a woman + who had ceased to live. She was young, she was beautiful, she had all the + gifts—culture, poise and breeding—but she had ceased to live. + We sat with a marble table between us, and a few feet of oil-covered + floor. Those few feet, Andrew, were like an impassable gulf. She spoke + from the shores of another world. I listened and answered, spoke and + listened again. And when she told her story, she went. I can't shake off + the effect she had upon me, Andrew. I feel as though I had taken a step to + the right or to the left over the edge of the world.” + </p> + <p> + Andrew Wilmore studied his friend thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + He was full of sympathy and understanding. His one desire at that moment + was not to make a mistake. He decided to leave unasked the obvious + question. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he said simply. “Are you dining anywhere?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of staying on here,” was the indifferent reply. + </p> + <p> + “We won't do anything of the sort,” Wilmore insisted. “There's scarcely a + soul in to-night, and the place is too humpy for a man who's been seeing + spooks. Get back to your rooms and change. I'll wait here.” + </p> + <p> + “What about you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have some clothes in my locker. Don't be long. And, by-the-bye, which + shall it be—Bohemia or Mayfair? I'll telephone for a table. London's + so infernally full, these days.” + </p> + <p> + Francis hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I really don't care,” he confessed. “Now I think of it, I shall be glad + to get away from here, though. I don't want any more congratulations on + saving Oliver Hilditch's life. Let's go where we are least likely to meet + any one we know.” + </p> + <p> + “Respectability and a starched shirt-front, then,” Wilmore decided. “We'll + go to Claridge's.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + The two men occupied a table set against the wall, not far from the + entrance to the restaurant, and throughout the progress of the earlier + part of their meal were able to watch the constant incoming stream of + their fellow-guests. They were, in their way, an interesting contrast + physically, neither of them good-looking according to ordinary standards, + but both with many pleasant characteristics. Andrew Wilmore, slight and + dark, with sallow cheeks and brown eyes, looked very much what he was—a + moderately successful journalist and writer of stories, a keen golfer, a + bachelor who preferred a pipe to cigars, and lived at Richmond because he + could not find a flat in London which he could afford, large enough for + his somewhat expansive habits. Francis Ledsam was of a sturdier type, with + features perhaps better known to the world owing to the constant + activities of the cartoonist. His reputation during the last few years had + carried him, notwithstanding his comparative youth—he was only + thirty-five years of age—into the very front ranks of his + profession, and his income was one of which men spoke with bated breath. + He came of a family of landed proprietors, whose younger sons for + generations had drifted always either to the Bar or the Law, and his name + was well known in the purlieus of Lincoln's Inn before he himself had made + it famous. He was a persistent refuser of invitations, and his + acquaintances in the fashionable world were comparatively few. Yet every + now and then he felt a mild interest in the people whom his companion + assiduously pointed out to him. + </p> + <p> + “A fashionable restaurant, Francis, is rather like your Law Courts—it + levels people up,” the latter remarked. “Louis, the head-waiter, is the + judge, and the position allotted in the room is the sentence. I wonder who + is going to have the little table next but one to us. Some favoured + person, evidently.” + </p> + <p> + Francis glanced in the direction indicated without curiosity. The table in + question was laid for two and was distinguished by a wonderful cluster of + red roses. + </p> + <p> + “Why is it,” the novelist continued speculatively, “that, whenever we take + another man's wife out, we think it necessary to order red roses?” + </p> + <p> + “And why is it,” Francis queried, a little grimly, “that a dear fellow + like you, Andrew, believes it his duty to talk of trifles for his pal's + sake, when all the time he is thinking of something else? I know you're + dying to talk about the Hilditch case, aren't you? Well, go ahead.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm only interested in this last development,” Wilmore confessed. “Of + course, I read the newspaper reports. To tell you the truth, for a murder + trial it seemed to me to rather lack colour.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a very simple and straightforward case,” Francis said slowly. + “Oliver Hilditch is the principal partner in an American financial company + which has recently opened offices in the West End. He seems to have + arrived in England about two years ago, to have taken a house in Hill + Street, and to have spent a great deal of money. A month or so ago, his + partner from New York arrived in London, a man named Jordan of whom + nothing was known. It has since transpired, however, that his journey to + Europe was undertaken because he was unable to obtain certain figures + relating to the business, from Hilditch. Oliver Hilditch met him at + Southampton, travelled with him to London and found him a room at the + Savoy. The next day, the whole of the time seems to have been spent in the + office, and it is certain, from the evidence of the clerk, that some + disagreement took place between the two men. They dined together, however, + apparently on good terms, at the Cafe Royal, and parted in Regent Street + soon after ten. At twelve o'clock, Jordan's body was picked up on the + pavement in Hill Street, within a few paces of Heidrich's door. He had + been stabbed through the heart with some needle-like weapon, and was quite + dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there any vital cause of quarrel between them?” Wilmore enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible to say,” Francis replied. “The financial position of the + company depends entirely upon the value of a large quantity of speculative + bonds, but as there was only one clerk employed, it was impossible to get + at any figures. Hilditch declared that Jordan had only a small share in + the business, from which he had drawn a considerable income for years, and + that he had not the slightest cause for complaint.” + </p> + <p> + “What were Hilditch's movements that evening?” Wilmore asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not a soul seems to have seen him after he left Regent Street,” was the + somewhat puzzled answer. “His own story was quite straightforward and has + never been contradicted. He let himself into his house with a latch-key + after his return from the Cafe Royal, drank a whisky and soda in the + library, and went to bed before half-past eleven. The whole affair—” + </p> + <p> + Francis broke off abruptly in the middle of his sentence. He sat with his + eyes fixed upon the door, silent and speechless. + </p> + <p> + “What in Heaven's name is the matter, old fellow?” Wilmore demanded, + gazing at his companion in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + The latter pulled himself together with an effort. The sight of the two + new arrivals talking to Louis on the threshold of the restaurant, seemed + for the moment to have drawn every scrap of colour from his cheeks. + Nevertheless, his recovery was almost instantaneous. + </p> + <p> + “If you want to know any more,” he said calmly, “you had better go and ask + him to tell you the whole story himself. There he is.” + </p> + <p> + “And the woman with him?” Wilmore exclaimed under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “His wife!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + To reach their table, the one concerning which Francis and his friend had + been speculating, the new arrivals, piloted by Louis, had to pass within a + few feet of the two men. The woman, serene, coldly beautiful, dressed like + a Frenchwoman in unrelieved black, with extraordinary attention to + details, passed them by with a careless glance and subsided into the chair + which Louis was holding. Her companion, however, as he recognised Francis + hesitated. His expression of somewhat austere gloom was lightened. A + pleasant but tentative smile parted his lips. He ventured upon a + salutation, half a nod, half a more formal bow, a salutation which Francis + instinctively returned. Andrew Wilmore looked on with curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “So that is Oliver Hilditch,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “That is the man,” Francis observed, “of whom last evening half the people + in this restaurant were probably asking themselves whether or not he was + guilty of murder. To-night they will be wondering what he is going to + order for dinner. It is a strange world.” + </p> + <p> + “Strange indeed,” Wilmore assented. “This afternoon he was in the dock, + with his fate in the balance—the condemned cell or a favoured table + at Claridge's. And your meeting! One can imagine him gripping your hands, + with tears in his eyes, his voice broken with emotion, sobbing out his + thanks. And instead you exchange polite bows. I would not have missed this + situation for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Tradesman!” Francis scoffed. “One can guess already at the plot of your + next novel.” + </p> + <p> + “He has courage,” Wilmore declared. “He has also a very beautiful + companion. Were you serious, Francis, when you told me that that was his + wife?” + </p> + <p> + “She herself was my informant,” was the quiet reply. + </p> + <p> + Wilmore was puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “But she passed you just now without even a glance of recognition, and I + thought you told me at the club this afternoon that all your knowledge of + his evil ways came from her. Besides, she looks at least twenty years + younger than he does.” + </p> + <p> + Francis, who had been watching his glass filled with champagne, raised it + to his lips and drank its contents steadily to the last drop. + </p> + <p> + “I can only tell you what I know, Andrew,” he said, as he set down the + empty glass. “The woman who is with him now is the woman who spoke to me + outside the Old Bailey this afternoon. We went to a tea-shop together. She + told me the story of his career. I have never listened to so horrible a + recital in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet they are here together, dining tete-a-tete, on a night when it + must have needed more than ordinary courage for either of them to have + been seen in public at all,” Wilmore pointed out. + </p> + <p> + “It is as astounding to me as it is to you,” Francis confessed. “From the + way she spoke, I should never have dreamed that they were living + together.” + </p> + <p> + “And from his appearance,” Wilmore remarked, as he called the waiter to + bring some cigarettes, “I should never have imagined that he was anything + else save a high-principled, well-born, straightforward sort of chap. I + never saw a less criminal type of face.” + </p> + <p> + They each in turn glanced at the subject of their discussion. Oliver + Hilditch's good-looks had been the subject of many press comments during + the last few days. They were certainly undeniable. His face was a little + lined but his hair was thick and brown. His features were regular, his + forehead high and thoughtful, his mouth a trifle thin but straight and + shapely. Francis gazed at him like a man entranced. The hours seemed to + have slipped away. He was back in the tea-shop, listening to the woman who + spoke of terrible things. He felt again his shivering abhorrence of her + cold, clearly narrated story. Again he shrank from the horrors from which + with merciless fingers she had stripped the coverings. He seemed to see + once more the agony in her white face, to hear the eternal pain aching and + throbbing in her monotonous tone. He rose suddenly to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Andrew,” he begged, “tell the fellow to bring the bill outside. We'll + have our coffee and liqueurs there.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore acquiesced willingly enough, but even as they turned towards the + door Francis realised what was in store for him. Oliver Hilditch had risen + to his feet. With a courteous little gesture he intercepted the passer-by. + Francis found himself standing side by side with the man for whose life he + had pleaded that afternoon, within a few feet of the woman whose terrible + story seemed to have poisoned the very atmosphere he breathed, to have + shown him a new horror in life, to have temporarily, at any rate, + undermined every joy and ambition he possessed. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” Hilditch said, speaking with quiet dignity, “I hope that you + will forgive the liberty I take in speaking to you here. I looked for you + the moment I was free this afternoon, but found that you had left the + Court. I owe you my good name, probably my life. Thanks are poor things + but they must be spoken.” + </p> + <p> + “You owe me nothing at all,” Francis replied, in a tone which even he + found harsh. “I had a brief before me and a cause to plead. It was a + chapter out of my daily work.” + </p> + <p> + “That work can be well done or ill,” the other reminded him gently. “In + your case, my presence here proves how well it was done. I wish to present + you to my wife, who shares my gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + Francis bowed to the woman, who now, at her husband's words, raised her + eyes. For the first time he saw her smile. It seemed to him that the + effort made her less beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Your pleading was very wonderful, Mr. Ledsam,” she said, a very subtle + note of mockery faintly apparent in her tone. “We poor mortals find it + difficult to understand that with you all that show of passionate + earnestness is merely—what did you call it?—a chapter in your + day's work? It is a great gift to be able to argue from the brain and + plead as though from the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “We will not detain Mr. Ledsam,” Oliver Hilditch interposed, a little + hastily. “He perhaps does not care to be addressed in public by a client + who still carries with him the atmosphere of the prison. My wife and I + wondered, Mr. Ledsam, whether you would be good enough to dine with us one + night. I think I could interest you by telling you more about my case than + you know at present, and it would give us a further opportunity, and a + more seemly one, for expressing our gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + Francis had recovered himself by this time. He was after all a man of + parts, and though he still had the feeling that he had been through one of + the most momentous days of his life, his savoir faire was making its + inevitable reappearance. He knew very well that the idea of that dinner + would be horrible to him. He also knew that he would willingly cancel + every engagement he had rather than miss it. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Are we fortunate enough to find you disengaged,” Hilditch suggested, + “to-morrow evening?” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite free,” was the ready response. + </p> + <p> + “That suits you, Margaret?” Hilditch asked, turning courteously to his + wife. + </p> + <p> + For a single moment her eyes were fixed upon those of her prospective + guest. He read their message which pleaded for his refusal, and he denied + it. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow evening will suit me as well as any other,” she acquiesced, + after a brief pause. + </p> + <p> + “At eight o'clock, then—number 10 b, Hill Street,” Hilditch + concluded. + </p> + <p> + Francis bowed and turned away with a murmured word of polite assent. + Outside, he found Wilmore deep in the discussion of the merits of various + old brandies with an interested maitre d'hotel. + </p> + <p> + “Any choice, Francis?” his host enquired. + </p> + <p> + “None whatever,” was the prompt reply, “only, for God's sake, give me a + double one quickly!” + </p> + <p> + The two men were on the point of departure when Oliver Hilditch and his + wife left the restaurant. As though conscious that they had become the + subject of discussion, as indeed was the case, thanks to the busy + whispering of the various waiters, they passed without lingering through + the lounge into the entrance hall, where Francis and Andrew Wilmore were + already waiting for a taxicab. Almost as they appeared, a new arrival was + ushered through the main entrance, followed by porters carrying luggage. + He brushed past Francis so closely that the latter looked into his face, + half attracted and half repelled by the waxen-like complexion, the + piercing eyes, and the dignified carriage of the man whose arrival seemed + to be creating some stir in the hotel. A reception clerk and a deputy + manager had already hastened forward. The newcomer waved them back for a + moment. Bareheaded, he had taken Margaret Hilditch's hands in his and + raised them to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I came as quickly as I could,” he said. “There was the usual delay, of + course, at Marseilles, and the trains on were terrible. So all has ended + well.” + </p> + <p> + Oliver Hilditch, standing by, remained speechless. It seemed for a moment + as though his self-control were subjected to a severe strain. + </p> + <p> + “I had the good fortune,” he interposed, in a low tone, “to be wonderfully + defended. Mr. Ledsam here—” + </p> + <p> + He glanced around. Francis, with some idea of what was coming, obeyed an + imaginary summons from the head-porter, touched Andrew Wilmore upon the + shoulder, and hastened without a backward glance through the swing-doors. + Wilmore turned up his coat-collar and looked doubtfully up at the rain. + </p> + <p> + “I say, old chap,” he protested, “you don't really mean to walk?” + </p> + <p> + Francis thrust his hand through his friend's arm and wheeled him round + into Davies Street. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care what the mischief we do, Andrew,” he confided, “but couldn't + you see what was going to happen? Oliver Hilditch was going to introduce + me as his preserver to the man who had just arrived!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you afflicted with modesty, all of a sudden?” Wilmore grumbled. + </p> + <p> + “No, remorse,” was the terse reply. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + Indecision had never been one of Francis Ledsam's faults, but four times + during the following day he wrote out a carefully worded telegraphic + message to Mrs. Oliver Hilditch, 10 b, Hill Street, regretting his + inability to dine that night, and each time he destroyed it. He carried + the first message around Richmond golf course with him, intending to + dispatch his caddy with it immediately on the conclusion of the round. The + fresh air, however, and the concentration required by the game, seemed to + dispel the nervous apprehensions with which he had anticipâtéd his visit, + and over an aperitif in the club bar he tore the telegram into small + pieces and found himself even able to derive a certain half-fearful + pleasure from the thought of meeting again the woman who, together with + her terrible story, had never for one moment been out of his thoughts. + Andrew Wilmore, who had observed his action, spoke of it as they settled + down to lunch. + </p> + <p> + “So you are going to keep your engagement tonight, Francis?” he observed. + </p> + <p> + The latter nodded. + </p> + <p> + “After all, why not?” he asked, a little defiantly. “It ought to be + interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's nothing of the sordid criminal, at any rate, about Oliver + Hilditch,” Wilmore declared. “Neither, if one comes to think of it, does + his wife appear to be the prototype of suffering virtue. I wonder if you + are wise to go, Francis?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” the man who had asked himself that question a dozen times + already, demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” Wilmore replied coolly, “underneath that steely hardness of + manner for which your profession is responsible, you have a vein of + sentiment, of chivalrous sentiment, I should say, which some day or other + is bound to get you into trouble. The woman is beautiful enough to turn + any one's head. As a matter of fact, I believe that you are more than half + in love with her already.” + </p> + <p> + Francis Ledsam sat where the sunlight fell upon his strong, forceful face, + shone, too, upon the table with its simple but pleasant appointments, upon + the tankard of beer by his side, upon the plate of roast beef to which he + was already doing ample justice. He laughed with the easy confidence of a + man awakened from some haunting nightmare, relieved to find his feet once + more firm upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + “I have been a fool to take the whole matter so seriously, Andrew,” he + declared. “I expect to walk back to Clarges Street to-night, + disillusioned. The man will probably present me with a gold pencil-case, + and the woman—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what about the woman?” Wilmore asked, after a brief pause. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know!” Francis declared, a little impatiently. “The woman is + the mystery, of course. Probably my brain was a little over-excited when I + came out of Court, and what I imagined to be an epic was nothing more than + a tissue of exaggerations from a disappointed wife. I'm sure I'm doing the + right thing to go there.... What about a four-ball this afternoon, + Andrew?” + </p> + <p> + The four-ball match was played and won in normal fashion. The two men + returned to town together afterwards, Wilmore to the club and Francis to + his rooms in Clarges Street to prepare for dinner. At a few minutes to + eight he rang the bell of number 10 b, Hill Street, and found his host and + hostess awaiting him in the small drawing-room into which he was ushered. + It seemed to him that the woman, still colourless, again marvellously + gowned, greeted him coldly. His host, however, was almost too effusive. + There was no other guest, but the prompt announcement of dinner dispelled + what might have been a few moments of embarrassment after Oliver + Hilditch's almost too cordial greeting. The woman laid her fingers upon + her guest's coat-sleeve. The trio crossed the little hall almost in + silence. + </p> + <p> + Dinner was served in a small white Georgian dining-room, with every + appurtenance of almost Sybaritic luxury. The only light in the room was + thrown upon the table by two purple-shaded electric lamps, and the + servants who waited seemed to pass backwards and forwards like shadows in + some mysterious twilight—even the faces of the three diners + themselves were out of the little pool of light until they leaned forward. + The dinner was chosen with taste and restraint, the wines were not only + costly but rare. A watchful butler, attended now and then by a trim + parlour-maid, superintended the service. Only once, when she ordered a + bowl of flowers removed from the table, did their mistress address either + of them. Conversation after the first few amenities speedily became almost + a monologue. One man talked whilst the others listened, and the man who + talked was Oliver Hilditch. He possessed the rare gift of imparting colour + and actuality in a few phrases to the strange places of which he spoke, of + bringing the very thrill of strange happenings into the shadowy room. It + seemed that there was scarcely a country of the world which he had not + visited, a country, that is to say, where men congregate, for he admitted + from the first that he was a city worshipper, that the empty places + possessed no charm for him. + </p> + <p> + “I am not even a sportsman,” he confessed once, half apologetically, in + reply to a question from his guest. “I have passed down the great rivers + of the world without a thought of salmon, and I have driven through the + forest lands and across the mountains behind a giant locomotive, without a + thought of the beasts which might be lurking there, waiting to be killed. + My only desire has been to reach the next place where men and women were.” + </p> + <p> + “Irrespective of nationality?” Francis queried. + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely. I have never minded much of what race—I have the trick + of tongues rather strangely developed—but I like the feeling of + human beings around me. I like the smell and sound and atmosphere of a + great city. Then all my senses are awake, but life becomes almost turgid + in my veins during the dreary hours of passing from one place to another.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you rule out scenery as well as sport from amongst the joys of + travel?” Francis enquired. + </p> + <p> + “I am ashamed to make such a confession,” his host answered, “but I have + never lingered for a single unnecessary moment to look at the most + wonderful landscape in the world. On the other hand, I have lounged for + hours in the narrowest streets of Pekin, in the markets of Shanghai, along + Broadway in New York, on the boulevards in Paris, outside the Auditorium + in Chicago. These are the obvious places where humanity presses the + thickest, but I know of others. Some day we will talk of them.” + </p> + <p> + Francis, too, although that evening, through sheer lack of sympathy, he + refused to admit it, shared to some extent Hilditch's passionate interest + in his fellow-creatures, and notwithstanding the strange confusion of + thought into which he had been thrown during the last twenty-four hours, + he felt something of the pungency of life, the thrill of new and appealing + surroundings, as he sat in his high-backed chair, sipping his wonderful + wine, eating almost mechanically what was set before him, fascinated + through all his being by his strange company. + </p> + <p> + For three days he had cast occasional glances at this man, seated in the + criminal dock with a gaoler on either side of him, his fine, nervous + features gaining an added distinction from the sordidness of his + surroundings. Now, in the garb of civilisation, seated amidst luxury to + which he was obviously accustomed, with a becoming light upon his face and + this strange, fascinating flow of words proceeding always from his lips, + the man, from every external point of view, seemed amongst the chosen ones + of the world. The contrast was in itself amazing. And then the woman! + Francis looked at her but seldom, and when he did it was with a curious + sense of mental disturbance; poignant but unanalysable. + </p> + <p> + It was amazing to see her here, opposite the man of whom she had told him + that ghastly story, mistress of his house, to all appearance his consort, + apparently engrossed in his polished conversation, yet with that subtle + withholding of her real self which Francis rather imagined than felt, and + which somehow seemed to imply her fierce resentment of her husband's + re-entry into the arena of life. It was a situation so strange that + Francis, becoming more and more subject to its influence, was inclined to + wonder whether he had not met with some accident on his way from the + Court, and whether this was not one of the heated nightmares following + unconsciousness. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” he asked his host, during one of the brief pauses in the + conversation, “have you ever tried to analyse this interest of yours in + human beings and crowded cities, this hatred of solitude and empty + spaces?” + </p> + <p> + Oliver Hilditch smiled thoughtfully, and gazed at a salted almond which he + was just balancing between the tips of his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said simply, “it is because I have no soul.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + The three diners lingered for only a short time over their dessert. + Afterwards, they passed together into a very delightful library on the + other side of the round, stone-paved hall. Hilditch excused himself for a + moment. + </p> + <p> + “I have some cigars which I keep in my dressing-room,” he explained, “and + which I am anxious for you to try. There is an electric stove there and I + can regulate the temperature.” + </p> + <p> + He departed, closing the door behind him. Francis came a little further + into the room. His hostess, who had subsided into an easy-chair and was + holding a screen between her face and the fire, motioned him to, seat + himself opposite. He did so without words. He felt curiously and + ridiculously tongue-tied. He fell to studying the woman instead of + attempting the banality of pointless speech. From the smooth gloss of her + burnished hair, to the daintiness of her low, black brocaded shoes, she + represented, so far as her physical and outward self were concerned, + absolute perfection. No ornament was amiss, no line or curve of her figure + other than perfectly graceful. Yet even the fire's glow which she had + seemed to dread brought no flush of colour to her cheeks. Her appearance + of complete lifelessness remained. It was as though some sort of crust had + formed about her being, a condition which her very physical perfection + seemed to render the more incomprehensible. + </p> + <p> + “You are surprised to see me here living with my husband, after what I + told you yesterday afternoon?” she said calmly, breaking at last the + silence which had reigned between them. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “It seems unnatural to you, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely.” + </p> + <p> + “You still believe all that I told you?” + </p> + <p> + “I must.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at the door and raised her head a little, as though either + listening or adjudging the time before her husband would return. Then she + glanced across at him once more. + </p> + <p> + “Hatred,” she said, “does not always drive away. Sometimes it attracts. + Sometimes the person who hates can scarcely bear the other out of his + sight. That is where hate and love are somewhat alike.” + </p> + <p> + The room was warm but Francis was conscious of shivering. She raised her + finger warningly. It seemed typical of the woman, somehow, that the + message could not be conveyed by any glance or gesture. + </p> + <p> + “He is coming,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + Oliver Hilditch reappeared, carrying cigars wrapped in gold foil which he + had brought with him from Cuba, the tobacco of which was a revelation to + his guest. The two men smoked and sipped their coffee and brandy. The + woman sat with half-closed eyes. It was obvious that Hilditch was still in + the mood for speech. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you, Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “why I am so happy to have you + here this evening. In the first place, I desire to tender you once more my + thanks for your very brilliant efforts on my behalf. The very fact that I + am able to offer you hospitality at all is without a doubt due to these.” + </p> + <p> + “I only did what I was paid to do,” Francis insisted, a little harshly. + “You must remember that these things come in the day's work with us.” + </p> + <p> + His host nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” he murmured. “There was another reason, too, why I was + anxious to meet you, Mr. Ledsam,” he continued. “You have gathered already + that I am something of a crank. I have a profound detestation of all + sentimentality and affected morals. It is a relief to me to come into + contact with a man who is free from that bourgeois incubus to modern + enterprise—a conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that your estimate of me?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? You practise your profession in the criminal courts, do you + not?” + </p> + <p> + “That is well-known,” was the brief reply. + </p> + <p> + “What measure of conscience can a man have,” Oliver Hilditch argued + blandly, “who pleads for the innocent and guilty alike with the same + simulated fervour? Confess, now, Mr. Ledsam—there is no object in + being hypocritical in this matter—have you not often pleaded for the + guilty as though you believed them innocent?” + </p> + <p> + “That has sometimes been my duty,” Francis acknowledged. + </p> + <p> + Hilditch laughed scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “It is all part of the great hypocrisy of society,” he proclaimed. “You + have an extra glass of champagne for dinner at night and are congratulated + by your friends because you have helped some poor devil to cheat the law, + while all the time you know perfectly well, and so do your high-minded + friends, that your whole attitude during those two hours of eloquence has + been a lie. That is what first attracted me to you, Mr. Ledsam.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear it,” Francis commented coldly. “The ethics of my + profession—” + </p> + <p> + His host stopped him with a little wave of the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Spare me that,” he begged. “While we are on the subject, though, I have a + question to ask you. My lawyer told me, directly after he had briefed you, + that, although it would make no real difference to your pleading, it would + be just as well for me to keep up my bluff of being innocent, even in + private conversation with you. Why was that?” + </p> + <p> + “For the very obvious reason,” Francis told him, “that we are not all such + rogues and vagabonds as you seem to think. There is more satisfaction to + me, at any rate, in saving an innocent man's life than a guilty one's.” + </p> + <p> + Hilditch laughed as though amused. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he threatened, “I am going to be ill-natured. You have shown signs + of smugness, a quality which I detest. I am going to rob you of some part + of your self-satisfaction. Of course I killed Jordan. I killed him in the + very chair in which you are now sitting.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's intense silence. The woman was still fanning herself + lazily. Francis leaned forward in his place. + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to hear this!” he exclaimed harshly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be foolish,” his host replied, rising to his feet and strolling + across the room. “You know the whole trouble of the prosecution. They + couldn't discover the weapon, or anything like it, with which the deed was + done. Now I'll show you something ingenious.” + </p> + <p> + Francis followed the other's movements with fascinated eyes. The woman + scarcely turned her head. Hilditch paused at the further end of the room, + where there were a couple of gun cases, some fishing rods and a bag, of + golf clubs. From the latter he extracted a very ordinary-looking putter, + and with it in his hands strolled back to them. + </p> + <p> + “Do you play golf, Ledsam?” he asked. “What do you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + Francis took the putter into his hand. It was a very ordinary club, which + had apparently seen a good deal of service, so much, indeed, that the + leather wrapping at the top was commencing to unroll. The maker's name was + on the back of the blade, also the name of the professional from whom it + had been purchased. Francis swung the implement mechanically with his + wrists. + </p> + <p> + “There seems to be nothing extraordinary about the club,” he pronounced. + “It is very much like a cleek I putt with myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet it contains a secret which would most certainly have hanged me,” + Oliver Hilditch declared pleasantly. “See!” + </p> + <p> + He held the shaft firmly in one hand and bent the blade away from it. In a + moment or two it yielded and he commenced to unscrew it. A little + exclamation escaped from Francis' lips. The woman looked on with tired + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The join in the steel,” Hilditch pointed out, “is so fine as to be + undistinguishable by the naked eye. Yet when the blade comes off, like + this, you see that although the weight is absolutely adjusted, the inside + is hollow. The dagger itself is encased in this cotton wool to avoid any + rattling. I put it away in rather a hurry the last time I used it, and as + you see I forgot to clean it.” + </p> + <p> + Francis staggered back and gripped at the mantelpiece. His eyes were + filled with horror. Very slowly, and with the air of one engaged upon some + interesting task, Oliver Hilditch had removed the blood-stained sheath of + cotton wool from around the thin blade of a marvellous-looking stiletto, + on which was also a long stain of encrusted blood. + </p> + <p> + “There is a handle,” he went on, “which is perhaps the most ingenious + thing of all. You touch a spring here, and behold!” + </p> + <p> + He pressed down two tiny supports which opened upon hinges about four + inches from the top of the handle. There was now a complete hilt. + </p> + <p> + “With this little weapon,” he explained, “the point is so sharpened and + the steel so wonderful that it is not necessary to stab. It has the + perfection of a surgical instrument. You have only to lean it against a + certain point in a man's anatomy, lunge ever so little and the whole thing + is done. Come here, Mr. Ledsam, and I will show you the exact spot.” + </p> + <p> + Francis made no movement. His eyes were fixed upon the weapon. + </p> + <p> + “If I had only known!” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, if you had,” the other protested soothingly, “you know + perfectly well that it would not have made the slightest difference. + Perhaps that little break in your voice would not have come quite so + naturally, the little sweep of your arm towards me, the man whom a + moment's thoughtlessness might sweep into Eternity, would have been a + little stiffer, but what matter? You would still have done your best and + you would probably still have succeeded. You don't care about trifling + with Eternity, eh? Very well, I will find the place for you.” + </p> + <p> + Hilditch's fingers strayed along his shirt-front until he found a certain + spot. Then he leaned the dagger against it, his forefinger and second + finger pressed against the hilt. His eyes were fixed upon his guest's. He + seemed genuinely interested. Francis, glancing away for a moment, was + suddenly conscious of a new horror. The woman had leaned a little forward + in her easy-chair until she had attained almost a crouching position. Her + eyes seemed to be measuring the distance from where she sat to that + quivering thread of steel. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Ledsam,” his host went on, “that point driven now at that angle + would go clean through the vital part of my heart. And it needs no force, + either—just the slow pressure of these two fingers. What did you + say, Margaret?” he enquired, breaking off abruptly. + </p> + <p> + The woman was seated upon the very edge of her chair, her eyes rivetted + upon the dagger. There was no change in her face, not a tremor in her + tone. + </p> + <p> + “I said nothing,” she replied. “I did not speak at all. I was just + watching.” + </p> + <p> + Hilditch turned back to his guest. + </p> + <p> + “These two fingers,” he repeated, “and a flick of the wrist—very + little more than would be necessary for a thirty yard putt right across + the green.” + </p> + <p> + Francis had recovered himself, had found his bearings to a certain extent. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry that you have told me this, Mr. Hilditch,” he said, a little + stiffly. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” was the puzzled reply. “I thought you would be interested.” + </p> + <p> + “I am interested to this extent,” Francis declared, “I shall accept no + more cases such as yours unless I am convinced of my client's innocence. I + look upon your confession to me as being in the worst possible taste, and + I regret very much my efforts on your behalf.” + </p> + <p> + The woman was listening intently. Hilditch's expression was one of cynical + wonder. Francis rose to his feet and moved across to his hostess. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Hilditch,” he said, “will you allow me to make my apologies? Your + husband and I have arrived at an understanding—or perhaps I should + say a misunderstanding—which renders the acceptance of any further + hospitality on my part impossible.” + </p> + <p> + She held out the tips of her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I had no idea,” she observed, with gentle sarcasm, “that you barristers + were such purists morally. I thought you were rather proud of being the + last hope of the criminal classes.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” Francis replied, “I am not proud of having saved the life of a + self-confessed murderer, even though that man may be your husband.” + </p> + <p> + Hilditch was laughing softly to himself as he escorted his departing guest + to the door. + </p> + <p> + “You have a quaint sense of humour,” Francis remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” Oliver Hilditch begged, “but your last few words rather + appealed to me. You must be a person of very scanty perceptions if you + could spend the evening here and not understand that my death is the one + thing in the world which would make my wife happy.” + </p> + <p> + Francis walked home with these last words ringing in his ears. They seemed + with him even in that brief period of troubled sleep which came to him + when he had regained his rooms and turned in. They were there in the + middle of the night when he was awakened, shivering, by the shrill summons + of his telephone bell. He stood quaking before the instrument in his + pajamas. It was the voice which, by reason of some ghastly premonition, he + had dreaded to hear—level, composed, emotionless. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam?” she enquired. + </p> + <p> + “I am Francis Ledsam,” he assented. “Who wants me?” + </p> + <p> + “It is Margaret Hilditch speaking,” she announced. “I felt that I must + ring up and tell you of a very strange thing which happened after you left + this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he begged hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “After you left,” she went on, “my husband persisted in playing with that + curious dagger. He laid it against his heart, and seated himself in the + chair which Mr. Jordan had occupied, in the same attitude. It was what he + called a reconstruction. While he was holding it there, I think that he + must have had a fit, or it may have been remorse, we shall never know. He + called out and I hurried across the room to him. I tried to snatch the + dagger away—I did so, in fact—but I must have been too late. + He had already applied that slight movement of the fingers which was + necessary. The doctor has just left. He says that death must have been + instantaneous.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is horrible!” Francis cried out into the well of darkness. + </p> + <p> + “A person is on the way from Scotland Yard,” the voice continued, without + change or tremor. “When he has satisfied himself, I am going to bed. He is + here now. Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + Francis tried to speak again but his words beat against a wall of silence. + He sat upon the edge of the bed, shivering. In that moment of agony he + seemed to hear again the echo of Oliver Hilditch's mocking words: + </p> + <p> + “My death is the one thing in the world which would make my wife happy!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + There was a good deal of speculation at the Sheridan Club, of which he was + a popular and much envied member, as to the cause for the complete + disappearance from their midst of Francis Ledsam since the culmination of + the Hilditch tragedy. + </p> + <p> + “Sent back four topping briefs, to my knowledge, last week,” one of the + legal luminaries of the place announced to a little group of friends and + fellow-members over a before-dinner cocktail. + </p> + <p> + “Griggs offered him the defence of William Bull, the Chippenham murderer, + and he refused it,” another remarked. “Griggs wrote him personally, and + the reply came from the Brancaster Golf Club! It isn't like Ledsam to be + taking golfing holidays in the middle of the session.” + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing wrong with Ledsam,” declared a gruff voice from the + corner. “And don't gossip, you fellows, at the top of your voices like a + lot of old women. He'll be calling here for me in a moment or two.” + </p> + <p> + They all looked around. Andrew Wilmore rose slowly to his feet and emerged + from behind the sheets of an evening paper. He laid his hand upon the + shoulder of a friend, and glanced towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “Ledsam's had a touch of nerves,” he confided. “There's been nothing else + the matter with him. We've been down at the Dormy House at Brancaster and + he's as right as a trivet now. That Hilditch affair did him in + completely.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why,” one of the bystanders observed. “He got Hilditch off + all right. One of the finest addresses to a jury I ever heard.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just the point,” Wilmore explained “You see, Ledsam had no idea + that Hilditch was really guilty, and for two hours that afternoon he + literally fought for his life, and in the end wrested a verdict from the + jury, against the judge's summing up, by sheer magnetism or eloquence or + whatever you fellows like to call it. The very night after, Hilditch + confesses his guilt and commits suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “I still don't see where Ledsam's worry comes in,” the legal luminary + remarked. “The fact that the man was guilty is rather a feather in the cap + of his counsel. Shows how jolly good his pleading must have been.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so,” Wilmore agreed, “but Ledsam, as you know, is a very + conscientious sort of fellow, and very sensitive, too. The whole thing was + a shock to him.” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been a queer experience,” a novelist remarked from the + outskirts of the group, “to dine with a man whose life you have juggled + away from the law, and then have him explain his crime to you, and the + exact manner of its accomplishment. Seems to bring one amongst the goats, + somehow.” + </p> + <p> + “Bit of a shock, no doubt,” the lawyer assented, “but I still don't + understand Ledsam's sending back all his briefs. He's not going to chuck + the profession, is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Not by any means,” Wilmore declared. “I think he has an idea, though, + that he doesn't want to accept any briefs unless he is convinced that the + person whom he has to represent is innocent, and lawyers don't like that + sort of thing, you know. You can't pick and choose, even when you have + Leadsam's gifts.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact of it is,” the novelist commented, “Francis Ledsam isn't callous + enough to be associated with you money-grubbing dispensers of the law. + He'd be all right as Public Prosecutor, a sort of Sir Galahad waving the + banner of virtue, but he hates to stuff his pockets at the expense of the + criminal classes.” + </p> + <p> + “Who the mischief are the criminal classes?” a police court magistrate + demanded. “Personally, I call war profiteering criminal, I call a good + many Stock Exchange deals criminal, and,” he added, turning to a member of + the committee who was hovering in the background, “I call it criminal to + expect us to drink French vermouth like this.” + </p> + <p> + “There is another point of view,” the latter retorted. “I call it a crime + to expect a body of intelligent men to administer without emolument to the + greed of such a crowd of rotters. You'll get the right stuff next week.” + </p> + <p> + The hall-porter approached and addressed Wilmore. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam is outside in a taxi, sir,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + “Outside in a taxi?” the lawyer repeated. “Why on earth can't he come in?” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard such rot,” another declared. “Let's go and rope him in.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam desired me to say, sir,” the hall porter continued, “to any of + his friends who might be here, that he will be in to lunch to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave him to me till then,” Wilmore begged. “He'll be all right directly. + He's simply altering his bearings and taking his time about it. If he's + promised to lunch here to-morrow, he will. He's as near as possible + through the wood. Coming up in the train, he suggested a little + conversation to-night and afterwards the normal life. He means it, too. + There's nothing neurotic about Ledsam.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Run along, then, my merry Andrew,” he said, “but see that Ledsam keeps + his word about to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Andrew Wilmore plunged boldly into the forbidden subject later on that + evening, as the two men sat side by side at one of the wall tables in + Soto's famous club restaurant. They had consumed an excellent dinner. An + empty champagne bottle had just been removed, double liqueur brandies had + taken its place. Francis, with an air of complete and even exuberant + humanity, had lit a huge cigar. The moment seemed propitious. + </p> + <p> + “Francis,” his friend began, “they say at the club that you refused to be + briefed in the Chippenham affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true,” was the calm reply. “I told Griggs that I wouldn't have + anything to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore knew then that all was well. Francis' old air of strength and + decision had returned. His voice was firm, his eyes were clear and bright. + His manner seemed even to invite questioning. + </p> + <p> + “I think I know why,” Wilmore said, “but I should like you to tell me in + your own words.” + </p> + <p> + Francis glanced around as though to be sure that they were not overheard. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” he replied, dropping his voice a little but still speaking with + great distinctness, “William Bull is a cunning and dangerous criminal whom + I should prefer to see hanged.” + </p> + <p> + “You know that?” + </p> + <p> + “I know that.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a great achievement to get him off,” Wilmore persisted. “The + evidence is very weak in places.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that I could get him off,” was the confident reply. “That is + why I will not touch the brief. I think,” Francis continued, “that I have + already conveyed it to you indirectly, but here you are in plain words, + Andrew. I have made up my mind that I will defend no man in future unless + I am convinced of his innocence.” + </p> + <p> + “That means—” + </p> + <p> + “It means practically the end of my career at the bar,” Francis admitted. + “I realise that absolutely: Fortunately, as you know, I am not dependent + upon my earnings, and I have had a wonderful ten years.” + </p> + <p> + “This is all because of the Hilditch affair, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore was still a little puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to imagine that you have something on your conscience as regards + that business,” he said boldly. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” was the calm reply. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” Wilmore protested, “I don't quite follow your line of thought. + Granted that Hilditch was a desperate criminal whom by the exercise of + your special gifts you saved from the law, surely his tragic death + balanced the account between you and Society?” + </p> + <p> + “It might have done,” Francis admitted, “if he had really committed + suicide.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore was genuinely startled. He looked at his companion curiously. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil do you mean, old chap?” he demanded. “Your own evidence at + the inquest was practically conclusive as to that.” + </p> + <p> + Francis glanced around him with apparent indifference but in reality with + keen and stealthy care. On their right was a glass division, through which + the sound of their voices could not possibly penetrate. On their left was + an empty space, and a table beyond was occupied by a well-known cinema + magnate engaged in testing the attractions in daily life of a would-be + film star. Nevertheless, Francis' voice was scarcely raised above a + whisper. + </p> + <p> + “My evidence at the coroner's inquest,” he confided, “was a subtly + concocted tissue of lies. I committed perjury freely. That is the real + reason why I've been a little on the nervy side lately, and why I took + these few months out of harness.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” Wilmore exclaimed, setting down untasted the glass of brandy + which he had just raised to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I want to finish this matter up,” Francis continued calmly, “by making a + clean breast of it to you, because from to-night I am starting afresh, + with new interests in my life, what will practically amount to a new + career. That is why I preferred not to dine at the club to-night, although + I am looking forward to seeing them all again. I wanted instead to have + this conversation with you. I lied at the inquest when I said that the + relations between Oliver Hilditch and his wife that night seemed perfectly + normal. I lied when I said that I knew of no cause for ill-will between + them. I lied when I said that I left them on friendly terms. I lied when I + said that Oliver Hilditch seemed depressed and nervous. I lied when I said + that he expressed the deepest remorse for what he had done. There was + every indication that night, of the hate which I happen to know existed + between the woman and the man. I have not the faintest doubt in my mind + but that she murdered him. In my judgment, she was perfectly justified in + doing so.” + </p> + <p> + There followed a brief but enforced silence as some late arrivals passed + their table. The room was well-ventilated but Andrew Wilmore felt suddenly + hot and choking. A woman, one of the little group of newcomers, glanced + towards Francis curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Francis Ledsam, the criminal barrister,” her companion whispered,—“the + man who got Oliver Hilditch off. The man with him is Andrew Wilmore, the + novelist. Discussing a case, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + The little party of late diners passed on their way to the further end of + the room, leaving a wave of artificiality behind, or was it, Andrew + Wilmore wondered, in a moment of half-dazed speculation, that it was they + and the rest of the gay company who represented the real things, and he + and his companion who were playing a sombre part in some unreal and + gloomier world. Francis' voice, however, when he recommenced his diatribe, + was calm and matter-of-fact enough. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he continued, argumentatively, “I was morally and actually + responsible for the man's being brought back into Society. And far worse + than that, I was responsible for his being thrust back again upon his + wife. Ergo, I was also responsible for what she did that night. The matter + seems as plain as a pikestaff to me. I did what I could to atone, rightly + or wrongly it doesn't matter, because it is over and done with. There you + are, old fellow, now you know what's been making me nervy. I've committed + wholesale perjury, but I acted according to my conscience and I think + according to justice. The thing has worried me, I admit, but it has + passed, and I'm glad it's off my chest. One more liqueur, Andrew, and if + you want to we'll talk about my plans for the future.” + </p> + <p> + The brandy was brought. Wilmore studied his friend curiously, not without + some relief. Francis had lost the harassed and nervous appearance upon + which his club friends had commented, which had been noticeable, even, to + a diminishing extent, upon the golf course at Brancaster. He was alert and + eager. He had the air of a man upon the threshold of some enterprise dear + to his heart. + </p> + <p> + “I have been through a queer experience,” Francis continued presently, as + he sipped his second liqueur. “Not only had I rather less than twelve + hours to make up my mind whether I should commit a serious offence against + the law, but a sensation which I always hoped that I might experience, has + come to me in what I suppose I must call most unfortunate fashion.” + </p> + <p> + “The woman?” Wilmore ventured. + </p> + <p> + Francis assented gloomily. There was a moment's silence. Wilmore, the + metaphysician, saw then a strange thing. He saw a light steal across his + friend's stern face. He saw his eyes for a moment soften, the hard mouth + relax, something incredible, transforming, shine, as it were, out of the + man's soul in that moment of self-revelation. It was gone like the + momentary passing of a strange gleam of sunshine across a leaden sea, but + those few seconds were sufficient. Wilmore knew well enough what had + happened. + </p> + <p> + “Oliver Hilditch's wife,” Francis went on, after a few minutes' pause, + “presents an enigma which at present I cannot hope to solve. The fact that + she received her husband back again, knowing what he was and what he was + capable of, is inexplicable to me. The woman herself is a mystery. I do + not know what lies behind her extraordinary immobility. Feeling she must + have, and courage, or she would never have dared to have ridded herself of + the scourge of her life. But beyond that my judgment tells me nothing. I + only know that sooner or later I shall seek her out. I shall discover all + that I want to know, one way or the other. It may be for happiness—it + may be the end of the things that count.” + </p> + <p> + “I guessed this,” Wilmore admitted, with a little shiver which he was + wholly unable to repress. + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Then keep it to yourself, my dear fellow,” he begged, “like everything + else I am telling you tonight. I have come out of my experience changed in + many ways,” he continued, “but, leaving out that one secret chapter, this + is the dominant factor which looms up before me. I bring into life a new + aversion, almost a passion, Andrew, born in a tea-shop in the city, and + ministered to by all that has happened since. I have lost that sort of + indifference which my profession engenders towards crime. I am at war with + the criminal, sometimes, I hope, in the Courts of Justice, but forever out + of them. I am no longer indifferent as to whether men do good or evil so + long as they do not cross my path. I am a hunter of sin. I am out to + destroy. There's a touch of melodrama in this for you, Andrew,” he + concluded, with a little laugh, “but, my God, I'm in earnest!” + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean so far as regards the routine of your daily life?” + Wilmore asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it brings us to the point we discussed down at Brancaster,” Francis + replied. “It will affect my work to this extent. I shall not accept any + brief unless, after reading the evidence, I feel convinced that the + accused is innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all very well,” Wilmore observed, “but you know what it will mean, + don't you? Lawyers aren't likely to single you out for a brief without + ever feeling sure whether you will accept it or not.” + </p> + <p> + “That doesn't worry me,” Francis declared. “I don't need the fees, + fortunately, and I can always pick up enough work to keep me going by + attending Sessions. One thing I can promise you—I certainly shall + not sit in my rooms and wait for things to happen. Mine is a militant + spirit and it needs the outlet of action.” + </p> + <p> + “Action, yes, but how?” Wilmore queried. “You can't be always hanging + about the courts, waiting for the chance of defending some poor devil + who's been wrongfully accused—there aren't enough of them, for one + thing. On the other hand, you can't walk down Regent Street, brandishing a + two-edged sword and hunting for pickpockets.” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing so flamboyant, I can assure you, Andrew,” he replied; “nor shall + I play the amateur detective with his mouth open for mysteries. But + listen,” he went on earnestly. “I've had some experience, as you know, + and, notwithstanding the Oliver Hilditch's of the world, I can generally + tell a criminal when I meet him face to face. There are plenty of them + about, too, Andrew—as many in this place as any other. I am not + going to be content with a negative position as regards evildoers. I am + going to set my heel on as many of the human vermin of this city as I can + find.” + </p> + <p> + “A laudable, a most exhilarating and delightful pursuit! `human vermin,' + too, is excellent. It opens up a new and fascinating vista for the modern + sportsman. My congratulations!” + </p> + <p> + It was an interruption of peculiar and wonderful significance, but Francis + did not for the moment appreciate the fact. Turning his head, he simply + saw a complete stranger seated unaccountably at the next table, who had + butted into a private conversation and whose tone of gentle sarcasm, + therefore, was the more offensive. + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil are you, sir,” he demanded, “and where did you come from?” + </p> + <p> + The newcomer showed no resentment at Francis' little outburst. He simply + smiled with deprecating amiability—a tall, spare man, with lean, + hard face, complexion almost unnaturally white; black hair, plentifully + besprinkled with grey; a thin, cynical mouth, notwithstanding its + distinctly humourous curve, and keen, almost brilliant dark eyes. He was + dressed in ordinary dinner garb; his linen and jewellery was indeed in the + best possible taste. Francis, at his second glance, was troubled with a + vague sense of familiarity. + </p> + <p> + “Let me answer your last question first, sir,” the intruder begged. “I was + seated alone, several tables away, when the couple next to you went out, + and having had pointed out to me the other evening at Claridge's Hotel, + and knowing well by repute, the great barrister, Mr. Francis Ledsam, and + his friend the world-famed novelist, Mr. Andrew Wilmore, I—er—unobtrusively + made my way, half a yard at a time, in your direction—and here I am. + I came stealthily, you may object? Without a doubt. If I had come in any + other fashion, I should have disturbed a conversation in which I was much + interested.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you find it convenient,” Francis asked, with icy politeness, “to + return to your own table, stealthily or not, as you choose?” + </p> + <p> + The newcomer showed no signs of moving. + </p> + <p> + “In after years,” he declared, “you would be the first to regret the fact + if I did so. This is a momentous meeting. It gives me an opportunity of + expressing my deep gratitude to you, Mr. Ledsam, for the wonderful + evidence you tendered at the inquest upon the body of my son-in-law, + Oliver Hilditch.” + </p> + <p> + Francis turned in his place and looked steadily at this unsought-for + companion, learning nothing, however, from the half-mocking smile and + imperturbable expression. + </p> + <p> + “Your son-in-law?” he repeated. “Do you mean to say that you are the + father of—of Oliver Hilditch's wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Widow,” the other corrected gently. “I have that honour. You will + understand, therefore, that I feel myself on this, the first opportunity, + compelled to tender my sincere thanks for evidence so chivalrously + offered, so flawlessly truthful.” + </p> + <p> + Francis was a man accustomed to self-control, but he clenched his hands so + that his finger nails dug into his flesh. He was filled with an insane and + unreasoning resentment against this man whose words were biting into his + conscience. Nevertheless, he kept his tone level. + </p> + <p> + “I do not desire your gratitude,” he said, “nor, if you will permit me to + say so, your further acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger shook his head regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong,” he protested. “We were bound, in any case, to know one + another. Shall I tell you why? You have just declared yourself anxious to + set your heel upon the criminals of the world. I have the distinction of + being perhaps the most famous patron of that maligned class now living—and + my neck is at your service.” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to me,” Francis said suavely, “to be a buffoon.” + </p> + <p> + It might have been fancy, but Francis could have sworn that he saw the + glitter of a sovereign malevolence in the other's dark eyes. If so, it was + but a passing weakness, for a moment later the half good-natured, half + cynical smile was back again upon the man's lips. + </p> + <p> + “If so, I am at least a buffoon of parts,” was the prompt rejoinder. “I + will, if you choose, prove myself.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's silence. Wilmore was leaning forward in his place, + studying the newcomer earnestly. An impatient invective was somehow + stifled upon Francis' lips. + </p> + <p> + “Within a few yards of this place, sometime before the closing hour + to-night,” the intruder continued, earnestly yet with a curious absence of + any human quality in his hard tone, “there will be a disturbance, and + probably what you would call a crime will be committed. Will you use your + vaunted gifts to hunt down the desperate criminal, and, in your own + picturesque phraseology, set your heel upon his neck? Success may bring + you fame, and the trail may lead—well, who knows where?” + </p> + <p> + Afterwards, both Francis and Andrew Wilmore marvelled at themselves, + unable at any time to find any reasonable explanation of their conduct, + for they answered this man neither with ridicule, rudeness nor civility. + They simply stared at him, impressed with the convincing arrogance of his + challenge and unable to find words of reply. They received his mocking + farewell without any form of reciprocation or sign of resentment. They + watched him leave the room, a dignified, distinguished figure, sped on his + way with marks of the deepest respect by waiters, maitres d'hotels and + even the manager himself. They behaved, indeed, as they both admitted + afterwards, like a couple of moonstruck idiots. When he had finally + disappeared, however, they looked at one another and the spell was broken. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm damned!” Francis exclaimed. “Soto, come here at once.” + </p> + <p> + The manager hastened smilingly to their table. + </p> + <p> + “Soto,” Francis invoked, “tell us quickly—tell us the name of the + gentleman who has just gone out, and who he is?” + </p> + <p> + Soto was amazed. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know Sir Timothy Brast, sir?” he exclaimed. “Why, he is + supposed to be one of the richest men in the world! He spends money like + water. They say that when he is in England, his place down the river alone + costs a thousand pounds a week. When he gives a party here, we can find + nothing good enough. He is our most generous client.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy Brast,” Wilmore repeated. “Yes, I have heard of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, everybody knows Sir Timothy,” Soto went on eloquently. “He is the + greatest living patron of boxing. He found the money for the last + international fight.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he often come in alone like this?” Francis asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Either alone,” Soto replied, “or with a very large party. He entertains + magnificently.” + </p> + <p> + “I've seen his name in the paper in connection with something or other, + during the last few weeks,” Wilmore remarked reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Probably about two months ago, sir,” Soto suggested. “He gave a donation + of ten thousand pounds to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to + Animals, and they made him a Vice President.... In one moment, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The manager hurried away to receive a newly-arrived guest. Francis and his + friend exchanged a wondering glance. + </p> + <p> + “Father of Oliver Hilditch's wife,” Wilmore observed, “the most munificent + patron of boxing in the world, Vice President of the Society for the + Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and self-confessed arch-criminal! He + pulled our legs pretty well!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” Francis assented absently. + </p> + <p> + Wilmore glanced at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “What about moving on somewhere?” he suggested. “We might go into the + Alhambra for half-an-hour, if you like. The last act of the show is the + best.” + </p> + <p> + Francis shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “We've got to see this thing out,” he replied. “Have you forgotten that + our friend promised us a sensation before we left?” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore began to laugh a little derisively. Then, suddenly aware of some + lack of sympathy between himself and his friend, he broke off and glanced + curiously at the latter. + </p> + <p> + “You're not taking him seriously, are you?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I am,” he confessed. + </p> + <p> + “You don't believe that he was getting at us?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “You believe that something is going to happen here in this place, or + quite close?” + </p> + <p> + “I am convinced of it,” was the calm reply. + </p> + <p> + Wilmore was silent. For a moment he was troubled with his old fears as to + his friend's condition. A glance, however, at Francis' set face and + equable, watchful air, reassured him. + </p> + <p> + “We must see the thing through, of course, then,” he assented. “Let us see + if we can spot the actors in the coming drama.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + It happened that the two men, waiting in the vestibule of the restaurant + for Francis' car to crawl up to the entrance through the fog which had + unexpectedly rolled up, heard the slight altercation which was afterwards + referred to as preceding the tragedy. The two young people concerned were + standing only a few feet away, the girl pretty, a little peevish, an + ordinary type; her companion, whose boyish features were marred with + dissipation, a very passable example of the young man about town going a + little beyond his tether. + </p> + <p> + “It's no good standing here, Victor!” the girl exclaimed, frowning. “The + commissionaire's been gone ages already, and there are two others before + us for taxis.” + </p> + <p> + “We can't walk,” her escort replied gloomily. “It's a foul night. Nothing + to do but wait, what? Let's go back and have another drink.” + </p> + <p> + The girl stamped her satin-shod foot impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be silly,” she expostulated. “You know I promised Clara we'd be + there early.” + </p> + <p> + “All very well,” the young man grumbled, “but what can we do? We shall + have to wait our turn.” + </p> + <p> + “Why can't you slip out and look for a taxi yourself?” she suggested. “Do, + Victor,” she added, squeezing his arm. “You're so clever at picking them + up.” + </p> + <p> + He made a little grimace, but lit a cigarette and turned up his coat + collar. + </p> + <p> + “I'll do my best,” he promised. “Don't go on without me.” + </p> + <p> + “Try up towards Charing Cross Road, not the other way,” she advised + earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Right-oh!” he replied, which illuminative form of assent, a word spoken + as he plunged unwillingly into the thick obscurity on the other side of + the revolving doors, was probably the last he ever uttered on earth. + </p> + <p> + Left alone, the girl began to shiver, as though suddenly cold. She turned + around and glanced hurriedly back into the restaurant. At that moment she + met the steady, questioning scrutiny of Francis' eyes. She stood as though + transfixed. Then came the sound which every one talked of for months + afterwards, the sound which no one who heard it ever forgot—the + death cry of Victor Bidlake, followed a second afterwards by a muffled + report. A strain of frenzied surprise seemed mingled with the horror. + Afterwards, silence. + </p> + <p> + There was the sound of some commotion outside, the sound of hurried + footsteps and agitated voices. Then a terrible little procession appeared. + Something—it seemed to be a shapeless heap of clothes—was + carried in and laid upon the floor, in the little space between the + revolving doors and the inner entrance. Two blue-liveried attendants kept + back the horrified but curious crowd. Francis, vaguely recognised as being + somehow or other connected with the law, was one of the few people allowed + to remain whilst a doctor, fetched out from the dancing-room, kneeled over + the prostrate form. He felt that he knew beforehand the horrible verdict + which the latter whispered in his ear after his brief examination. + </p> + <p> + “Quite dead! A ghastly business!” + </p> + <p> + Francis gazed at the hole in the shirt-front, disfigured also by a + scorching stain. + </p> + <p> + “A bullet?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The doctor nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Fired within a foot of the poor fellow's heart,” he whispered. “The + murderer wasn't taking any chances, whoever he was.” + </p> + <p> + “Have the police been sent for?” + </p> + <p> + The head-porter stepped forward. + </p> + <p> + “There was a policeman within a few yards of the spot, sir,” he replied. + “He's gone down to keep every one away from the place where we found the + body. We've telephoned to Scotland Yard for an inspector.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more can be done,” he pronounced. “Keep the people out of here + whilst I go and fetch my hat and coat. Afterwards, I'll take the body to + the mortuary when the ambulance arrives.” + </p> + <p> + An attendant pushed his way through the crowd of people on the inner side + of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Daisy Hyslop, young lady who was with Mr. Bidlake, has just fainted + in the ladies' room, sir,” he announced. “Could you come?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be there immediately,” the doctor promised. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the proceedings followed a normal course. The police arrived, + took various notes, the ambulance followed a little later, the body was + removed, and the little crowd of guests, still infected with a sort of + awed excitement, were allowed to take their leave. Francis and Wilmore + drove almost in silence to the former's rooms in Clarges Street. + </p> + <p> + “Come up and have a drink, Andrew,” Francis invited. + </p> + <p> + “I need it,” was the half-choked response. + </p> + <p> + Francis led the way in silence up the two flights of stairs into his + sitting-room, mixed whiskies and sodas from the decanter and syphon which + stood upon the sideboard, and motioned his friend to an easy-chair. Then + he gave form to the thought which had been haunting them both. + </p> + <p> + “What about our friend Sir Timothy Brast?” he enquired. “Do you believe + now that he was pulling our legs?” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief. It was a chilly + evening, but there were drops of perspiration still standing there. + </p> + <p> + “Francis,” he confessed, “it's horrible! I don't think realism like this + attracts me. It's horrible! What are we going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing for the present,” was the brief reply. “If we were to tell our + story, we should only be laughed at. What there is to be done falls to my + lot.” + </p> + <p> + “Had the police anything to say about it?” Wilmore asked. + </p> + <p> + “Only a few words,” Francis replied. “Shopland has it in hand. A good man + but unimaginative. I've come across him in one or two cases lately. You'll + find a little bit like this in the papers to-morrow: 'The murder is + believed to have been committed by one of the gang of desperadoes who have + infested the west-end during the last few months.' You remember the + assault in the Albany Court Yard, and the sandbagging in Shepherd Market + only last week?” + </p> + <p> + “That seems to let Sir Timothy out,” Wilmore remarked. + </p> + <p> + “There are many motives for crime besides robbery,” Francis declared. + “Don't be afraid, Andrew, that I am going to turn amateur detective and + make the unravelment of this case all the more difficult for Scotland + Yard. If I interfere, it will be on a certainty. Andrew, don't think I'm + mad but I've taken up the challenge our great philanthropist flung at me + to-night. I've very little interest in who killed this boy Victor Bidlake, + or why, but I'm convinced of one thing—Brast knew about it, and if + he is posing as a patron of crime on a great scale, sooner or later I + shall get him. He may think himself safe, and he may have the courage of + Beelzebub—he seems rather that type—but if my presentiment + about him—comes true, his number's up. I can almost divine the + meaning of his breaking in upon our conversation to-night. He needs an + enemy—he is thirsting for danger. He has found it!” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore filled his pipe thoughtfully. At the first whiff of tobacco he + began to feel more normal. + </p> + <p> + “After all, Francis,” he said, “aren't we a little overstrung to-night? + Sir Timothy Brast is no adventurer. He is a prince in the city, a persona + grata wherever he chooses to go. He isn't a hanger-on in Society. He isn't + even dependent upon Bohemia for his entertainment. You can't seriously + imagine that a man with his possessions is likely to risk his life and + liberty in becoming the inspiration of a band of cutthroats?” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled. He, too, had lit his pipe and had thrown himself into his + favourite chair. He smiled confidently across at his friend. + </p> + <p> + “A millionaire with brains,” he argued, “is just the one person in the + world likely to weary of all ordinary forms of diversion. I begin to + remember things about him already. Haven't you heard about his wonderful + parties down at The Walled House?” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore struck the table by his side with his clenched fist. + </p> + <p> + “By George, that's it!” he exclaimed. “Who hasn't!” + </p> + <p> + “I remember Baker talking about one last year,” Francis continued, “never + any details, but all kinds of mysterious hints—a sort of mixture + between a Roman orgy and a chapter from the 'Arabian Nights'—singers + from Petrograd, dancers from Africa and fighting men from Chicago.” + </p> + <p> + “The fellow's magnificent, at any rate,” Wilmore remarked. + </p> + <p> + His host smoked furiously for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “That's the worst of these multi-millionaires,” he declared. “They think + they can rule the world, traffic in human souls, buy morals, mock at the + law. We shall see!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the thing that I found most interesting about him?” Wilmore + asked. + </p> + <p> + “His black opals,” the other suggested. “You're by the way of being a + collector, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “The fact that he is the father of Oliver Hilditch's widow.” + </p> + <p> + Francis sat quite still for a moment. There was a complete change in his + expression. He looked like a man who has received a shock. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot that,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + Francis met Shopland one morning about a week later, on his way from + Clarges Street to his chambers in the Temple. The detective raised his hat + and would have passed on, but Francis accosted him. + </p> + <p> + “Any progress, Mr. Shopland?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + The detective fingered his small, sandy moustache. He was an + insignificant-looking little man, undersized, with thin frame and watery + eyes. His mouth, however, was hard, and there were some tell-tale little + lines at its corners. + </p> + <p> + “None whatever, I am sorry to say, Mr. Ledsam,” he admitted. “At present + we are quite in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + “You found the weapon, I hear?” + </p> + <p> + Shopland nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It was just an ordinary service revolver, dating from the time of the + war, exactly like a hundred thousand others. The enquiries we were able to + make from it came to nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Where was it picked up?” + </p> + <p> + “In the middle of the waste plot of ground next to Soto's. The murderer + evidently threw it there the moment he had discharged it. He must have + been wearing rubber-soled shoes, for not a soul heard him go.” + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” he said, after a slight pause, “whether it ever occurred to + you to interview Miss Daisy Hyslop, the young lady who was with Bidlake on + the night of his murder?” + </p> + <p> + “I called upon her the day afterwards,” the detective answered. + </p> + <p> + “She had nothing to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “Indirectly, of course,” Francis continued, “the poor girl was the cause + of his death. If she had not insisted upon his going out for a taxicab, + the man who was loitering about would probably have never got hold of + him.” + </p> + <p> + The detective glanced up furtively at the speaker. He seemed to reflect + for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I gathered,” he said, “in conversation with the commissionaire, that Miss + Hyslop was a little impatient that night. It seems, however, that she was + anxious to get to a ball which was being given down in Kensington.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a ball, was there?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt,” the detective replied. “It was given by a Miss Clara + Bultiwell. She happens to remember urging Miss Hyslop to come on as early + as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “So that's that,” Francis observed. + </p> + <p> + “Just so, Mr. Ledsam,” the detective murmured. + </p> + <p> + They were walking along the Mall now, eastwards. The detective, who seemed + to have been just a saunterer, had accommodated himself to Francis' + destination. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see, there was nothing stolen from the young man's person, was + there?” Francis asked presently. + </p> + <p> + “Apparently nothing at all, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And I gather that you have made every possible enquiry as to the young + man's relations with his friends?” + </p> + <p> + “So far as one can learn, sir, they seem to have been perfectly amicable.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” Francis remarked presently, “this may have been quite a + purposeless affair. The deed may have been committed by a man who was + practically a lunatic, without any motive or reason whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely so, sir,” the detective agreed. + </p> + <p> + “But, all the same, I don't think it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Shopland,” he said, “if there is no further external evidence to be + collected, I suggest that there is only one person likely to prove of + assistance to you.” + </p> + <p> + “And that one person, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Daisy Hyslop.” + </p> + <p> + “The young lady whom I have already seen?” + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded. + </p> + <p> + “The young lady whom you have already seen,” he assented. “At the same + time, Mr. Shopland, we must remember this. If Miss Hyslop has any + knowledge of the facts which are behind Mr. Bidlake's murder, it is more + likely to be to her interest to keep them to herself, than to give them + away to the police free gratis and for nothing. Do you follow me?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “That being so,” Francis continued, “I am going to make a proposition to + you for what it is worth. Where were you going when I met you this + morning, Shopland?” + </p> + <p> + “To call upon you in Clarges Street, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “I was going to ask you if you would be so kind as to call upon Miss Daisy + Hyslop, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Great minds,” he murmured. “I will see the young lady this afternoon, + Shopland.” + </p> + <p> + The detective raised his hat. They had reached the spot where his + companion turned off by the Horse Guards Parade. + </p> + <p> + “I may hope to hear from you, then, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Within the course of a day or two, perhaps earlier,” Francis promised. + </p> + <p> + Francis continued his walk along the Embankment to his chambers in the + Temple. He glanced in the outer office as he passed to his consulting + room. + </p> + <p> + “Anything fresh, Angrave?” he asked his head-clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever, sir,” was the quiet reply. + </p> + <p> + He passed on to his own den—a bare room with long windows looking + out over the gardens. He glanced at the two or three letters which lay on + his desk, none of them of the least interest, and leaning back in his + chair commenced to fill his pipe. There was a knock at the door. Fawsitt, + a young beginner at the bar, in whom he had taken some interest and who + deviled for him, presented himself. + </p> + <p> + “Can I have a word with you, Mr. Ledsam?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” was the prompt response. “Sit down.” + </p> + <p> + Fawsitt seated himself on the other side of the table. He had a long, thin + face, dark, narrow eyes, unwholesome complexion, a slightly hooked nose, + and teeth discoloured through constant smoking. His fingers, too, bore the + tell-tale yellow stains. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I think, with your permission, I should like to + leave at the end of my next three months.” + </p> + <p> + Francis glanced across at him. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry to hear that, Fawsitt. Are you going to work for any one else?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't made arrangements yet, sir,” the young man replied. “I thought + of offering myself to Mr. Barnes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you want to leave me?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “There isn't enough for me to do, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Francis lit his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “It's probably just a lull, Fawsitt,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! You've been gossiping with some of these solicitors' clerks, + Fawsitt.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't call it gossiping, sir. I am always interested to hear + anything that may concern our—my future. I have reason to believe, + sir, that we are being passed over for briefs.” + </p> + <p> + “The reason being?” + </p> + <p> + “One can't pick and choose, sir. One shouldn't, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You evidently don't approve of any measure of personal choice as to the + work which one takes up.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I do not, sir, in our profession. The only brief I would refuse + would be a losing or an ill-paid one. I don't conceive it to be our + business to prejudge a case.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Francis murmured. “Go on, Fawsitt.” + </p> + <p> + “There's a rumour about,” the young man continued, “that you are only + going to plead where the chances are that your client is innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “There's some truth in that,” Francis admitted. + </p> + <p> + “If I could leave a little before the three months, sir, I should be + glad,” Fawsitt said. “I look at the matter from an entirely different + point of view.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall leave when you like, of course, Fawsitt, but tell me what that + point of view is?” + </p> + <p> + “Just this, sir. The simplest-minded idiot who ever stammered through his + address, can get an innocent prisoner off if he knows enough of the facts + and the law. To my mind, the real triumph in our profession is to be able + to unwind the meshes of damning facts and force a verdict for an + indubitably guilty client.” + </p> + <p> + “How does the moral side of that appeal to you?” his senior enquired. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't become a barrister to study morals, or even to consider them,” + was the somewhat caustic reply. “When once a brief is in my mind, it is a + matter of brain, cunning and resource. The guiltier a man, the greater the + success if you can get him off.” + </p> + <p> + “And turn him loose again upon Society?” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't our job to consider that, sir. The moral question is only + confusing in the matter. Our job is to make use of the law for the benefit + of our client. That's what we're paid for. That's the measure of our + success or failure.” + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Very reasonably put, Fawsitt,” he conceded. “I'll give you a letter to + Barnes whenever you like.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be glad if you would do so, sir,” the young man said. “I'm only + wasting my time here....” + </p> + <p> + Francis wrote a letter of recommendation to Barnes, the great K.C., + considered a stray brief which had found its way in, and strolled up + towards the Milan as the hour approached luncheon-time. In the American + bar of that palatial hotel he found the young man he was looking for—a + flaxen-haired youth who was seated upon one of the small tables, with his + feet upon a chair, laying down the law to a little group of acquaintances. + He greeted Francis cordially but without that due measure of respect which + nineteen should accord to thirty-five. + </p> + <p> + “Cheerio, my elderly relative!” he exclaimed. “Have a cocktail.” + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded assent. + </p> + <p> + “Come into this corner with me for a moment, Charles,” he invited. “I have + a word for your ear.” + </p> + <p> + The young man rose and sat by his uncle's side on a settee. + </p> + <p> + “In my declining years,” the latter began, “I find myself reverting to the + follies of youth. I require a letter of introduction from you to a young + lady of your acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! Not one of my own special little pets, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Her name is Miss Daisy Hyslop,” Francis announced. + </p> + <p> + Lord Charles Southover pursed his lips and whistled. He glanced at Francis + sideways. + </p> + <p> + “Is this the beginning of a campaign amongst the butterflies,” he + enquired, “because, if so, I feel it my duty, uncle, to address to you a + few words of solemn warning. Miss Daisy Hyslop is hot stuff.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, young fellow,” Francis said equably, “I don't know what the + state of your exchequer is—” + </p> + <p> + “I owe you forty,” Lord Charles interrupted. “Spring another tenner, make + it fifty, that is, and the letter of introduction I will write for you + will bring tears of gratitude to your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll spring the tenner,” Francis promised, “but you'll write just what I + tell you—no more and no less.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything extra for keeping mum at home?” the young man ventured + tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “You're a nice sort of nephew to have!” Francis declared. “Abandon these + futile attempts at blackmail and just come this way to the writing-table.” + </p> + <p> + “You've got the tenner with you?” the young man asked anxiously. + </p> + <p> + Francis produced a well-filled pocketbook. His nephew led the way to a + writing-table, lit a cigarette which he stuck into the corner of his + mouth, and in painstaking fashion wrote the few lines which Francis + dictated. The ten pounds changed hands. + </p> + <p> + “Have one with me for luck?” the young man invited brightly. “No? Perhaps + you're right,” he added, in valedictory fashion. “You'd better keep your + head clear for Daisy!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + Miss Daisy Hyslop received Francis that afternoon, in the sitting-room of + her little suite at the Milan. Her welcoming smile was plaintive and a + little subdued, her manner undeniably gracious. She was dressed in black, + a wonderful background for her really gorgeous hair, and her deportment + indicated a recent loss. + </p> + <p> + “How nice of you to come and see me,” she murmured, with a lingering touch + of the fingers. “Do take that easy-chair, please, and sit down and talk to + me. Your roses were beautiful, but whatever made you send them to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Impulse,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “Then please yield to such impulses as often as you feel them,” she + begged. “I adore flowers. Just now, too,” she added, with a little sigh, + “anything is welcome which helps to keep my mind off my own affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “It was very good of you to let me come,” he declared. “I can quite + understand that you don't feel like seeing many people just now.” + </p> + <p> + Francis' manner, although deferential and courteous, had nevertheless some + quality of aloofness in it to which she was unused and which she was quick + to recognise. The smile, faded from her face. She seemed suddenly not + quite so young. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I seen you before somewhere quite lately?” she asked, a little + sharply. + </p> + <p> + “You saw me at Soto's, the night that Victor Bidlake was murdered,” he + reminded her. “I stood quite close to you both while you were waiting for + your taxi.” + </p> + <p> + The animation evoked by this call from a presumably new admirer, suddenly + left her. She became nervous and constrained. She glanced again at his + card. + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell me,” she begged, “that you have come to ask me any questions + about that night! I simply could not bear it. The police have been here + twice, and I had nothing to tell them, absolutely nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” he assented soothingly. “Police have such a clumsy way of + expecting valuable information for nothing. I'm always glad to hear of + their being disappointed.” + </p> + <p> + She studied her visitor for a moment carefully. Then she turned to the + table by her side, picked up a note and read it through. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Southover tells me here,” she said, “that you are just a pal of his + who wants to make my acquaintance. He doesn't say why.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that necessary?” Francis asked good-naturedly. + </p> + <p> + She moved in her chair a little nervously, crossing and uncrossing her + legs more than once. Her white silk stockings underneath her black skirt + were exceedingly effective, a fact of which she never lost consciousness, + although at that moment she was scarcely inspired to play the coquette. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to think it wasn't,” she admitted frankly. + </p> + <p> + “I've seen you repeatedly upon the stage,” he told her, “and, though + musical comedy is rather out of my line, I have always admired you + immensely.” + </p> + <p> + She studied him once more almost wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “You look very nice,” she acknowledged, “but you don't look at all the + kind of man who admires girls who do the sort of rubbish I do on the + stage.” + </p> + <p> + “What do I look like?” he asked, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “A man with a purpose,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “I begin to think,” he ventured, “that we shall get on. You are really a + very astute young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite sure you're not one of these amateur detectives one reads + about?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” he assured her. “I will confess that I am interested in + Victor Bidlake's death, and I should like to discover the truth about it, + but I have a reason for that which I may tell you some day. It has nothing + whatever to do with the young man himself. To the best of my belief, I + never saw or heard of him before in my life. My interest lies with another + person. You have lost a great friend, I know. If you felt disposed to tell + me the whole story, it might make such a difference.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed. Her confidence was returning—also her self-pity. The + latter at once betrayed itself. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” she confided, “Victor and I were engaged to be married, so + naturally I let him help me a little. I shan't be able to stay on here + now. They are bothering me about their bill already,” she added, with a + side-glance at an envelope which stood on a table by her side. + </p> + <p> + He drew a little nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Hyslop—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Daisy,” she interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Daisy Hyslop, then,” he continued, smiling, “I suggested just now + that I did not want to come and bother you for information without any + return. If I can be of any assistance to you in that matter,” he added, + glancing towards the envelope, “I shall be very pleased.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed gratefully. + </p> + <p> + “Just till Victor's people return to town,” she said. “I know that they + mean to do something for me.” + </p> + <p> + “How much?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred pounds would keep me going,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + He wrote out a cheque. Miss Hyslop drew a sigh of relief as she laid it on + one side with the envelope. Then she swung round in her chair to face him + where he sat at the writing-table. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you will think that what I have to tell is very + insignificant,” she confessed. “Victor was one of those boys who always + fancied themselves bored. He was bored with polo, bored with motoring, + bored with the country and bored with town. Then quite suddenly during the + last few weeks he seemed changed. All that he would tell me was that he + had found a new interest in life. I don't know what it was but I don't + think it was a nice one. He seemed to drop all his old friends, too, and + go about with a new set altogether—not a nice set at all. He used to + stay out all night, and he quite gave up going to dances and places where + he could take me. Once or twice he came here in the afternoon, dead beat, + without having been to bed at all, and before he could say half-a-dozen + words he was asleep in my easy-chair. He used to mutter such horrible + things that I had to wake him up.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he ever short of money?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Not seriously,” she answered. “He was quite well-off, besides what his + people allowed him. I was going to have a wonderful settlement as soon as + our engagement was announced. However, to go on with what I was telling + you, the very night before—it happened—he came in to see me, + looking like nothing on earth. He cried like a baby, behaved like a + lunatic, and called himself all manner of names. He had had a great deal + too much to drink, and I gathered that he had seen something horrible. It + was then he asked me to dine with him the next night, and told me that he + was going to break altogether with his new friends. Something in + connection with them seemed to have given him a terrible fright.” + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded. He had the tact to abandon his curiosity at this precise + point. + </p> + <p> + “The old story,” he declared, “bad company and rotten habits. I suppose + some one got to know that the young man usually carried a great deal of + money about with him.” + </p> + <p> + “It was so foolish of him,” she assented eagerly: “I warned him about it + so often. The police won't listen to it but I am absolutely certain that + he was robbed. I noticed when he paid the bill that he had a great wad of + bank-notes which were never discovered afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + Francis rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing to-night?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she acknowledged eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Then let's dine somewhere and see the show at the Frivolity,” he + suggested. + </p> + <p> + “You dear man!” she assented with enthusiasm. “The one thing I wanted to + do, and the one person I wanted to do it with.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + It was after leaving Miss Daisy Hyslop's flat that the event to which + Francis Ledsam had been looking forward more than anything else in the + world, happened. It came about entirely by chance. There were no taxis in + the Strand. Francis himself had finished work for the day, and feeling + disinclined for his usual rubber of bridge, he strolled homewards along + the Mall. At the corner of Green Park, he came face to face with the woman + who for the last few months had scarcely been out of his thoughts. Even in + that first moment he realised to his pain that she would have avoided him + if she could. They met, however, where the path narrowed, and he left her + no chance to avoid him. That curious impulse of conventionality which + opens a conversation always with cut and dried banalities, saved them + perhaps from a certain amount of embarrassment. Without any conscious + suggestion, they found themselves walking side by side. + </p> + <p> + “I have been wanting to see you very much indeed,” he said. “I even went + so far as to wonder whether I dared call.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you?” she asked. “Our acquaintance began and ended in tragedy. + There is scarcely any purpose in carrying it further.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her for a moment before replying. She was wearing black, but + scarcely the black of a woman who sorrows. She was still frigidly + beautiful, redolent, in all the details of her toilette, of that almost + negative perfection which he had learnt to expect from her. She suggested + to him still that same sense of aloofness from the actualities of life. + </p> + <p> + “I prefer not to believe that it is ended,” he protested. “Have you so + many friends that you have no room for one who has never consciously done + you any harm?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with some faint curiosity in her immobile features. + </p> + <p> + “Harm? No! On the contrary, I suppose I ought to thank you for your + evidence at the inquest.” + </p> + <p> + “Some part of it was the truth,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” she admitted drily. “You told it very cleverly.” + </p> + <p> + He looked her in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My profession helped me to be a good witness,” he said. “As for the gist + of my evidence, that was between my conscience and myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Your conscience?” she repeated. “Are there really men who possess such + things?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will discover that for yourself some day,” he answered. “Tell + me your plans? Where are you living?” + </p> + <p> + “For the present with my father in Curzon Street.” + </p> + <p> + “With Sir Timothy Brast?” + </p> + <p> + She assented. + </p> + <p> + “You know him?” she asked indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Very slightly,” Francis replied. “We talked together, some nights ago, at + Soto's Restaurant. I am afraid that I did not make a very favourable + impression upon him. I gathered, too, that he has somewhat eccentric + tastes.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not see a great deal of my father,” she said. “We met, a few months + ago, for the first time since my marriage, and things have been a little + difficult between us—just at first. He really scarcely ever puts in + an appearance at Curzon Street. I dare say you have heard that he makes a + hobby of an amazing country house which he has down the river.” + </p> + <p> + “The Walled House?” he ventured. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I see you have heard of it. All London, they tell me, gossips about the + entertainments there.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they really so wonderful?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have never been to one,” she replied. “As a matter of fact, I have + spent scarcely any time in England since my marriage. My husband, as I + remember he told you, was fond of travelling.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the warm spring air he was conscious of a certain + chilliness. Her level, indifferent tone seemed to him almost abnormally + callous. A horrible realisation flashed for a moment in his brain. She was + speaking of the man whom she had killed! + </p> + <p> + “Your father overheard a remark of mine,” Francis told her. “I was at + Soto's with a friend—Andrew Wilmore, the novelist—and to tell + you the truth we were speaking of the shock I experienced when I realised + that I had been devoting every effort of which I was capable, to saving + the life of—shall we say a criminal? Your father heard me say, in + rather a flamboyant manner, perhaps, that in future I declared war against + all crime and all criminals.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled very faintly, a smile which had in it no single element of joy + or humour. + </p> + <p> + “I can quite understand my father intervening,” she said. “He poses as + being rather a patron of artistically-perpetrated crime. Sue is his + favourite author, and I believe that he has exceedingly grim ideas as to + duelling and fighting generally. He was in prison once for six months at + New Orleans for killing a man who insulted my mother. Nothing in the world + would ever have convinced him that he had not done a perfectly legitimate + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I am expecting to find him quite an interesting study, when I know him + better,” Francis pronounced. “My only fear is that he will count me an + unfriendly person and refuse to have anything to do with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not at all sure,” she said indifferently, “that it would not be very + much better for you if he did.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot admit that,” he answered, smiling. “I think that our paths in + life are too far apart for either of us to influence the other. You don't + share his tastes, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Which ones?” she asked, after a moment's silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, boxing for one,” he replied. “They tell me that he is the greatest + living patron of the ring, both here and in America.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never been to a fight in my life,” she confessed. “I hope that I + never may.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't go so far as that,” he declared, “but boxing isn't altogether one + of my hobbies. Can't we leave your father and his tastes alone for the + present? I would rather talk about—ourselves. Tell me what you care + about most in life?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she answered listlessly. + </p> + <p> + “But that is only a phase,” he persisted. “You have had terrible trials, I + know, and they must have affected your outlook on life, but you are still + young, and while one is young life is always worth having.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so once,” she assented. “I don't now.” + </p> + <p> + “But there must be—there will be compensations,” he assured her. “I + know that just now you are suffering from the reaction—after all you + have gone through. The memory of that will pass.” + </p> + <p> + “The memory of what I have gone through will never pass,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's intense silence, a silence pregnant with reminiscent + drama. The little room rose up before his memory—the woman's + hopeless, hating eyes, the quivering thread of steel, the dead man's + mocking words. He seemed at that moment to see into the recesses of her + mind. Was it remorse that troubled her, he wondered? Did she lack strength + to realise that in that half-hour at the inquest he had placed on record + for ever his judgment of her deed? Even to think of it now was morbid. + Although he would never have confessed it even to himself, there was + growing daily in his mind some idea of reward. She had never thanked him—he + hoped that she never would—but he had surely a right to claim some + measure of her thoughts, some light place in her life. + </p> + <p> + “Please look at me,” he begged, a little abruptly. + </p> + <p> + She turned her head in some surprise. Francis was almost handsome in the + clear Spring sunlight, his face alight with animation, his deep-set grey + eyes full of amused yet anxious solicitude. Even as she appreciated these + things and became dimly conscious of his eager interest, her perturbation + seemed to grow. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she ventured. + </p> + <p> + “Do I look like a person who knew what he was talking about?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “On the whole, I should say that you did,” she admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” he went on cheerfully, “believe me when I say that the + shadow which depresses you all the time now will pass. I say this + confidently,” he added, his voice softening, “because I hope to be allowed + to help. Haven't you guessed that I am very glad indeed to see you again?” + </p> + <p> + She came to a sudden standstill. They had just passed through Lansdowne + Passage and were in the quiet end of Curzon Street. + </p> + <p> + “But you must not talk to me like that!” she expostulated. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he demanded. “We have met under strange and untoward + circumstances, but are you so very different from other women?” + </p> + <p> + For a single moment she seemed infinitely more human, startled, a little + nervous, exquisitely sympathetic to an amazing and unexpected impression. + She seemed to look with glad but terrified eyes towards the vision of + possible things—and then to realise that it was but a trick of the + fancy and to come shivering back to the world of actualities. + </p> + <p> + “I am very different,” she said quietly. “I have lived my life. What I + lack in years has been made up to me in horror. I have no desire now but + to get rid of this aftermath of years as smoothly and quickly as possible. + I do not wish any man, Mr. Ledsam, to talk to me as you are doing.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not accept my friendship?” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “May I be allowed to call upon you?” he went on, doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “I do not receive visitors,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + They were walking slowly up Curzon Street now. She had given him every + opportunity to leave her, opportunities to which he was persistently + blind. Her obstinacy had been a shock to him. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said, “but I cannot accept my dismissal like this. I + shall appeal to your father. However much he may dislike me, he has at + least common-sense.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a touch of the old horror in her coldly-questioning + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “In your way you have been kind to me,” she admitted. “Let me in return + give you a word of advice. Let me beg you to have nothing whatever to do + with my father, in friendship or in enmity. Either might be equally + disastrous. Either, in the long run, is likely to cost you dear.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is your opinion of your father, why do you live with him?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + She had become entirely callous again. Her smile, with its mocking + quality, reminded him for a moment of the man whom they were discussing. + </p> + <p> + “Because I am a luxury and comfort-loving parasite,” she answered + deliberately, “because my father gladly pays my accounts at Lucille and + Worth and Reville, because I have never learnt to do without things. And + please remember this. My father, so far as I am concerned, has no faults. + He is a generous and courteous companion. Nevertheless, number 70 b, + Curzon Street is no place for people who desire to lead normal lives.” + </p> + <p> + And with that she was gone. Her gesture of dismissal was so complete and + final that he had no courage for further argument. He had lost her almost + as soon as he had found her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + Four men were discussing the verdict at the adjourned inquest upon Victor + Bidlake, at Soto's American Bar about a fortnight later. They were Robert + Fairfax, a young actor in musical comedy, Peter Jacks, a cinema producer, + Gerald Morse, a dress designer, and Sidney Voss, a musical composer and + librettist, all habitues of the place and members of the little circle + towards which the dead man had seemed, during the last few weeks of his + life, to have become attracted. At a table a short distance away, Francis + Ledsam was seated with a cocktail and a dish of almonds before him. He + seemed to be studying an evening paper and to be taking but the scantiest + notice of the conversation at the bar. + </p> + <p> + “It just shows,” Peter Jacks declared, “that crime is the easiest game in + the world. Given a reasonable amount of intelligence, and a murderer's + business is about as simple as a sandwich-man's.” + </p> + <p> + “The police,” Gerald Morse, a pale-faced, anaemic-looking youth, declared, + “rely upon two things, circumstantial evidence and motive. In the present + case there is no circumstantial evidence, and as to motive, poor old + Victor was too big a fool to have an enemy in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Sidney Voss, who was up for the Sheridan Club and had once been there, + glanced respectfully across at Francis. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to know something about crime and criminals, Mr. Ledsam,” he + said. “Have you any theory about the affair?” + </p> + <p> + Francis set down the glass from which he had been drinking, and, folding + up the evening paper, laid it by the side of him. + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of fact,” he answered calmly, “I have.” + </p> + <p> + The few words, simply spoken, yet in their way charged with menace, + thrilled through the little room. Fairfax swung round upon his stool, a + tall, aggressive-looking youth whose good-looks were half eaten up with + dissipation. His eyes were unnaturally bright, the cloudy remains in his + glass indicated absinthe. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, you fellows!” he exclaimed. “Mr. Francis Ledsam, the great + criminal barrister, is going to solve the mystery of poor old Victor's + death for us!” + </p> + <p> + The three other young men all turned around from the bar. Their eyes and + whole attention seemed rivetted upon Francis. No one seemed to notice the + newcomer who passed quietly to a chair in the background, although he was + a person of some note and interest to all of them. Imperturbable and + immaculate as ever, Sir Timothy Brast smiled amiably upon the little + gathering, summoned a waiter and ordered a Dry Martini. + </p> + <p> + “I can scarcely promise to do that,” Francis said slowly, his eyes resting + for a second or two upon each of the four faces. “Exact solutions are a + little out of my line. I think I can promise to give you a shock, though, + if you're strong enough to stand it.” + </p> + <p> + There was another of those curiously charged silences. The bartender + paused with the cocktail shaker still in his hand. Voss began to beat + nervously upon the counter with his knuckles. + </p> + <p> + “We can stand anything but suspense,” he declared. “Get on with your + shock-giving.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that the person responsible for the death of Victor Bidlake is + in this room at the present moment,” Francis declared. + </p> + <p> + Again the silence, curious, tense and dramatic. Little Jimmy, the + bartender, who had leaned forward to listen, stood with his mouth slightly + open and the cocktail-shaker which was in his hand leaked drops upon the + counter. The first conscious impulse of everybody seemed to be to glance + suspiciously around the room. The four young men at the bar, Jimmy and one + waiter, Francis and Sir Timothy Brast, were its only occupants. + </p> + <p> + “I say, you know, that's a bit thick, isn't it?” Sidney Voss stammered at + last. “I wasn't in the place at all, I was in Manchester, but it's a bit + rough on these other chaps, Victor's pals.” + </p> + <p> + “I was dining at the Cafe Royal,” Jacks declared, loudly. + </p> + <p> + Morse drew a little breath. + </p> + <p> + “Every one knows that I was at Brighton,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “I went home directly the bar here closed,” Jimmy said, in a still dazed + tone. “I heard nothing about it till the next morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Alibis by the bushel,” Fairfax laughed harshly. “As for me, I was doing + my show—every one knows that. I was never in the place at all.” + </p> + <p> + “The murder was not committed in the place,” Francis commented calmly. + </p> + <p> + Fairfax slid off his stool. A spot of colour blazed in his pale cheeks, + the glass which he was holding snapped in his fingers. He seemed suddenly + possessed. + </p> + <p> + “I say, what the hell are you getting at?” he cried. “Are you accusing me—or + any of us Victor's pals?” + </p> + <p> + “I accuse no one,” Francis replied, unperturbed. “You invited a statement + from me and I made it.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy Brast rose from his place and made his way to the end of the + counter, next to Fairfax and nearest Francis. He addressed the former. + There was an inscrutable smile upon his lips, his manner was reassuring. + </p> + <p> + “Young gentleman,” he begged, “pray do not disturb yourself. I will answer + for it that neither you nor any of your friends are the objects of Mr. + Leadsam's suspicion. Without a doubt, it is I to whom his somewhat bold + statement refers.” + </p> + <p> + They all stared at him, immersed in another crisis, bereft of speech. He + tapped a cigarette upon the counter and lit it. Fairfax, whose glass had + just been refilled by the bartender, was still ghastly pale, shaking with + nervousness and breathing hoarsely. Francis, tense and alert in his chair, + watched the speaker but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” Sir Timothy continued, addressing himself to the four young men + at the bar, “I happen to have two special aversions in life. One is sweet + champagne and the other amateur detectives—their stories, their + methods and everything about them. I chanced to sit upstairs in the + restaurant, within hearing of Mr. Ledsam and his friend Mr. Wilmore, the + novelist, the other night, and I heard Mr. Ledsam, very much to my + chagrin, announce his intention of abandoning a career in which he has, if + he will allow me to say so,”—with a courteous bow to Francis—“attained + considerable distinction, to indulge in the moth-eaten, flamboyant and + melodramatic antics of the lesser Sherlock Holmes. I fear that I could not + resist the opportunity of—I think you young men call it—pulling + his leg.” + </p> + <p> + Every one was listening intently, including Shopland, who had just drifted + into the room and subsided into a chair near Francis. + </p> + <p> + “I moved my place, therefore,” Sir Timothy continued, “and I whispered in + Mr. Ledsam's ear some rodomontade to the effect that if he were planning + to be the giant crime-detector of the world, I was by ambition the + arch-criminal—or words to that effect. And to give emphasis to my + words, I wound up by prophesying a crime in the immediate vicinity of the + place within a few hours.” + </p> + <p> + “A somewhat significant prophecy, under the circumstances,” Francis + remarked, reaching out for a dish of salted almonds and drawing them + towards him. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. + </p> + <p> + “I will confess,” he admitted, “that I had not in my mind an affair of + such dimensions. My harmless remark, however, has produced cataclysmic + effects. The conversation to which I refer took place on the night of + young Bidlake's murder, and Mr. Ledsam, with my somewhat, I confess, + bombastic words in his memory, has pitched upon me as the bloodthirsty + murderer.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on for a moment, sir,” Peter Jacks begged, wiping the perspiration + from his forehead. “We've got to have another drink quick. Poor old Bobby + here looks knocked all of a heap, and I'm kind of jumpy myself. You'll + join us, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you,” was the courteous reply. “I do not as a rule indulge to the + extent of more than one cocktail, but I will recognise the present as an + exceptional occasion. To continue, then,” he went on, after the glasses + had been filled, “I have during the last few weeks experienced the + ceaseless and lynx-eyed watch of Mr. Ledsam and presumably his myrmidons. + I do not know whether you are all acquainted with my name, but in case you + are not, let me introduce myself. I am Sir Timothy Brast, Chairman, as I + dare say you know, of the United Transvaal Gold Mines, Chairman, also, of + two of the principal hospitals in London, Vice President of the Society + for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, a patron of sport in many forms, + a traveller in many countries, and a recipient of the honour of knighthood + from His Majesty, in recognition of my services for various philanthropic + works. These facts, however, have availed me nothing now that the bungling + amateur investigator into crime has pointed the finger of suspicion + towards me. My servants and neighbours have alike been plagued to death + with cunning questions as to my life and habits. I have been watched in + the streets and watched in my harmless amusements. My simple life has been + peered into from every perspective and direction. In short, I am suspect. + Mr. Ledsam's terrifying statement a few minutes ago was directed towards + me and me only.” + </p> + <p> + There were murmurs of sympathy from the four young men, who each in his + own fashion appeared to derive consolation from Sir Timothy's frank and + somewhat caustic statement. Francis, who had listened unmoved to this flow + of words, glanced towards the door behind which dark figures seemed to be + looming. + </p> + <p> + “That is all you have to say, Sir Timothy?” he asked politely. + </p> + <p> + “For the present, yes,” was the guarded reply. “I trust that I have + succeeded in setting these young gentlemen's minds at ease.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one of them,” Francis said gravely, “whose mind not even your + soothing words could lighten.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland had risen unobtrusively to his feet. He laid his hand suddenly on + Fairfax's shoulder and whispered in his ear. Fairfax, after his first + start, seemed cool enough. He stretched out his hand towards the glass + which as yet he had not touched; covered it with his fingers for a moment + and drained its contents. The gently sarcastic smile left Sir Timothy's + lips. His eyebrows met in a quick frown, his eyes glittered. + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded sharply. + </p> + <p> + A policeman in plain clothes had advanced from the door. The manager + hovered in the background. Shopland saw that all was well. + </p> + <p> + “It means,” he announced, “that I have just arrested Mr. Robert Fairfax + here on a charge of wilful murder. There is a way out through the + kitchens, I believe. Take his other arm, Holmes. Now, gentlemen, if you + please.” + </p> + <p> + There were a few bewildered exclamations—then a dramatic hush. + Fairfax had fallen forward on his stool. He seemed to have relapsed into a + comatose state. Every scrap of colour was drained from his sallow cheeks, + his eyes were covered with a film and he was breathing heavily. The + detective snatched up the glass from which the young man had been + drinking, and smelt it. + </p> + <p> + “I saw him drop a tablet in just now,” Jimmy faltered. “I thought it was + one of the digestion pills he uses sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland and the policeman placed their hands underneath the armpits of + the unconscious man. + </p> + <p> + “He's done, sir,” the former whispered to Francis. “We'll try and get him + to the station if we can.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + The greatest tragedies in the world, provided they happen to other people, + have singularly little effect upon the externals of our own lives. There + was certainly not a soul in Soto's that night who did not know that Bobby + Fairfax had been arrested in the bar below for the murder of Victor + Bidlake, had taken poison and died on the way to the police station. Yet + the same number of dinners were ordered and eaten, the same quantity of + wine drunk. The management considered that they had shown marvellous + delicacy of feeling by restraining the orchestra from their usual musical + gymnastics until after the service of dinner. Conversation, in + consequence, buzzed louder than ever. One speculation in particular + absorbed the attention of every single person in the room—why had + Bobby Fairfax, at the zenith of a very successful career, risked the + gallows and actually accepted death for the sake of killing Victor + Bidlake, a young man with whom, so far as anybody knew, he had no cause of + quarrel whatever? There were many theories, many people who knew the real + facts and whispered them into a neighbour's ear, only to have them + contradicted a few moments later. Yet, curiously enough, the two men who + knew most about it were the two most silent men in the room, for each was + dining alone. Francis, who had remained only in the hope that something of + the sort might happen, was conscious of a queer sense of excitement when, + with the service of coffee, Sir Timothy, glass in hand, moved up from a + table lower down and with a word of apology took the vacant place by his + side. It was what he had desired, and yet he felt a thrill almost of fear + at Sir Timothy's murmured words. He felt that he was in the company of one + who, if not an enemy, at any rate had no friendly feeling towards him. + </p> + <p> + “My congratulations, Mr. Ledsam,” Sir Timothy said quietly. “You appear to + have started your career with a success.” + </p> + <p> + “Only a partial one,” Francis acknowledged, “and as a matter of fact I + deny that I have started in any new career. It was easy enough to make use + of a fluke and direct the intelligence of others towards the right person, + but when the real significance of the thing still eludes you, one can + scarcely claim a triumph.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy gently knocked the ash from the very fine cigar which he was + smoking. + </p> + <p> + “Still, your groundwork was good,” he observed. + </p> + <p> + Francis shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he admitted, “was due to chance.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we exchange notes?” Sir Timothy suggested gently. “It might be + interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “As you will,” Francis assented. “There is no particular secret in the way + I stumbled upon the truth. I was dining here that night, as you know, with + Andrew Wilmore, and while he was ordering the dinner and talking to some + friends, I went down to the American Bar to have a cocktail. Miss Daisy + Hyslop and Fairfax were seated there alone and talking confidentially. + Fairfax was insisting that Miss Hyslop should do something which puzzled + her. She consented reluctantly, and Fairfax then hurried off to the + theatre. Later on, Miss Hyslop and the unfortunate young man occupied a + table close to ours, and I happened to notice that she made a point of + leaving the restaurant at a particular time. While they were waiting in + the vestibule she grew very impatient. I was standing behind them and I + saw her glance at the clock just before she insisted upon her companion's + going out himself to look for a taxicab. Ergo, one enquires at Fairfax's + theatre. For that exact three-quarters of an hour he is off the stage. At + that point my interest in the matter ceases. Scotland Yard was quite + capable of the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Disappointing,” Sir Timothy murmured. “I thought at first that you were + over-modest. I find that I was mistaken. It was chance alone which set you + on the right track.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is my story, at any rate,” Francis declared. “With how much + of your knowledge of the affair are you going to indulge me?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy slowly revolved his brandy glass. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “I will tell you this. The two young men concerned, + Bidlake and Fairfax, were both guests of mine recently at my country + house. They had discovered for one another a very fierce and reasonable + antipathy. With that recurrence to primitivism with which I have always + been a hearty sympathiser, they agreed, instead of going round their + little world making sneering remarks about each other, to fight it out.” + </p> + <p> + “At your suggestion, I presume?” Francis interposed. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” Sir Timothy assented. “I recommended that course, and I + offered them facilities for bringing the matter to a crisis. The fight, + indeed, was to have come off the day after the unfortunate episode which + anticipâtéd it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me that you knew—” Francis began. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy checked him quietly but effectively. + </p> + <p> + “I knew nothing,” he said, “except this. They were neither of them young + men of much stomach, and I knew that the one who was the greater coward + would probably try to anticipâté the matter by attacking the other first + if he could. I knew that Fairfax was the greater coward—not that + there was much to choose between them—and I also knew that he was + the injured person. That is really all there is about it. My somewhat + theatrical statement to you was based upon probability, and not upon any + certain foreknowledge. As you see, it came off.” + </p> + <p> + “And the cause of their quarrel?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “There might have been a hundred reasons,” Sir Timothy observed. “As a + matter of fact, it was the eternal one. There is no need to mention a + woman's name, so we will let it go at that.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's silence—a strange, unforgettable moment for + Francis Ledsam, who seemed by some curious trick of the imagination to + have been carried away into an impossible and grotesque world. The hum of + eager conversation, the popping of corks, the little trills of feminine + laughter, all blended into one sensual and not unmusical chorus, seemed to + fade from his ears. He fancied himself in some subterranean place of vast + dimensions, through the grim galleries of which men and women with evil + faces crept like animals. And towering above them, unreal in size, his + scornful face an epitome of sin, the knout which he wielded symbolical and + ghastly, driving his motley flock with the leer of the evil shepherd, was + the man from whom he had already learnt to recoil with horror. The picture + came and went in a flash. Francis found himself accepting a courteously + offered cigar from his companion. + </p> + <p> + “You see, the story is very much like many others,” Sir Timothy murmured, + as he lit a fresh Cigar himself and leaned back with the obvious enjoyment + of the cultivated smoker. “In every country of the world, the animal world + as well as the human world, the male resents his female being taken from + him. Directly he ceases to resent it, he becomes degenerate. Surely you + must agree with me, Mr. Leddam?” + </p> + <p> + “It comes to this, then,” Francis pronounced deliberately, “that you + stage-managed the whole affair.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled. + </p> + <p> + “It is my belief, Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “that you grow more and more + intelligent every hour.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy glanced presently at his thin gold watch and put it back in + his pocket regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” he sighed, “I fear that I must tear myself away. I particularly + want to hear the last act of 'Louise.' The new Frenchwoman sings, and my + daughter is alone. You will excuse me.” + </p> + <p> + Francis nodded silently. His companion's careless words had brought a + sudden dazzling vision into his mind. Sir Timothy scrawled his name at the + foot of his bill. + </p> + <p> + “It is one of my axioms in life, Mr. Ledsam,” he continued, “that there is + more pleasure to be derived from the society of one's enemies than one's + friends. If I thought you sufficiently educated in the outside ways of the + world to appreciate this, I would ask if you cared to accompany me?” + </p> + <p> + Francis did not hesitate for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy,” he said, “I have the greatest detestation for you, and I am + firmly convinced that you represent all the things in life abhorrent to + me. On the other hand, I should very much like to hear the last act of + 'Louise,' and it would give me the greatest pleasure to meet your + daughter. So long as there is no misunderstanding.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, “we will get our hats. I am becoming more and more + grateful to you, Mr. Ledsam. You are supplying something in my life which + I have lacked. You appeal alike to my sense of humour and my imagination. + We will visit the opera together.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + The two men left Soto's together, very much in the fashion of two ordinary + acquaintances sallying out to spend the evening together. Sir Timothy's + Rolls-Royce limousine was in attendance, and in a few minutes they were + threading the purlieus of Covent Garden. It was here that an incident + occurred which afforded Francis considerable food for thought during the + next few days. + </p> + <p> + It was a Friday night, and one or two waggons laden with vegetable produce + were already threading their way through the difficult thoroughfares. + Suddenly Sir Timothy, who was looking out of the window, pressed the + button of the car, which was at once brought to a standstill. Before the + footman could reach the door Sir Timothy was out in the street. For the + first time Francis saw him angry. His eyes were blazing. His voice—Francis + had followed him at once into the street—shook with passion. His + hand had fallen heavily upon the shoulder of a huge carter, who, with whip + in hand, was belabouring a thin scarecrow of a horse. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil are you doing?” Sir Timothy demanded. + </p> + <p> + The man stared at his questioner, and the instinctive antagonism of race + vibrated in his truculent reply. The carter was a beery-faced, + untidy-looking brute, but powerfully built and with huge shoulders. Sir + Timothy, straight as a dart, without overcoat or any covering to his thin + evening clothes, looked like a stripling in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “I'm whippin' 'er, if yer want to know,” was the carter's reply. “I've got + to get up the 'ill, 'aven't I? Garn and mind yer own business!” + </p> + <p> + “This is my business,” Sir Timothy declared, laying his hand upon the neck + of the horse. “I am an official of the Society for the Prevention of + Cruelty to Animals. You are laying yourself open to a fine for your + treatment of this poor brute.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll lay myself open for a fine for the treatment of something else, if + you don't quid 'old of my 'oss,” the carter retorted, throwing his whip + back into the waggon and coming a step nearer. “D'yer 'ear? I don't want + any swells interferin' with my business. You 'op it. Is that strite + enough? 'Op it, quick!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy's anger seemed to have abated. There was even the beginning of + a smile upon his lips. All the time his hand caressed the neck of the + horse. Francis noticed with amazement that the poor brute had raised his + head and seemed to be making some faint effort at reciprocation. + </p> + <p> + “My good man,” Sir Timothy said, “you seem to be one of those brutal + persons unfit to be trusted with an animal. However—” + </p> + <p> + The carter had heard quite enough. Sir Timothy's tone seemed to madden + him. He clenched his fist and rushed in. + </p> + <p> + “You take that for interferin', you big toff!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + The result of the man's effort at pugilism was almost ridiculous. His arms + appeared to go round like windmills beating the air. It really seemed as + though he had rushed upon the point of Sir Timothy's knuckles, which had + suddenly shot out like the piston of an engine. The carter lay on his back + for a moment. Then he staggered viciously to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Don't,” Sir Timothy begged, as he saw signs of another attack. “I don't + want to hurt you. I have been amateur champion of two countries. Not quite + fair, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Wot d'yer want to come interferin' with a chap's business for?” the man + growled, dabbing his cheek with a filthy handkerchief but keeping at a + respectful distance. + </p> + <p> + “It happens to be my business also,” Sir Timothy replied, “to interfere + whenever I see animals ill-treated. Now I don't want to be unreasonable. + That animal has done all the work it ought to do in this world. How much + is she worth to you?” + </p> + <p> + Through the man's beer-clogged brain a gleam of cunning began to find its + way. He looked at the Rolls-Royce, with the two motionless servants on the + box, at Francis standing by, at Sir Timothy, even to his thick + understanding the very prototype of a “toff.” + </p> + <p> + “That 'oss,” he said, “ain't what she was, it's true, but there's a lot of + work in 'er yet. She may not be much to look at but she's worth forty quid + to me—ay, and one to spit on!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy counted out some notes from the pocketbook which he had + produced, and handed them to the man. + </p> + <p> + “Here are fifty pounds,” he said. “The mare is mine. Johnson!” + </p> + <p> + The second man sprang from his seat and came round. + </p> + <p> + “Unharness that mare,” his master ordered, “help the man push his trolley + back out of the way, then lead the animal to the mews in Curzon Street. + See that she is well bedded down and has a good feed of corn. To-morrow I + shall send her down to the country, but I will come and have a look at her + first.” + </p> + <p> + The man touched his hat and hastened to commence his task. The carter, who + had been busy counting the notes, thrust them into his pocket with a grin. + </p> + <p> + “Good luck to yer, guvnor!” he shouted out, in valedictory fashion. “'Ope + I meets yer again when I've an old crock on the go.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy turned his head. + </p> + <p> + “If ever I happen to meet you, my good man,” he threatened, “using your + whip upon a poor beast who's doing his best, I promise you you won't get + up in two minutes, or twenty.... We might walk the last few yards, Mr. + Ledsam.” + </p> + <p> + The latter acquiesced at once, and in a moment or two they were underneath + the portico of the Opera House. Sir Timothy had begun to talk about the + opera but Francis was a little distrait. His companion glanced at him + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “You are puzzled, Mr. Ledsam?” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Very,” was the prompt response. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You are one of these primitive Anglo-Saxons,” he said, “who can see the + simple things with big eyes, but who are terribly worried at an unfamiliar + constituent. You have summed me up in your mind as a hardened brute, a + criminal by predilection, a patron of murderers. Ergo, you ask yourself + why should I trouble to save a poor beast of a horse from being chastised, + and go out of my way to provide her with a safe asylum for the rest of her + life? Shall I help you, Mr. Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would,” Francis confessed. + </p> + <p> + They had passed now through the entrance to the Opera House and were in + the corridor leading to the grand tier boxes. On every side Sir Timothy + had been received with marks of deep respect. Two bowing attendants were + preceding them. Sir Timothy leaned towards his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” he whispered, “I like animals better than human beings.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret Hilditch, her chair pushed back into the recesses of the box, + scarcely turned her head at her father's entrance. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought an acquaintance of yours, Margaret,” the latter announced, + as he hung up his hat. “You remember Mr. Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + Francis drew a little breath of relief as he bowed over her hand. For the + second time her inordinate composure had been assailed. She was her usual + calm and indifferent self almost immediately, but the gleam of surprise, + and he fancied not unpleasant surprise, had been unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + “Are you a devotee, Mr. Ledsam?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am fond of music,” Francis answered, “especially this opera.” + </p> + <p> + She motioned to the chair in the front of the box, facing the stage. + </p> + <p> + “You must sit there,” she insisted. “I prefer always to remain here, and + my father always likes to face the audience. I really believe,” she went + on, “that he likes to catch the eye of the journalist who writes little + gossipy items, and to see his name in print.” + </p> + <p> + “But you yourself?” Francis ventured. + </p> + <p> + “I fancy that my reasons for preferring seclusion should be obvious + enough,” she replied, a little bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter is inclined, I fear, to be a little morbid,” Sir Timothy + said, settling down in his place. + </p> + <p> + Francis made no reply. A triangular conversation of this sort was almost + impossible. The members of the orchestra were already climbing up to their + places, in preparation for the overture to the last act. Sir Timothy rose + to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse me for a moment,” he begged. “I see a lady to whom I must + pay my respects.” + </p> + <p> + Francis drew a sigh of relief at his departure. He turned at once to his + companion. + </p> + <p> + “Did you mind my coming?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Mind it?” she repeated, with almost insolent nonchalance. “Why should it + affect me in any way? My father's friends come and go. I have no interest + in any of them.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” he protested, “I want you to be interested in me.” + </p> + <p> + She moved a little uneasily in her place. Her tone, nevertheless, remained + icy. + </p> + <p> + “Could you possibly manage to avoid personalities in your conversation, + Mr. Ledsam?” she begged. + </p> + <p> + “I have tried already to tell you how I feel about such things.” + </p> + <p> + She was certainly difficult. Francis realised that with a little sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Were you surprised to see me with your father?” he asked, a little + inanely. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot conceive what you two have found in common,” she admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps our interest in you,” he replied. “By-the-bye, I have just seen + him perform a quixotic but a very fine action,” Francis said. “He stopped + a carter from thrashing his horse; knocked him down, bought the horse from + him and sent it home.” + </p> + <p> + She was mildly interested. + </p> + <p> + “An amiable side of my father's character which no one would suspect,” she + remarked. “The entire park of his country house at Hatch End is given over + to broken-down animals.” + </p> + <p> + “I am one of those,” he confessed, “who find this trait amazing.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am another,” she remarked coolly. “If any one settled down + seriously to try and understand my father, he would need the spectacles of + a De Quincey, the outlook of a Voltaire, and the callousness of a Borgia. + You see, he doesn't lend himself to any of the recognised standards.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do you,” he said boldly. + </p> + <p> + She looked away from him across the House, to where Sir Timothy was + talking to a man and woman in one of the ground-floor boxes. Francis + recognised them with some surprise—an agricultural Duke and his + daughter, Lady Cynthia Milton, one of the most, beautiful and famous young + women in London. + </p> + <p> + “Your father goes far afield for his friends,” Francis remarked. + </p> + <p> + “My father has no friends,” she replied. “He has many acquaintances. I + doubt whether he has a single confidant. I expect Cynthia is trying to + persuade him to invite her to his next party at The Walled House.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think she would fail, won't she?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you think that?” + </p> + <p> + Francis shrugged his shoulders slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Your father's entertainments have the reputation of being somewhat + unique,” he remarked. “You do not, by-the-bye, attend them yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “You must remember that I have had very few opportunities so far,” she + observed. “Besides, Cynthia has tastes which I do not share.” + </p> + <p> + “As, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + “She goes to the National Sporting Club. She once travelled, I know, over + a hundred miles to go to a bull fight.” + </p> + <p> + “On the whole,” Francis said, “I am glad that you do not share her + tastes.” + </p> + <p> + “You know her?” Margaret enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Indifferently well,” Francis replied. “I knew her when she was a child, + and we seem to come together every now and then at long intervals. As a + debutante she was charming. Lately it seems to me that she has got into + the wrong set.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you call the wrong set?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Please don't think that I am laying down the law,” he said. “I have been + out so little, the last few years, that I ought not, perhaps, to + criticise. Lady Cynthia, however, seems to me to belong to the extreme + section of the younger generation, the section who have a sort of craze + for the unusual, whose taste in art and living is distorted and bizarre. + You know what I mean, don't you—black drawing-rooms, futurist + wall-papers, opium dens and a cocaine box! It's to some extent + affectation, of course, but it's a folly that claims its victims.” + </p> + <p> + She studied him for a moment attentively. His leanness was the leanness of + muscular strength and condition, his face was full of vigour and + determination. + </p> + <p> + “You at least have escaped the abnormal,” she remarked. “I am not quite + sure how the entertainments at The Walled House would appeal to you, but + if my father should invite you there, I should advise you not to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I really don't know why I should trouble to give you advice,” she said. + “As a matter of fact, I don't care whether you go or not. In any case, you + are scarcely likely to be asked.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure that I agree with you,” he protested. “Your father seems to + have taken quite a fancy to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I like the way he bought that horse,” Francis admitted. “And I am + beginning to realise that there may be something in the theory which he + advanced when he invited me to accompany him here this evening—that + there is a certain piquancy in one's intercourse with an enemy, which + friendship lacks. There may be complexities in his character which as yet + I have not appreciated.” + </p> + <p> + The curtain had gone up and the last act of the opera had commenced. She + leaned back in her chair. Without a word or even a gesture, he understood + that a curtain had been let down between them. He obeyed her unspoken wish + and relapsed into silence. Her very absorption, after all, was a hopeful + sign. She would have him believe that she felt nothing, that she was + living outside all the passion and sentiment of life. Yet she was absorbed + in the music.... Sir Timothy came back and seated himself silently. It was + not until the tumult of applause which broke out after the great song of + the French ouvrier, that a word passed between them. + </p> + <p> + “Cavalisti is better,” Sir Timothy commented. “This man has not the + breadth of passion. At times he is merely peevish.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Cavalisti would be too egotistical for the part,” she said quietly. “It + is difficult.” + </p> + <p> + Not another word was spoken until the curtain fell. Francis lingered for a + moment over the arrangement of her cloak. Sir Timothy was already outside, + talking to some acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + “It has been a great pleasure to see you like this unexpectedly,” he said, + a little wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot imagine why,” she answered, with an undernote of trouble in her + tone. “Remember the advice I gave you before. No good can come of any + friendship between my father and you.” + </p> + <p> + “There is this much of good in it, at any rate,” he answered, as he held + open the door for her. “It might give me the chance of seeing you + sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not a matter worth considering,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “I find it very much worth considering,” he whispered, losing his head for + a moment as they stood close together in the dim light of the box, and a + sudden sense of the sweetness of her thrilled his pulses. “There isn't + anything in the world I want so much as to see you oftener—to have + my chance.” + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary glow in her eyes. Her lips quivered. The few words + which he saw framed there—he fancied of reproof—remained + unspoken. Sir Timothy was waiting for them at the entrance. + </p> + <p> + “I have been asking Mrs. Hilditch's permission to call in Curzon Street,” + Francis said boldly. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure my daughter will be delighted,” was the cold but courteous + reply. + </p> + <p> + Margaret herself made no comment. The car drew up and she stepped into it—a + tall, slim figure, wonderfully graceful in her unrelieved black, her hair + gleaming as though with some sort of burnish, as she passed underneath the + electric light. She looked back at him with a smile of farewell as he + stood bareheaded upon the steps, a smile which reminded him somehow of her + father, a little sardonic, a little tender, having in it some faintly + challenging quality. The car rolled away. People around were gossiping—rather + freely. + </p> + <p> + “The wife of that man Oliver Hilditch,” he heard a woman say, “the man who + was tried for murder, and committed suicide the night after his acquittal. + Why, that can't be much more than three months ago.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are the daughter of a millionaire,” her escort observed, “you can + defy convention.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that was Sir Timothy Brast,” another man was saying. “He's supposed + to be worth a cool five millions.” + </p> + <p> + “If the truth about him were known,” his companion confided, dropping his + voice, “it would cost him all that to keep out of the Old Bailey. They say + that his orgies at Hatch End—Our taxi. Come on, Sharpe.” + </p> + <p> + Francis strolled thoughtfully homewards. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + Francis Ledsam was himself again, the lightest-hearted and most popular + member of his club, still a brilliant figure in the courts, although his + appearances there were less frequent, still devoting the greater portion + of his time, to his profession, although his work in connection with it + had become less spectacular. One morning, at the corner of Clarges Street + and Curzon Street, about three weeks after his visit to the Opera, he came + face to face with Sir Timothy Brast. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my altruistic peerer into other people's affairs, how goes it?” the + latter enquired pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “How does it seem, my arch-criminal, to be still breathing God's fresh + air?” Francis retorted in the same vein. “Make the most of it. It may not + last for ever.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled. He was looking exceedingly well that morning, the very + prototype of a man contented with life and his part in it. He was wearing + a morning coat and silk hat, his pâtént boots were faultlessly polished, + his trousers pressed to perfection, his grey silk tie neat and + fashionable. Notwithstanding his waxenlike pallor, his slim figure and + lithe, athletic walk seemed to speak of good health. + </p> + <p> + “You may catch the minnow,” he murmured. “The big fish swim on. + By-the-bye,” he added, “I do not notice that your sledge-hammer blows at + crime are having much effect. Two undetected murders last week, and one + the week before. What are you about, my astute friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Those are matters for Scotland Yard,” Francis replied, with an + indifferent little wave of the hand which held his cigarette. “Details are + for the professional. I seek that corner in Hell where the thunders are + welded and the poison gases mixed. In other words, I seek for the brains + of crime.” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, we do not see enough of one another, my young friend,” Sir + Timothy said earnestly. “You interest me more and more every time we meet. + I like your allegories, I like your confidence, which in any one except a + genius would seem blatant. When can we dine together and talk about + crime?” + </p> + <p> + “The sooner the better,” Francis replied promptly. “Invite me, and I will + cancel any other engagement I might happen to have.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy considered for a moment. The June sunshine was streaming down + upon them and the atmosphere was a little oppressive. + </p> + <p> + “Will you dine with me at Hatch End to-night?” he asked. “My daughter and + I will be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be delighted,” Francis replied promptly. “I ought to tell you, + perhaps, that I have called three times upon your daughter but have not + been fortunate enough to find her at home.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy was politely apologetic. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that my daughter is a little inclined to be morbid,” he confessed. + “Society is good for her. I will undertake that you are a welcome guest.” + </p> + <p> + “At what time do I come and how shall I find your house?” Francis + enquired. + </p> + <p> + “You motor down, I suppose?” Sir Timothy observed. “Good! In Hatch End any + one will direct you. We dine at eight. You had better come down as soon as + you have finished your day's work. Bring a suitcase and spend the night.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be delighted,” Francis replied. + </p> + <p> + “Do not,” Sir Timothy continued, “court disappointment by + over-anticipation. You have without doubt heard of my little gatherings at + Hatch End. They are viewed, I am told, with grave suspicion, alike by the + moralists of the City and, I fear, the police. I am not inviting you to + one of those gatherings. They are for people with other tastes. My + daughter and I have been spending a few days alone in the little bungalow + by the side of my larger house. That is where you will find us—The + Sanctuary, we call it.” + </p> + <p> + “Some day,” Francis ventured, “I shall hope to be asked to one of your + more notorious gatherings. For the present occasion I much prefer the + entertainment you offer.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we are both content,” Sir Timothy said, smiling. “Au revoir!” + </p> + <p> + Francis walked across Green Park, along the Mall, down Horse Guards + Parade, along the Embankment to his rooms on the fringe of the Temple. + Here he found his clerk awaiting his arrival in some disturbance of + spirit. + </p> + <p> + “There is a young gentleman here to see you, sir,” he announced. “Mr. + Reginald Wilmore his name is, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Wilmore?” Francis repeated. “What have you done with him?” + </p> + <p> + “He is in your room, sir. He seems very impatient. He has been out two or + three times to know how long I thought you would be.” + </p> + <p> + Francis passed down the stone passage and entered his room, a large, shady + apartment at the back of the building. To his surprise it was empty. He + was on the point of calling to his clerk when he saw that the + writing-paper on his desk had been disturbed. He went over and read a few + lines written in a boy's hasty writing: + </p> + <p> + DEAR Mr. LEDSAM: + </p> + <p> + I am in a very strange predicament and I have come to ask your advice. You + know my brother Andrew well, and you may remember playing tennis with me + last year. I am compelled— + </p> + <p> + At that point the letter terminated abruptly. There was a blot and a + smudge. The pen lay where it seemed to have rolled—on the floor. The + ink was not yet dry. Francis called to his clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Angrave,” he said, “Mr. Wilmore is not here.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk looked around in obvious surprise. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't five minutes since he came out to my office, sir!” he exclaimed. + “I heard him go back again afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + Francis shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he decided not to wait and you didn't hear him go by.” + </p> + <p> + Angrave shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I do not see how he could have left the place without my hearing him, + sir,” he declared. “The door of my office has been open all the time, and + I sit opposite to it. Besides, on these stone floors one can hear any one + so distinctly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what,” Francis asked, “has become of him?” + </p> + <p> + The clerk shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't any idea, sir,” he confessed. + </p> + <p> + Francis plunged into his work and forgot all about the matter. He was + reminded of it, however, at luncheon-time, when, on entering the + dining-room of the club, he saw Andrew Wilmore seated alone at one of the + small tables near the wall. He went over to him at once. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Andrew,” he greeted him, “what are you doing here by yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Bit hipped, old fellow,” was the depressed reply. “Sit down, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Francis sat down and ordered his lunch. + </p> + <p> + “By-the-bye,” he said, “I had rather a mysterious visit this morning from + your brother Reggie.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore stared at him for a moment, half in relief, half in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Good God, Francis, you don't say so!” he exclaimed. “How was he? What did + he want? Tell me about it at once? We've been worried to death about the + boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as a matter of fact, I didn't see him,” Francis explained. “He + arrived before I reached my rooms—as you know, I don't live there—waited + some time, began to write me this note,”—drawing the sheet of paper + from his pocket—“and when I got there had disappeared without + leaving a message or anything.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore adjusted his pince nez with trembling fingers. Then he read the + few lines through. + </p> + <p> + “Francis,” he said, when he had finished them, “do you know that this is + the first word we've heard of him for three days?” + </p> + <p> + “Great heavens!” Francis exclaimed. “He was living with his mother, wasn't + he?” + </p> + <p> + “Down at Kensington, but he hasn't been there since Monday,” Andrew + replied. “His mother is in a terrible state. And now this, I don't + understand it at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Was the boy hard up?” + </p> + <p> + “Not more than most young fellows are,” was the puzzled reply. “His + allowance was due in a few days, too. He had money in the bank, I feel + sure. He was saving up for a motorcar.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I seen him once or twice at restaurants lately?” Francis + enquired. “Soto's, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” his brother assented. “Why not? He's fond of dancing, and + we none of us ever encouraged him to be a stay-at-home.” + </p> + <p> + “Any particular girl was he interested in?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that we know of. Like most young fellows of his age, he was rather + keen on young women with some connection with the stage, but I don't + believe there was any one in particular. Reggie was too fond of games to + waste much time that way. He's at the gymnasium three evenings a week.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I'd been at the office a few minutes earlier this morning,” + Francis observed. “I tell you what, Andrew. I have some pals down at + Scotland Yard, and I'll go down and see them this afternoon. They'll want + a photograph, and to ask a few questions, I dare say, but I shouldn't talk + about the matter too much.” + </p> + <p> + “You're very kind, Francis,” his friend replied, “but it isn't so easy to + sit tight. I was going to the police myself this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Take my advice and leave it to me,” Francis begged. “I have a particular + pal down at Scotland Yard who I know will be interested, and I want him to + take up the case.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't any theory, I suppose?” Wilmore asked, a little wistfully. + </p> + <p> + Francis shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Not the ghost of one,” he admitted. “The reason I am advising you to keep + as quiet as possible, though, is just this. If you create a lot of + interest in a disappearance, you have to satisfy the public curiosity when + the mystery is solved.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Wilmore murmured. “All the same, I can't imagine Reggie getting + mixed up in anything discreditable.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither can I, from what I remember of the boy,” Francis agreed. “Let me + see, what was he doing in the City?” + </p> + <p> + “He was with Jameson & Scott, the stockbrokers,” Wilmore replied. “He + was only learning the business and he had no responsibilities. Curiously + enough, though, when I went to see Mr. Jameson he pointed out one or two + little matters that Reggie had attended to, which looked as though he were + clearing up, somehow or other.” + </p> + <p> + “He left no message there, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a line or a word. He gave the porter five shillings, though, on the + afternoon before he disappeared—a man who has done some odd jobs for + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, a voluntary disappearance is better than an involuntary one,” + Francis remarked. “What was his usual programme when he left the office?” + </p> + <p> + “He either went to Queen's and played racquets, or he went straight to his + gymnasium in the Holborn. I telephoned to Queen's. He didn't call there on + the Wednesday night, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's the gymnasium?” + </p> + <p> + “At 147 a Holborn. A lot of city young men go there late in the evening, + but Reggie got off earlier than most of them and used to have the place + pretty well to himself. I think that's why he stuck to it.” + </p> + <p> + Francis made a note of the address. + </p> + <p> + “I'll get Shopland to step down there some time,” he said. “Or better + still, finish your lunch and we'll take a taxi there ourselves. I'm going + to the country later on, but I've half-an-hour to spare. We can go without + our coffee and be there in ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “A great idea,” Wilmore acquiesced. “It's probably the last place Reggie + visited, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + The gymnasium itself was a source of immense surprise to both Francis and + Wilmore. It stretched along the entire top storey of a long block of + buildings, and was elaborately fitted with bathrooms, a restaurant and a + reading-room. The trapezes, bars, and all the usual appointments were of + the best possible quality. The manager, a powerful-looking man dressed + with the precision of the prosperous city magnate, came out of his office + to greet them. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do for you, gentlemen?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + “First of all,” Francis replied, “accept our heartiest congratulations + upon your wonderful gymnasium.” + </p> + <p> + The man bowed. + </p> + <p> + “It is the best appointed in the country, sir,” he said proudly. + “Absolutely no expense has been spared in fitting it up. Every one of our + appliances is of the latest possible description, and our bathrooms are an + exact copy of those in a famous Philadelphia club.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the subscription?” Wilmore asked. + </p> + <p> + “Five shillings a year.” + </p> + <p> + “And how many members?” + </p> + <p> + “Two thousand.” + </p> + <p> + The manager smiled as he saw his two visitors exchange puzzled glances. + </p> + <p> + “Needless to say, sir,” he added, “we are not self-supporting. We have + very generous patrons.” + </p> + <p> + “I lave heard my brother speak of this place as being quite wonderful,” + Wilmore remarked, “but I had no idea that it was upon this scale.” + </p> + <p> + “Is your brother a member?” the man asked. + </p> + <p> + “He is. To tell you the truth, we came here to ask you a question about + him.” + </p> + <p> + “What is his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Reginald Wilmore. He was here, I think, last Wednesday night.” + </p> + <p> + While Wilmore talked, Francis watched. He was conscious of a curious + change in the man's deportment at the mention of Reginald Wilmore's name. + From being full of bumptious, almost condescending good-nature, his + expression had changed into one of stony incivility. There was something + almost sinister in the tightly-closed lips and the suspicious gleam in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What questions did you wish to ask?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Reginald Wilmore has disappeared,” Francis explained simply. “He came + here on leaving the office last Monday. He has not been seen or heard of + since.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” the manager asked. + </p> + <p> + “We came to ask whether you happen to remember his being here on that + evening, and whether he gave any one here any indication of his future + movements. We thought, perhaps, that the instructor who was with him might + have some information.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a chance,” was the uncompromising reply. “I remember Mr. Wilmore + being here perfectly. He was doing double turns on the high bar. I saw + more of him myself than any one. I was with him when he went down to have + his swim.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he seem in his usual spirits?” Wilmore ventured. + </p> + <p> + “I don't notice what spirits my pupils are in,” the man answered, a little + insolently. “There was nothing the matter with him so far as I know.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't say anything about going away?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word. You'll excuse me, gentlemen—” + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” Francis interrupted. “We came here ourselves sooner than + send a detective. Enquiries are bound to be made as to the young man's + disappearance, and we have reason to know that this is the last place at + which he was heard of. It is not unreasonable, therefore, is it, that we + should come to you for information?” + </p> + <p> + “Reasonable or unreasonable, I haven't got any,” the man declared gruffly. + “If Mr. Wilmore's cleared out, he's cleared out for some reason of his + own. It's not my business and I don't know anything about it.” + </p> + <p> + “You understand,” Francis persisted, “that our interest in young Mr. + Wilmore is entirely a friendly one?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care whether it's friendly or unfriendly. I tell you I don't know + anything about him. And,” he added, pressing his thumb upon the button for + the lift, “I'll wish you two gentlemen good afternoon. I've business to + attend to.” + </p> + <p> + Francis looked at him curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I seen you somewhere before?” he asked, a little abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I can't say. My name is John Maclane.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavy-weight champion about seven years ago?” + </p> + <p> + “I was,” the man acknowledged. “You may have seen me in the ring. Now, + gentlemen, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + The lift had stopped opposite to them. The manager's gesture of dismissal + was final. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, Mr. Maclane, if we have annoyed you with our questions,” + Francis said. “I wish you could remember a little more of Mr. Wilmore's + last visit.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can't, and that's all there is to it,” was the blunt reply. “As + to being annoyed, I am only annoyed when my time's wasted. Take these + gents down, Jim. Good afternoon!” + </p> + <p> + The door was slammed to and they shot downwards. Francis turned to the + lift man. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know a Mr. Wilmore who comes here sometimes?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not likely!” the man scoffed. “They're comin' and goin' all the time from + four o'clock in the afternoon till eleven at night. If I heard a name I + shouldn't remember it. This way out, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore's hand was in his pocket but the man turned deliberately away. + They walked out into the street. + </p> + <p> + “For downright incivility,” the former observed, “commend me to the + attendants of a young men's gymnasium!” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled. + </p> + <p> + “All the same, old fellow,” he said, “if you worry for another five + minutes about Reggie, you're an ass.” + </p> + <p> + At six o'clock that evening Francis turned his two-seater into a winding + drive bordered with rhododendrons, and pulled up before the porch of a + charming two-storied bungalow, covered with creepers, and with + French-windows opening from every room onto the lawns. A man-servant who + had heard the approach of the car was already standing in the porch. Sir + Timothy, in white flannels and a panama hat, strolled across the lawn to + greet his approaching guest. + </p> + <p> + “Excellently timed, my young friend,” he said. “You will have time for + your first cocktail before you change. My daughter you know, of course. + Lady Cynthia Milton I think you also know.” + </p> + <p> + Francis shook hands with the two girls who were lying under the cedar + tree. Margaret Hilditch seemed to him more wonderful than ever in her + white serge boating clothes. Lady Cynthia, who had apparently just arrived + from some function in town, was still wearing muslin and a large hat. + </p> + <p> + “I am always afraid that Mr. Ledsam will have forgotten me,” she observed, + as she gave him her hand. “The last time I met you was at the Old Bailey, + when you had been cheating the gallows of a very respectable wife + murderer. Poynings, I think his name was.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember it perfectly,” Francis assented. “We danced together that + night, I remember, at your aunt's, Mrs. Malcolm's, and you were intensely + curious to know how Poynings had spent his evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Cynthia's reminder is perhaps a little unfortunate,” Sir Timothy + observed. “Mr. Ledsam is no longer the last hope of the enterprising + criminal. He has turned over a new leaf. To secure the services of his + silver tongue, you have to lay at his feet no longer the bags of gold from + your ill-gotten gains but the white flower of the blameless life.” + </p> + <p> + “This is all in the worst possible taste,” Margaret Hilditch declared, in + her cold, expressionless tone. “You might consider my feelings.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia only laughed. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Margaret,” she said, “if I thought that you had any, I should + never believe that you were your father's daughter. Here's to them, + anyway,” she added, accepting the cocktail from the tray which the butler + had just brought out. “Mr. Ledsam, are you going to attach yourself to me, + or has Margaret annexed you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have offered myself to Mrs. Hilditch,” Francis rejoined promptly, “but + so far I have made no impression.” + </p> + <p> + “Try her with a punt and a concertina after dinner,” Lady Cynthia + suggested. “After all, I came down here to better my acquaintance with my + host. You flirted with me disgracefully when I was a debutante, and have + never taken any notice of me since. I hate infidelity in a man. Sir + Timothy, I shall devote myself to you. Can you play a concertina?” + </p> + <p> + “Where the higher forms of music are concerned,” he replied, “I have no + technical ability. I should prefer to sit at your feet.” + </p> + <p> + “While I punt, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “There are backwaters,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia sipped her cocktail appreciatively. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how it is,” she observed, “that in these days, although we have + become callous to everything else in life, cocktails and flirtations still + attract us. You shall take me to a backwater after dinner, Sir Timothy. I + shall wear my silver-grey and take an armful of those black cushions from + the drawing-room. In that half light, there is no telling what success I + may not achieve.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” he said, “before dinner is over you will probably have changed + your mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so,” she admitted, “but you must remember that Mr. Ledsam is my + only alternative, and I am not at all sure that he likes me. I am not + sufficiently Victorian for his taste.” + </p> + <p> + The dressing-bell rang. Sir Timothy passed his arm through Francis'. + </p> + <p> + “The sentimental side of my domain;” he said, “the others may show you. My + rose garden across the stream has been very much admired. I am now going + to give you a glimpse of The Walled House, an edifice the possession of + which has made me more or less famous.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way through a little shrubbery, across a further strip of + garden and through a door in a high wall, which he opened with a key + attached to his watch-chain. They were in an open park now, studded with + magnificent trees, in the further corner of which stood an imposing + mansion, with a great domed roof in the centre, and broad stone terraces, + one of which led down to the river. The house itself was an amazingly + blended mixture of old and new, with great wings supported by pillars + thrown out on either side. It seemed to have been built without regard to + any definite period of architecture, and yet to have attained a certain + coherency—a far-reaching structure, with long lines of outbuildings. + In the park itself were a score or more of horses, and in the distance + beyond a long line of loose boxes with open doors. Even as they stood + there, a grey sorrel mare had trotted up to their side and laid her head + against Sir Timothy's shoulder. He caressed her surreptitiously, affecting + not to notice the approach of other animals from all quarters. + </p> + <p> + “Let me introduce you to The Walled House,” its owner observed, “so + called, I imagine, because this wall, which is a great deal older than you + or I, completely encloses the estate. Of course, you remember the old + house, The Walled Palace, they called it? It belonged for many years to + the Lynton family, and afterwards to the Crown.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember reading of your purchase,” Francis said, “and of course I + remember the old mansion. You seem to have wiped it out pretty + effectually.” + </p> + <p> + “I was obliged to play the vandal,” his host confessed. “In its previous + state, the house was picturesque but uninhabitable. As you see it now, it + is an exact reproduction of the country home of one of the lesser known of + the Borgias—Sodina, I believe the lady's name was. You will find + inside some beautiful arches, and a sense of space which all modern houses + lack. It cost me a great deal of money, and it is inhabited, when I am in + Europe, about once a fortnight. You know the river name for it? 'Timothy's + Folly!”' + </p> + <p> + “But what on earth made you build it, so long as you don't care to live + there?” Francis enquired. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he explained, “I like sometimes to entertain, and I like to + entertain, when I do, on a grand scale. In London, if I give a party, the + invitations are almost automatic. I become there a very insignificant link + in the chain of what is known as Society, and Society practically helps + itself to my entertainment, and sees that everything is done according to + rule. Down here things are entirely different. An invitation to The Walled + House is a personal matter. Society has nothing whatever to do with my + functions here. The reception-rooms, too, are arranged according to my own + ideas. I have, as you may have heard, the finest private gymnasium in + England. The ballroom and music-room and private theatre, too, are + famous.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you mean to say that you keep that huge place empty?” Francis + asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + “I have a suite of rooms there which I occasionally occupy,” Sir Timothy + replied, “and there are always thirty or forty servants and attendants of + different sorts who have their quarters there. I suppose that my daughter + and I would be there at the present moment but for the fact that we own + this cottage. Both she and I, for residential purposes, prefer the + atmosphere there.” + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely wonder at it,” Francis agreed. + </p> + <p> + They were surrounded now by various quadrupeds. As well as the horses, + half-a-dozen of which were standing patiently by Sir Timothy's side, + several dogs had made their appearance and after a little preliminary + enthusiasm had settled down at his feet. He leaned over and whispered + something in the ear of the mare who had come first. She trotted off, and + the others followed suit in a curious little procession. Sir Timothy + watched them, keeping his head turned away from Francis. + </p> + <p> + “You recognise the mare the third from the end?” he pointed out. “That is + the animal I bought in Covent Garden. You see how she has filled out?” + </p> + <p> + “I should never have recognised her,” the other confessed. + </p> + <p> + “Even Nero had his weaknesses,” Sir Timothy remarked, waving the dogs + away. “My animals' quarters are well worth a visit, if you have time. + There is a small hospital, too, which is quite up to date.” + </p> + <p> + “Do any of the horses work at all?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you a very human thing about my favourites,” he said. “In the + gardens on the other side of the house we have very extensive lawns, and + my head groom thought he would make use of one of a my horses who had + recovered from a serious accident and was really quite a strong beast, for + one of the machines. He found the idea quite a success, and now he no + sooner appears in the park with a halter than, instead of stampeding, + practically every one of those horses comes cantering up with the true + volunteering spirit. The one which he selects, arches his neck and goes + off to work with a whole string of the others following. Dodsley—that + is my groom's name—tells me that he does a great deal more mowing + now than he need, simply because they worry him for the work. Gratitude, + you see, Mr. Ledsam, sheer gratitude. If you were to provide a dozen + alms-houses for your poor dependants, I wonder how many of them would be + anxious to mow your lawn.... Come, let me show you your room now.” + </p> + <p> + They passed back through the postern-gate into the gardens of The + Sanctuary. Sir Timothy led the way towards the house. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that you decided to spend the night, Mr. Ledsam,” he said. “The + river sounds a terribly hackneyed place to the Londoner, but it has + beauties which only those who live with it can discover. Mind your head. + My ceilings are low.” + </p> + <p> + Francis followed his host along many passages, up and down stairs, until + he reached a little suite of rooms at the extreme end of the building. The + man-servant who had unpacked his bag stood waiting. Sir Timothy glanced + around critically. + </p> + <p> + “Small but compact,” he remarked. “There is a little sitting-room down + that stair, and a bathroom beyond. If the flowers annoy you, throw them + out of the window. And if you prefer to bathe in the river to-morrow + morning, Brooks here will show you the diving pool. I am wearing a short + coat myself to-night, but do as you please. We dine at half-past eight.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy disappeared with a courteous little inclination of the head. + Francis dismissed the manservant at once as being out of keeping with his + quaint and fascinating surroundings. The tiny room with its flowers, its + perfume of lavender, its old-fashioned chintzes, and its fragrant linen, + might still have been a room in a cottage. The sitting-room, with its + veranda looking down upon the river, was provided with cigars, whisky and + soda and cigarettes; a bookcase, with a rare copy of Rabelais, an original + Surtees, a large paper Decameron, and a few other classics. Down another + couple of steps was a perfectly white bathroom, with shower and plunge. + Francis wandered from room to room, and finally threw himself into a chair + on the veranda to smoke a cigarette. From the river below him came now and + then the sound of voices. Through the trees on his right he could catch a + glimpse, here and there, of the strange pillars and green domed roof of + the Borghese villa. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + It was one of those faultless June evenings when the only mission of the + faintly stirring breeze seems to be to carry perfumes from garden to + garden and to make the lightest of music amongst the rustling leaves. The + dinner-table had been set out of doors, underneath the odorous cedar-tree. + Above, the sky was an arc of the deepest blue through which the web of + stars had scarcely yet found its way. Every now and then came the sound of + the splash of oars from the river; more rarely still, the murmur of light + voices as a punt passed up the stream. The little party at The Sanctuary + sat over their coffee and liqueurs long after the fall of the first + twilight, till the points of their cigarettes glowed like little specks of + fire through the enveloping darkness. Conversation had been from the first + curiously desultory, edited, in a way, Francis felt, for his benefit. + There was an atmosphere about his host and Lady Cynthia, shared in a + negative way by Margaret Hilditch, which baffled Francis. It seemed to + establish more than a lack of sympathy—to suggest, even, a life + lived upon a different plane. Yet every now and then their references to + everyday happenings were trite enough. Sir Timothy had assailed the recent + craze for drugs, a diatribe to which Lady Cynthia had listened in silence + for reasons which Francis could surmise. + </p> + <p> + “If one must soothe the senses,” Sir Timothy declared, “for the purpose of + forgetting a distasteful or painful present, I cannot see why the average + mind does not turn to the contemplation of beauty in some shape or other. + A night like to-night is surely sedative enough. Watch these lights, drink + in these perfumes, listen to the fall and flow of the water long enough, + and you would arrive at precisely the same mental inertia as though you + had taken a dose of cocaine, with far less harmful an aftermath.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Cocaine is in one's dressing-room,” she objected, “and beauty is hard to + seek in Grosvenor Square.” + </p> + <p> + “The common mistake of all men,” Sir Timothy continued, “and women, too, + for the matter of that, is that we will persist in formulating doctrines + for other people. Every man or woman is an entity of humanity, with a + separate heaven and a separate hell. No two people can breathe the same + air in the same way, or see the same picture with the same eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia rose to her feet and shook out the folds of her diaphanous + gown, daring alike in its shapelessness and scantiness. She lit a + cigarette and laid her hand upon Sir Timothy's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said, “must I remind you of your promise? You are to show me + the stables at The Walled House before it is dark.” + </p> + <p> + “You would see them better in the morning,” he reminded her, rising with + some reluctance to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she answered, “but I have a fancy to see them now.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy looked back at the table. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said, “will you look after Mr. Ledsam for a little time? + You will excuse us, Ledsam? We shall not be gone long.” + </p> + <p> + They moved away together towards the shrubbery and the door in the wall + behind. Francis resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not also curious to penetrate the mysteries behind the wall, Mr. + Ledsam?” Margaret asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not so curious but that I would much prefer to remain here,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “With me?” + </p> + <p> + “With you.” + </p> + <p> + She knocked the ash from her cigarette. She was looking directly at him, + and he fancied that there was a gleam of curiosity in her beautiful eyes. + There was certainly a little more abandon about her attitude. She was + leaning back in a corner of her high-backed chair, and her gown, although + it lacked the daring of Lady Cynthia's, seemed to rest about her like a + cloud of blue-grey smoke. + </p> + <p> + “What a curious meal!” she murmured. “Can you solve a puzzle for me, Mr. + Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + “I would do anything for you that I could,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, then, why my father asked you here to-night? I can understand + his bringing you to the opera, that was just a whim of the moment, but an + invitation down here savours of deliberation. Studiously polite though you + are to one another, one is conscious all the time of the hostility beneath + the surface.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that so far as your father is concerned, it is part of his + peculiar disposition,” Francis replied. “You remember he once said that he + was tired of entertaining his friends—that there was more pleasure + in having an enemy at the board.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you an enemy, Mr. Ledsam?” she asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + He rose a little abruptly to his feet, ignoring her question. There were + servants hovering in the background. + </p> + <p> + “Will you walk with me in the gardens?” he begged. “Or may I take you upon + the river?” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet. For a moment she seemed to hesitate. + </p> + <p> + “The river, I think,” she decided. “Will you wait for three minutes while + I get a wrap. You will find some punts moored to the landing-stage there + in the stream. I like the very largest and most comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + Francis strolled to the edge of the stream, and made his choice of punts. + Soon a servant appeared with his arms full of cushions, and a moment or + two later, Margaret herself, wrapped in an ermine cloak. She smiled a + little deprecatingly as she picked her way across the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “Don't laugh at me for being such a chilly mortal, please,” she enjoined. + “And don't be afraid that I am going to propose a long expedition. I want + to go to a little backwater in the next stream.” + </p> + <p> + She settled herself in the stern and they glided down the narrow + thoroughfare. The rose bushes from the garden almost lapped the water as + they passed. Behind, the long low cottage, the deserted dinner-table, the + smooth lawn with its beds of scarlet geraniums and drooping lilac shrubs + in the background, seemed like a scene from fairyland, to attain a + perfection of detail unreal, almost theatrical. + </p> + <p> + “To the right when you reach the river, please,” she directed. “You will + find there is scarcely any current. We turn up the next stream.” + </p> + <p> + There was something almost mysterious, a little impressive, about the + broad expanse of river into which they presently turned. Opposite were + woods and then a sloping lawn. From a house hidden in the distance they + heard the sound of a woman singing. They even caught the murmurs of + applause as she concluded. Then there was silence, only the soft gurgling + of the water cloven by the punt pole. They glided past the front of the + great unlit house, past another strip of woodland, and then up a narrow + stream. + </p> + <p> + “To the left here,” she directed, “and then stop.” + </p> + <p> + They bumped against the bank. The little backwater into which they had + turned seemed to terminate in a bed of lilies whose faint fragrance almost + enveloped them. The trees on either side made a little arch of darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Please ship your pole and listen,” Margaret said dreamily. “Make yourself + as comfortable as you can. There are plenty of cushions behind you. This + is where I come for silence.” + </p> + <p> + Francis obeyed her orders without remark. For a few moments, speech seemed + impossible. The darkness was so intense that although he was acutely + conscious of her presence there, only a few feet away, nothing but the + barest outline of her form was visible. The silence which she had brought + him to seek was all around them. There was just the faintest splash of + water from the spot where the stream and the river met, the distant + barking of a dog, the occasional croaking of a frog from somewhere in the + midst of the bed of lilies. Otherwise the silence and the darkness were + like a shroud. Francis leaned forward in his place. His hands, which + gripped the sides of the punt, were hot. The serenity of the night mocked + him. + </p> + <p> + “So this is your paradise,” he said, a little hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + She made no answer. Her silence seemed to him more thrilling than words. + He leaned forward. His hands fell upon the soft fur which encompassed her. + They rested there. Still she did not speak. He tightened his grasp, moved + further forward, the passion surging through his veins, his breath almost + failing him. He was so near now that he heard her breathing, saw her face, + as pale as ever. Her lips were a little parted, her eyes looked out, as it + seemed to him, half in fear, half in hope. He bent lower still. She + neither shrank away nor invited him. + </p> + <p> + “Dear!” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + Her arms stole from underneath the cloak, her fingers rested upon his + shoulders. He scarcely knew whether it was a caress or whether she were + holding him from her. In any case it was too late. With a little sob of + passion his lips were pressed to hers. Even as she closed her eyes, the + scent of the lilies seemed to intoxicate him. + </p> + <p> + He was back in his place without conscious movement. His pulses were + quivering, the passion singing in his blood, the joy of her faint caress + living proudly in his memory. It had been the moment of his life, and yet + even now he felt sick at heart with fears, with the torment of her + passiveness. She had lain there in his arms, he had felt the thrill of her + body, some quaint inspiration had told him that she had sought for joy in + that moment and had not wholly failed. Yet his anxiety was tumultuous, + overwhelming. Then she spoke, and his heart leaped again. Her voice was + more natural. It was not a voice which he had ever heard before. + </p> + <p> + “Give me a cigarette, please—and I want to go back.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned over her again, struck a match with trembling fingers and gave + her the cigarette. She smiled at him very faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Please go back now,” she begged. “Smoke yourself, take me home slowly and + say nothing.” + </p> + <p> + He obeyed, but his knees were shaking when he stood up. Slowly, a foot at + a time, they passed from the mesh of the lilies out into the broad stream. + Almost as they did so, the yellow rim of the moon came up over the low + hills. As they turned into their own stream, the light was strong enough + for him to see her face. She lay there like a ghost, her eyes half closed, + the only touch of colour in the shining strands of her beautiful hair. She + roused herself a little as they swung around. He paused, leaning upon the + pole. + </p> + <p> + “You are not angry?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not angry,” she answered. “Why should I be? But I cannot talk to + you about it tonight.” + </p> + <p> + They glided to the edge of the landing-stage. A servant appeared and + secured the punt. + </p> + <p> + “Is Sir Timothy back yet?” Margaret enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, madam.” + </p> + <p> + She turned to Francis. + </p> + <p> + “Please go and have a whisky and soda in the smoking-room,” she said, + pointing to the open French windows. “I am going to my favourite seat. You + will find me just across the bridge there.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, filled with a passionate disinclination to leave her side + even for a moment. She seemed to understand but she pointed once more to + the room. + </p> + <p> + “I should like very much,” she added, “to be alone for five minutes. If + you will come and find me then—please!” + </p> + <p> + Francis stepped through the French windows into the smoking-room, where + all the paraphernalia for satisfying thirst were set out upon the + sideboard. He helped himself to whisky and soda and drank it absently, + with his eyes fixed upon the clock. In five minutes he stepped once more + back into the gardens, soft and brilliant now in the moonlight. As he did + so, he heard the click of the gate in the wall, and footsteps. His host, + with Lady Cynthia upon his arm, came into sight and crossed the lawn + towards him. Francis, filled though his mind was with other thoughts, + paused for a moment and glanced towards them curiously. Lady Cynthia + seemed for a moment to have lost all her weariness. Her eyes were very + bright, she walked with a new spring in her movements. Even her voice, as + she addressed Francis, seemed altered. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy has been showing me some of the wonders of his villa—do + you call it a villa or a palace?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is certainly not a palace,” Sir Timothy protested, “and I fear that it + has scarcely the atmosphere of a villa. It is an attempt to combine + certain ideas of my own with the requirements of modern entertainment. + Come and have a drink with us, Ledsam.” + </p> + <p> + “I have just had one,” Francis replied. “Mrs. Hilditch is in the rose + garden and I am on my way to join her.” + </p> + <p> + He passed on and the two moved towards the open French windows. He crossed + the rustic bridge that led into the flower garden, turned down the pergola + and came to a sudden standstill before the seat which Margaret had + indicated. It was empty, but in the corner lay the long-stalked lily which + she had picked in the backwater. He stood there for a moment, transfixed. + There were other seats and chairs in the garden, but he knew before he + started his search that it was in vain. She had gone. The flower, drooping + a little now though the stalk was still wet with the moisture of the + river, seemed to him like her farewell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + Francis was surprised, when he descended for breakfast the next morning, + to find the table laid for one only. The butler who was waiting, handed + him the daily papers and wheeled the electric heater to his side. + </p> + <p> + “Is no one else breakfasting?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy and Mrs. Hilditch are always served in their rooms, sir. Her + ladyship is taking her coffee upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + Francis ate his breakfast, glanced through the Times, lit a cigarette and + went round to the garage for his car. The butler met him as he drove up + before the porch. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy begs you to excuse him this morning, sir,” he announced. “His + secretary has arrived from town with a very large correspondence which + they are now engaged upon.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mrs. Hilditch?” Francis ventured. + </p> + <p> + “I have not seen her maid this morning, sir,” the man replied, “but Mrs. + Hilditch never rises before midday. Sir Timothy hopes that you slept well, + sir, and would like you to sign the visitors' book.” + </p> + <p> + Francis signed his name mechanically, and was turning away when Lady + Cynthia called to him from the stairs. She was dressed for travelling and + followed by a maid, carrying her dressing-case. + </p> + <p> + “Will you take me up to town, Mr. Ledsam?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Delighted,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Their dressing-cases were strapped together behind and Lady Cynthia sank + into the cushions by his side. They drove away from the house, Francis + with a backward glance of regret. The striped sun-blinds had been lowered + over all the windows, thrushes and blackbirds were twittering on the lawn, + the air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, a boatman was busy with the + boats. Out beyond, through the trees, the river wound its placid way. + </p> + <p> + “Quite a little paradise,” Lady Cynthia murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Delightful,” her companion assented. “I suppose great wealth has its + obligations, but why any human being should rear such a structure as what + he calls his Borghese villa, when he has a charming place like that to + live in, I can't imagine.” + </p> + <p> + Her silence was significant, almost purposeful. She unwound the veil from + her motoring turban, took it off altogether and attached it to the + cushions of the car with a hatpin. + </p> + <p> + “There,” she said, leaning back, “you can now gaze upon a horrible example + to the young women of to-day. You can see the ravages which late hours, + innumerable cocktails, a thirst for excitement, a contempt of the simple + pleasures of life, have worked upon my once comely features. I was quite + good-looking, you know, in the days you first knew me.” + </p> + <p> + “You were the most beautiful debutante of your season,” he agreed. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of me now?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + She met his gaze without flinching. Her face was unnaturally thin, with + disfiguring hollows underneath her cheekbones; her lips lacked colour; + even her eyes were lustreless. Her hair seemed to lack brilliancy. Only + her silken eyebrows remained unimpaired, and a certain charm of expression + which nothing seemed able to destroy. + </p> + <p> + “You look tired,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Be honest, my dear man,” she rejoined drily. “I am a physical wreck, + dependent upon cosmetics for the looks which I am still clever enough to + palm off on the uninitiated.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you lead a quieter life?” he asked. “A month or so in the + country would put you all right.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed a little hardly. Then for a moment she looked at him + appraisingly. + </p> + <p> + “I was going to speak to you of nerves,” she said, “but how would you ever + understand? You look as though you had not a nerve in your body. I can't + think how you manage it, living in London. I suppose you do exercises and + take care of what you eat and drink.” + </p> + <p> + “I do nothing of the sort,” he assured her indignantly. “I eat and drink + whatever I fancy. I have always had a direct object in life—my work—and + I believe that has kept me fit and well. Nerve troubles come as a rule, I + think, from the under-used brain.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have been born with a butterfly disposition,” she said. “I am + quite sure that mine come because I find it so hard to be amused. I am + sure I am most enterprising. I try whatever comes along, but nothing + satisfies me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not try being in love with one of these men who've been in love with + you all their lives?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “The men who have cared for me and have been worth caring about,” she + said, “gave me up years ago. I mocked at them when they were in earnest, + scoffed at sentiment, and told them frankly that when I married it would + only be to find a refuge for broader life. The right sort wouldn't have + anything to say to me after that, and I do not blame them. And here is the + torture of it. I can't stand the wrong sort near me—physically, I + mean. Mind, I believe I'm attracted towards people with criminal tastes + and propensities. I believe that is what first led me towards Sir Timothy. + Every taste I ever had in life seems to have become besmirched. I'm all + the time full of the craving to do horrible things, but all the same I + can't bear to be touched. That's the torment of it. I wonder if you can + understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can,” he answered. “Your trouble lies in having the wrong + friends and in lack of self-discipline. If you were my sister, I'd take + you away for a fortnight and put you on the road to being cured.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I wish I were your sister,” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Don't think I'm unsympathetic,” he went on, “because I'm not. Wait till + we've got into the main road here and I'll try and explain.” + </p> + <p> + They were passing along a country lane, so narrow that twigs from the + hedges, wreathed here and there in wild roses, brushed almost against + their cheeks. On their left was the sound of a reaping-machine and the + perfume of new-mown hay. The sun was growing stronger at every moment. A + transitory gleam of pleasure softened her face. + </p> + <p> + “It is ages since I smelt honeysuckle,” she confessed, “except in a + perfumer's shop. I was wondering what it reminded me of.” + </p> + <p> + “That,” he said, as they turned out into the broad main road, with its + long vista of telegraph poles, “is because you have been neglecting the + real for the sham, flowers themselves for their artificially distilled + perfume. What I was going to try and put into words without sounding too + priggish, Lady Cynthia,” he went on, “is this. It is just you people who + are cursed with a restless brain who are in the most dangerous position, + nowadays. The things which keep us healthy and normal physically—games, + farces, dinner-parties of young people, fresh air and exercise—are + the very things which after a time fail to satisfy the person with + imagination. You want more out of life, always the something you don't + understand, the something beyond. And so you keep on trying new things, + and for every new thing you try, you drop an old one. Isn't it something + like that?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is,” she admitted wearily. + </p> + <p> + “Drugs take the place of wholesome wine,” he went on, warming to his + subject. “The hideous fascination of flirting with the uncouth or the + impossible some way or another, stimulates a passion which simple means + have ceased to gratify. You seek for the unusual in every way—in + food, in the substitution of absinthe for your harmless Martini, of + cocaine for your stimulating champagne. There is a horrible wave of all + this sort of thing going on to-day in many places, and I am afraid,” he + concluded, “that a great many of our very nicest young women are caught up + in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Guilty,” she confessed. “Now cure me.” + </p> + <p> + “I could point out the promised land, but how, could I lead you to it?” he + answered. + </p> + <p> + “You don't like me well enough,” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I like you better than you believe,” he assured her, slackening his speed + a little. “We have met, I suppose, a dozen times in our lives. I have + danced with you here and there, talked nonsense once, I remember, at a + musical reception—” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to flirt with you then,” she interrupted. + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I was in the midst of a great case,” he said, “and everything that + happened to me outside it was swept out of my mind day by day. What I was + going to say is that I have always liked you, from the moment when your + mother presented me to you at your first dance.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you'd told me so,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't have made any difference,” he declared. “I wasn't in a + position to think of a duke's daughter, in those days. I don't suppose I + am now.” + </p> + <p> + “Try,” she begged hopefully. + </p> + <p> + He smiled back at her. The reawakening of her sense of humour was + something. + </p> + <p> + “Too late,” he regretted. “During the last month or so the thing has come + to me which we all look forward to, only I don't think fate has treated me + kindly. I have always loved normal ways and normal people, and the woman I + care for is different.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about her?” she insisted. + </p> + <p> + “You will be very surprised when I tell you her name,” he said. “It is + Margaret Hilditch.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him for a moment in blank astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” she exclaimed. “Oliver Hilditch's wife!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help that,” he declared, a little doggedly. “She's had a + miserable time, I know. She was married to a scamp. I'm not quite sure + that her father isn't as bad a one. Those things don't make any + difference.” + </p> + <p> + “They wouldn't with you,” she said softly. “Tell me, did you say anything + to her last night?” + </p> + <p> + “I did,” he replied. “I began when we were out alone together. She gave me + no encouragement to speak of, but at any rate she knows.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia leaned a little forward in her place. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where she is now?” + </p> + <p> + He was a little startled. + </p> + <p> + “Down at the cottage, I suppose. The butler told me that she never rose + before midday.” + </p> + <p> + “Then for once the butler was mistaken,” his companion told him. “Margaret + Hilditch left at six o'clock this morning. I saw her in travelling clothes + get into the car and drive away.” + </p> + <p> + “She left the cottage this morning before us?” Francis repeated, amazed. + </p> + <p> + “I can assure you that she did,” Lady Cynthia insisted. “I never sleep, + amongst my other peculiarities,” she went on bitterly, “and I was lying on + a couch by the side of the open window when the car came for her. She + stopped it at the bend of the avenue—so that it shouldn't wake us + up, I suppose. I saw her get in and drive away.” + </p> + <p> + Francis was silent for several moments. Lady Cynthia watched him + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate,” she observed, “in whatever mood she went away this morning, + you have evidently succeeded in doing what I have never seen any one else + do—breaking through her indifference. I shouldn't have thought that + anything short of an earthquake would have stirred Margaret, these days.” + </p> + <p> + “These days?” he repeated quickly. “How long have you known her?” + </p> + <p> + “We were at school together for a short time,” she told him. “It was while + her father was in South America. Margaret was a very different person in + those days.” + </p> + <p> + “However was she induced to marry a person like Oliver Hilditch?” Francis + speculated. + </p> + <p> + His companion shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” she answered indifferently. “Are you going to drop me?” + </p> + <p> + “Wherever you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Take me on to Grosvenor Square, if you will, then,” she begged, “and + deposit me at the ancestral mansion. I am really rather annoyed about + Margaret,” she went on, rearranging her veil. “I had begun to have hopes + that you might have revived my taste for normal things.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had had the slightest intimation—” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “It would have made no difference,” she interrupted dolefully. “Now I come + to think of it, the Margaret whom I used to know—and there must be + plenty of her left yet—is just the right type of woman for you.” + </p> + <p> + They drew up outside the house in Grosvenor Square. Lady Cynthia held out + her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Come and see me one afternoon, will you?” she invited. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to very much,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + She lingered on the steps and waved her hand to him—a graceful, + somewhat insolent gesture. + </p> + <p> + “All the same, I think I shall do my best to make you forget Margaret,” + she called out. “Thanks for the lift up. A bientôt!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + Francis drove direct from Grosvenor Square to his chambers in the Temple, + and found Shopland, his friend from Scotland Yard, awaiting his arrival. + </p> + <p> + “Any news?” Francis enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing definite, I am sorry, to say,” was the other's reluctant + admission. + </p> + <p> + Francis hung up his hat, threw himself into his easy-chair and lit a + cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “The lad's brother is one of my oldest friends, Shopland,” he said. “He is + naturally in a state of great distress.” + </p> + <p> + The detective scratched his chin thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I said 'nothing definite' just now, sir,” he observed. “As a rule, I + never mention suspicions, but with you it is a different matter. I haven't + discovered the slightest trace of Mr. Reginald Wilmore, or the slightest + reason for his disappearance. He seems to have been a well-conducted young + gentleman, a little extravagant, perhaps, but able to pay his way and with + nothing whatever against him. Nothing whatever, that is to say, except one + almost insignificant thing.” + </p> + <p> + “And that?” + </p> + <p> + “A slight tendency towards bad company, sir. I have heard of his being + about with one or two whom we are keeping our eye upon.” + </p> + <p> + “Bobby Fairfax's lot, by any chance?” + </p> + <p> + Shopland nodded. + </p> + <p> + “He was with Jacks and Miss Daisy Hyslop, a night or two before he + disappeared. I am not sure that a young man named Morse wasn't of the + party, too.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you make of that lot?” Francis asked curiously. “Are they + gamesters, dope fiends, or simply vicious?” + </p> + <p> + The detective was silent. He was gazing intently at his rather square-toed + shoes. + </p> + <p> + “There are rumours, sir,” he said, presently, “of things going on in the + West End which want looking into very badly—very badly indeed. You + will remember speaking to me of Sir Timothy Brast?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember quite well,” Francis acknowledged. + </p> + <p> + “I've nothing to go on,” the other continued. “I am working almost on your + own lines, Mr. Ledsam, groping in the dark to find a clue, as it were, but + I'm beginning to have ideas about Sir Timothy Brast, just ideas.” + </p> + <p> + “As, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he stands on rather queer terms with some of his acquaintances, + sir. Now you saw, down at Soto's Bar, the night we arrested Mr. Fairfax, + that not one of those young men there spoke to Sir Timothy as though they + were acquainted, nor he to them. Yet I happened to find out that every one + of them, including Mr. Fairfax himself, was present at a party Sir Timothy + Brast gave at his house down the river a week or two before.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid there isn't much in that,” Francis declared. “Sir Timothy has + the name of being an eccentric person everywhere, especially in this + respect—he never notices acquaintances. I heard, only the other day, + that while he was wonderfully hospitable and charming to all his guests, + he never remembered them outside his house.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland nodded. + </p> + <p> + “A convenient eccentricity,” he remarked, a little drily. “I have heard + the same thing myself. You spent the night at his country cottage, did you + not, Mr. Ledsam? Did he offer to show you over The Walled House?” + </p> + <p> + “How the dickens did you know I was down there?” Francis demanded, with + some surprise. “I was just thinking as I drove up that I hadn't left my + address either here or at Clarges Street.” + </p> + <p> + “Next time you visit Sir Timothy,” the detective observed, “I should + advise you to do so. I knew you were there, Mr. Ledsam, because I was in + the neighbourhood myself. I have been doing a little fishing, and keeping + my eye on that wonderful estate of Sir Timothy's.” + </p> + <p> + Francis was interested. + </p> + <p> + “Shopland,” he said, “I believe that our intelligences, such as they are, + are akin.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you suspect Sir Timothy of?” the detective asked bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “I suspect him of nothing,” Francis replied. “He is simply, to my mind, an + incomprehensible, somewhat sinister figure, who might be capable of + anything. He may have very excellent qualities which he contrives to + conceal, or he may be an arch-criminal. His personality absolutely puzzles + me.” + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door and Angrave appeared. Apparently he had + forgotten Shopland's presence, for he ushered in another visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy Brast to see you, sir,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + The moment was one of trial to every one, admirably borne. Shopland + remained in his chair, with only a casual glance at the newcomer. Francis + rose to his feet with a half-stifled expression of anger at the clumsiness + of his clerk. Sir Timothy, well-shaven and groomed, attired in a + perfectly-fitting suit of grey flannel, nodded to Francis in friendly + fashion and laid his Homburg hat upon the table with the air of a + familiar. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Ledsam,” he said, “I do hope that you will excuse this early + call. I could only have been an hour behind you on the road. I dare say + you can guess what I have come to see you about. Can we have a word + together?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” was the ready reply. “You remember my friend Shopland, Sir + Timothy? It was Mr. Shopland who arrested young Fairfax that night at + Soto's.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember him perfectly,” Sir Timothy declared. “I fancied, directly I + entered, that your face was familiar,” he added, turning to Shopland. “I + am rather ashamed of myself about that night. My little outburst must have + sounded almost ridiculous to you two. To tell you the truth, I quite + failed at that time to give Mr. Ledsam credit for gifts which I have since + discovered him to possess.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Shopland and I are now discussing another matter,” Francis went on, + pushing a box of cigarettes towards Sir Timothy, who was leaning against + the table in an easy attitude. “Don't go, Shopland, for a minute. We were + consulting together about the disappearance of a young man, Reggie + Wilmore, the brother of a friend of mine—Andrew Wilmore, the + novelist.” + </p> + <p> + “Disappearance?” Sir Timothy repeated, as he lit a cigarette. “That is + rather a vague term.” + </p> + <p> + “The young man has been missing from home for over a week,” Francis said, + “and left no trace whatever of his whereabouts. He was not in financial + trouble, he does not seem to have been entangled with any young woman, he + had not quarrelled with his people, and he seems to have been on the best + of terms with the principal at the house of business where he was + employed. His disappearance, therefore, is, to say the least of it, + mysterious.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy assented gravely. + </p> + <p> + “The lack of motive to which you allude,” he pointed out, “makes the case + interesting. Still, one must remember that London is certainly the city of + modern mysteries. If a new 'Arabian Nights' were written, it might well be + about London. I dare say Mr. Shopland will agree with me,” he continued, + turning courteously towards the detective, “that disappearances of this + sort are not nearly so uncommon as the uninitiated would believe. For one + that is reported in the papers, there are half-a-dozen which are not. Your + late Chief Commissioner, by-the-bye,” he added meditatively, “once a very + intimate friend of mine, was my informant.” + </p> + <p> + “Where do you suppose they disappear to?” Francis enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Who can tell?” was the speculative reply. “For an adventurous youth there + are a thousand doors which lead to romance. Besides, the lives of none of + us are quite so simple as they seem. Even youth has its secret chapters. + This young man, for instance, might be on his way to Australia, happy in + the knowledge that he has escaped from some murky chapter of life which + will now never be known. He may write to his friends, giving them a hint. + The whole thing will blow over.” + </p> + <p> + “There may be cases such as you suggest, Sir Timothy,” the detective said + quietly. “Our investigations, so far as regards the young man in question, + however, do not point that way.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy turned over his cigarette to look at the name of the maker. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent tobacco,” he murmured. “By-the-bye, what did you say the young + man's name was?” + </p> + <p> + “Reginald Wilmore,” Francis told him. + </p> + <p> + “A good name,” Sir Timothy murmured. “I am sure I wish you both every good + fortune in your quest. Would it be too much to ask you now, Mr. Ledsam, + for that single minute alone?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means,” Francis answered. + </p> + <p> + “I'll wait in the office, if I may,” Shopland suggested, rising to his + feet. “I want to have another word with you before I go.” + </p> + <p> + “My business with Mr. Ledsam is of a family nature,” Sir Timothy said + apologetically, as Shopland passed out. “I will not keep him for more than + a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland closed the door behind him. Sir Timothy waited until he heard his + departing footsteps. Then he turned back to Francis. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I have come to ask you if you know anything of my + daughter's whereabouts?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever,” Francis replied. “I was on the point of ringing you up + to ask you the same question.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she tell you that she was leaving The Sanctuary?” + </p> + <p> + “She gave me not the slightest intimation of it,” Francis assured his + questioner, “in fact she invited me to meet her in the rose garden last + night. When I arrived there, she was gone. I have heard nothing from her + since.” + </p> + <p> + “You spent the evening with her?” + </p> + <p> + “To my great content.” + </p> + <p> + “What happened between you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing happened. I took the opportunity, however, of letting your + daughter understand the nature of my feelings for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! May I ask what they are?” + </p> + <p> + “I will translate them into facts,” Francis replied. “I wish your daughter + to become my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “You amaze me!” Sir Timothy exclaimed, with the old mocking smile at his + lips. “How can you possibly contemplate association with the daughter of a + man whom you suspect and distrust as you do me?” + </p> + <p> + “If I suspect and distrust you, it is your own fault,” Francis reminded + him. “You have declared yourself to be a criminal and a friend of + criminals. I am inclined to believe that you have spoken the truth. I care + for that fact just as little as I care for the fact that you are a + millionaire, or that Margaret has been married to a murderer. I intend her + to become my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you encourage her to leave me?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not. I had not the slightest idea that she had left The Sanctuary + until Lady Cynthia told me, halfway to London this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy was silent for several moments. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any idea in your own mind,” he persisted, “as to where she has + gone and for what purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the slightest in the world,” Francis declared. “I am just as anxious + to hear from her; and to know where she is, as you seem to be.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I am disappointed,” he admitted. “I had hoped to obtain some information + from you. I must try in another direction.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you are here, Sir Timothy,” Francis said, as his visitor prepared + to depart, “may I ask whether you have any objection to my marrying your + daughter?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy frowned. + </p> + <p> + “The question places me in a somewhat difficult position,” he replied + coldly. “In a certain sense I have a liking for you. You are not quite the + ingenuous nincompoop I took you for on the night of our first meeting. On + the other hand, you have prejudices against me. My harmless confession of + sympathy with criminals and their ways seems to have stirred up a cloud of + suspicion in your mind. You even employ a detective to show the world what + a fool he can look, sitting in a punt attempting to fish, with one eye on + the supposed abode of crime.” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing whatever to do with the details of Shopland's + investigations,” Francis protested. “He is in search of Reggie Wilmore.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he think I have secret dungeons in my new abode,” Sir Timothy + demanded, “or oubliettes in which I keep and starve brainless youths for + some nameless purpose? Be reasonable, Mr. Ledsam. What the devil benefit + could accrue to me from abducting or imprisoning or in any way laying my + criminal hand upon this young man?” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever that we have been able to discover as yet,” Francis + admitted. + </p> + <p> + “A leaning towards melodrama, admirable in its way, needs the leaven of a + well-balanced discretion and a sense of humour,” Sir Timothy observed. + “The latter quality is as a rule singularly absent amongst the myrmidons + of Scotland Yard. I do not think that Mr. Shopland will catch even fish in + the neighbourhood of The Walled House. As regards your matrimonial + proposal, let us waive that until my daughter returns.” + </p> + <p> + “As you will,” Francis agreed. “I will be frank to this extent, at any + rate. If I can persuade your daughter to marry me, your consent will not + affect the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “I can leave Margaret a matter of two million pounds,” Sir Timothy said + pensively. + </p> + <p> + “I have enough money to support my wife myself,” Francis observed. + </p> + <p> + “Utopian but foolish,” Sir Timothy declared. “All the same, Mr. Ledsam, + let me tell you this. You have a curious attraction for me. When I was + asked why I had invited you to The Sanctuary last night, I frankly could + not answer the question. I didn't know. I don't know. Your dislike of me + doesn't seem to affect the question. I was glad to have you there last + night. It pleases me to hear you talk, to hear your views of things. I + feel that I shall have to be very careful, Mr. Ledsam, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Or what?” Francis demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Or I shall even welcome the idea of having you for a son-in-law,” Sir + Timothy concluded reluctantly. “Make my excuses to Mr. Shopland. Au + revoir!” + </p> + <p> + Shopland came in as the door closed behind the departing visitor. He + listened to all that Francis had to say, without comment. + </p> + <p> + “If The Walled House,” he said at last, “is so carefully guarded that Sir + Timothy has been informed of my watching the place and has been made aware + of my mild questionings, it must be because there is something to conceal. + I may or may not be on the track of Mr. Reginald Wilmore, but,” the + detective concluded, “of one thing I am becoming convinced—The + Walled House will pay for watching.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + It was a day when chance was kind to Francis. After leaving his rooms at + the Temple, he made a call at one of the great clubs in Pall Mall, to + enquire as to the whereabouts of a friend. On his way back towards the + Sheridan, he came face to face with Margaret Hilditch, issuing from the + doors of one of the great steamship companies. For a moment he almost + failed to recognise her. She reminded him more of the woman of the + tea-shop. Her costume, neat and correct though it was, was studiously + unobtrusive. Her motoring veil, too, was obviously worn to assist her in + escaping notice. + </p> + <p> + She, too, came to a standstill at seeing him. Her first ejaculations + betrayed a surprise which bordered on consternation. Then Francis, with a + sudden inspiration, pointed to the long envelope which she was carrying in + her hand. + </p> + <p> + “You have been to book a passage somewhere!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + The monosyllable was in her usual level tone. Nevertheless, he could see + that she was shaken: + </p> + <p> + “You were going away without seeing me again?”' he asked reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” she admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up and down a little helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “I owe you no explanation for my conduct,” she said. “Please let me pass.” + </p> + <p> + “Could we talk for a few minutes, please?” he begged. “Tell me where you + were going?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, back to lunch, I suppose,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Your father has been up, looking for you,” he told her. + </p> + <p> + “I telephoned to The Sanctuary,” she replied. “He had just left.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very anxious,” he continued, “not to distress you, but I cannot let + you go away like this. Will you come to my rooms and let us talk for a + little time?” + </p> + <p> + She made no answer. Somehow, he realised that speech just then was + difficult. He called a taxi and handed her in. They drove to Clarges + Street in silence. He led the way up the stairs, gave some quick orders to + his servant whom he met coming down, ushered her into his sitting-room and + saw her ensconced in an easy-chair. + </p> + <p> + “Please take off that terrible veil,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + “It is pinned on to my hat,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + “Then off with both,” he insisted. “You can't eat luncheon like that. I'm + not going to try and bully you. If you've booked your passage to Timbuctoo + and you really want to go—why, you must. I only want the chance of + letting you know that I am coming after you.” + </p> + <p> + She took off her hat and veil and threw them on to the sofa, glancing + sideways at a mirror let into the door of a cabinet. + </p> + <p> + “My hair is awful,” she declared: + </p> + <p> + He laughed gaily, and turned around from the sideboard, where he was busy + mixing cocktails. + </p> + <p> + “Thank heavens for that touch of humanity!” he exclaimed. “A woman who can + bother about her hair when she takes her hat off, is never past praying + for. Please drink this.” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed. He took the empty glass away from her. Then he came over to + the hearthrug by her side. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that I kissed you last night?” he reminded her. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” she answered. “That is why I have just paid eighty-four pounds for + a passage to Buenos Ayres.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have enjoyed the trip,” he said. “Still, I'm glad I haven't to + go.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean that you would have come after me?” she asked + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I should,” he assured her. “Believe me, there isn't such an + obstinate person in the world as the man of early middle-age who suddenly + discovers the woman he means to marry.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can't marry me,” she protested. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because I was Oliver Hilditch's wife, for one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, “if you had been Beelzebub's wife, it wouldn't make + the least difference to me. You haven't given me much of a chance to tell + you so yet, Margaret, but I love you.” + </p> + <p> + She sat a little forward in her chair. Her eyes were fixed upon his + wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “But how can you?” she exclaimed. “You know, nothing of me except my + associations, and they have been horrible. What is there to love in me? I + am a frozen-up woman. Everything is dead here,” she went on, clasping her + hand to her heart. “I have no sentiment, no passion, nothing but an animal + desire to live my life luxuriously and quickly.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled confidently. Then, with very little warning, he sank on one + knee, drew her face to his, kissed her lips and then her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Are you so sure of all these things, Margaret?” he whispered. “Don't you + think it is, perhaps, because there has been no one to care for you as I + do—as I shall—to the end of my days? The lily you left on your + chair last night was like you—fair and stately and beautiful, but a + little bruised. You will come back as it has done, come back to the world. + My love will bring you. My care. Believe it, please!” + </p> + <p> + Then he saw the first signs of change in her face. There was the faintest + shade of almost shell-like pink underneath the creamy-white of her cheeks. + Her lips were trembling a little, her eyes were misty. With a sudden + passionate little impulse, her arms were around his neck, her lips sought + his of their own accord. + </p> + <p> + “Let me forget,” she sobbed. “Kiss me let me forget!” + </p> + <p> + Francis' servant was both heavy-footed and discreet. When he entered the + room with a tray, his master was standing at the sideboard. + </p> + <p> + “I've done the best I could, sir,” he announced, a little apologetically. + “Shall I lay the cloth?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave everything on the tray, Brooks,” Francis directed. “We will help + ourselves. In an hour's time bring coffee.” + </p> + <p> + The man glanced around the room. + </p> + <p> + “There are glasses on the sideboard, sir, and the corkscrew is here. I + think you will have everything you want.” + </p> + <p> + He departed, closing the door behind him. Francis held out his hands to + Margaret. She rose slowly to her feet, looked in the glass helplessly and + then back at him. She was very beautiful but a little dazed. + </p> + <p> + “Are we going to have luncheon?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he answered. “Did you think I meant to starve you?” + </p> + <p> + He picked up the long envelope which she had dropped upon the carpet, and + threw it on to the sofa. Then he drew up two chairs to the table, and + opened a small bottle of champagne. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you won't mind a picnic,” he said. “Really, Brooks hasn't done so + badly—pâté de foie gras, hot toast and Devonshire butter. Let me + spread some for you. A cold chicken afterwards, and some strawberries. + Please be hungry, Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed at him. It occurred to him suddenly, with a little pang, that + he had never heard her laugh before. It was like music. + </p> + <p> + “I'm too happy,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me,” he assured her, as he buttered a piece of toast, “happiness + and hunger might well be twins. They go so well together. Misery can take + away one's appetite. Happiness, when one gets over the gulpiness of it, is + the best tonic in the world. And I never saw any one, dear, with whom + happiness agreed so well,” he added, pausing in his task to bend over and + kiss her. “Do you know you are the most beautiful thing on earth? It is a + lucky thing we are going to live in England, and that these are sober, + matter-of-fact days, or I should find myself committed to fighting duels + all the time.” + </p> + <p> + She had a momentary relapse. A look of terror suddenly altered her face. + She caught at his wrist. + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” she cried. “Don't talk about such things!” + </p> + <p> + He was a little bewildered. The moment passed. She laughed almost + apologetically. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” she begged, “but I hate the thought of fighting of any sort. + Some day I'll explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Clumsy ass I was!” he declared, completing his task and setting the + result before her. “Now how's that for a first course? Drink a little of + your wine.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned his glass against hers. + </p> + <p> + “My love,” he whispered, “my love now, dear, and always, and you'll find + it quite strong enough,” he went on, “to keep you from all the ugly + things. And now away with sentiment. I had a very excellent but solitary + breakfast this morning, and it seems a long time ago.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems amazing to think that you spent last night at The Sanctuary,” + she reflected. + </p> + <p> + “And that you and I were in a punt,” he reminded her, “in the pool of + darkness where the trees met, and the lilies leaned over to us.” + </p> + <p> + “And you nearly upset the punt.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the sort! As a matter of fact, I was very careful. But,” he + proceeded, with a sudden wave of memory, “I don't think my heart will ever + beat normally again. It seemed as though it would tear its way out of my + side when I leaned towards you, and you knew, and you lay still.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “You surely didn't expect I was going to get up? It was quite + encouragement enough to remain passive. As a matter of fact,” she went on, + “I couldn't have moved. I couldn't have uttered a sound. I suppose I must + have been like one of those poor birds you read about, when some devouring + animal crouches for its last spring.” + </p> + <p> + “Compliments already!” he remarked. “You won't forget that my name is + Francis, will you? Try and practise it while I carve the chicken.” + </p> + <p> + “You carve very badly, Francis,” she told him demurely. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” he said, “thank heavens we shall be able to afford a butler! + By-the-bye, I told your father this morning that I was going to marry you, + and he didn't seem to think it possible because he had two million + pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Braggart!” she murmured. “When did you see my father?” + </p> + <p> + “He came to my rooms in the Temple soon after I arrived this morning. He + seemed to think I might know where you were. I dare say he won't like me + for a son-in-law,” Francis continued with a smile. “I can't help that. He + shouldn't have let me go out with you in a punt.” + </p> + <p> + There was a discreet knock at the door. Brooks made his apologetic and + somewhat troubled entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy Brast is here to see you, sir,” he announced. “I ventured to + say that you were not at home—” + </p> + <p> + “But I happened to know otherwise,” a still voice remarked from outside. + “May I come in, Mr. Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy stepped past the servant, who at a sign from Francis + disappeared, closing the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + After his first glance at Sir Timothy, Francis' only thought was for + Margaret. To his intense relief, she showed no signs whatever of terror, + or of any relapse to her former state. She was entirely mistress of + herself and the occasion. Sir Timothy's face was cold and terrible. + </p> + <p> + “I must apologise for this second intrusion, Mr. Ledsam,” he said + cuttingly. “I think you will admit that the circumstances warrant it. Am I + to understand that you lied to me this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “You are to understand nothing of the sort,” Francis answered. “I told you + everything I knew at that time of your daughter's movements.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” Sir Timothy murmured. “This little banquet, then, was + unpremeditated?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely,” Francis replied. “Here is the exact truth, so far as I am + concerned. I met your daughter little more than an hour ago, coming out of + a steamship office, where she had booked a passage to Buenos Ayres to get + away from me. I was fortunate enough to induce her to change her mind. She + has consented instead to remain in England as my wife. We were, as you + see, celebrating the occasion.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy laid his hat upon the sideboard and slowly removed his gloves. + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” he said, “that this pint bottle does not represent your cellar. + I will drink a glass of wine with you, and with your permission make + myself a pâté sandwich. I was just sitting down to luncheon when I + received the information which brought me here.” + </p> + <p> + Francis produced another bottle of wine from the sideboard and filled his + visitor's glass. + </p> + <p> + “You will drink, I hope, to our happiness,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I shall do nothing of the sort,” Sir Timothy declared, helping himself + with care to the pâté. “I have no superstitions about breaking bread with + an enemy, or I should not have asked you to visit me at The Sanctuary, Mr. + Ledsam. I object to your marriage with my daughter, and I shall take what + steps I can to prevent it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy did not at once reply. He seemed to be enjoying his sandwich; + he also appreciated the flavour of his wine. + </p> + <p> + “Your question,” he said, “strikes me as being a little ingenuous. You are + at the present moment suspecting me of crimes beyond number. You encourage + Scotland Yard detectives to make asses of themselves in my stream. Your + myrmidons scramble on to the top of my walls and try to bribe my servants + to disclose the mysteries of my household. You have accepted to the + fullest extent my volunteered statement that I am a patron of crime. You + are, in short—forgive me if I help myself to a little more of this + pâté—engaged in a strenuous attempt to bring me to justice.” + </p> + <p> + “None of these things affects your daughter,” Francis pointed out. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” Sir Timothy objected. “You are a great and shining light of + the English law. People speak of you as a future Chancellor. How can you + contemplate an alliance with the widow of one criminal and the daughter of + another?” + </p> + <p> + “As to Margaret being Oliver Hilditch's widow,” Francis replied, “you were + responsible for that, and no one else. He was your protegé; you gave your + consent to the marriage. As to your being her father, that again is not + Margaret's fault. I should marry her if Oliver Hilditch had been three + times the villain he was, and if you were the Devil himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I am getting quite to like you, Mr. Ledsam,” Sir Timothy declared, + helping himself to another piece of toast and commencing to butter it. + “Margaret, what have you to say about all this?” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to say,” she answered. “Francis is speaking for me. I + never dreamed that after what I have gone through I should be able to care + for any one again in this world. I do care, and I am very happy about it. + All last night I lay awake, making up my mind to run away, and this + morning I actually booked my passage to Buenos Ayres. Then we met—just + outside the steamship office—and I knew at once that I was making a + mistake. I shall marry Francis exactly when he wants me to.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy passed his glass towards his proposed son-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “Might one suggest,” he began—“thank you very much. This is of + course very upsetting to me. I seem to be set completely at defiance. It + is a very excellent wine, this, and a wonderful vintage.” + </p> + <p> + Francis bent over Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Please finish your lunch, dear,” he begged. “It is perhaps just as well + that your father came. We shall know exactly where we are.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so,” Sir Timothy agreed. + </p> + <p> + There was a queer constrained silence for several moments. Then Sir + Timothy leaned back in his chair and with a word of apology lit a + cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Let us,” he said, “consider the situation. Margaret is my daughter. You + wish to marry her. Margaret is of age and has been married before. She is + at liberty, therefore, to make her own choice. You agree with me so far?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely,” Francis assented. + </p> + <p> + “It happens,” Sir Timothy went on, “that I disapprove of her choice. She + desires to marry a young man who belongs to a profession which I detest, + and whose efforts in life are directed towards the extermination of a + class of people for whom I have every sympathy. To me he represents the + smug as against the human, the artificially moral as against the + freethinker. He is also my personal enemy. I am therefore naturally + desirous that my daughter should not marry this young man.” + </p> + <p> + “We will let it go at that,” Francis commented, “but I should like to + point out to you that the antagonism between us is in no way personal. You + have declared yourself for forces with which I am at enmity, like any + other decent-living citizen. Your declaration might at any time be + amended.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy bowed. + </p> + <p> + “The situation is stated,” he said. “I will ask you this question as a + matter of form. Do you recognise my right to forbid your marriage with my + daughter, Mr. Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + “I most certainly do not,” was the forcible reply. + </p> + <p> + “Have I any rights at all?” Sir Timothy asked. “Margaret has lived under + my roof whenever it has suited her to do so. Since she has taken up her + residence at Curzon Street, she has been her own mistress, her banking + account has known no limit whatsoever. I may be a person of evil + disposition, but I have shown no unkindness to her.” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite true,” Margaret admitted, turning a little pale. “Since I + have been alone, you have been kindness itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me repeat my question,” Sir Timothy went on, “have I the right + to any consideration at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Francis replied. “Short of keeping us apart, you have the ordinary + rights of a parent.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I ask you to delay the announcement of your engagement, or taking + any further steps concerning it, for fourteen days,” Sir Timothy said. “I + place no restrictions on your movements during that time. Such hospitality + as you, Mr. Ledsam, care to accept at my hands, is at your disposal. I am + Bohemian enough, indeed, to find nothing to complain of in such little + celebrations as you are at present indulging in—most excellent pâté, + that. But I request that no announcement of your engagement be made, or + any further arrangements made concerning it, for that fourteen days.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite willing, father,” Margaret acquiesced. + </p> + <p> + “And I, sir,” Francis echoed. + </p> + <p> + “In which case,” Sir Timothy concluded, rising to his feet, lighting a + cigarette and taking up his hat and gloves, “I shall go peaceably away. + You will admit, I trust,” he added, with that peculiar smile at the corner + of his lips, “that I have not in any way tried to come the heavy father? I + can even command a certain amount of respect, Margaret, for a young man + who is able to inaugurate his engagement by an impromptu meal of such + perfection. I wish you both good morning. Any invitation which Margaret + extends, Ledsam, please consider as confirmed by me.” + </p> + <p> + He closed the door softly. They heard his footsteps descending the stairs. + Francis leaned once more over Margaret. She seemed still dazed, confused + with new thoughts. She responded, however, readily to his touch, yielded + to his caress with an almost pathetic eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Francis,” she murmured, as his arms closed around her, “I want to + forget.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + There followed a brief period of time, the most wonderful of his life, the + happiest of hers. They took advantage of Sir Timothy's absolute license, + and spent long days at The Sanctuary, ideal lovers' days, with their punt + moored at night amongst the lilies, where her kisses seemed to come to him + with an aroma and wonder born of the spot. Then there came a morning when + he found a cloud on her face. She was looking at the great wall, and away + at the minaret beyond. They had heard from the butler that Sir Timothy had + spent the night at the villa, and that preparations were on hand for + another of his wonderful parties. Francis, who was swift to read her + thoughts, led her away into the rose garden where once she had failed him. + </p> + <p> + “You have been looking over the wall, Margaret,” he said reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a little twitch at the corners of her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Francis dear,” she confessed, “I am afraid you are right. I cannot even + look towards The Walled House without wondering why it was built—or + catch a glimpse of that dome without stupid guesses as to what may go on + underneath.” + </p> + <p> + “I think very likely,” he said soothingly, “we have both exaggerated the + seriousness of your father's hobbies. We know that he has a wonderful + gymnasium there, but the only definite rumour I have ever heard about the + place is that men fight there who have a grudge against one another, and + that they are not too particular about the weight of the gloves. That + doesn't appeal to us, you know, Margaret, but it isn't criminal.” + </p> + <p> + “If that were all!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say it is,” he declared. “London, as you know, is a hot-bed of + gossip. Everything that goes on is ridiculously exaggerated, and I think + that it rather appeals to your father's curious sense of humour to pose as + the law-breaker.” + </p> + <p> + She pressed his arm a little. The day was overcast, a slight rain was + beginning to fall. + </p> + <p> + “Francis,” she whispered, “we had a perfect day here yesterday. Now the + sun has gone and I am shivery.” + </p> + <p> + He understood in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “We'll lunch at Ranelagh,” he suggested. “It is almost on the way up. Then + we can see what the weather is like. If it is bad, we can dine in town + tonight and do a theatre.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a dear,” she told him fervently. “I am going in to get ready.” + </p> + <p> + Francis went round to the garage for his car, and brought it to the front. + While he was sitting there, Sir Timothy came through the door in the wall. + He was smoking a cigar and he was holding an umbrella to protect his white + flannel suit. He was as usual wonderfully groomed and turned out, but he + walked as though he were tired, and his smile, as he greeted Francis, + lacked a little of its usual light-hearted mockery. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going up to town?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + Francis pointed to the grey skies. + </p> + <p> + “Just for the day,” he answered. “Lady Cynthia went by the early train. We + missed you last night.” + </p> + <p> + “I came down late,” Sir Timothy explained, “and I found it more convenient + to stay at The Walled House. I hope you find that Grover looks after you + while I am away? He has carte blanche so far as regards my cellar.” + </p> + <p> + “We have been wonderfully served,” Francis assured him. + </p> + <p> + In the distance they could hear the sound of hammering on the other side + of the wall. Francis moved his head in that direction. + </p> + <p> + “I hear that they are preparing for another of your wonderful + entertainments over there,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “On Thursday,” Sir Timothy assented. “I shall have something to say to you + about it later on.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to take it that I am likely to receive an invitation?” Francis + asked. + </p> + <p> + “I should think it possible,” was the calm reply. + </p> + <p> + “What about Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “My entertainment would not appeal to her,” Sir Timothy declared. “The + women whom I have been in the habit of asking are not women of Margaret's + type.” + </p> + <p> + “And Lady Cynthia?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy frowned slightly. + </p> + <p> + “I find myself in some difficulty as regards Lady Cynthia,” he admitted. + “I am the guardian of nobody's morals, nor am I the censor of their + tastes, but my entertainments are for men. The women whom I have hitherto + asked have been women in whom I have taken no personal interest. They are + necessary to form a picturesque background for my rooms, in the same way + that I look to the gardeners to supply the floral decorations. Lady + Cynthia's instincts, however, are somewhat adventurous. She would scarcely + be content to remain a decoration.” + </p> + <p> + “The issuing of your invitations,” Francis remarked, “is of course a + matter which concerns nobody else except yourself. If you do decide to + favour me with one, I shall be delighted to come, provided Margaret has no + objection.” + </p> + <p> + “Such a reservation promises well for the future,” Sir Timothy observed, + with gentle sarcasm. “Here comes Margaret, looking very well, I am glad to + see.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret came forward to greet her father before stepping into the car. + They exchanged only a few sentences, but Francis, whose interest in their + relations was almost abnormally keen, fancied that he could detect signs + of some change in their demeanour towards one another. The cold propriety + of deportment which had characterised her former attitude towards her + father, seemed to have given place to something more uncertain, to + something less formal, something which left room even for a measure of + cordiality. She looked at him differently. It was as though some evil + thought which lived in her heart concerning him had perished. + </p> + <p> + “You are busy over there, father?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “In a way,” he replied. “We are preparing for some festivities on + Thursday.” + </p> + <p> + Her face fell. + </p> + <p> + “Another party?” + </p> + <p> + “One more,” he replied. “Perhaps the last—for the present, at any + rate.” + </p> + <p> + She waited as though expecting him to explain. He changed the subject, + however. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are wise to run up to town this morning,” he said, glancing + up at the grey skies. “By-the-bye, if you dine at Curzon Street to-night, + do ask Hedges to serve you some of the '99 Cliquot. A marvellous wine, as + you doubtless know, Ledsam, but it should be drunk. Au revoir!” + </p> + <p> + Francis, after a pleasant lunch at Ranelagh, and having arranged with + Margaret to dine with her in Curzon Street, spent an hour or two that + afternoon at his chambers. As he was leaving, just before five, he came + face to face with Shopland descending from a taxi. + </p> + <p> + “Are you busy, Mr. Ledsam?” the latter enquired. “Can you spare me + half-an-hour?” + </p> + <p> + “An hour, if you like,” Francis assented. + </p> + <p> + Shopland gave the driver an address and the two men seated themselves in + the taxicab. + </p> + <p> + “Any news?” Francis asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” was the cautious reply. “It will not be long, however.” + </p> + <p> + “Before you discover Reggie Wilmore?” + </p> + <p> + The detective smiled in a superior way. + </p> + <p> + “I am no longer particularly interested in Mr. Reginald Wilmore,” he + declared. “I have come to the conclusion that his disappearance is not a + serious affair.” + </p> + <p> + “It's serious enough for his relatives,” Francis objected. + </p> + <p> + “Not if they understood the situation,” the detective rejoined. “Assure + them from me that nothing of consequence has happened to that young man. I + have made enquiries at the gymnasium in Holborn, and in other directions. + I am convinced that his absence from home is voluntary, and that there is + no cause for alarm as to his welfare.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the sooner you make your way down to Kensington and tell his mother + so, the better,” Francis said, a little severely. “Don't forget that I put + you on to this.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, sir,” the detective acquiesced, “and I am grateful to you. + The fact of it is that in making my preliminary investigations with regard + to the disappearance of Mr. Wilmore, I have stumbled upon a bigger thing. + Before many weeks are past, I hope to be able to unearth one of the + greatest scandals of modern times.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” Francis muttered. + </p> + <p> + He looked thoughtfully, almost anxiously at his companion. Shopland's face + reflected to the full his usual confidence. He had the air of a man + buoyant with hope and with stifled self-satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “I am engaged,” he continued, “upon a study of the methods and habits of + one whom I believe to be a great criminal. I think that when I place my + prisoner in the bar, Wainwright and these other great artists in crime + will fade from the memory.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Sir Timothy Brast your man?” Francis asked quietly. + </p> + <p> + His companion frowned portentously. + </p> + <p> + “No names,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + “Considering that it was I who first put you on to him,” Francis + expostulated, “I don't think you need be so sparing of your confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” the detective assured him, “I shall tell you everything that + is possible. At the same time, I will be frank with you. You are right + when you say that it was you who first directed my attention towards Sir + Timothy Brast. Since that time, however, your own relations with him, to + an onlooker, have become a little puzzling.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Francis murmured. “You've been spying on me?” + </p> + <p> + Shopland shook his head in deprecating fashion. + </p> + <p> + “A study of Sir Timothy during the last month,” he said, “has brought you + many a time into the focus.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are we going to now?” Francis asked, a little abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Just a side show, sir. It's one of those outside things I have come + across which give light and shade to the whole affair. We get out here, if + you please.” + </p> + <p> + The two men stepped on to the pavement. They were in a street a little + north of Wardour Street, where the shops for the most part were of a + miscellaneous variety. Exactly in front of them, the space behind a large + plate-glass window had been transformed into a sort of show-place for + dogs. There were twenty or thirty of them there, of all breeds and + varieties. + </p> + <p> + “What the mischief is this?” Francis demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Come in and make enquiries,” Shopland replied. “I can promise that you + will find it interesting. It's a sort of dog's home.” + </p> + <p> + Francis followed his companion into the place. A pleasant-looking, + middle-aged woman came forward and greeted the latter. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mind telling my friend what you told me the other day?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” she replied. “We collect stray animals here, sir,” she + continued, turning to Francis. “Every one who has a dog or a cat he can't + afford to keep, or which he wants to get rid of, may bring it to us. We + have agents all the time in the streets, and if any official of the + Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals brings us news of a dog + or a cat being ill-treated, we either purchase it or acquire it in some + way or other and keep it here.” + </p> + <p> + “But your dogs in the window,” Francis observed, “all seem to be in + wonderful condition.” + </p> + <p> + The woman smiled. + </p> + <p> + “We have a large dog and cat hospital behind,” she explained, “and a + veterinary surgeon who is always in attendance. The animals are treated + there as they are brought in, and fed up if they are out of condition. + When they are ready to sell, we show them.” + </p> + <p> + “But is this a commercial undertaking,” Francis enquired carefully, “or is + it a branch of the S.P.C.A.?” + </p> + <p> + “It's quite a private affair, sir,” the woman told him. “We charge only + five shillings for the dogs and half-a-crown for the cats, but every one + who has one must sign our book, promising to give it a good home, and has + to be either known to us or to produce references. We do not attempt, of + course, to snake a profit.” + </p> + <p> + “Who on earth is responsible for the upkeep?” + </p> + <p> + “We are not allowed to mention any names here, sir, but as a matter of + fact I think that your friend knows. He met the gentleman in here one day. + Would you care to have a look at the hospital, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Francis spent a quarter of an hour wandering around. When they left the + place, Shopland turned to him with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” he said, “shall I tell you at whose expense that place is + run?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can guess,” Francis replied. “I should say that Sir Timothy + Brast was responsible for it.” + </p> + <p> + The detective nodded. He was a little disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “You know about his collection of broken-down horses in the park at The + Walled House, too, then, I suppose? They come whinnying after him like a + flock of sheep whenever he shows himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I know about them, too,” Francis admitted. “I was present once when he + got out of his car, knocked a carter down who was ill-treating a horse, + bought it on the spot and sent it home.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland smiled, inscrutably yet with the air of one vastly pleased. + </p> + <p> + “These little side-shows,” he said, “are what help to make this, which I + believe will be the greatest case of my life, so supremely interesting. + Any one of my fraternity,” he continued, with an air of satisfaction, “can + take hold of a thread and follow it step by step, and wind up with the + handcuffs, as I did myself with the young man Fairfax. But a case like + this, which includes a study of temperament, requires something more.” + </p> + <p> + They were seated once more in the taxicab, on their way westward. Francis + for the first time was conscious of an utterly new sensation with regard + to his companion. He watched him through half-closed eyes—an + insignificant-looking little man whose clothes, though neat, were + ill-chosen, and whose tie was an offense. There was nothing in the face to + denote unusual intelligence, but the eyes were small and cunning and the + mouth dogged. Francis looked away out of the window. A sudden flash of + realisation had come to him, a wave of unreasoning but positive dislike. + </p> + <p> + “When do you hope to bring your case to an end?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The man smiled once more, and the very smile irritated his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Within the course of the next few days, sir,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “And the charge?” + </p> + <p> + The detective turned around. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “we have been old friends, if you will allow me to + use the word, ever since I was promoted to my present position in the + Force. You have trusted me with a good many cases, and I acknowledge + myself your debtor, but in the matter of Sir Timothy Brast, you will + forgive my saying with all respect, sir, that our ways seem to lie a + little apart.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me why you have arrived at that conclusion?” Francis asked. + “It was I who first incited you to set a watch upon Sir Timothy. It was to + you I first mentioned certain suspicions I myself had with regard to him. + I treated you with every confidence. Why do you now withhold yours from + me?” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite true, Mr. Ledsam,” Shopland admitted, “that it was you who + first pointed out Sir Timothy as an interesting study for my profession, + but that was a matter of months ago. If you will forgive my saying so, + your relations with Sir Timothy have altered since then. You have been his + guest at The Sanctuary, and there is a rumour, sir—you will pardon + me if I seem to be taking a liberty—that you are engaged to be + married to his daughter, Oliver Hilditch's widow.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be tolerably well informed as to my affairs, Shopland,” + Francis remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Only so far as regards your associations with Sir Timothy,” was the + deprecating reply. “If you will excuse me, sir, this is where I should + like to descend.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no message for Mr. Wilmore, then?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing definite, sir, but you can assure him of this. His brother is not + likely to come to any particular harm. I have no absolute information to + offer, but it is my impression that Mr. Reginald Wilmore will be home + before a week is past. Good afternoon, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland stepped out of the taxicab and, raising his hat, walked quickly + away. Francis directed the man to drive to Clarges Street. As they drove + off, he was conscious of a folded piece of paper in the corner where his + late companion had been seated. He picked it up, opened it, realised that + it was a letter from a firm of lawyers, addressed to Shopland, and + deliberately read it through. It was dated from a small town not far from + Hatch End: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SIR: + + Mr. John Phillips of this firm, who is coroner for the +district, has desired me to answer the enquiry contained in your +official letter of the 13th. The number of inquests held upon bodies +recovered from the Thames in the neighbourhood to which you allude, +during the present year has been seven. Four of these have been +identified. Concerning the remaining three nothing has ever been heard. +Such particulars as are on our file will be available to any accredited +representative of the police at any time. + + Faithfully yours, + PHILLIPS & SON. +</pre> + <p> + The taxicab came to a sudden stop. Francis glanced up. Very breathless, + Shopland put his head in at the window. + </p> + <p> + “I dropped a letter,” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + Francis folded it up and handed it to him. + </p> + <p> + “What about these three unidentified people, Shopland?” he asked, looking + at him intently. + </p> + <p> + The man frowned angrily. There was a note of defiance in his tone as he + stowed the letter away in his pocketbook. + </p> + <p> + “There were two men and one woman,” he replied, “all three of the upper + classes. The bodies were recovered from Wilson's lock, some three hundred + yards from The Walled House.” + </p> + <p> + “Do they form part of your case?” Francis persisted. + </p> + <p> + Shopland stepped back. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I told you, some little time ago, that so far as + this particular case was concerned I had no confidences to share with you. + I am sorry that you saw that letter. Since you did, however, I hope you + will not take it as a liberty from one in my position if I advise you most + strenuously to do nothing which might impede the course of the law. Good + day, sir!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + Francis, in that pleasant half-hour before dinner which he spent in + Margaret's sitting-room, told her of the dogs' home near Wardour Street. + She listened sympathetically to his description of the place. + </p> + <p> + “I had never heard of it,” she acknowledged, “but I am not in anyway + surprised. My father spends at least an hour of every day, when he is down + at Hatch End, amongst the horses, and every time a fresh crock is brought + down, he is as interested as though it were a new toy.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a remarkable trait in a very remarkable character,” Francis + commented. + </p> + <p> + “I could tell you many things that would surprise you,” Margaret + continued. “One night, for instance, when we were staying at The + Sanctuary, he and I were going out to dine with some neighbours and he + heard a cat mewing in the hedge somewhere. He stopped the car, got out + himself, found that the cat had been caught in a trap, released it, and + sent me on to the dinner alone whilst he took the animal back to the + veterinary surgeon at The Walled House. He was simply white with fury + whilst he was tying up the poor thing's leg. I couldn't help asking him + what he would have done if he could have found the farmer who set the + trap. He looked up at me and I was almost frightened. 'I should have + killed him,' he said,—and I believe he meant it. And, Francis, the + very next day we were motoring to London and saw a terrible accident. A + motor bicyclist came down a side road at full speed and ran into a + motor-lorry. My father got out of the car, helped them lift the body from + under the wheels of the lorry, and came back absolutely unmoved. 'Serve + the silly young fool right!' was his only remark. He was so horribly + callous that I could scarcely bear to sit by his side. Do you understand + that?” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't easy,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door. Margaret glanced at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “Surely dinner can't be served already!” she exclaimed. “Come in.” + </p> + <p> + Very much to their surprise, it was Sir Timothy himself who entered. He + was in evening dress and wearing several orders, one of which Francis + noted with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “My apologies,” he said. “Hedges told me that there were cocktails here, + and as I am on my way to a rather weary dinner, I thought I might inflict + myself upon you for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret rose at once to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “I am a shocking hostess,” she declared. “Hedges brought the things in + twenty minutes ago.” + </p> + <p> + She took up the silver receptacle, shook it vigorously and filled three + glasses. Sir Timothy accepted his and bowed to them both. + </p> + <p> + “My best wishes,” he said. “Really, when one comes to think of it, however + much it may be against my inclinations I scarcely see how I shall be able + to withhold my consent. I believe that you both have at heart the flair + for domesticity. This little picture, and the thought of your tête-à-tête + dinner, almost touches me.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't make fun of us, father,” Margaret begged. “Tell us where you are + going in all that splendour?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “A month or so ago,” he explained, “I was chosen to induct a scion of + Royalty into the understanding of fighting as it is indulged in at the + National Sporting Club. This, I suppose, is my reward—an invitation + to something in the nature of a State dinner, which, to tell you the + truth, I had forgotten until my secretary pointed it out to me this + afternoon. I have grave fears of being bored or of misbehaving myself. I + have, as Ledsam here knows, a distressing habit of truthfulness, + especially to new acquaintances. However, we must hope for the best. + By-the-bye, Ledsam, in case you should have forgotten, I have spoken to + Hedges about the '99 Cliquot.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we see you here later?” Margaret asked, after Francis had murmured + his thanks. + </p> + <p> + “I shall probably return direct to Hatch End,” Sir Timothy replied. “There + are various little matters down there which are interesting me just now + preparations for my party. Au revoir! A delicious cocktail, but I am + inclined to resent the Angostura.” + </p> + <p> + He sauntered out, after a glance at the clock. They heard his footsteps as + he descended the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, what manner of a man is your father?” Francis asked impulsively. + </p> + <p> + “I am his daughter and I do not know,” Margaret answered. “Before he came, + I was going to speak to you of a strange misunderstanding which has + existed between us and which has just been removed. Now I have a fancy to + leave it until later. You will not mind?” + </p> + <p> + “When you choose,” Francis assented. “Nothing will make any difference. We + are past the days when fathers or even mothers count seriously in the + things that exist between two people like you and me, who have felt life. + Whatever your father may be, whatever he may turn out to be, you are the + woman I love—you are the woman who is going to be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned towards him for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “You have an amazing gift,” she whispered, “of saying just the thing one + loves to hear in the way that convinces.” + </p> + <p> + Dinner was served to them in the smaller of the two dining-rooms, an + exquisite meal, made more wonderful still by the wine, which Hedges + himself dispensed with jealous care. The presence of servants, with its + restraining influence upon conversation, was not altogether unwelcome to + Francis. He and Margaret had had so little opportunity for general + conversation that to discuss other than personal subjects in this + pleasant, leisurely way had its charm. They spoke of music, of which she + knew far more than he; of foreign travel, where they met on common ground, + for each had only the tourist's knowledge of Europe, and each was anxious + for a more individual acquaintance with it. She had tastes in books which + delighted him, a knowledge of games which promised a common resource. It + was only whilst they were talking that he realised with a shock how young + she was, how few the years that lay between her serene school-days and the + tempestuous years of her married life. Her school-days in Naples were most + redolent of delightful memories. She broke off once or twice into the + language, and he listened with delight to her soft accent. Finally the + time came when dessert was set upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “I have ordered coffee up in the little sitting-room again,” she said, a + little shyly. “Do you mind, or would you rather have it here?” + </p> + <p> + “I much prefer it there,” he assured her. + </p> + <p> + They sat before an open window, looking out upon some elm trees in the + boughs of which town sparrows twittered, and with a background of roofs + and chimneys. Margaret's coffee was untasted, even her cigarette lay unlit + by her side. There was a touch of the old horror upon her face. The + fingers which he drew into his were as cold as ice. + </p> + <p> + “You must have wondered sometimes,” she began, “why I ever married Oliver + Hilditch.” + </p> + <p> + “You were very young,” he reminded her, with a little shiver, “and very + inexperienced. I suppose he appealed to you in some way or another.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't that,” she replied. “He came to visit, me at Eastbourne, and he + certainly knew all the tricks of making himself attractive and agreeable. + But he never won my heart—he never even seriously took my fancy. I + married him because I believed that by doing so I was obeying my father's + wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where was your father at the time, then?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “In South America. Oliver Hilditch was nothing more than a discharged + employé of his, discharged for dishonesty. He had to leave South America; + within a week to escape prosecution, and on the way to Europe he concocted + the plot which very nearly ruined my life. He forged a letter from my + father, begging me, if I found it in any way possible, to listen to Oliver + Hilditch's proposals, and hinting guardedly at a very serious financial + crisis which it was in his power to avert. It never occurred to me or to + my chaperon to question his bona fides. He had lived under the same roof + as my father, and knew all the intimate details of his life. He was very + clever and I suppose I was a fool. I remember thinking I was doing quite a + heroic action when I went to the registrar with him. What it led to you + know.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's throbbing silence. Francis, notwithstanding his deep + pity, was conscious of an overwhelming sensation of relief. She had never + cared for Oliver Hilditch! She had never pretended to! He put the thought + into words. + </p> + <p> + “You never cared for him, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to,” she replied simply, “but I found it impossible. Within a + week of our marriage I hated him.” + </p> + <p> + Francis leaned back, his eyes half closed. In his ears was the sonorous + roar of Piccadilly, the hooting of motor-cars, close at hand the rustling + of a faint wind in the elm trees. It was a wonderful moment. The nightmare + with which he had grappled so fiercely, which he had overthrown, but whose + ghost still sometimes walked by his side, had lost its chief and most + poignant terror. She had been tricked into the marriage. She had never + cared or pretended to care. The primal horror of that tragedy which he had + figured so often to himself, seemed to have departed with the thought. Its + shadow must always remain, but in time his conscience would acquiesce in + the pronouncement of his reason. It was the hand of justice, not any human + hand, which had slain Oliver Hilditch. + </p> + <p> + “What did your father say when he discovered the truth?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “He did not know it until he came to England—on the day that Oliver + Hilditch was acquitted. My husband always pretended that he had a special + mail bag going out to South America, so he took away all the letters I + wrote to my father, and he took care that I received none except one or + two which I know now were forgeries. He had friends in South America + himself who helped him—one a typist in my father's office, of whom I + discovered afterwards—but that really doesn't matter. He was a + wonderful master of deceit.” + </p> + <p> + Francis suddenly took her hands. He had an overwhelming desire to escape + from the miasma of those ugly days, with their train of attendant thoughts + and speculations. + </p> + <p> + “Let us talk about ourselves,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + After that, the evening glided away incoherently, with no sustained + conversation, but with an increasing sense of well-being, of soothed + nerves and happiness, flaming seconds of passion, sign-posts of the + wonderful world which lay before them. They sat in the cool silence until + the lights of the returning taxicabs and motor-cars became more frequent, + until the stars crept into the sky and the yellow arc of the moon stole up + over the tops of the houses. Presently they saw Sir Timothy's Rolls-Royce + glide up to the front door below and Sir Timothy himself enter the house, + followed by another man whose appearance was somehow familiar. + </p> + <p> + “Your father has changed his mind,” Francis observed. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he has called for something,” she suggested, “or he may want to + change his clothes before he goes down to the country.” + </p> + <p> + Presently, however, there was a knock at the door. Hedges made his + diffident appearance. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” he began, addressing Francis. “Sir Timothy has + been asking if you are still here. He would be very glad if you could + spare him a moment in the library.” + </p> + <p> + Francis rose at once to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “I was just leaving,” he said. “I will look in at the library and see Sir + Timothy on my way out.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + Sir Timothy was standing upon the hearthrug of the very wonderful + apartment which he called his library. By his side, on a black marble + pedestal, stood a small statue by Rodin. Behind him, lit by a shielded + electric light, was a Vandyck, “A Portrait of a Gentleman Unknown,” and + Francis, as he hesitated for a moment upon the threshold, was struck by a + sudden quaint likeness between the face of the man in the picture, with + his sunken cheeks, his supercilious smile, his narrowed but powerful eyes, + to the face of Sir Timothy himself. There was something of the same spirit + there—the lawless buccaneer, perhaps the criminal. + </p> + <p> + “You asked for me, Sir Timothy,” Francis said. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I was fortunate to find that you had not left,” he answered. “I want you + to be present at this forthcoming interview. You are to a certain extent + in the game. I thought it might amuse you.” + </p> + <p> + Francis for the first time was aware that his host was not alone. The + room, with its odd splashes of light, was full of shadows, and he saw now + that in an easy-chair a little distance away from Sir Timothy, a girl was + seated. Behind her, still standing, with his hat in his hand, was a man. + Francis recognised them both with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Hyslop!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + She nodded a little defiantly. Sir Timothy smiled. “Ah!” he said. “You + know the young lady, without a doubt. Mr. Shopland, your coadjutor in + various works of philanthropy, you recognise, of course? I do not mind + confessing to you, Ledsam, that I am very much afraid of Mr. Shopland. I + am not at all sure that he has not a warrant for my arrest in his pocket.” + </p> + <p> + The detective came a little further into the light. He was attired in an + ill-fitting dinner suit, a soft-fronted shirt of unpleasing design, a + collar of the wrong shape, and a badly arranged tie. He seemed, + nevertheless, very pleased with himself. + </p> + <p> + “I came on here, Mr. Ledsam, at Sir Timothy's desire,” he said. “I should + like you to understand,” he added, with a covert glance of warning, “that + I have been devoting every effort, during the last few days, to the + discovery of your friend's brother, Mr. Reginald Wilmore.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to hear it,” Francis replied shortly. “The boy's brother + is one of my greatest friends.” + </p> + <p> + “I have come to the conclusion,” the detective pronounced, “that the young + man has been abducted, and is being detained at The Walled House against + his will for some illegal purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “In other respects,” Sir Timothy said, stretching out his hand towards a + cedar-wood box of cigarettes and selecting one, “this man seems quite + sane. I have watched him very closely on the way here, but I could see no + signs of mental aberration. I do not think, at any rate, that he is + dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy,” Shopland explained, with some anger in his tone, “declines + to take me seriously. I can of course apply for a search warrant, as I + shall do, but it occurred to me to be one of those cases which could be + better dealt with, up to a certain point, without recourse to the + extremities of the law.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy, who had lit his cigarette, presented a wholly undisturbed + front. + </p> + <p> + “What I cannot quite understand,” he said, “is the exact meaning of that + word 'abduction.' Why should I be suspected of forcibly removing a + harmless and worthy young man from his regular avocation, and, as you term + it, abducting him, which I presume means keeping him bound and gagged and + imprisoned? I do not eat young men. I do not even care for the society of + young men. I am not naturally a gregarious person, but I think I would go + so far,” he added, with a bow towards Miss Hyslop, “as to say that I + prefer the society of young women. Satisfy my curiosity, therefore, I beg + of you. For what reason do you suppose that I have been concerned in the + disappearance of this Mr. Reginald Wilmore?” + </p> + <p> + Francis opened his lips, but Shopland, with a warning glance, intervened. + </p> + <p> + “I work sometimes as a private person, sir,” he said, “but it is not to be + forgotten that I am an officer of the law. It is not for us to state + motives or even to afford explanations for our behaviour. I have watched + your house at Hatch End, Sir Timothy, and I have come to the conclusion + that unless you are willing to discuss this matter with me in a different + spirit, I am justified in asking the magistrates for a search warrant.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “I think, after all, that yours is the most + interesting end of this espionage business. It is you who search for + motives, is it not, and pass them on to our more automatic friend, who + does the rest. May I ask, have you supplied the motive in the present + case?” + </p> + <p> + “I have failed to discover any motive at all for Reginald Wilmore's + disappearance,” Francis admitted, “nor have I at any time been able to + connect you with it. Mr. Shopland's efforts, however, although he has not + seen well to take me into his entire confidence, have my warmest approval + and sympathy. Although I have accepted your very generous hospitality, Sir + Timothy, I think there has been no misunderstanding between us on this + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Most correct,” Sir Timothy murmured. “The trouble seems to be, so far as + I am concerned, that no one will tell me exactly of what I am suspected? I + am to give Mr. Shopland the run of my house, or he will make his + appearance in the magistrate's court and the evening papers will have + placards with marvellous headlines at my expense. How will it run, Mr. + Shopland— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN. + MILLIONAIRE'S HOUSE TO BE SEARCHED.'” + </pre> + <p> + “We do not necessarily acquaint the press with our procedure,” Shopland + rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” Sir Timothy continued, “I have known awkward consequences + arise from a search warrant too rashly applied for or granted. However, we + are scarcely being polite. So far, Miss Hyslop has had very little to + say.” + </p> + <p> + The young lady was not altogether at her ease. + </p> + <p> + “I have had very little to say,” she repeated, “because I did not expect + an audience.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy drew a letter from his pocket, opened it and adjusted his + eyeglass. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are,” he said. “After leaving my dinner-party tonight, I called + at the club and found this note. Quite an inviting little affair, you see + young lady's writing, faint but very delicate perfume, excellent + stationery, Milan Court—the home of adventures!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “DEAR SIR TIMOTHY BRAST: + + “Although I am not known to you personally, there is a +certain matter concerning which information has come into my possession, +which I should like to discuss with you. Will you call and see me as +soon as possible?” Sincerely yours, + “DAISY HYSLOP.” + </pre> + <p> + “On receipt of this note,” Sir Timothy continued, folding it up, “I + telephoned to the young lady and as I was fortunate enough to find her at + home I asked her to come here. I then took the liberty of introducing + myself to Mr. Shopland, whose interest in my evening has been unvarying, + and whose uninvited company I have been compelled to bear with, and + suggested that, as I was on my way back to Curzon Street, he had better + come in and have a drink and tell me what it was all about. I arranged + that he should find Miss Hyslop here, and for a person of observation, + which I flatter myself to be, it was easy to discover the interesting fact + that Mr. Shopland and Miss Daisy Hyslop were not strangers. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me, young lady,” Sir Timothy went on. “You see, I have placed + myself entirely in your hands. Never mind the presence of these two + gentlemen. Tell me exactly what you wanted to say to me?” + </p> + <p> + “The matter is of no great importance,” Miss Hyslop declared, “in any case + I should not discuss it before these two gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't go for a moment, please,” Sir Timothy begged, as she showed signs + of departure. “Listen. I want to make a suggestion to you. There is an + impression abroad that I was interested in the two young men, Victor + Bidlake and Fairfax, and that I knew something of their quarrel. You were + an intimate friend of young Bidlake's and presumably in his confidence. It + occurs to me, therefore, that Mr. Shopland might very well have visited + you in search of information, linking me up with that unfortunate affair. + Hence your little note to me.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Hyslop rose to her feet. She had the appearance of being very angry + indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to insinuate—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Madam, I insinuate nothing,” Sir Timothy interrupted sternly. “I only + desire to suggest this. You are a young lady whose manner of living, I + gather, is to a certain extent precarious. It must have seemed to you a + likelier source of profit to withhold any information you might have to + give at the solicitation of a rich man, than to give it free gratis and + for nothing to a detective. Now am I right?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Hyslop turned towards the door. She had the air of a person who had + been entirely misunderstood. + </p> + <p> + “I wrote you out of kindness, Sir Timothy,” she said in an aggrieved + manner. “I shall have nothing more to say on the matter—to you, at + any rate.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy sighed. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he said, turning to the others, “I have lost my chance of + conciliating a witness. My cheque-book remains locked up and she has gone + over to your side.” + </p> + <p> + She turned around suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “You know that you made Bobby Fairfax kill Victor!” she almost shouted. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled in triumph. + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady,” he begged, “let us now be friends again. I desired + to know your trump card. For that reason I fear that I have been a little + brutal. Now please don't hurry away. You have shot your bolt. Already Mr. + Shopland is turning the thing over in his mind. Was I lurking outside that + night, Mr. Shopland, to guide that young man's flabby arm? He scarcely + seemed man enough for a murderer, did he, when he sat quaking on that + stool in Soto's Bar while Mr. Ledsam tortured him? I beg you again not to + hurry, Miss Hyslop. At any rate wait while my servants fetch you a taxi. + It was clouding over when I came in. We may even have a thunderstorm.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to get out of this house,” Daisy Hyslop declared. “I think you are + all horrible. Mr. Ledsam did behave like a gentleman when he came to see + me, and Mr. Shopland asked questions civilly. But you—” she added, + turning round to Sir Timothy. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, my dear,” he interrupted, holding out his hand. “Don't abuse me. I + am not angry with you—not in the least—and I am going to prove + it. I shall oppose any search warrant which you might apply for, Mr. + Shopland, and I think I can oppose it with success. But I invite you two, + Miss Hyslop and Mr. Ledsam, to my party on Thursday night. Once under my + roof you shall have carte blanche. You can wander where you please, knock + the walls for secret hiding-places, stamp upon the floor for oubliettes. + Upstairs or down, the cellars and the lofts, the grounds and the park, the + whole of my domain is for you from midnight on Thursday until four + o'clock. What do you say, Mr. Shopland? Does my offer satisfy you?” + </p> + <p> + The detective hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I should prefer an invitation for myself,” he declared bluntly. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my dear Mr. Shopland,” he regretted, “that is impossible! If I had + only myself to consider I would not hesitate. Personally I like you. You + amuse me more than any one I have met for a long time. But unfortunately I + have my guests to consider! You must be satisfied with Mr. Ledsam's + report.” + </p> + <p> + Shopland stroked his stubbly moustache. It was obvious that he was not in + the least disconcerted. + </p> + <p> + “There are three days between now and then,” he reflected. + </p> + <p> + “During those three days, of course,” Sir Timothy said drily, “I shall do + my best to obliterate all traces of my various crimes. Still, you are a + clever detective, and you can give Mr. Ledsam a few hints. Take my advice. + You won't get that search warrant, and if you apply for it none of you + will be at my party.” + </p> + <p> + “I accept,” Shopland decided. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy crossed the room, unlocked the drawer of a magnificent + writing-table, and from a little packet drew out two cards of invitation. + They were of small size but thick, and the colour was a brilliant scarlet. + On one he wrote the name of Francis, the other he filled in for Miss + Hyslop. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Daisy Hyslop,” he said, “shall we drink a glass of wine together on + Thursday evening, and will you decide that although, perhaps, I am not a + very satisfactory correspondent, I can at least be an amiable host?” + </p> + <p> + The girl's eyes glistened. She knew very well that the possession of that + card meant that for the next few days she would be the envy of every one + of her acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Sir Timothy,” she replied eagerly. “You have quite + misunderstood me but I should like to come to your party.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy handed over the cards. He rang for a servant and bowed the + others out. Francis he detained for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Our little duel, my friend, marches,” he said. “After Thursday night we + will speak again of this matter concerning Margaret. You will know then + what you have to face.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret herself opened the door and looked in. + </p> + <p> + “What have those people been doing here?” she asked. “What is happening?” + </p> + <p> + Her father unlocked his drawer once more and drew out another of the red + cards. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said, “Ledsam here has accepted my invitation for Thursday + night. You have never, up till now, honoured me, nor have I ever asked + you. I suggest that for the first part of the entertainment, you give me + the pleasure of your company.” + </p> + <p> + “For the first part?” + </p> + <p> + “For the first part only,” he repeated, as he wrote her name upon the + card. + </p> + <p> + “What about Francis?” she asked. “Is he to stay all the time?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled. He locked up his drawer and slipped the key into his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Ledsam and I,” he said, “have promised one another a more complete mutual + understanding on Thursday night. I may not be able to part with him quite + so soon.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + Bored and listless, like a tired and drooping lily in the arms of her + somewhat athletic partner, Lady Cynthia brought her dance to a somewhat + abrupt conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “There is some one in the lounge there to whom I wish to speak,” she said. + “Perhaps you won't mind if we finish later. The floor seems sticky + tonight, or my feet are heavy.” + </p> + <p> + Her partner made the best of it, as Lady Cynthia's partners, nowadays, + generally had to. She even dispensed with his escort, and walked across + the lounge of Claridge's alone. Sir Timothy rose to his feet. He had been + sitting in a corner, half sheltered by a pillar, and had fancied himself + unseen. + </p> + <p> + “What a relief!” she exclaimed. “Another turn and I should have fainted + through sheer boredom.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you are quite wonderful dancing,” he said. “I have been watching you + for some time.” + </p> + <p> + “It is one of my expiring efforts,” she declared, sinking into the chair + by his side. “You know whose party it is, of course? Old Lady + Torrington's. Quite a boy and girl affair. Twenty-four of us had dinner in + the worst corner of the room. I can hear the old lady ordering the dinner + now. Charles with a long menu. She shakes her head and taps him on the + wrist with her fan. 'Monsieur Charles, I am a poor woman. Give me what + there is—a small, plain dinner—and charge me at your minimum.' + The dinner was very small and very plain, the champagne was horribly + sweet. My partner talked of a new drill, his last innings for the + Household Brigade, and a wonderful round of golf he played last Sunday + week. I was turned on to dance with a man who asked me to marry him, a + year ago, and I could feel him vibrating with gratitude, as he looked at + me, that I had refused. I suppose I am very haggard.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that matter, nowadays?” Sir Timothy asked. + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it does. The bone and the hank of hair stuff is played out. + The dairy-maid style is coming in. Plump little Fanny Torrington had a + great success to-night, in one of those simple white dresses, you know, + which look like a sack with a hole cut in the top. What are you doing here + by yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I have an engagement in a few minutes,” he explained. “My car is waiting + now. I looked in at the club to dine, found my favourite table taken and + nearly every man I ever disliked sidling up to tell me that he hears I am + giving a wonderful party on Thursday. I decided not to dine there, after + all, and Charles found me a corner here. I am going in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” she asked. “Can't I come with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I fear not,” he answered. “I am going down in the East End.” + </p> + <p> + “Adventuring?” + </p> + <p> + “More or less,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia became beautiful. She was always beautiful when she was not + tired. + </p> + <p> + “Take me with you, please,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Not to be done!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't shake your head like that,” she enjoined, with a little grimace. + “People will think I am trying to borrow money from you and that you are + refusing me! Just take me with you some of the way. I shall scream if I go + back into that dancing-room again.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy glanced at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “If there is any amusement to you in a rather dull drive eastwards—” + </p> + <p> + She was on her feet with the soft, graceful speed which had made her so + much admired before her present listlessness had set in. + </p> + <p> + “I'll get my cloak,” she said. + </p> + <p> + They drove along the Embankment, citywards. The heat of the city seemed to + rise from the pavements. The wall of the Embankment was lined with people, + leaning over to catch the languid breeze that crept up with the tide. They + crossed the river and threaded their way through a nightmare of squalid + streets, where half-dressed men and women hung from the top windows and + were even to be seen upon the roof, struggling for air. The car at last + pulled up at the corner of a long street. + </p> + <p> + “I am going down here,” Sir Timothy announced. “I shall be gone perhaps an + hour. The neighbourhood is not a fit one for you to be left alone in. I + shall have time to send you home. The car will be back here for me by the + time I require it.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” she asked curiously. “Why can't I come with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going where I cannot take you,” was the firm reply. “I told you that + before I started.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall sit here and wait for you,” she decided. “I rather like the + neighbourhood. There is a gentleman in shirt-sleeves, leaning over the + rail of the roof there, who has his eye on me. I believe I shall be a + success here—which is more than I can say of a little further + westwards.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy smiled slightly. He had exchanged his hat for a tweed cap, and + had put on a long dustcoat. + </p> + <p> + “There is no gauge by which you may know the measure of your success,” he + said. “If there were—” + </p> + <p> + “If there were?” she asked, leaning a little forward and looking at him + with a touch of the old brilliancy in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “If there were,” he said, with a little show of mock gallantry, “a very + jealously-guarded secret might escape me. I think you will be quite all + right here,” he continued. “It is an open thoroughfare, and I see two + policemen at the corner. Hassell, my chauffeur, too, is a reliable fellow. + We will be back within the hour.” + </p> + <p> + “We?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + He indicated a man who had silently made his appearance during the + conversation and was standing waiting on the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + “Just a companion. I do not advise you to wait. If you insist—au + revoir!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia leaned back in a corner of the car. + </p> + <p> + Through half-closed eyes she watched the two men on their way down the + crowded thoroughfare—Sir Timothy tall, thin as a lath, yet with a + certain elegance of bearing; the man at his side shorter, his hands thrust + into the pockets of his coat, his manner one of subservience. She wondered + languidly as to their errand in this unsavoury neighbourhood. Then she + closed her eyes altogether and wondered about many things. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy and his companion walked along the crowded, squalid street + without speech. Presently they turned to the right and stopped in front of + a public-house of some pretensions. + </p> + <p> + “This is the place?” Sir Timothy asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Both men entered. Sir Timothy made his way to the counter, his companion + to a table near, where he took a seat and ordered a drink. Sir Timothy did + the same. He was wedged in between a heterogeneous crowd of shabby, + depressed but apparently not ill-natured men and women. A man in a flannel + shirt and pair of shabby plaid trousers, which owed their precarious + position to a pair of worn-out braces, turned a beery eye upon the + newcomer. + </p> + <p> + “I'll 'ave one with you, guvnor,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You shall indeed,” Sir Timothy assented. + </p> + <p> + “Strike me lucky but I've touched first time!” the man exclaimed. “I'll + 'ave a double tot of whisky,” he added, addressing the barman. “Will it + run to it, guvnor?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” was the cordial reply, “and the same to your friends, if you + will answer a question.” + </p> + <p> + “Troop up, lads,” the man shouted. “We've a toff 'ere. He ain't a 'tec—I + know the cut of them. Out with the question.” + </p> + <p> + “Serve every one who desires it with drinks,” Sir Timothy directed the + barman. “My question is easily answered. Is this the place which a man + whom I understand they call Billy the Tanner frequents?” + </p> + <p> + The question appeared to produce an almost uncomfortable sensation. The + enthusiasm for the free drinks, however, was only slightly damped, and a + small forest of grimy hands was extended across the counter. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you ask no questions about 'im, guvnor,” Sir Timothy's immediate + companion advised earnestly. “He'd kill you as soon as look at you. When + Billy the Tanner's in a quarrelsome mood, I've see 'im empty this place + and the whole street, quicker than if a mad dog was loose. 'E's a fair and + 'oly terror, 'e is. 'E about killed 'is wife, three nights ago, but there + ain't a living soul as 'd dare to stand in the witness-box about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't the police take a hand in the matter if the man is such a + nuisance?” Sir Timothy asked. + </p> + <p> + His new acquaintance, gripping a thick tumbler of spirits and water with a + hand deeply encrusted with the stains of his trade, scoffed. + </p> + <p> + “Police! Why, 'e'd take on any three of the police round these parts!” he + declared. “Police! You tell one on 'em that Billy the Tanner's on the + rampage, and you'll see 'em 'op it. Cheero, guvnor and don't you get + curious about Billy. It ain't 'ealthy.” + </p> + <p> + The swing-door was suddenly opened. A touslehaired urchin shoved his face + in. + </p> + <p> + “Billy the Tanner's coming!” he shouted. “Cave, all! He's been 'avin' a + rare to-do in Smith's Court.” + </p> + <p> + Then a curious thing happened. The little crowd at the bar seemed somehow + to melt away. Half-a-dozen left precipitately by the door. Half-a-dozen + more slunk through an inner entrance into some room beyond. Sir Timothy's + neighbour set down his tumbler empty. He was the last to leave. + </p> + <p> + “If you're going to stop 'ere, guvnor,” he begged fervently, “you keep a + still tongue in your 'ead. Billy ain't particular who it is. 'E'd kill 'is + own mother, if 'e felt like it. 'E'll swing some day, sure as I stand + 'ere, but 'e'll do a bit more mischief first. 'Op it with me, guvnor, or + get inside there.” + </p> + <p> + “Jim's right,” the man behind the bar agreed. “He's a very nasty customer, + Bill the Tanner, sir. If he's coming down, I'd clear out for a moment. You + can go in the guvnor's sitting-room, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Billy the Tanner will not hurt me,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I came + down to see him.” + </p> + <p> + His new friend hesitated no longer but made for the door through which + most of his companions had already disappeared. The barman leaned across + the counter. + </p> + <p> + “Guvnor,” he whispered hoarsely, “I don't know what the game is, but I've + given you the office. Billy won't stand no truck from any one. He's a holy + terror.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I quite understand,” he said. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's ominous silence. The barman withdrew to the further + end of his domain and busied himself cleaning some glasses. Suddenly the + door was swung open. A man entered whose appearance alone was calculated + to inspire a certain amount of fear. He was tall, but his height escaped + notice by reason of the extraordinary breadth of his shoulders. He had a + coarse and vicious face, a crop of red hair, and an unshaven growth of the + same upon his face. He wore what appeared to be the popular dress in the + neighbourhood—a pair of trousers suspended by a belt, and a dirty + flannel shirt. His hands and even his chest, where the shirt fell away, + were discoloured by yellow stains. He looked around the room at first with + an air of disappointment. Then he caught sight of Sir Timothy standing at + the counter, and he brightened up. + </p> + <p> + “Where's all the crowd, Tom?” he asked the barman. + </p> + <p> + “Scared of you, I reckon,” was the brief reply. “There was plenty here a + few minutes ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Scared of me, eh?” the other repeated, staring hard at Sir Timothy. “Did + you 'ear that, guvnor?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard it,” Sir Timothy acquiesced. + </p> + <p> + Billy the Tanner began to cheer up. He walked all round this stranger. + </p> + <p> + “A toff! A big toff! I'll 'ave a drink with you, guvnor,” he declared, + with a note of incipient truculence in his tone. + </p> + <p> + The barman had already reached up for two glasses but Sir Timothy shook + his head. + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” he said. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's silence. The barman made despairing signs at Sir + Timothy. Billy the Tanner was moistening his lips with his tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Because I don't know you and I don't like you,” was the bland reply. + </p> + <p> + Billy the Tanner wasted small time upon preliminaries. He spat upon his + hands. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno you and I don't like you,” he retorted. “D'yer know wot I'm going + to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea,” Sir Timothy confessed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to make you look so that your own mother wouldn't know you—then + I'm going to pitch you into the street,” he added, with an evil grin. + “That's wot we does with big toffs who come 'anging around 'ere.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” Sir Timothy said calmly. “Perhaps my friend may have something + to say about that.” + </p> + <p> + The man of war was beginning to be worked up. + </p> + <p> + “Where's your big friend?” he shouted. “Come on! I'll take on the two of + you.” + </p> + <p> + The man who had met Sir Timothy in the street had risen to his feet. He + strolled up to the two. Billy the Tanner eyed him hungrily. + </p> + <p> + “The two of you, d'yer 'ear?” he shouted. “And 'ere's just a flick for the + toff to be going on with!” + </p> + <p> + He delivered a sudden blow at Sir Timothy—a full, vicious, jabbing + blow which had laid many a man of the neighbourhood in the gutter. To his + amazement, the chin at which he had aimed seemed to have mysteriously + disappeared. Sir Timothy himself was standing about half-a-yard further + away. Billy the Tanner was too used to the game to be off his balance, but + he received at that moment the surprise of his life. With the flat of his + hand full open, Sir Timothy struck him across the cheek such a blow that + it resounded through the place, a blow that brought both the inner doors + ajar, that brought peering eyes from every direction. There was a moment's + silence. The man's fists were clenched now, there was murder in his face. + Sir Timothy stepped on one side. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a fighter,” he said coolly, leaning back against the marble + table. “My friend will deal with you.” + </p> + <p> + Billy the Tanner glared at the newcomer, who had glided in between him and + Sir Timothy. + </p> + <p> + “You can come and join in, too,” he shouted to Sir Timothy. “I'll knock + your big head into pulp when I've done with this little job!” + </p> + <p> + The bully knew in precisely thirty seconds what had happened to him. So + did the crowds who pressed back into the place through the inner door. So + did the barman. So did the landlord, who had made a cautious appearance + through a trapdoor. Billy the Tanner, for the first time in his life, was + fighting a better man. For two years he had been the terror of the + neighbourhood, and he showed now that at least he had courage. His + smattering of science, however, appeared only ridiculous. Once, through + sheer strength and blundering force, he broke down his opponent's guard + and struck him in the place that had dispatched many a man before—just + over the heart. His present opponent scarcely winced, and Billy the Tanner + paid the penalty then for his years of bullying. His antagonist paused for + a single second, as though unnerved by the blow. Red fire seemed to stream + from his eyes. Then it was all over. With a sickening crash, Billy the + Tanner went down upon the sanded floor. It was no matter of a count for + him. He lay there like a dead man, and from the two doors the hidden + spectators streamed into the room. Sir Timothy laid some money upon the + table. + </p> + <p> + “This fellow insulted me and my friend,” he said. “You see, he has paid + the penalty. If he misbehaves again, the same thing will happen to him. I + am leaving some money here with your barman. I shall be glad for every one + to drink with me. Presently, perhaps, you had better send for an ambulance + or a doctor.” + </p> + <p> + A little storm of enthusiastic excitement, evidenced for the most part in + expletives of a lurid note, covered the retreat of Sir Timothy and his + companion. Out in the street a small crowd was rushing towards the place. + A couple of policemen seemed to be trying to make up their minds whether + it was a fine night. An inspector hurried up to them. + </p> + <p> + “What's doing in 'The Rising Sun'?” he demanded sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Some one's giving Billy the Tanner a hiding,” one of the policemen + replied. + </p> + <p> + “Honest?” + </p> + <p> + “A fair, ripe, knock-out hiding,” was the emphatic confirmation. “I looked + in at the window.” + </p> + <p> + The inspector grinned. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you had the sense not to interfere,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy and his companion reached the car. The latter took a seat by + the chauffeur. Sir Timothy stepped in. It struck him that Lady Cynthia was + a little breathless. Her eyes, too, were marvellously bright. Wrapped + around her knees was the chauffeur's coat. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” she declared. “I haven't had such a wonderful five minutes + since I can remember! You are a dear to have brought me, Sir Timothy.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Mean?” she laughed, as the car swung around and they glided away. “You + didn't suppose I was going to sit here and watch you depart upon a + mysterious errand? I borrowed your chauffeur's coat and his cap, and slunk + down after you. I can assure you I looked the most wonderful female apache + you ever saw! And I saw the fight. It was better than any of the prize + fights I have ever been to. The real thing is better than the sham, isn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy leaned back in his place and remained silent. Soon they passed + out of the land of tired people, of stalls decked out with unsavoury + provender, of foetid smells and unwholesome-looking houses. They passed + through a street of silent warehouses on to the Embankment. A stronger + breeze came down between the curving arc of lights. + </p> + <p> + “You are not sorry that you brought me?” Lady Cynthia asked, suddenly + holding out her hand. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy took it in his. For some reason or other, he made no answer at + all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <p> + The car stopped in front of the great house in Grosvenor Square. Lady + Cynthia turned to her companion. + </p> + <p> + “You must come in, please,” she said. “I insist, if it is only for five + minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy followed her across the hall to a curved recess, where the + footman who had admitted them touched a bell, and a small automatic lift + came down. + </p> + <p> + “I am taking you to my own quarters,” she explained. “They are rather cut + off but I like them—especially on hot nights.” + </p> + <p> + They glided up to the extreme top of the house. She opened the gates and + led the way into what was practically an attic sitting-room, decorated in + black and white. Wide-flung doors opened onto the leads, where comfortable + chairs, a small table and an electric standard were arranged. They were + far above the tops of the other houses, and looked into the green of the + Park. + </p> + <p> + “This is where I bring very few people,” she said. “This is where, even + after my twenty-eight years of fraudulent life, I am sometimes myself. + Wait.” + </p> + <p> + There were feminine drinks and sandwiches arranged on the table. She + opened the cupboard of a small sideboard just inside the sitting-room, + however, and produced whisky and a syphon of soda. There was a pail of ice + in a cool corner. From somewhere in the distance came the music of violins + floating through the window of a house where a dance was in progress. They + could catch a glimpse of the striped awning and the long line of waiting + vehicles with their twin eyes of fire. She curled herself up on a settee, + flung a cushion at Sir Timothy, who was already ensconced in a luxurious + easy-chair, and with a tumbler of iced sherbet in one hand, and a + cigarette in the other, looked across at him. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure,” she said, “that you have not to-night dispelled an + illusion.” + </p> + <p> + “What manner of one?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Above all things,” she went on, “I have always looked upon you as wicked. + Most people do. I think that is one reason why so many of the women find + you attractive. I suppose it is why I have found you attractive.” + </p> + <p> + The smile was back upon his lips. He bowed a little, and, leaning forward, + dropped a chunk of ice into his whisky and soda. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Lady Cynthia,” he murmured, “don't tell me that I am going to slip + back in your estimation into some normal place.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not quite sure,” she said deliberately. “I have always looked upon + you as a kind of amateur criminal, a man who loved black things and dark + ways. You know how weary one gets of the ordinary code of morals in these + days. You were such a delightful antidote. And now, I am not sure that you + have not shaken my faith in you.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way?” + </p> + <p> + “You really seem to have been engaged to-night in a very sporting and + philanthropic enterprise. I imagined you visiting some den of vice and + mixing as an equal with these terrible people who never seem to cross the + bridges. I was perfectly thrilled when I put on your chauffeur's coat and + hat and followed you.” + </p> + <p> + “The story of my little adventure is a simple one,” Sir Timothy said. “I + do not think it greatly affects my character. I believe, as a matter of + fact, that I am just as wicked as you would have me be, but I have friends + in every walk of life, and, as you know, I like to peer into the + unexpected places. I had heard of this man Billy the Tanner. He beats + women, and has established a perfect reign of terror in the court and + neighbourhood where he lives. I fear I must agree with you that there were + some elements of morality—of conforming, at any rate, to the + recognised standards of justice—in what I did. You know, of course, + that I am a great patron of every form of boxing, fencing, and the various + arts of self-defence and attack. I just took along one of the men from my + gymnasium who I knew was equal to the job, to give this fellow a lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “He did it all right,” Lady Cynthia murmured. + </p> + <p> + “But this is where I think I re-establish myself,” Sir Timothy continued, + the peculiar nature of his smile reasserting itself. “I did not do this + for the sake of the neighbourhood. I did not do it from any sense of + justice at all. I did it to provide for myself an enjoyable and delectable + spectacle.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled lazily. + </p> + <p> + “That does rather let you out,” she admitted. “However, on the whole I am + disappointed. I am afraid that you are not so bad as people think.” + </p> + <p> + “People?” he repeated. “Francis Ledsam, for instance—my son-in-law + in posse?” + </p> + <p> + “Francis Ledsam is one of those few rather brilliant persons who have + contrived to keep sane without becoming a prig,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “You know why?” he reminded her. “Francis Ledsam has been a tremendous + worker. It is work which keeps a man sane. Brilliancy without the capacity + for work drives people to the madhouse.” + </p> + <p> + “Where we are all going, I suppose,” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Not you,” he answered. “You have just enough—I don't know what we + moderns call it—soul, shall I say?—to keep you from the muddy + ways.” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet and leaned over the rails. Sir Timothy watched her + thoughtfully. Her figure, notwithstanding its suggestions of delicate + maturity, was still as slim as a young girl's. She was looking across the + tree-tops towards an angry bank of clouds—long, pencil-like streaks + of black on a purple background. Below, in the street, a taxi passed with + grinding of brakes and noisy horn. The rail against which she leaned + looked very flimsy. Sir Timothy stretched out his hand and held her arm. + </p> + <p> + “My nerves are going with my old age,” he apologised. “That support seems + too fragile.” + </p> + <p> + She did not move. The touch of his fingers grew firmer. + </p> + <p> + “We have entered upon an allegory,” she murmured. “You are preserving me + from the depths.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed harshly. + </p> + <p> + “I!” he exclaimed, with a sudden touch of real and fierce bitterness which + brought the light dancing into her eyes and a spot of colour to her + cheeks. “I preserve you! Why, you can never hear my name without thinking + of sin, of crime of some sort! Do you seriously expect me to ever preserve + any one from anything?” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't made any very violent attempts to corrupt me,” she reminded + him. + </p> + <p> + “Women don't enter much into my scheme of life,” he declared. “They played + a great part once. It was a woman, I think, who first headed me off from + the pastures of virtue.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” she said softly. “It was Margaret's mother.” + </p> + <p> + His voice rang out like a pistol-shot. + </p> + <p> + “How did you know that?” + </p> + <p> + She turned away from the rail and threw herself back in her chair. His + hand, however, she still kept in hers. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Joe was Minister at Rio, you know, the year it all happened,” she + explained. “He told us the story years ago—how you came back from + Europe and found things were not just as they should be between Margaret's + mother and your partner, and how you killed your partner.” + </p> + <p> + His nostrils quivered a little. One felt that the fire of suffering had + touched him again for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I killed him,” he admitted. “That is part of my creed. The men who + defend their honour in the Law Courts are men I know nothing of. This man + would have wronged me and robbed me of my honour. I bade him defend + himself in any way he thought well. It was his life or mine. He was a poor + fighter and I killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “And Margaret's mother died from the shock.” + </p> + <p> + “She died soon afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + The stars grew paler. The passing vehicles, with their brilliant lights, + grew fewer and fewer. The breeze which had been so welcome at first, + turned into a cold night wind. She led the way back into the room. + </p> + <p> + “I must go,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + “You must go,” she echoed, looking up at him. “Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + She was so close to him that his embrace, sudden and passionate though it + was, came about almost naturally. She lay in his arms with perfect content + and raised her lips to his. + </p> + <p> + He broke away. He was himself again, self-furious. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Cynthia,” he said, “I owe you my most humble apologies. The evil + that is in me does not as a rule break out in this direction.” + </p> + <p> + “You dear, foolish person,” she laughed, “that was good, not evil. You + like me, don't you? But I know you do. There is one crime you have always + forgotten to develop—you haven't the simplest idea in the world how + to lie.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I like you,” he admitted. “I have the most absurd feeling for you + that any man ever found it impossible to put into words. We have indeed + strayed outside the world of natural things,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she murmured. “I never felt more natural or normal in my life. I + can assure you that I am loving it. I feel like muslin gowns and primroses + and the scent of those first March violets underneath a warm hedge where + the sun comes sometimes. I feel very natural indeed, Sir Timothy.” + </p> + <p> + “What about me?” he asked harshly. “In three weeks' time I shall be fifty + years old.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “And in no time at all I shall be thirty—and entering upon a + terrible period of spinsterhood!” + </p> + <p> + “Spinsterhood!” he scoffed. “Why, whenever the Society papers are at a + loss for a paragraph, they report a few more offers of marriage to the + ever-beautiful Lady Cynthia.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be sarcastic,” she begged. “I haven't yet had the offer of marriage + I want, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll get one you don't want in a moment,” he warned her. + </p> + <p> + She made a little grimace. + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” she laughed nervously. “How am I to preserve my romantic notions + of you as the emperor of the criminal world, if you kiss me as you did + just now—you kissed me rather well—and then ask me to marry + you? It isn't your role. You must light a cigarette now, pat the back of + my hand, and swagger off to another of your haunts of vice.” + </p> + <p> + “In other words, I am not to propose?” Sir Timothy said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “You see how decadent I am,” she sighed. “I want to toy with my pleasures. + Besides, there's that scamp of a brother of mine coming up to have a drink—I + saw him get out of a taxi—and you couldn't get it through in time, + not with dignity.” + </p> + <p> + The rattle of the lift as it stopped was plainly audible. He stooped and + kissed her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I fear some day,” he murmured, “I shall be a great disappointment to + you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + There was a great deal of discussion, the following morning at the + Sheridan Club, during the gossipy half-hour which preceded luncheon, + concerning Sir Timothy Brast's forthcoming entertainment. One of the men, + Philip Baker, who had been for many years the editor of a famous sporting + weekly, had a ticket of invitation which he displayed to an envious little + crowd. + </p> + <p> + “You fellows who get invitations to these parties,” a famous actor + declared, “are the most elusive chaps on earth. Half London is dying to + know what really goes on there, and yet, if by any chance one comes across + a prospective or retrospective guest, he is as dumb about it as though it + were some Masonic function. We've got you this time, Baker, though. We'll + put you under the inquisition on Friday morning.” + </p> + <p> + “There won't be any need,” the other replied. “One hears a great deal of + rot talked about these affairs, but so far as I know, nothing very much + out of the way goes on. There are always one or two pretty stiff fights in + the gymnasium, and you get the best variety show and supper in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is there this aroma of mystery hanging about the affair, then?” some + one asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, for one or two reasons,” Baker answered. “One, no doubt, is because + Sir Timothy has a great idea of arranging the fights himself, and the + opponents actually don't know until the fight begins whom they are + meeting, and sometimes not even then. There has been some gossiping, too, + about the rules, and the weight of the gloves, but that I know, nothing + about.” + </p> + <p> + “And the rest of the show?” a younger member enquired. “Is it simply + dancing and music and that sort of thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Just a variety entertainment,” the proud possessor of the scarlet-hued + ticket declared. “Sir Timothy always has something up his sleeve. Last + year, for instance, he had those six African girls over from Paris in that + queer dance which they wouldn't allow in London at all. This time no one + knows what is going to happen. The house, as you know, is absolutely + surrounded by that hideous stone wall, and from what I have heard, + reporters who try to get in aren't treated too kindly. Here's Ledsam. Very + likely he knows more about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ledsam,” some one demanded, as Francis joined the group, “are you going + to Sir Timothy Brast's show to-morrow night?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” Francis replied, producing his strip of pasteboard. + </p> + <p> + “Ever been before?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what sort of a show it's going to be?” the actor enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Not the slightest idea. I don't think any one does. That's rather a + feature of the affair, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the envious outsider who has never received an invitation, like + myself,” some one remarked, “who probably spreads these rumours, for one + always hears it hinted that some disgraceful and illegal exhibition is on + tap there—a new sort of drugging party, or some novel form of + debauchery.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think,” Francis said quietly, “that Sir Timothy is quite that + sort of man.” + </p> + <p> + “Dash it all, what sort of man is he?” the actor demanded. “They tell me + that financially he is utterly unscrupulous, although he is rolling in + money. He has the most Mephistophelian expression of any man I ever met—looks + as though he'd set his heel on any one's neck for the sport of it—and + yet they say he has given at least fifty thousand pounds to the Society + for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and that the whole of the park + round that estate of his down the river is full of lamed and decrepit + beasts which he has bought himself off the streets.” + </p> + <p> + “The man must have an interesting personality,” a novelist who had joined + the party observed. “Of course, you know that he was in prison for six + months?” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” some one asked. + </p> + <p> + “Murder, only they brought it in manslaughter,” was the terse reply. “He + killed his partner. It was many years ago, and no one knows all the facts + of the story.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not holding a brief for Sir Timothy,” Francis remarked, as he sipped + his cocktail. “As a matter of fact, he and I are very much at + cross-purposes. But as regards that particular instance, I am not sure + that he was very much to be blamed, any more than you can blame any + injured person who takes the law into his own hands.” + </p> + <p> + “He isn't a man I should care to have for an enemy,” Baker declared. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll shake the truth out of you fellows, somehow or other,” one of + the group threatened. “On Friday morning we are going to have the whole + truth—none of this Masonic secrecy which Baker indulged in last + year.” + </p> + <p> + The men drifted in to luncheon and Francis, leaving them, took a taxi on + to the Ritz. Looking about in the vestibule for Margaret, he came face to + face with Lady Cynthia. She was dressed with her usual distinction in a + gown of yellow muslin and a beflowered hat, and was the cynosure of a good + many eyes. + </p> + <p> + “One would almost imagine, Lady Cynthia,” he said, as they exchanged + greetings, “that you had found that elixir we were talking about.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I have,” she answered, smiling. “Are you looking for Margaret? + She is somewhere about. We were just having a chat when I was literally + carried off by that terrible Lanchester woman. Let's find her.” + </p> + <p> + They strolled up into the lounge. Margaret came to meet them. Her smile, + as she gave Francis her left hand, transformed and softened her whole + appearance. + </p> + <p> + “You don't mind my having asked Cynthia to lunch with us?” she said. “I + really couldn't get rid of the girl. She came in to see me this morning + the most aggressively cheerful person I ever knew. I believe that she had + an adventure last night. All that she will tell me is that she dined and + danced at Claridge's with a party of the dullest people in town.” + </p> + <p> + A tall, familiar figure passed down the vestibule. Lady Cynthia gave a + little start, and Francis, who happened to be watching her, was amazed at + her expression. + </p> + <p> + “Your father, Margaret!” she pointed out. “I wonder if he is lunching + here.” + </p> + <p> + “He told me that he was lunching somewhere with a South American friend—one + of his partners, I believe,” Margaret replied. “I expect he is looking for + him.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy caught sight of them, hesitated for a moment and came slowly + in their direction. + </p> + <p> + “Have you found your friend?” Margaret asked. + </p> + <p> + “The poor fellow is ill in bed,” her father answered. “I was just + regretting that I had sent the car away, or I should have gone back to + Hatch End.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay and lunch with us,” Lady Cynthia begged, a little impetuously. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be very pleased if you will,” Francis put in. “I'll go and tell + the waiter to enlarge my table.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried off. On his way back, a page-boy touched him on the arm. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir,” he announced, “you are wanted on the telephone.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” Francis exclaimed. “Some mistake, I should think. Nobody knows that I + am here.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” the boy said. “This way, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Francis walked down the vestibule to the row of telephone boxes at the + further end. The attendant who was standing outside, indicated one of them + and motioned the boy to go away. Francis stepped inside. The man followed, + closing the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + “I am asking your pardon, sir, for taking a great liberty,” he confessed. + “No one wants you on the telephone. I wished to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + Francis looked at him in surprise. The man was evidently agitated. Somehow + or other, his face was vaguely familiar. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, and what do you want with me?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “I was butler to Mr. Hilditch, sir,” the man replied. “I waited upon you + the night you dined there, sir—the night of Mr. Hilditch's death.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a revelation to make with regard to that night, sir,” the man went + on, “which I should like to place in your hands. It is a very serious + matter, and there are reasons why something must be done about it at once. + Can I come and see you at your rooms, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Francis studied the man for a moment intently. He was evidently agitated—evidently, + too, in very bad health. His furtive manner was against him. On the other + hand, that might have arisen from nervousness. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be in at half-past three, number 13 b, Clarges Street,” Francis + told him. + </p> + <p> + “I can get off for half-an-hour then, sir,” the man replied. “I shall be + very glad to come. I must apologise for having troubled you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Francis went slowly back to his trio of guests. All the way down the + carpeted vestibule he was haunted by the grim shadow of a spectral fear. + The frozen horror of that ghastly evening was before him like a hateful + tableau. Hilditch's mocking words rang in his cars: “My death is the one + thing in the world which would make my wife happy.” The Court scene, with + all its gloomy tragedy, rose before his eyes—only in the dock, + instead of Hilditch, he saw another! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + There were incidents connected with that luncheon which Francis always + remembered. In the first place, Sir Timothy was a great deal more silent + than usual. A certain vein of half-cynical, half-amusing comment upon + things and people of the moment, which seemed, whenever he cared to exert + himself, to flow from his lips without effort, had deserted him. He sat + where the rather brilliant light from the high windows fell upon his face, + and Francis wondered more than once whether there were not some change + there, perhaps some prescience of trouble to come, which had subdued him + and made him unusually thoughtful. Another slighter but more amusing + feature of the luncheon was the number of people who stopped to shake + hands with Sir Timothy and made more or less clumsy efforts to obtain an + invitation to his coming entertainment. Sir Timothy's reply to these + various hints was barely cordial. The most he ever promised was that he + would consult with his secretary and see if their numbers were already + full. Lady Cynthia, as a somewhat blatant but discomfited Peer of the + Realm took his awkward leave of them, laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I think they all deserve what they get,” she declared. “I + never heard such brazen impudence in my life—from people who ought + to know better, too.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Meadowson, a sporting peer, who was one of Sir Timothy's few + intimates, came over to the table. He paid his respects to the two ladies + and Francis, and turned a little eagerly to Sir Timothy. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy nodded. + </p> + <p> + “We shall be quite prepared for you,” he said. “Better bring your + cheque-book.” + </p> + <p> + “Capital!” the other exclaimed. “As I hadn't heard anything, I was + beginning to wonder whether you would be ready with your end of the show.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be no hitch so far as we are concerned,” Sir Timothy assured + him. + </p> + <p> + “More mysteries?” Margaret enquired, as Meadowson departed with a smile of + satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Her father shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely that,” he replied. “It is a little wager between Lord Meadowson + and myself which is to be settled to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Torrington, a fussy little woman, her hostess of the night before, on + her way down the room stopped and shook hands with Lady Cynthia. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear,” she exclaimed, “wherever did you vanish to last night? + Claude told us all that, in the middle of a dance with him, you excused + yourself for a moment and he never saw you again. I quite expected to read + in the papers this morning that you had eloped.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely what I did,” Lady Cynthia declared. “The only trouble was that + my partner had had enough of me before the evening was over, and deposited + me once more in Grosvenor Square. It is really very humiliating,” she went + on meditatively, “how every one always returns me.” + </p> + <p> + “You talk such nonsense, Cynthia!” Lady Torrington exclaimed, a little + pettishly. “However, you found your way home all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite safely, thank you. I was going to write you a note this afternoon. + I went away on an impulse. All I can say is that I am sorry. Do forgive + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!” was the somewhat chilly reply. “Somehow or other, you seem to + have earned the right to do exactly as you choose. Some of my young men + whom you had promised to dance with, were disappointed, but after all, I + suppose that doesn't matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Not much,” Lady Cynthia assented sweetly. “I think a few disappointments + are good for most of the young men of to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do last night, Cynthia?” Margaret asked her presently, when + Lady Torrington had passed on. + </p> + <p> + “I eloped with your father,” Lady Cynthia confessed, smiling across at Sir + Timothy. “We went for a little drive together and I had a most amusing + time. The only trouble was, as I have been complaining to that tiresome + woman, he brought me home again.” + </p> + <p> + “But where did you go to?” Margaret persisted. + </p> + <p> + “It was an errand of charity,” Sir Timothy declared. + </p> + <p> + “It sounds very mysterious,” Francis observed. “Is that all we are to be + told?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” Sir Timothy complained, “that very few people sympathise + with my hobbies or my prosecution of them. That is why such little + incidents as last night's generally remain undisclosed. If you really wish + to know what happened,” he went on, after a moment's pause, “I will tell + you. As you know, I have a great many friends amongst the boxing + fraternity, and I happened to hear of a man down in the East End who has + made himself a terror to the whole community in which he lives. I took + Peter Fields, my gymnasium instructor, down to the East End last night, + and Peter Fields—dealt with him.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a fight?” Margaret exclaimed, with a little shudder. + </p> + <p> + “There was a fight,” Sir Timothy repeated, “if you can call it such. + Fields gave him some part of the punishment he deserved.” + </p> + <p> + “And you were there, Cynthia?” + </p> + <p> + “I left Lady Cynthia in the car,” Sir Timothy explained. “She most + improperly bribed my chauffeur to lend her his coat and hat, and followed + me.” + </p> + <p> + “You actually saw the fight, then?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “I did,” Lady Cynthia admitted. “I saw it from the beginning to the end.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret looked across the table curiously. It seemed to her that her + friend had turned a little paler. + </p> + <p> + “Did you like it?” she asked simply. + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia was silent for a moment. She glanced at Sir Timothy. He, too, + was waiting for her answer with evident interest. + </p> + <p> + “I was thrilled,” she acknowledged. “That was the pleasurable part of it I + have been so, used to looking on at shows that bored me, listening to + conversations that wearied me, attempting sensations which were repellent, + that I just welcomed feeling, when it came—feeling of any sort. I + was excited. I forgot everything else. I was so fascinated that I could + not look away. But if you ask me whether I liked it, and I have to answer + truthfully, I hated it! I felt nothing of the sort at the time, but when I + tried to sleep I found myself shivering. It was justice, I know, but it + was ugly.” + </p> + <p> + She watched Sir Timothy, as she made her confession, a little wistfully. + He said nothing, but there was a very curious change in his expression. He + smiled at her in an altogether unfamiliar way. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” she said, appealing to him, “that you are very disappointed + in me?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” he answered, “I am delighted.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that?” she asked incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” he declared. “Companionship between our sexes is very delightful + so far as it goes, but the fundamental differences between a man's outlook + and tastes and a woman's should never be bridged over. I myself do not + wish to learn to knit. I do not care for the womenkind in whom I am + interested to appreciate and understand fighting.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret looked across the table in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “You are most surprising this morning, father,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “I am perhaps misunderstood,” he sighed, “perhaps have acquired a + reputation for greater callousness than I possess. Personally, I love + fighting. I was born a fighter, and I should find no happier way of ending + my life than fighting, but, to put it bluntly, fighting is a man's job.” + </p> + <p> + “What about women going to see fights at the National Sporting Club?” Lady + Cynthia asked curiously. + </p> + <p> + “It is their own affair, but if you ask my opinion I do not approve of + it,” Sir Timothy replied. “I am indifferent upon the subject, because I am + indifferent upon the subject of the generality of your sex,” he added, + with a little smile, “but I simply hold that it is not a taste which + should be developed in women, and if they do develop it, it is at the + expense of those very qualities which make them most attractive.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia took a cigarette from her case and leaned over to Francis for + a light. + </p> + <p> + “The world is changing,” she declared. “I cannot bear many more shocks. I + fancied that I had written myself for ever out of Sir Timothy's good books + because of my confession just now.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled across at her. His words were words of courteous badinage, but + Lady Cynthia was conscious of a strange little sense of pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” he assured her, “you found your way just a little + further into my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, in a general sort of way,” Margaret observed, leaning + back in her chair, “that you and my father are becoming extraordinarily + friendly, Cynthia.” + </p> + <p> + “I am hopefully in love with your father,” Lady Cynthia confessed. “It has + been coming on for a long time. I suspected it the first time I ever met + him. Now I am absolutely certain.” + </p> + <p> + “It's quite a new idea,” Margaret remarked. “Shall we like her in the + family, Francis?” + </p> + <p> + “No airs!” Lady Cynthia warned her. “You two are not properly engaged yet. + It may devolve upon me to give my consent.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” Francis replied, “I hope that we may at least count upon + your influence with Sir Timothy?” + </p> + <p> + “If you'll return the compliment and urge my suit with him,” Lady Cynthia + laughed. “I am afraid he can't quite make up his mind about me, and I am + so nice. I haven't flirted nearly so much as people think, and my + instincts are really quite domestic.” + </p> + <p> + “My position,” Sir Timothy remarked, as he made an unsuccessful attempt to + possess himself of the bill which Francis had called for, “is becoming a + little difficult.” + </p> + <p> + “Not really difficult,” Lady Cynthia objected, “because the real decision + rests in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Just listen to the woman!” Margaret exclaimed. “Do you realise, father, + that Cynthia is making the most brazen advances to you? And I was going to + ask her if she'd like to come back to The Sanctuary with us this evening!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia was suddenly eager. Margaret glanced across at her father. + Sir Timothy seemed almost imperceptibly to stiffen a little. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret has carte blanche at The Sanctuary as regards her visitors,” he + said. “I am afraid that I shall be busy over at The Walled House.” + </p> + <p> + “But you'd come and dine with us?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy hesitated. An issue which had been looming in his mind for + many hours seemed to be suddenly joined. + </p> + <p> + “Please!” Lady Cynthia begged. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy followed the example of the others and rose to his feet. He + avoided Lady Cynthia's eyes. He seemed suddenly a little tired. + </p> + <p> + “I will come and dine,” he assented quietly. “I am afraid that I cannot + promise more than that. Lady Cynthia, as she knows, is always welcome at + The Sanctuary.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + Punctual to his appointment that afternoon, the man who had sought an + interview with Francis was shown into the latter's study in Clarges + Street. + </p> + <p> + He wore an overcoat over his livery, and directly he entered the room + Francis was struck by his intense pallor. He had been trying feverishly to + assure himself that all that the man required was the usual sort of help, + or assistance into a hospital. Yet there was something furtive in his + visitor's manner, something which suggested the bearer of a guilty secret. + </p> + <p> + “Please tell me what you want as quickly as you can,” Francis begged. “I + am due to start down into the country in a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't keep you long, sir,” the man replied. “The matter is rather a + serious one.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “You had better sit down.” + </p> + <p> + The man relapsed gratefully into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “I'll leave out everything that doesn't count, sir,” he said. “I'll be as + brief as I can. I want you to go back to the night I waited upon you at + dinner the night Mr. Oliver Hilditch was found dead. You gave evidence. + The jury brought it in 'suicide.' It wasn't suicide at all, sir. Mr. + Hilditch was murdered.” + </p> + <p> + The sense of horror against which he had been struggling during the last + few hours, crept once more through the whole being of the man who + listened. He was face to face once more with that terrible issue. Had he + perjured himself in vain? Was the whole structure of his dreams about to + collapse, to fall about his ears? + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “By Sir Timothy Brast, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Francis, who had been standing with his hand upon the table, felt suddenly + inclined to laugh. Facile though his brain was, the change of issues was + too tremendous for him to readily assimilate it. He picked up a cigarette + from an open box, with shaking fingers, lit it, and threw himself into an + easy-chair. He was all the time quite unconscious of what he was doing. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy Brast?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” the man reiterated. “I wish to tell you the whole story.” + </p> + <p> + “I am listening,” Francis assured him. + </p> + <p> + “That evening before dinner, Sir Timothy Brast called to see Mr. Hilditch, + and a very stormy interview took place. I do not know the rights of that, + sir. I only know that there was a fierce quarrel. Mrs. Hilditch came in + and Sir Timothy left the house. His last words to Mr. Hilditch were, 'You + will hear from me again.' As you know, sir—I mean as you remember, + if you followed the evidence—all the servants slept at the back of + the house. I slept in the butler's room downstairs, next to the plate + pantry. I was awake when you left, sitting in my easy-chair, reading. Ten + minutes after you had left, there was a sound at the front door as though + some one had knocked with their knuckles. I got up, to open it but Mr. + Hilditch was before me. He admitted Sir Timothy. They went back into the + library together. It struck me that Mr. Hilditch had had a great deal to + drink, and there was a queer look on Sir Timothy's face that I didn't + understand. I stepped into the little room which communicates with the + library by folding doors. There was a chink already between the two. I got + a knife from the pantry and widened it until I could see through. I heard + very little of the conversation but there was no quarrel. Mr. Hilditch + took up the weapon which you know about, sat in a chair and held it to his + heart. I heard him say something like this. 'This ought to appeal to you, + Sir Timothy. You're a specialist in this sort of thing. One little touch, + and there you are.' Mrs. Hilditch said something about putting it away. My + master turned to Sir Timothy and said something in a low tone. Suddenly + Sir Timothy leaned over. He caught hold of Mr. Hilditch's hand which held + the hilt of the dagger, and and—well, he just drove it in, sir. Then + he stood away. Mrs. Hilditch sprang up and would have screamed, but Sir + Timothy placed his hand over her mouth. In a moment I heard her say, 'What + have you done?' Sir Timothy looked at Mr. Hilditch quite calmly. 'I have + ridded the world of a verminous creature,' he said. My knees began to + shake. My nerves were always bad. I crept back into my room, took off my + clothes and got into bed. I had just put the light out when they called + for me.” + </p> + <p> + Francis was himself again. There was an immense relief, a joy in his + heart. He had never for a single moment blamed Margaret, but he had never + for a single moment forgotten. It was a closed chapter but the stain was + on its pages. It was wonderful to tear it out and scatter the fragments. + </p> + <p> + “I remember you at the inquest,” he said. “Your name is John Walter.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Your evidence was very different.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You kept all this to yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I did, sir. I thought it best.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what has happened since?” + </p> + <p> + The man looked down at the table. + </p> + <p> + “I have always been a poor man, sir,” he said. “I have had bad luck + whenever I've made a try to start at anything. I thought there seemed a + chance for me here. I went to Sir Timothy and I told him everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy never turned a hair, sir. When I had finished he was very + short with me, almost curt. 'You have behaved like a man of sense, + Walter,' he said. 'How much?' I hesitated for some time. Then I could see + he was getting impatient. I doubled what I had thought of first. 'A + thousand pounds, sir,' I said. Sir Timothy he went to a safe in the wall + and he counted out a thousand pounds in notes, there and then. He brought + them over to me. 'Walter,' he said, 'there is your thousand pounds. For + that sum I understand you promise to keep what you saw to yourself?' 'Yes, + sir,' I agreed. 'Take it, then,' he said, 'but I want you to understand + this. There have been many attempts but no one yet has ever succeeded in + blackmailing me. No one ever will. I give you this thousand pounds + willingly. It is what you have asked for. Never let me see your face + again. If you come to me starving, it will be useless. I shall not part + with another penny.'” + </p> + <p> + The man's simple way of telling his story, his speech, slow and uneven on + account of his faltering breath, seemed all to add to the dramatic nature + of his disclosure. Francis found himself sitting like a child who listens + to a fairy story. + </p> + <p> + “And then?” he asked simply. + </p> + <p> + “I went off with the money,” Walter continued, “and I had cruel bad luck. + I put it into a pub. I was robbed a little, I drank a little, my wife + wasn't any good. I lost it all, sir. I found myself destitute. I went back + to Sir Timothy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + The man shifted his feet nervously. He seemed to have come to the + difficult part of his story. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy was as hard as nails,” he said slowly. “He saw me. The moment + I had finished, he rang the bell. 'Hedges,' he said to the manservant who + came in, 'this man has come here to try and blackmail me. Throw him out. + If he gives any trouble, send for the police. If he shows himself here + again, send for the police.”' + </p> + <p> + “What happened then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I nearly blurted out the whole story,” the man confessed, “and then + I remembered that wouldn't do me any good, so I went away. I got a job at + the Ritz, but I was took ill a few days afterwards. I went to see a + doctor. From him I got my death-warrant, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it heart?” + </p> + <p> + “It's heart, sir,” the man acknowledged. “The doctor told me I might snuff + out at any moment. I can't live, anyway, for more than a year. I've got a + little girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Now just why have you come to see me?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “For just this, sir,” the man replied. “Here's my account of what + happened,” he went on, drawing some sheets of foolscap from his pocket. + “It's written in my own hand and there are two witnesses to my signature—one + a clergyman, sir, and the other a doctor, they thinking it was a will or + something. I had it in my mind to send that to Scotland Yard, and then I + remembered that I hadn't a penny to leave my little girl. I began to + wonder—think as meanly of me as you like, sir—how I could + still make some money out of this. I happened to know that you were none + too friendly disposed towards Sir Timothy. This confession of mine, if it + wouldn't mean hanging, would mean imprisonment for the rest of his life. + You could make a better bargain with him than me, sir. Do you want to hold + him in your power? If so, you can have this confession, all signed and + everything, for two hundred pounds, and as I live, sir, that two hundred + pounds is to pay for my funeral, and the balance for my little girl.” + </p> + <p> + Francis took the papers and glanced them through. + </p> + <p> + “Supposing I buy this document from you,” he said, “what is its actual + value? You could write out another confession, get that signed, and sell + it to another of Sir Timothy's enemies, or you could still go to Scotland + Yard yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't do that, sir, I assure you,” the man declared nervously, “not + on my solemn oath. I want simply to be quit of the whole matter and have a + little money for the child.” + </p> + <p> + Francis considered for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “There is only one way I can see,” he said, “to make this document worth + the money to me. If you will sign a confession that any statement you have + made as to the death of Mr. Hilditch is entirely imaginary, that you did + not see Sir Timothy in the house that night, that you went to bed at your + usual time and slept until you were awakened, and that you only made this + charge for the purpose of extorting money—if you will sign a + confession to that effect and give it me with these papers, I will pay you + the two hundred pounds and I will never use the confession unless you + repeat the charge.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it, sir,” the man assented. + </p> + <p> + Francis drew up a document, which his visitor read through and signed. + Then he wrote out an open cheque. + </p> + <p> + “My servant shall take you to the bank in a taxi,” he said. “They would + scarcely pay you this unless you were identified. We understand one + another?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Francis rang the bell, gave his servant the necessary orders, and + dismissed the two men. Half-an-hour later, already changed into flannels, + he was on his way into the country. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <p> + Sir Timothy walked that evening amongst the shadows. Two hours ago, the + last of the workmen from the great furnishing and catering establishments + who undertook the management of his famous entertainments, had ceased work + for the day and driven off in the motor-brakes hired to take them to the + nearest town. The long, low wing whose use no one was able absolutely to + divine, was still full of animation, but the great reception-rooms and + stately hall were silent and empty. In the gymnasium, an enormous + apartment as large as an ordinary concert hall, two or three electricians + were still at work, directed by the man who had accompanied Sir Timothy to + the East End on the night before. The former crossed the room, his + footsteps awaking strange echoes. + </p> + <p> + “There will be seating for fifty, sir, and standing room for fifty,” he + announced. “I have had the ring slightly enlarged, as you suggested, and + the lighting is being altered so that the start is exactly north and + south.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy nodded thoughtfully. The beautiful oak floor of the place was + littered with sawdust and shavings of wood. Several tiers of seats had + been arranged on the space usually occupied by swings, punching-balls and + other artifices. On a slightly raised dais at the further end was an exact + replica of a ring, corded around and with sawdust upon the floor. Upon the + walls hung a marvellous collection of weapons of every description, from + the modern rifle to the curved and terrible knife used by the most savage + of known tribes. + </p> + <p> + “How are things in the quarters?” Sir Timothy asked. + </p> + <p> + “Every one is well, sir. Doctor Ballantyne arrived this afternoon. His + report is excellent.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy nodded and turned away. He looked into the great gallery, its + waxen floors shining with polish, ready for the feet of the dancers on the + morrow; looked into a beautiful concert-room, with an organ that reached + to the roof; glanced into the banquetting hall, which extended far into + the winter-garden; made his way up the broad stairs, turned down a little + corridor, unlocked a door and passed into his own suite. There was a small + dining-room, a library, a bedroom, and a bathroom fitted with every sort + of device. A man-servant who had heard him enter, hurried from his own + apartment across the way. + </p> + <p> + “You are not dining here, sir?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am dining late at The Sanctuary,” he replied. “I just strolled over + to see how the preparations were going on. I shall be sleeping over there, + too. Any prowlers?” + </p> + <p> + “Photographer brought some steps and photographed the horses in the park + from the top of the wall this afternoon, sir,” the man announced. “Jenkins + let him go. Two or three pressmen sent in their cards to you, but they + were not allowed to pass the lodge.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy nodded. Soon he left the house and crossed the park towards + The Sanctuary. He was followed all the way by horses, of which there were + more than thirty in the great enclosure. One mare greeted him with a neigh + of welcome and plodded slowly after him. Another pressed her nose against + his shoulder and walked by his side, with his hand upon her neck. Sir + Timothy looked a little nervously around, but the park itself lay almost + like a deep green pool, unobserved, and invisible from anywhere except the + house itself. He spoke a few words to each of the horses, and, producing + his key, passed through the door in the wall into The Sanctuary garden, + closing it quickly as he recognised Francis standing under the cedar-tree. + </p> + <p> + “Has Lady Cynthia arrived yet?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” Francis replied. “Margaret will be here in a minute. She told + me to say that cocktails are here and that she has ordered dinner served + on the terrace.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” Sir Timothy murmured. “Let me try one of your cigarettes.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything ready for the great show to-morrow night?” Francis asked, as + he served the cocktails. + </p> + <p> + “Everything is in order. I wonder, really,” Sir Timothy went on, looking + at Francis curiously, “what you expect to see?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think we any of us have any definite idea,” Francis replied. “We + have all, of course, made our guesses.” + </p> + <p> + “You will probably be disappointed,” Sir Timothy warned him. “For some + reason or other—perhaps I have encouraged the idea—people look + upon my parties as mysterious orgies where things take place which may not + be spoken of. They are right to some extent. I break the law, without a + doubt, but I break it, I am afraid, in rather a disappointing fashion.” + </p> + <p> + A limousine covered in dust raced in at the open gates and came to a + standstill with a grinding of brakes. Lady Cynthia stepped lightly out and + came across the lawn to them. + </p> + <p> + “I am hot and dusty and I was disagreeable,” she confided, “but the peace + of this wonderful place, and the sight of that beautiful silver thing have + cheered me. May I have a cocktail before I go up to change? I am a little + late, I know,” she went on, “but that wretched garden-party! I thought my + turn would never come to receive my few words. Mother would have been + broken-hearted if I had left without them. What slaves we are to royalty! + Now shall I hurry and change? You men have the air of wanting your dinner, + and I am rather that way myself. You look tired, dear host,” she added, a + little hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “The heat,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Why you ever leave this spot I can't imagine,” she declared, as she + turned away, with a lingering glance around. “It seems like Paradise to + come here and breathe this air. London is like a furnace.” + </p> + <p> + The two men were alone again. In Francis' pocket were the two documents, + which he had not yet made up his mind how to use. Margaret came out to + them presently, and he strolled away with her towards the rose garden. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” he said, “is it my fancy or has there been a change in your + father during the last few days?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a change of some sort,” she admitted. “I cannot describe it. I + only know it is there. He seems much more thoughtful and less hard. The + change would be an improvement,” she went on, “except that somehow or + other it makes me feel uneasy. It is as though he were grappling with some + crisis.” + </p> + <p> + They came to a standstill at the end of the pergola, where the masses of + drooping roses made the air almost faint with their perfume. Margaret + stretched out her hand, plucked a handful of the creamy petals and held + them against her cheek. A thrush was singing noisily. A few yards away + they heard the soft swish of the river. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she asked curiously, “my father still speaks of you as being in + some respects an enemy. What does he mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you exactly,” he answered. “The first time I ever spoke to + your father I was dining at Soto's. I was talking to Andrew Wilmore. It + was only a short time after you had told me the story of Oliver Hilditch, + a story which made me realise the horror of spending one's life keeping + men like that out of the clutch of the law.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, please,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was talking to Andrew. I told him that in future I should accept + no case unless I not only believed in but was convinced of the innocence + of my client. I added that I was at war with crime. I think, perhaps, I + was so deeply in earnest that I may have sounded a little flamboyant. At + any rate, your father, who had overheard me, moved up to our table. I + think he deduced from what I was saying that I was going to turn into a + sort of amateur crime-investigator, a person who I gathered later was + particularly obnoxious to him. At any rate, he held out a challenge. 'If + you are a man who hates crime,' he said, or something like it, 'I am one + who loves it.' He then went on to prophesy that a crime would be committed + close to where we were, within an hour or so, and he challenged me to + discover the assassin. That night Victor Bidlake was murdered just outside + Soto's.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember! Do you mean to tell me, then,” Margaret went on, with a + little shiver, “that father told you this was going to happen?” + </p> + <p> + “He certainly did,” Francis replied. “How his knowledge came I am not sure—yet. + But he certainly knew.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you anything else against him?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “There was the disappearance of Andrew Wilmore's younger brother, Reginald + Wilmore. I have no right to connect your father with that, but Shopland, + the Scotland Yard detective, who has charge of the case, seems to believe + that the young man was brought into this neighbourhood, and some other + indirect evidence which came into my hands does seem to point towards your + father being concerned in the matter. I appealed to him at once but he + only laughed at me. That matter, too, remains a mystery.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was thoughtful for a moment. Then she turned towards the house. + They heard the soft ringing of the gong. + </p> + <p> + “Will you believe me when I tell you this?” she begged, as they passed arm + in arm down the pergola. “I am terrified of my father, though in many ways + he is almost princely in his generosity and in the broad view he takes of + things. Then his kindness to all dumb animals, and the way they love him, + is the most amazing thing I ever knew. If we were alone here to-night, + every animal in the house would be around his chair. He has even the cats + locked up if we have visitors, so that no one shall see it. But I am quite + honest when I tell you this—I do not believe that my father has the + ordinary outlook upon crime. I believe that there is a good deal more of + the Old Testament about him than the New.” + </p> + <p> + “And this change which we were speaking about?” he asked, lowering his + voice as they reached the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “I believe that somehow or other the end is coming,” she said. “Francis, + forgive me if I tell you this—or rather let me be forgiven—but + I know of one crime my father has committed, and it makes me fear that + there may be others. And I have the feeling, somehow, that the end is + close at hand and that he feels it, just as we might feel a thunder-storm + in the air.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to prove the immemorial selfishness of my sex,” he whispered, + as they drew near the little table. “Promise me one thing and I don't care + if your father is Beelzebub himself. Promise me that, whatever happens, it + shall not make any difference to us?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him very wonderfully, a smile which had to take the place of + words, for there were servants now within hearing, and Sir Timothy himself + was standing in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + Lady Cynthia and Sir Timothy strolled after dinner to the bottom of the + lawn and watched the punt which Francis was propelling turn from the + stream into the river. + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly idyllic,” Lady Cynthia sighed. + </p> + <p> + “We have another punt,” her companion suggested. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I am one of those unselfish people,” she declared, “whose idea of repose + is not only to rest oneself but to see others rest. I think these two + chairs, plenty of cigarettes, and you in your most gracious and + discoursive mood, will fill my soul with content.” + </p> + <p> + “Your decision relieves my mind,” her companion declared, as he arranged + the cushions behind her back. “I rather fancy myself with a pair of + sculls, but a punt-pole never appealed to me. We will sit here and enjoy + the peace. To-morrow night you will find it all disturbed—music and + raucous voices and the stampede of my poor, frightened horses in the park. + This is really a very gracious silence.” + </p> + <p> + “Are those two really going to marry?” Lady Cynthia asked, moving her head + lazily in the direction of the disappearing punt. + </p> + <p> + “I imagine so.” + </p> + <p> + “And you? What are you going to do then?” + </p> + <p> + “I am planning a long cruise. I telegraphed to Southampton to-day. I am + having my yacht provisioned and prepared. I think I shall go over to South + America.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” she asked presently. + </p> + <p> + “I am always alone,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “That is rather a matter of your own choice, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so. I have always found it hard to make friends. Enemies seem to + be more in my line.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not found it difficult to become your friend,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “You are one of my few successes,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + She leaned back with half-closed eyes. There was nothing new about their + environment—the clusters of roses, the perfume of the lilies in the + rock garden, the even sweeter fragrance of the trim border of mignonette. + Away in the distance, the night was made momentarily ugly by the sound of + a gramophone on a passing launch, yet this discordant note seemed only to + bring the perfection of present things closer. Back across the velvety + lawn, through the feathery strips of foliage, the lights of The Sanctuary, + shaded and subdued, were dimly visible. The dining-table under the + cedar-tree had already been cleared. Hedges, newly arrived from town to + play the major domo, was putting the finishing touches to a little array + of cool drinks. And beyond, dimly seen but always there, the wall. She + turned to him suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “You build a wall around your life,” she said, “like the wall which + encircles your mystery house. Last night I thought that I could see a + little way over the top. To-night you are different.” + </p> + <p> + “If I am different,” he answered quietly, “it is because, for the first + time for many years, I have found myself wondering whether the life I had + planned for myself, the things which I had planned should make life for + me, are the best. I have had doubts—perhaps I might say regrets.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to go to South America,” Lady Cynthia declared softly. + </p> + <p> + He finished the cigarette which he was smoking and deliberately threw away + the stump. Then he turned and looked at her. His face seemed harder than + ever, clean-cut, the face of a man able to defy Fate, but she saw + something in his eyes which she had never seen before. + </p> + <p> + “Dear child,” he said, “if I could roll back the years, if from all my + deeds of sin, as the world knows sin, I could cancel one, there is nothing + in the world would make me happier than to ask you to come with me as my + cherished companion to just whatever part of the world you cared for. But + I have been playing pitch and toss with fortune all my life, since the + great trouble came which changed me so much. Even at this moment, the coin + is in the air which may decide my fate.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean?” she ventured. + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” he continued, “that after the event of which we spoke last + night, nothing in life has been more than an incident, and I have striven + to find distraction by means which none of you—not even you, Lady + Cynthia, with all your breadth of outlook and all your craving after new + things—would justify.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing that you may have done troubles me in the least,” she assured + him. “I do wish that you could put it all out of your mind and let me help + you to make a fresh start.” + </p> + <p> + “I may put the thing itself out of my mind,” he answered sadly, “but the + consequences remain.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a consequence which threatens?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, he had recovered all his + courage. + </p> + <p> + “There is the coin in the air of which I spoke,” he replied. “Let us + forget it for a moment. Of the minor things I will make you my judge. + Ledsam and Margaret are coming to my party to-morrow night. You, too, + shall be my guest. Such secrets as lie on the other side of that wall + shall be yours. After that, if I survive your judgment of them, and if the + coin which I have thrown into the air comes, down to the tune I call—after + that—I will remind you of something which happened last night—of + something which, if I live for many years, I shall never forget.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned towards him. Her eyes were heavy with longing. Her arms, sweet + and white in the dusky twilight, stole hesitatingly out. + </p> + <p> + “Last night was so long ago. Won't you take a later memory?” + </p> + <p> + Once again she lay in his arms, still and content. + </p> + <p> + As they crossed the lawn, an hour or so later, they were confronted by + Hedges—who hastened, in fact, to meet them. + </p> + <p> + “You are being asked for on the telephone, sir,” he announced. “It is a + trunk call. I have switched it through to the study.” + </p> + <p> + “Any name?” Sir Timothy asked indifferently. + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated. His eyes sought his master's respectfully but charged + with meaning. + </p> + <p> + “The person refuses to give his name, sir, but I fancied that I recognised + his voice. I think it would be as well for you to speak, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia sank into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “You shall go and answer your telephone call,” she said, “and leave Hedges + to serve me with one of these strange drinks. I believe I see some of my + favourite orangeade.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy made his way into the house and into the low, oak-beamed study + with its dark furniture and latticed windows. The telephone bell began to + ring again as he entered. He took up the receiver. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy?” a rather hoarse, strained voice asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am speaking,” Sir Timothy replied. “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + The man at the other end spoke as though he were out of breath. + Nevertheless, what he said was distinct enough. + </p> + <p> + “I am John Walter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I am just ringing you up,” the voice went on, “to give you what's called + a sporting chance. There's a boat from Southampton midday tomorrow. If + you're wise, you'll catch it. Or better still, get off on your own yacht. + They carry a wireless now, these big steamers. Don't give a criminal much + of a chance, does it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am to understand, then,” Sir Timothy said calmly, “that you have laid + your information?” + </p> + <p> + “I've parted with it and serve you right,” was the bitter reply. “I'm not + saying that you're not a brave man, Sir Timothy, but there's such a thing + as being foolhardy, and that's what you are. I wasn't asking you for half + your fortune, nor even a dab of it, but if your life wasn't worth a few + hundred pounds—you, with all that money—well, it wasn't worth + saving. So now you know. I've spent ninepence to give you a chance to hop + it, because I met a gent who has been good to me. I've had a good dinner + and I feel merciful. So there you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I gather,” Sir Timothy asked, in a perfectly level tone, “that the + deed is already done?” + </p> + <p> + “It's already done and done thoroughly,” was the uncompromising answer. + “I'm not ringing up to ask you to change your mind. If you were to offer + me five thousand now, or ten, I couldn't stop the bally thing. You've a + sporting chance of getting away if you start at once. That's all there is + to it.” + </p> + <p> + “You have nothing more to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! Only I wish to God I'd never stepped into that Mayfair agency. I + wish I'd never gone to Mrs. Hilditch's as a temporary butler. I wish I'd + never seen any one of you! That's all. You can go to Hell which way you + like, only, if you take my advice, you'll go by the way of South America. + The scaffold isn't every man's fancy.” + </p> + <p> + There was a burr of the instrument and then silence. Sir Timothy carefully + replaced the receiver, paused on his way out of the room to smell a great + bowl of lavender, and passed back into the garden. + </p> + <p> + “More applicants for invitations?” Lady Cynthia enquired lazily. + </p> + <p> + Her host smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly! Although,” he added, “as a matter of fact my party would + have been perhaps a little more complete with the presence of the person + to whom I have been speaking.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia pointed to the stream, down which the punt was slowly + drifting. The moon had gone behind a cloud, and Francis' figure, as he + stood there, was undefined and ghostly. A thought seemed to flash into her + mind. She leaned forward. + </p> + <p> + “Once,” she said, “he told me that he was your enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “The term is a little melodramatic,” Sir Timothy protested. “We look at + certain things from opposite points of view. You see, my prospective + son-in-law, if ever he becomes that, represents the law—the Law with + a capital 'L'—which recognises no human errors or weaknesses, and + judges crime out of the musty books of the law-givers of old. He makes of + the law a mechanical thing which can neither bend nor give, and he judges + humanity from the same standpoint. Yet at heart he is a good fellow and I + like him.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” + </p> + <p> + “My weakness lies the other way,” he confessed, “and my sympathy is with + those who do not fear to make their own laws.” + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand, white and spectral in the momentary gloom. At the + other end of the lawn, Francis and Margaret were disembarking from the + punt. + </p> + <p> + “Does it sound too shockingly obvious,” she murmured, “if I say that I + want to make you my law?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + It would have puzzled anybody, except, perhaps, Lady Cynthia herself, to + have detected the slightest alteration in Sir Timothy's demeanour during + the following day, when he made fitful appearances at The Sanctuary, or at + the dinner which was served a little earlier than usual, before his final + departure for the scene of the festivities. Once he paused in the act of + helping himself to some dish and listened for a moment to the sound of + voices in the hall, and when a taxicab drove up he set down his glass and + again betrayed some interest. + </p> + <p> + “The maid with my frock, thank heavens!” Lady Cynthia announced, glancing + out of the window. “My last anxiety is removed. I am looking forward now + to a wonderful night.” + </p> + <p> + “You may very easily be disappointed,” her host warned her. “My + entertainments appeal more, as a rule, to men.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you be thoroughly original and issue no invitations to women at + all?” Margaret enquired. + </p> + <p> + “For the same reason that you adorn your rooms and the dinner-table with + flowers,” he answered. “One needs them—as a relief. Apart from that, + I am really proud of my dancing-room, and there again, you see, your sex + is necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “We are flattered,” Margaret declared, with a little bow. “It does seem + queer to think that you should own what Cynthia's cousin, Davy Hinton, + once told me was the best floor in London, and that I have never danced on + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” Lady Cynthia put in. “There might have been some excuse for not + asking you, Margaret, but why an ultra-Bohemian like myself has had to beg + and plead for an invitation, I really cannot imagine.” + </p> + <p> + “You might find,” Sir Timothy said, “you may even now—that some of + my men guests are not altogether to your liking.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite content to take my risk,” Lady Cynthia declared cheerfully. “The + man with the best manners I ever met—it was at one of Maggie's + studio dances, too—was a bookmaker. And a retired prize-fighter + brought me home once from an Albert Hall dance.” + </p> + <p> + “How did he behave?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + “He was wistful but restrained,” Lady Cynthia replied, “quite the + gentleman, in fact.” + </p> + <p> + “You encourage me to hope for the best,” Sir Timothy said, rising to his + feet. “You will excuse me now? I have a few final preparations to make.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we to be allowed,” Margaret enquired, “to come across the park?” + </p> + <p> + “You would not find it convenient,” her father assured her. “You had + better order a car, say for ten o'clock. Don't forget to bring your cards + of invitation, and find me immediately you arrive. I wish to direct your + proceedings to some extent.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia strolled across with him to the postern-gate and stood by his + side after he had opened it. Several of the animals, grazing in different + parts of the park, pricked up their ears at the sound. An old mare came + hobbling towards him; a flea-bitten grey came trotting down the field, his + head in the air, neighing loudly. + </p> + <p> + “You waste a great deal of tenderness upon your animal friends, dear + host,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + He deliberately looked away from her. + </p> + <p> + “The reciprocation, at any rate, has its disadvantages,” he remarked, + glancing a little disconsolately at the brown hairs upon his coat-sleeve. + “I shall have to find another coat before I can receive my guests—which + is a further reason,” he added, “why I must hurry.” + </p> + <p> + At the entrance to the great gates of The Walled House, two men in livery + were standing. One of them examined with care the red cards of invitation, + and as soon as he was satisfied the gates were opened by some unseen + agency. The moment the car had passed through, they were closed again. + </p> + <p> + “Father seems thoroughly mediaeval over this business,” Margaret remarked, + looking about her with interest. “What a quaint courtyard, too! It really + is quite Italian.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems almost incredible that you have never been here!” Lady Cynthia + exclaimed. “Curiosity would have brought me if I had had to climb over the + wall!” + </p> + <p> + “It does seem absurd in one way,” Margaret agreed, “but, as a matter of + fact, my father's attitude about the place has always rather set me + against it. I didn't feel that there was any pleasure to be gained by + coming here. I won't tell you really what I did think. We must keep to our + bargain. We are not to anticipâté.” + </p> + <p> + At the front entrance, under the covered portico, the white tickets which + they had received in exchange for their tickets of invitation, were + carefully collected by another man, who stopped the car a few yards from + the broad, curving steps. After that, there was no more suggestion of + inhospitality. The front doors, which were of enormous size and height, + seemed to have been removed, and in the great domed hall beyond Sir + Timothy was already receiving his guests. Being without wraps, the little + party made an immediate entrance. Sir Timothy, who was talking to one of + the best-known of the foreign ambassadors, took a step forward to meet + them. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome,” he said, “you, the most unique party, at least, amongst my + guests. Prince, may I present you to my daughter, Mrs. Hilditch? Lady + Cynthia Milton and Mr. Ledsam you know, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father has just been preparing me for this pleasure,” the Prince + remarked, with a smile. “I am delighted that his views as regards these + wonderful parties are becoming a little more—would it be correct to + say latitudinarian? He has certainly been very strict up to now.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the first time I have been vouchsafed an invitation,” Margaret + confessed. + </p> + <p> + “You will find much to interest you,” the Prince observed. “For myself, I + love the sport of which your father is so noble a patron. That, without + doubt, though, is a side of his entertainment of which you will know + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy, choosing a moment's respite from the inflowing stream of + guests, came once more across to them. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to leave you, my honoured guests from The Sanctuary,” he said, + with a faint smile, “to yourselves for a short time. In the room to your + left, supper is being served. In front is the dancing-gallery. To the + right, as you see, is the lounge leading into the winter-garden. The + gymnasium is closed until midnight. Any other part of the place please + explore at your leisure, but I am going to ask you one thing. I want you + to meet me in a room which I will show you, at a quarter to twelve.” + </p> + <p> + He led them down one of the corridors which opened from the hall. Before + the first door on the right a man-servant was standing as though on sentry + duty. Sir Timothy tapped the panel of the door with his forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “This is my sanctum,” he announced. “I allow no one in here without + special permission. I find it useful to have a place to which one can come + and rest quite quietly sometimes. Williams here has no other duty except + to guard the entrance. Williams, you will allow this gentleman and these + two ladies to pass in at a quarter to twelve.” + </p> + <p> + The man looked at them searchingly. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” he said. “No one else?” + </p> + <p> + “No one, under any pretext.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy hurried back to the hall, and the others followed him in more + leisurely fashion. They were all three full of curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “I never dreamed,” Margaret declared, as she looked around her, “that I + should ever find myself inside this house. It has always seemed to me like + one great bluebeard's chamber. If ever my father spoke of it at all, it + was as of a place which he intended to convert into a sort of miniature + Hell.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy leaned back to speak to them as they passed. + </p> + <p> + “You will find a friend over there, Ledsam,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Wilmore turned around and faced them. The two men exchanged somewhat + surprised greetings. + </p> + <p> + “No idea that I was coming until this afternoon,” Wilmore explained. “I + got my card at five o'clock, with a note from Sir Timothy's secretary. I + am racking my brains to imagine what it can mean.” + </p> + <p> + “We're all a little addled,” Francis confessed. “Come and join our tour of + exploration. You know Lady Cynthia. Let me present you to Mrs. Hilditch.” + </p> + <p> + The introduction was effected and they all, strolled on together. Margaret + and Lady Cynthia led the way into the winter-garden, a palace of glass, + tall palms, banks of exotics, flowering shrubs of every description, and a + fountain, with wonderfully carved water nymphs, brought with its basin + from Italy. Hidden in the foliage, a small orchestra was playing very + softly. The atmosphere of the place was languorous and delicious. + </p> + <p> + “Leave us here,” Margaret insisted, with a little exclamation of content. + “Neither Cynthia nor I want to go any further. Come back and fetch us in + time for our appointment.” + </p> + <p> + The two men wandered off. The place was indeed a marvel of architecture, a + country house, of which only the shell remained, modernised and made + wonderful by the genius of a great architect. The first room which they + entered when they left the winter-garden, was as large as a small + restaurant, panelled in cream colour, with a marvellous ceiling. There + were tables of various sizes laid for supper, rows of champagne bottles in + ice buckets, and servants eagerly waiting for orders. Already a sprinkling + of the guests had found their way here. The two men crossed the floor to + the cocktail bar in the far corner, behind which a familiar face grinned + at them. It was Jimmy, the bartender from Soto's, who stood there with a + wonderful array of bottles on a walnut table. + </p> + <p> + “If it were not a perfectly fatuous question, I should ask what you were + doing here, Jimmy?” Francis remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I always come for Sir Timothy's big parties, sir,” Jimmy explained. “Your + first visit, isn't it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “My first,” Francis assented. + </p> + <p> + “And mine,” his companion echoed. + </p> + <p> + “What can I have the pleasure of making for you, sir?” the man enquired. + </p> + <p> + “A difficult question,” Francis admitted. “It is barely an hour and a half + since we finished dinner. On the other hand, we are certainly going to have + some supper some time or other.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy nodded understandingly. + </p> + <p> + “Leave it to me, sir,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + He served them with a foaming white concoction in tall glasses. A genuine + lime bobbed up and down in the liquid. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy has the limes sent over from his own estate in South + America,” Jimmy announced. “You will find some things in that drink you + don't often taste.” + </p> + <p> + The two men sipped their beverage and pronounced it delightful. Jimmy + leaned a little across the table. + </p> + <p> + “A big thing on to-night, isn't there, sir?” he asked cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “Is there?” Francis replied. “You mean—?” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy motioned towards the open window, close to which the river was + flowing by. + </p> + <p> + “You going down, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Francis shook his head dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” + </p> + <p> + The bartender looked with narrowed eyes from one to the other of the two + men. Then he suddenly froze up. Wilmore leaned a little further over the + impromptu counter. + </p> + <p> + “Jimmy,” he asked, “what goes on here besides dancing and boxing and + gambling?” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of any gambling,” Jimmy answered, shaking his head. “Sir + Timothy doesn't care about cards being played here at all.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the principal entertainment, then?” Francis demanded. “The + boxing?” + </p> + <p> + The bartender shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No one understands very much about this house, sir,” he said, “except + that it offers the most wonderful entertainment in Europe. That is for the + guests to find out, though. We servants have to attend to our duties. Will + you let me mix you another drink, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks,” Francis answered. “The last was too good to spoil. But you + haven't answered my question, Jimmy. What did you mean when you asked if + we were going down?” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy's face had become wooden. + </p> + <p> + “I meant nothing, sir,” he said. “Sorry I spoke.” + </p> + <p> + The two men turned away. They recognised many acquaintances in the + supper-room, and in the long gallery beyond, where many couples were + dancing now to the music of a wonderful orchestra. By slow stages they + made their way back to the winter-garden, where Lady Cynthia and Margaret + were still lost in admiration of their surroundings. They all walked the + whole length of the place. Beyond, down a flight of stone steps, was a + short, paved way to the river. A large electric launch was moored at the + quay. The grounds outside were dimly illuminated with cunningly-hidden + electric lights shining through purple-coloured globes into the cloudy + darkness. In the background, enveloping the whole of the house and + reaching to the river on either side, the great wall loomed up, unlit, + menacing almost in its suggestions. A couple of loiterers stood within a + few yards of them, looking at the launch. + </p> + <p> + “There she is, ready for her errand, whatever it may be,” one said to the + other curiously. “We couldn't play the stowaway, I suppose, could we?” + </p> + <p> + “Dicky Bell did that once,” the other answered. “Sir Timothy has only one + way with intruders. He was thrown into the river and jolly nearly + drowned.” + </p> + <p> + The two men passed out of hearing. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what part the launch plays in the night's entertainment,” + Wilmore observed. + </p> + <p> + Francis shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I have given up wondering,” he said. “Margaret, do you hear that music?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Are we really to dance?” she murmured. “Do you want to make a girl of me + again?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shouldn't be a magician, should I?” he answered. + </p> + <p> + They passed into the ballroom and danced for some time. The music was + seductive and perfect, without any of the blatant notes of too many of the + popular orchestras. The floor seemed to sway under their feet. + </p> + <p> + “This is a new joy come back into life!” Margaret exclaimed, as they + rested for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “The first of many,” he assured her. + </p> + <p> + They stood in the archway between the winter-garden and the + dancing-gallery, from which they could command a view of the passing + crowds. Francis scanned the faces of the men and women with intense + interest. Many of them were known to him by sight, others were strangers. + There was a judge, a Cabinet Minister, various members of the aristocracy, + a sprinkling from the foreign legations, and although the stage was not + largely represented, there were one or two well-known actors. The guests + seemed to belong to no universal social order, but to Francis, watching + them almost eagerly, they all seemed to have something of the same + expression, the same slight air of weariness, of restless and unsatisfied + desires. + </p> + <p> + “I can't believe that the place is real, or that these people we see are + not supers,” Margaret whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I feel every moment that a clock will strike and that it will all fade + away.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I'm too material for such imaginings,” Francis replied, “but + there is a quaintly artificial air about it all. We must go and look for + Wilmore and Lady Cynthia.” + </p> + <p> + They turned back into the enervating atmosphere of the winter-garden, and + came suddenly face to face with Sir Timothy, who had escorted a little + party of his guests to see the fountain, and was now returning alone. + </p> + <p> + “You have been dancing, I am glad to see,” the latter observed. “I trust + that you are amusing yourselves?” + </p> + <p> + “Excellently, thank you,” Francis replied. + </p> + <p> + “And so far,” Sir Timothy went on, with a faint smile, “you find my + entertainment normal? You have no question yet which you would like to + ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Only one—what do you do with your launch up the river on moonless + nights, Sir Timothy?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy's momentary silence was full of ominous significance. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ledsam,” he said, after a brief pause, “I have given you almost carte + blanche to explore my domains here. Concerning the launch, however, I + think that you had better ask no questions at present.” + </p> + <p> + “You are using it to-night?” Francis persisted. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come and see, my venturesome guest?” + </p> + <p> + “With great pleasure,” was the prompt reply. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy glanced at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he said, “is one of the matters of which we will speak at a + quarter to twelve. Meanwhile, let me show you something. It may amuse you + as it has done me.” + </p> + <p> + The three moved back towards one of the arched openings which led into the + ballroom. + </p> + <p> + “Observe, if you please,” their host continued, “the third couple who pass + us. The girl is wearing green—the very little that she does wear. + Watch the man, and see if he reminds you of any one.” + </p> + <p> + Francis did as he was bidden. The girl was a well-known member of the + chorus of one of the principal musical comedies, and she seemed to be + thoroughly enjoying both the dance and her partner. The latter appeared to + be of a somewhat ordinary type, sallow, with rather puffy cheeks, and eyes + almost unnaturally dark. He danced vigorously and he talked all the time. + Something about him was vaguely familiar to Francis, but he failed to + place him. + </p> + <p> + “Notwithstanding all my precautions,” Sir Timothy continued, “there, + fondly believing himself to be unnoticed, is an emissary of Scotland Yard. + Really, of all the obvious, the dry-as-dust, + hunt-your-criminal-by-rule-of-three kind of people I ever met, the class + of detective to which this man belongs can produce the most blatant + examples.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do about him?” Francis asked. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I have not yet made up my mind,” he said. “I happen to know that he has + been laying his plans for weeks to get here, frequenting Soto's and other + restaurants, and scraping acquaintances with some of my friends. The Duke + of Tadchester brought him—won a few hundreds from him at baccarat, I + suppose. His grace will never again find these doors open to him.” + </p> + <p> + Francis' attention had wandered. He was gazing fixedly at the man whom Sir + Timothy had pointed out. + </p> + <p> + “You still do not fully recognise our friend,” the latter observed + carelessly. “He calls himself Manuel Loito, and he professes to be a + Cuban. His real name I understood, when you introduced us, to be + Shopland.” + </p> + <p> + “Great heavens, so it is!” Francis exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Let us leave him to his precarious pleasures,” Sir Timothy suggested. “I + am free for a few moments. We will wander round together.” + </p> + <p> + They found Lady Cynthia and Wilmore, and looked in at the supper-room, + where people were waiting now for tables, a babel of sound and gaiety. The + grounds and winter-gardens were crowded. Their guide led the way to a + large apartment on the other side of the hall, from which the sound of + music was proceeding. + </p> + <p> + “My theatre,” he said. “I wonder what is going on.” + </p> + <p> + They passed inside. There was a small stage with steps leading down to the + floor, easy-chairs and round tables everywhere, and waiters serving + refreshments. A girl was dancing. Sir Timothy watched her approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “Nadia Ellistoff,” he told them. “She was in the last Russian ballet, and + she is waiting now for the rest of the company to start again at Covent + Garden. You see, it is Metzger who plays there. They improvise. Rather a + wonderful performance, I think.” + </p> + <p> + They watched her breathlessly, a spirit in grey tulle, with great black + eyes now and then half closed. + </p> + <p> + “It is 'Wind before Dawn,'” Lady Cynthia whispered. “I heard him play it + two days after he composed it, only there are variations now. She is the + soul of the south wind.” + </p> + <p> + The curtain went down amidst rapturous applause. The dancer had left the + stage, floating away into some sort of wonderfully-contrived nebulous + background. Within a few moments, the principal comedian of the day was + telling stories. Sir Timothy led them away. + </p> + <p> + “But how on earth do you get all these people?” Lady Cynthia asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is arranged for me,” Sir Timothy replied. “I have an agent who sees to + it all. Every man or woman who is asked to perform, has a credit at + Cartier's for a hundred guineas. I pay no fees. They select some little + keepsake.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder they call this place a sort of Arabian Nights!” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there isn't much else for you to see,” Sir Timothy said + thoughtfully. “My gymnasium, which is one of the principal features here, + is closed just now for a special performance, of which I will speak in a + moment. The concert hall I see they are using for an overflow dance-room. + What you have seen, with the grounds and the winter-garden, comprises + almost everything.” + </p> + <p> + They moved back through the hall with difficulty. People were now crowding + in. Lady Cynthia laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is like a gala night at the Opera, Sir Timothy!” she exclaimed. + “How dare you pretend that this is Bohemia!” + </p> + <p> + “It has never been I who have described my entertainments,” he reminded + her. “They have been called everything—orgies, debauches—everything + you can think of. I have never ventured myself to describe them.” + </p> + <p> + Their passage was difficult. Every now and then Sir Timothy was compelled + to shake hands with some of his newly-arriving guests. At last, however, + they reached the little sitting-room. Sir Timothy turned back to Wilmore, + who hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “You had better come in, too, Mr. Wilmore, if you will,” he invited. “You + were with Ledsam, the first day we met, and something which I have to say + now may interest you.” + </p> + <p> + “If I am not intruding,” Wilmore murmured. + </p> + <p> + They entered the room, still jealously guarded. Sir Timothy closed the + door behind them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + The apartment was one belonging to the older portion of the house, and had + been, in fact, an annex to the great library. The walls were oak-panelled, + and hung with a collection of old prints. There were some easy-chairs, a + writing-table, and some well-laden bookcases. There were one or two bronze + statues of gladiators, a wonderful study of two wrestlers, no minor + ornaments. Sir Timothy plunged at once into what he had to say. + </p> + <p> + “I promised you, Lady Cynthia, and you, Ledsam,” he said, “to divulge + exactly the truth as regards these much-talked-of entertainments here. + You, Margaret, under present circumstances, are equally interested. You, + Wilmore, are Ledsam's friend, and you happen to have an interest in this + particular party. Therefore, I am glad to have you all here together. The + superficial part of my entertainment you have seen. The part which renders + it necessary for me to keep closed doors, I shall now explain. I give + prizes here of considerable value for boxing contests which are conducted + under rules of our own. One is due to take place in a very few minutes. + The contests vary in character, but I may say that the chief officials of + the National Sporting Club are usually to be found here, only, of course, + in an unofficial capacity. The difference between the contests arranged by + me, and others, is that my men are here to fight. They use sometimes an + illegal weight of glove and they sometimes hurt one another. If any two of + the boxing fraternity have a grudge against one another, and that often + happens, they are permitted here to fight it out, under the strictest + control as regards fairness, but practically without gloves at all. You + heard of the accident, for instance, to Norris? That happened in my + gymnasium. He was knocked out by Burgin. It was a wonderful fight. + </p> + <p> + “However, I pass on. There is another class of contest which frequently + takes place here. Two boxers place themselves unreservedly in my hands. + The details of the match are arranged without their knowledge. They come + into the ring without knowing whom they are going to fight. Sometimes they + never know, for my men wear masks. Then we have private matches. There is + one to-night. Lord Meadowson and I have a wager of a thousand guineas. He + has brought to-night from the East End a boxer who, according to the terms + of our bet, has never before engaged in a professional contest. I have + brought an amateur under the same conditions. The weight is within a few + pounds the same, neither has ever seen the other, only in this case the + fight is with regulation gloves and under Queensberry rules.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is your amateur, Sir Timothy?” Wilmore asked harshly. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother, Mr. Wilmore,” was the prompt reply. “You shall see the + fight if I have your promise not to attempt in any way to interfere.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me,” he demanded, “that my brother has been decoyed + here, kept here against his will, to provide amusement for your guests?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilmore, I beg that you will be reasonable,” Sir Timothy + expostulated. “I saw your brother box at his gymnasium in Holborn. My + agent made him the offer of this fight. One of my conditions had to be + that he came here to train and that whilst he was here he held no + communication whatever with the outside world. My trainer has ideas of his + own and this he insists upon. Your brother in the end acquiesced. He was + at first difficult to deal with as regards this condition, and he did, in + fact, I believe, Mr. Ledsam, pay a visit to your office, with the object + of asking you to become an intermediary between him and his relatives.” + </p> + <p> + “He began a letter to me,” Francis interposed, “and then mysteriously + disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + “The mystery is easily explained,” Sir Timothy continued. “My trainer, + Roger Hagon, a Varsity blue, and the best heavyweight of his year, + occupies the chambers above yours. He saw from the window the arrival of + Reginald Wilmore—which was according to instructions, as they were + to come down to Hatch End together—went down the stairs to meet him, + and, to cut a long story short, fetched him out of your office, Ledsam, + without allowing him to finish his letter. This absolute isolation seems a + curious condition, perhaps, but Hagon insists upon it, and I can assure + you that he knows his business. The mystery, as you have termed it, of his + disappearance that morning, is that he went upstairs with Hagon for + several hours to undergo a medical examination, instead of leaving the + building forthwith.” + </p> + <p> + “Queer thing I never thought of Hagon,” Francis remarked. “As a matter of + fact, I never see him in the Temple, and I thought that he had left.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask,” Wilmore intervened, “when my brother will be free to return + to his home?” + </p> + <p> + “To-night, directly the fight is over,” Sir Timothy replied. “Should he be + successful, he will take with him a sum of money sufficient to start him + in any business he chooses to enter.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore frowned slightly. + </p> + <p> + “But surely,” he protested, “that would make him a professional pugilist?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Sir Timothy replied. “For one thing, the match is a private + one in a private house, and for another the money is a gift. There is no + purse. If your brother loses, he gets nothing. Will you see the fight, Mr. + Wilmore?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will see it,” was the somewhat reluctant assent. + </p> + <p> + “You will give me your word not to interfere in any way?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not interfere,” Wilmore promised. “If they are wearing regulation + gloves, and the weights are about equal, and the conditions are what you + say, it is the last thing I should wish to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Capital!” Sir Timothy exclaimed. “Now to pass on. There is one other + feature of my entertainments concerning which I have something to say—a + series of performances which takes place on my launch at odd times. There + is one fixed for tonight. I can say little about it except that it is + unusual. I am going to ask you, Lady Cynthia, and you, Ledsam, to witness + it. When you have seen that, you know everything. Then you and I, Ledsam, + can call one another's hands. I shall have something else to say to you, + but that is outside the doings here.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we to see the fight in the gymnasium?” Lady Cynthia enquired. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I do not allow women there under any conditions,” he said. “You and + Margaret had better stay here whilst that takes place. It will probably be + over in twenty minutes. It will be time then for us to find our way to the + launch. After that, if you have any appetite, supper. I will order some + caviare sandwiches for you,” Sir Timothy went on, ringing the bell, “and + some wine.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia smiled. + </p> + <p> + “It is really a very wonderful party,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Their host ushered the two men across the hall, now comparatively + deserted, for every one had settled down to his or her chosen amusement—down + a long passage, through a private door which he unlocked with a Yale key, + and into the gymnasium. There were less than fifty spectators seated + around the ring, and Francis, glancing at them hastily, fancied that he + recognised nearly every one of them. There was Baker, a judge, a couple of + actors, Lord Meadowson, the most renowned of sporting peers, and a dozen + who followed in his footsteps; a little man who had once been amateur + champion in the bantam class, and who was now considered the finest judge + of boxing in the world; a theatrical manager, the present amateur boxing + champion, and a sprinkling of others. Sir Timothy and his companions took + their chairs amidst a buzz of welcome. Almost immediately, the man who was + in charge of the proceedings, and whose name was Harrison, rose from his + place. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” he said, “this is a sporting contest, but one under unusual + rules and unusual conditions. An amateur, who tips the scales at twelve + stone seven, who has never engaged in a boxing contest in his life, is + matched against a young man from a different sphere of life, who intends + to adopt the ring as his profession, but who has never as yet fought in + public. Names, gentlemen, as you know, are seldom mentioned here. I will + only say that the first in the ring is the nominee of our friend and host, + Sir Timothy Brast; second comes the nominee of Lord Meadowson.” + </p> + <p> + Wilmore, notwithstanding his pre-knowledge, gave a little gasp. The young + man who stood now within a few yards of him, carelessly swinging his + gloves in his hand, was without a doubt his missing brother. He looked + well and in the pink of condition; not only well but entirely confident + and at his ease. His opponent, on the other hand, a sturdier man, a few + inches shorter, was nervous and awkward, though none the less + determined-looking. Sir Timothy rose and whispered in Harrison's ear. The + latter nodded. In a very few moments the preliminaries were concluded, the + fight begun. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV + </h2> + <p> + Francis, glad of a moment or two's solitude in which to rearrange his + somewhat distorted sensations, found an empty space in the stern of the + launch and stood leaning over the rail. His pulses were still tingling + with the indubitable excitement of the last half-hour. It was all there, + even now, before his eyes like a cinematograph picture—the duel + between those two men, a duel of knowledge, of strength, of science, of + courage. From beginning to end, there had been no moment when Francis had + felt that he was looking on at what was in any way a degrading or immoral + spectacle. Each man had fought in his way to win. Young Wilmore, graceful + as a panther, with a keen, joyous desire of youth for supremacy written in + his face and in the dogged lines of his mouth; the budding champion from + the East End less graceful, perhaps, but with even more strength and at + least as much determination, had certainly done his best to justify his + selection. There were no points to be scored. There had been no undue + feinting, no holding, few of the tricks of the professional ring. It was a + fight to a finish, or until Harrison gave the word. And the better man had + won. But even that knock-out blow which Reggie Wilmore had delivered after + a wonderful feint, had had little that was cruel in it. There was + something beautiful almost in the strength and grace with which it had + been delivered—the breathless eagerness, the waiting, the end. + </p> + <p> + Francis felt a touch upon his arm and looked around. A tall, sad-faced + looking woman, whom he had noticed with a vague sense of familiarity in + the dancing-room, was standing by his side. + </p> + <p> + “You have forgotten me, Mr. Ledsam,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “For the moment,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “I am Isabel Culbridge,” she told him, watching his face. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Isabel?” Francis repeated incredulously. “But surely—” + </p> + <p> + “Better not contradict me,” she interrupted. “Look again.” + </p> + <p> + Francis looked again. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry,” he said. “It is some time, is it not, since we met?” + </p> + <p> + She stood by his side, and for a few moments neither of them spoke. The + little orchestra in the bows had commenced to play softly, but there was + none of the merriment amongst the handful of men and women generally + associated with a midnight river picnic. The moon was temporarily + obscured, and it seemed as though some artist's hand had so dealt with the + few electric lights that the men, with their pale faces and white + shirt-fronts, and the three or four women, most of them, as it happened, + wearing black, were like some ghostly figures in some sombre procession. + Only the music kept up the pretence that this was in any way an ordinary + excursion. Amongst the human element there was an air of tenseness which + seemed rather to increase as they passed into the shadowy reaches of the + river. + </p> + <p> + “You have been ill, I am afraid?” Francis said tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “If you will,” she answered, “but my illness is of the soul. I have become + one of a type,” she went on, “of which you will find many examples here. + We started life thinking that it was clever to despise the conventional + and the known and to seek always for the daring and the unknown. New + experiences were what we craved for. I married a wonderful husband. I + broke his heart and still looked for new things. I had a daughter of whom + I was fond—she ran away with my chauffeur and left me; a son whom I + adored, and he was killed in the war; a lover who told me that he + worshipped me, who spent every penny I had and made me the laughing-stock + of town. I am still looking for new things.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy's parties are generally supposed to provide them,” Francis + observed. + </p> + <p> + The woman shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “So far they seem very much like anybody's else,” she said. “The fight + might have been amusing, but no women were allowed. The rest was very + wonderful in its way, but that is all. I am still hoping for what we are + to see downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + They heard Sir Timothy's voice a few yards away, and turned to look at + him. He had just come from below, and had paused opposite a man who had + been standing a little apart from the others, one of the few who was + wearing an overcoat, as though he felt the cold. In the background were + the two servants who had guarded the gangway. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Manuel Loito,” Sir Timothy said—“or shall I say Mr. Shopland?—my + invited guests are welcome. I have only one method of dealing with + uninvited ones.” + </p> + <p> + The two men suddenly stepped forward. Shopland made no protest, attempted + no struggle. They lifted him off his feet as though he were a baby, and a + moment later there was a splash in the water. They threw a life-belt after + him. + </p> + <p> + “Always humane, you see,” Sir Timothy remarked, as he leaned over the + side. “Ah! I see that even in his overcoat our friend is swimmer enough to + reach the bank. You find our methods harsh, Ledsam?” he asked, turning a + challenging gaze towards the latter. + </p> + <p> + Francis, who had been watching Shopland come to the surface, shrugged his + shoulders. He delayed answering for a moment while he watched the + detective, disdaining the life-belt, swim to the opposite shore. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that under the circumstances,” Francis said, “he was prepared + to take his risk.” + </p> + <p> + “You should know best about that,” Sir Timothy rejoined. “I wonder whether + you would mind looking after Lady Cynthia? I shall be busy for a few + moments.” + </p> + <p> + Francis stepped across the deck towards where Lady Cynthia had been + sitting by her host's side. They had passed into the mouth of a tree-hung + strip of the river. The engine was suddenly shut off. A gong was sounded. + There was a murmur, almost a sob of relief, as the little sprinkling of + men and women rose hastily to their feet and made their way towards the + companion-way. Downstairs, in the saloon, with its white satinwood panels + and rows of swing chairs, heavy curtains were drawn across the portholes, + all outside light was shut out from the place. At the further end, raised + slightly from the floor, was a sanded circle. Sir Timothy made his way to + one of the pillars by its side and turned around to face the little + company of his guests. His voice, though it seemed scarcely raised above a + whisper, was extraordinarily clear and distinct. Even Francis, who, with + Lady Cynthia, had found seats only just inside the door, could hear every + word he said. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” he began, “you have often before been my guests at such + small fights as we have been able to arrange in as unorthodox a manner as + possible between professional boxers. There has been some novelty about + them, but on the last occasion I think it was generally observed that they + had become a little too professional, a little ultra-scientific. There was + something which they lacked. With that something I am hoping to provide + you to-night. Thank you, Sir Edgar,” he murmured, leaning down towards his + neighbour. + </p> + <p> + He held his cigarette in the flame of a match which the other had kindled. + Francis, who was watching intently, was puzzled at the expression with + which for a moment, as he straightened himself, Sir Timothy glanced down + the room, seeking for Lady Cynthia's eyes. In a sense it was as though he + were seeking for something he needed—approbation, sympathy, + understanding. + </p> + <p> + “Our hobby, as you know, has been reality,” he continued. “That is what we + have not always been able to achieve. Tonight I offer you reality. There + are two men here, one an East End coster, the other an Italian until + lately associated with an itinerant vehicle of musical production. These + two men have not outlived sensation as I fancy so many of us have. They + hate one another to the death. I forget their surnames, but Guiseppe has + stolen Jim's girl, is living with her at the present moment, and proposes + to keep her. Jim has sworn to have the lives of both of them. Jim's + career, in its way, is interesting to us. He has spent already six years + in prison for manslaughter, and a year for a brutal assault upon a + constable. Guiseppe was tried in his native country for a particularly + fiendish murder, and escaped, owing, I believe, to some legal + technicality. That, however, has nothing to do with the matter. These men + have sworn to fight to the death, and the girl, I understand, is willing + to return to Jim if he should be successful, or to remain with Guiseppe if + he should show himself able to retain her. The fight between these men, my + friends, has been transferred from Seven Dials for your entertainment. It + will take place before you here and now.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little shiver amongst the audience. Francis, almost to his + horror, was unable to resist the feeling of queer excitement which stole + through his veins. A few yards away, Lady Isabel seemed to have become + transformed. She was leaning forward in her chair, her eyes glowing, her + lips parted, rejuvenated, dehumanised. Francis' immediate companion, + however, rather surprised him. Her eyes were fixed intently upon Sir + Timothy's. She seemed to have been weighing every word he had spoken. + There was none of that hungry pleasure in her face which shone from the + other woman's and was reflected in the faces of many of the others. She + seemed to be bracing herself for a shock. Sir Timothy looked over his + shoulder towards the door which opened upon the sanded space. + </p> + <p> + “You can bring your men along,” he directed. + </p> + <p> + One of the attendants promptly made his appearance. He was holding tightly + by the arm a man of apparently thirty years of age, shabbily dressed, + barefooted, without collar or necktie, with a mass of black hair which + looked as though it had escaped the care of any barber for many weeks. His + complexion was sallow; he had high cheekbones and a receding chin, which + gave him rather the appearance of a fox. He shrank a little from the + lights as though they hurt his eyes, and all the time he looked furtively + back to the door, through which in a moment or two his rival was presently + escorted. The latter was a young man of stockier build, ill-conditioned, + and with the brutal face of the lowest of his class. Two of his front + teeth were missing, and there was a livid mark on the side of his cheek. + He looked neither to the right nor to the left. His eyes were fixed upon + the other man, and they looked death. + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman who first appeared,” Sir Timothy observed, stepping up into + the sanded space but still half facing the audience, “is Guiseppe, the + Lothario of this little act. The other is Jim, the wronged husband. You + know their story. Now, Jim,” he added, turning towards the Englishman, “I + put in your trousers pocket these notes, two hundred pounds, you will + perceive. I place in the trousers pocket of Guiseppe here notes to the + same amount. I understand you have a little quarrel to fight out. The one + who wins will naturally help himself to the other's money, together with + that other little reward which I imagine was the first cause of your + quarrel. Now... let them go.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy resumed his seat and leaned back in leisurely fashion. The two + attendants solemnly released their captives. There was a moment's intense + silence. The two men seemed fencing for position. There was something + stealthy and horrible about their movements as they crept around one + another. Francis realised what it was almost as the little sobbing breath + from those of the audience who still retained any emotion, showed him that + they, too, foresaw what was going to happen. Both men had drawn knives + from their belts. It was murder which had been let loose. + </p> + <p> + Francis found himself almost immediately upon his feet. His whole being + seemed crying out for interference. Lady Cynthia's death-white face and + pleading eyes seemed like the echo of his own passionate aversion to what + was taking place. Then he met Sir Timothy's gaze across the room and he + remembered his promise. Under no conditions was he to protest or + interfere. He set his teeth and resumed his seat. The fight went on. There + were little sobs and tremors of excitement, strange banks of silence. Both + men seemed out of condition. The sound of their hoarse breathing was + easily heard against the curtain of spellbound silence. For a time their + knives stabbed the empty air, but from the first the end seemed certain. + The Englishman attacked wildly. His adversary waited his time, content + with avoiding the murderous blows struck at him, striving all the time to + steal underneath the other's guard. And then, almost without warning, it + was all over. Jim was on his back in a crumpled heap. There was a horrid + stain upon his coat. The other man was kneeling by his side, hate, glaring + out of his eyes, guiding all the time the rising and falling of his knife. + There was one more shriek—then silence only the sound of the + victor's breathing as he rose slowly from his ghastly task. Sir Timothy + rose to his feet and waved his hand. The curtain went down. + </p> + <p> + “On deck, if you please, ladies and gentlemen,” he said calmly. + </p> + <p> + No one stirred. A woman began to sob. A fat, unhealthy-looking man in + front of Francis reeled over in a dead faint. Two other of the guests near + had risen from their seats and were shouting aimlessly like lunatics. Even + Francis was conscious of that temporary imprisonment of the body due to + his lacerated nerves. Only the clinging of Lady Cynthia to his arm kept + him from rushing from the spot. + </p> + <p> + “You are faint?” he whispered hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Upstairs—air,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + They rose to their feet. The sound of Sir Timothy's voice reached them as + they ascended the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “On deck, every one, if you please,” he insisted. “Refreshments are being + served there. There are inquisitive people who watch my launch, and it is + inadvisable to remain here long.” + </p> + <p> + People hurried out then as though their one desire was to escape from the + scene of the tragedy. Lady Cynthia, still clinging to Francis' arm, led + him to the furthermost corner of the launch. There were real tears in her + eyes, her breath was coming in little sobs. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was horrible!” she cried. “Horrible! Mr. Ledsam—I can't help + it—I never want to speak to Sir Timothy again!” + </p> + <p> + One final horror arrested for a moment the sound of voices. There was a + dull splash in the river. Something had been thrown overboard. The + orchestra began to play dance music. Conversation suddenly burst out. + Every one was hysterical. A Peer of the Realm, red-eyed and shaking like + an aspen leaf, was drinking champagne out of the bottle. Every one seemed + to be trying to outvie the other in loud conversation, in outrageous + mirth. Lady Isabel, with a glass of champagne in her hand, leaned back + towards Francis. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she asked, “how are you feeling, Mr. Ledsam?” + </p> + <p> + “As though I had spent half-an-hour in Hell,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She screamed with laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Hear this man,” she called out, “who will send any poor ragamuffin to the + gallows if his fee is large enough! Of course,” she added, turning back to + him, “I ought to remember you are a normal person and to-night's + entertainment was not for normal persons. For myself I am grateful to Sir + Timothy. For a few moments of this aching aftermath of life, I forgot.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly all the lights around the launch flamed out, the music stopped. + Sir Timothy came up on deck. On either side of him was a man in ordinary + dinner clothes. The babel of voices ceased. Everyone was oppressed by some + vague likeness. A breathless silence ensued. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies and gentlemen,” Sir Timothy said, and once more the smile upon his + lips assumed its most mocking curve, “let me introduce you to the two + artists who have given us to-night such a realistic performance, Signor + Guiseppe Elito and Signor Carlos Marlini. I had the good fortune,” he went + on, “to witness this very marvellous performance in a small music-hall at + Palermo, and I was able to induce the two actors to pay us a visit over + here. Steward, these gentlemen will take a glass of champagne.” + </p> + <p> + The two Sicilians raised their glasses and bowed expectantly to the little + company. They received, however, a much greater tribute to their + performance than the applause which they had been expecting. There reigned + everywhere a deadly, stupefied silence. Only a half-stifled sob broke from + Lady Cynthia's lips as she leaned over the rail, her face buried in her + hands, her whole frame shaking. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI + </h2> + <p> + Francis and Margaret sat in the rose garden on the following morning. + Their conversation was a little disjointed, as the conversation of lovers + in a secluded and beautiful spot should be, but they came back often to + the subject of Sir Timothy. + </p> + <p> + “If I have misunderstood your father,” Francis, declared, “and I admit + that I have, it has been to some extent his own fault. To me he was always + the deliberate scoffer against any code of morals, a rebel against the law + even if not a criminal in actual deeds. I honestly believed that The + Walled House was the scene of disreputable orgies, that your father was + behind Fairfax in that cold-blooded murder, and that he was responsible in + some sinister way for the disappearance of Reggie Wilmore. Most of these + things seem to have been shams, like the fight last night.” + </p> + <p> + She moved uneasily in her place. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad I did not see that,” she said, with a shiver. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he went on, “that the reason why your father insisted upon Lady + Cynthia's and my presence there was that he meant it as a sort of + allegory. Half the vices in life he claims are unreal.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret passed her arm through his and leaned a little towards him. + </p> + <p> + “If you knew just one thing I have never told you,” she confided, “I think + that you would feel sorry for him. I do, more and more every day, because + in a way that one thing is my fault.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the warm sunshine, she suddenly shivered. Francis took her + hands in his. They were cold and lifeless. + </p> + <p> + “I know that one thing, dear,” he told her quietly. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him stonily. There was a questioning fear in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You know—” + </p> + <p> + “I know that your father killed Oliver Hilditch.” + </p> + <p> + She suddenly broke out into a stream of words. There was passion in her + tone and in her eyes. She was almost the accuser. + </p> + <p> + “My father was right, then!” she exclaimed. “He told me this morning that + he believed that it was to you or to your friend at Scotland Yard that + Walter had told his story. But you don't know you don't know how terrible + the temptation was how—you see I say it quite coolly—how + Oliver Hilditch deserved to die. He was trusted by my father in South + America and he deceived him, he forged the letters which induced me to + marry him. It was part of his scheme of revenge. This was the first time + we had any of us met since. I told my father the truth that afternoon. He + knew for the first time how my marriage came about. My husband had prayed + me to keep silent. I refused. Then he became like a devil. We were there, + we three, that night after you left, and Francis, as I live, if my father + had not killed him, I should have!” + </p> + <p> + “There was a time when I believed that you had,” he reminded her. “I + didn't behave like a pedagogic upholder of the letter of the law then, did + I?” + </p> + <p> + She drew closer to him. + </p> + <p> + “You were wonderful,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest, your father has nothing to fear from me,” he assured her + tenderly. “On the contrary, I think that I can show him the way to + safety.” + </p> + <p> + She rose impulsively to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “He will be here directly,” she said. “He promised to come across at + half-past twelve. Let us go and meet him. But, Francis—” + </p> + <p> + For a single moment she crept into his arms. Their lips met, her eyes + shone into his. He held her away from him a moment later. The change was + amazing. She was no longer a tired woman. She had become a girl again. Her + eyes were soft with happiness, the little lines had gone from about her + mouth, she walked with all the spring of youth and happiness. + </p> + <p> + “It is marvellous,” she whispered. “I never dreamed that I should ever be + happy again.” + </p> + <p> + They crossed the rustic bridge which led on to the lawn. Lady Cynthia came + out of the house to meet them. She showed no signs of fatigue, but her + eyes and her tone were full of anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret,” she cried, “do you know that the hall is filled with your + father's luggage, and that the car is ordered to take him to Southampton + directly after lunch?” + </p> + <p> + Margaret and Francis exchanged glances. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Timothy may change his mind,” the latter observed. “I have news for + him directly he arrives.” + </p> + <p> + On the other side of the wall they heard the whinnying of the old mare, + the sound of galloping feet from all directions. + </p> + <p> + “Here he comes!” Lady Cynthia exclaimed. “I shall go and meet him.” + </p> + <p> + Francis laid his hand upon her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Let me have a word with him first,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “You are not going to say anything—that will make him want to go + away?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to tell him something which I think will keep him at home.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy came through the postern-gate, a moment or two later. He waved + his hat and crossed the lawn in their direction. Francis went alone to + meet him and, as he drew near, was conscious of a little shock. His host, + although he held himself bravely, seemed to have aged in the night. + </p> + <p> + “I want one word with you, sir, in your study, please,” Francis said. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders and led the way. He turned to wave his + hand once more to Margaret and Lady Cynthia, however, and he looked with + approval at the luncheon-table which a couple of servants were laying + under the cedar tree. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful thing, these alfresco meals,” he declared. “I hope Hedges won't + forget the maraschino with the melons. Come into my den, Ledsam.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way in courtly fashion. He was the ideal host leading a valued + guest to his sanctum for a few moments' pleasant conversation. But when + they arrived in the little beamed room and the door was closed, his manner + changed. He looked searchingly, almost challengingly at Francis. + </p> + <p> + “You have news for me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” Francis answered. + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. He threw himself a little wearily into + an easy-chair. His hands strayed out towards a cigarette box. He selected + one and lit it. + </p> + <p> + “I expected your friend, Mr. Shopland,” he murmured. “I hope he is none + the worse for his ducking.” + </p> + <p> + “Shopland is a fool,” Francis replied. “He has nothing to do with this + affair, anyway. I have something to give you, Sir Timothy.” + </p> + <p> + He took the two papers from his pocket and handed them over. + </p> + <p> + “I bought these from John Walter the day before yesterday,” he continued. + “I gave him two hundred pounds for them. The money was just in time. He + caught a steamer for Australia late in the afternoon. I had this wireless + from him this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy studied the two documents, read the wireless. There was little + change in his face. Only for a single moment his lips quivered. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” he asked, rising to his feet with the documents in + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “It means that those papers are yours to do what you like with. I drafted + the second one so that you should be absolutely secure against any further + attempt at blackmail. As a matter of fact, though, Walter is on his last + legs. I doubt whether he will live to land in Australia.” + </p> + <p> + “You know that I killed Oliver Hilditch?” Sir Timothy said, his eyes fixed + upon the other's. + </p> + <p> + “I know that you killed Oliver Hilditch,” Francis repeated. “If I had been + Margaret's father, I think that I should have done the same.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy seemed suddenly very much younger. The droop of his lips was + no longer pathetic. There was a little humourous twitch there. + </p> + <p> + “You, the great upholder of the law?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard the story of Oliver Hilditch's life,” Francis replied. “I + was partially responsible for saving him from the gallows. I repeat what I + have said. And if you will—” + </p> + <p> + He held out his hand. Sir Timothy hesitated for one moment. Instead of + taking it, he laid his hand upon Francis' shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Ledsam,” he said, “we have thought wrong things of one another. I thought + you a prig, moral to your finger-tips with the morality of the law and the + small places. Perhaps I was tempted for that reason to give you a wrong + impression of myself. But you must understand this. Though I have had my + standard and lived up to it all my life, I am something of a black sheep. + A man stole my wife. I did not trouble the Law Courts. I killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “I have the blood of generations of lawyers in my veins,” Francis + declared, “but I have read many a divorce case in which I think it would + have been better and finer if the two men had met as you and that man + met.” + </p> + <p> + “I was born with the love of fighting in my bones,” Sir Timothy went on. + “In my younger days, I fought in every small war in the southern + hemisphere. I fought, as you know, in our own war. I have loved to see men + fight honestly and fairly.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a man's hobby,” Francis pronounced. + </p> + <p> + “I encouraged you deliberately to think,” Sir Timothy went on, “what half + the world thinks that—my parties at The Walled House were mysterious + orgies of vice. They have, as a matter of fact, never been anything of the + sort. The tragedies which are supposed to have taken place on my launch + have been just as much mock tragedies as last night's, only I have not + previously chosen to take the audiences into my confidence. The greatest + pugilists in the world have fought in my gymnasium, often, if you will, + under illegal conditions, but there has never been a fight that was not + fair.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that,” Francis said. + </p> + <p> + “And there is another matter for which I take some blame,” Sir Timothy + went on, “the matter of Fairfax and Victor Bidlake. They were neither of + them young men for whose loss the world is any the worse. Fairfax to some + extent imposed upon me. He was brought to The Walled House by a friend who + should have known better. He sought my confidence. The story he told was + exactly that of the mock drama upon the launch. Bidlake had taken his + wife. He had no wish to appeal to the Courts. He wished to fight, a point + of view with which I entirely sympathised. I arranged a fight between the + two. Bidlake funked it and never turned up. My advice to Fairfax was, + whenever he met Bidlake, to give him the soundest thrashing he could. That + night at Soto's I caught sight of Fairfax some time before dinner. He was + talking to the woman who had been his wife, and he had evidently been + drinking. He drew me on one side. 'To-night,' he told me, 'I am going to + settle accounts with Bidlake.' 'Where?' I asked. 'Here,' he answered. He + went out to the theatre, I upstairs to dine. That was the extent of the + knowledge I possessed which enabled me to predict some unwonted happening + that night. Fairfax was a bedrugged and bedrunken decadent who had not the + courage afterwards to face what he had done. That is all.” + </p> + <p> + The hand slipped from Francis' shoulder. Francis, with a smile, held out + his own. They stood there for a moment with clasped hands—a queer, + detached moment, as it seemed to Francis, in a life which during the last + few months had been full of vivid sensations. From outside came the lazy + sounds of the drowsy summer morning—the distant humming of a mowing + machine, the drone of a reaper in the field beyond, the twittering of + birds in the trees, even the soft lapping of the stream against the stone + steps. The man whose hand he was holding seemed to Francis to have become + somehow transformed. It was as though he had dropped a mask and were + showing a more human, a more kindly self. Francis wondered no longer at + the halting gallop of the horses in the field. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be good to Margaret?” Sir Timothy begged. “She's had a wretched + time.” + </p> + <p> + Francis smiled confidently. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to make up for it, sir,” he promised. “And this South American + trip,” he continued, as they turned towards the French windows, “you'll + call that off?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I am not quite sure.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the garden, Lady Cynthia was alone. She scarcely glanced + at Francis. Her eyes were anxiously fixed upon his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret has gone in to make the cocktails herself,” she explained. “We + have both sworn off absinthe for the rest of our lives, and we know Hedges + can't be trusted to make one without.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go and help her,” Francis declared. + </p> + <p> + Lady Cynthia passed her arm through Sir Timothy's. + </p> + <p> + “I want to know about South America,” she begged. “The sight of those + trunks worries me.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy's casual reply was obviously a subterfuge. They crossed the + lawn and the rustic bridge, almost in silence, passing underneath the + pergola of roses to the sheltered garden at the further end. Then Lady + Cynthia paused. + </p> + <p> + “You are not going to South America,” she pleaded, “alone?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy took her hands. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” he said, “listen, please, to my confession. I am a fraud. I am + not a purveyor of new sensations for a decadent troop of weary, + fashionable people. I am a fraud sometimes even to myself. I have had good + luck in material things. I have had bad luck in the precious, the + sentimental side of life. It has made something of an artificial character + of me, on the surface at any rate. I am really a simple, elderly man who + loves fresh air, clean, honest things, games, and a healthy life. I have + no ambitions except those connected with sport. I don't even want to climb + to the topmost niches in the world of finance. I think you have looked at + me through the wrong-coloured spectacles. You have had a whimsical fancy + for a character which does not exist.” + </p> + <p> + “What I have seen,” Lady Cynthia answered, “I have seen through no + spectacles at all—with my own eyes. But what I have seen, even, does + not count. There is something else.” + </p> + <p> + “I am within a few weeks of my fiftieth birthday,” Sir Timothy reminded + her, “and you, I believe, are twenty-nine.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear man,” Lady Cynthia assured him fervently, “you are the only + person in the world who can keep me from feeling forty-nine.” + </p> + <p> + “And your people—” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! My people, for the first time in their lives, will count me a + brilliant success,” Lady Cynthia declared. “You'll probably have to lend + dad money, and I shall be looked upon as the fairy child who has restored + the family fortunes.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Timothy leaned a little towards her. + </p> + <p> + “Last of all,” he said, and this time his voice was not quite so steady, + “are you really sure that you care for me, dear, because I have loved you + so long, and I have wanted love so badly, and it is so hard to believe—” + </p> + <p> + It was the moment, it seemed to her, for which she had prayed. She was in + his arms, tired no longer, with all the splendid fire of life in her + love-lit eyes and throbbing pulses. Around them the bees were humming, and + a soft summer breeze shook the roses and brought little wafts of perfume + from the carnation bed. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing in life,” Lady Cynthia murmured brokenly, “so wonderful + as this.” + </p> + <p> + Francis and Margaret came out from the house, the former carrying a silver + tray. They had spent a considerable time over their task, but Lady Cynthia + and Sir Timothy were still absent. Hedges followed them, a little worried. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I ring the gong, madam?” he asked Margaret. “Cook has taken such + pains with her omelette.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you had better, Hedges,” Margaret assented. + </p> + <p> + The gong rang out—and rang again. Presently Lady Cynthia and Sir + Timothy appeared upon the bridge and crossed the lawn. They were walking a + little apart. Lady Cynthia was looking down at some roses which she had + gathered. Sir Timothy's unconcern seemed a trifle overdone. Margaret + laughed very softly. + </p> + <p> + “A stepmother, Francis!” she whispered. “Just fancy Cynthia as a + stepmother!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Evil Shepherd, by E. 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Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Evil Shepherd + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5743] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on August 21, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVIL SHEPHERD *** + + +Produced by an anonymous volunteer. + + + + + + +THE EVIL SHEPHERD BY E. PHILIPS OPPENHEIM + + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Francis Ledsam, alert, well-satisfied with himself and the world, +the echo of a little buzz of congratulations still in his ears, +paused on the steps of the modern Temple of Justice to light a +cigarette before calling for a taxi to take him to his club. +Visions of a whisky and soda--his throat was a little parched +--and a rubber of easy-going bridge at his favourite table, were +already before his eyes. A woman who had followed him from the +Court touched him on the shoulder. + +"Can I speak to you for a moment, Mr. Ledsam?" + +The barrister frowned slightly as he swung around to confront his +questioner. It was such a familiar form of address. + +"What do you want?" he asked, a little curtly. + +"A few minutes' conversation with you," was the calm reply. "The +matter is important." + +The woman's tone and manner, notwithstanding her plain, +inconspicuous clothes, commanded attention. Francis Ledsam was a +little puzzled. Small things meant much to him in life, and he +had been looking forward almost with the zest of a schoolboy to +that hour of relaxation at his club. He was impatient of even a +brief delay, a sentiment which he tried to express in his +response. + +"What do you want to speak to me about?" he repeated bluntly. "I +shall be in my rooms in the Temple to-morrow morning, any time +after eleven." + +"It is necessary for me to speak to you now," she insisted. +"There is a tea-shop across the way. Please accompany me there." + +Ledsam, a little surprised at the coolness of her request, +subjected his accoster to a closer scrutiny. As he did so, his +irritation diminished. He shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +"If you really have business with me," he said, "I will give you +a few minutes." + +They crossed the street together, the woman self-possessed, +negative, wholly without the embarrassment of one performing an +unusual action. Her companion felt the awakening of curiosity. +Zealously though she had, to all appearance, endeavoured to +conceal the fact, she was without a doubt personable. Her voice +and manner lacked nothing of refinement. Yet her attraction to +Francis Ledsam, who, although a perfectly normal human being, was +no seeker after promiscuous adventures, did not lie in these +externals. As a barrister whose success at the criminal bar had +been phenomenal, he had attained to a certain knowledge of human +nature. He was able, at any rate, to realise that this woman was +no imposter. He knew that she had vital things to say. + +They passed into the tea-shop and found an empty corner. Ledsam +hung up his hat and gave an order. The woman slowly began to +remove her gloves. When she pushed back her veil, her vis-a-vis +received almost a shock. She was quite as good-looking as he had +imagined, but she was far younger--she was indeed little more +than a girl. Her eyes were of a deep shade of hazel brown, her +eyebrows were delicately marked, her features and poise +admirable. Yet her skin was entirely colourless. She was as +pale as one whose eyes have been closed in death. Her lips, +although in no way highly coloured, were like streaks of scarlet +blossom upon a marble image. The contrast between her appearance +and that of her companion was curiously marked. Francis Ledsam +conformed in no way to the accepted physical type of his +profession. He was over six feet in height, broad-shouldered and +powerfully made. His features were cast in a large mould, he was +of fair, almost sandy complexion, even his mouth was more +humourous than incisive. His eyes alone, grey and exceedingly +magnetic, suggested the gifts which without a doubt lay behind +his massive forehead. + +"I am anxious to avoid any possible mistake," she began. "Your +name is Francis Ledsam?" + +"It is," he admitted. + +"You are the very successful criminal barrister," she continued, +"who has just been paid an extravagant fee to defend Oliver +Hilditch." + +"I might take exception to the term 'extravagant'," Ledsam +observed drily. "Otherwise, your information appears to be +singularly correct. I do not know whether you have heard the +verdict. If not, you may be interested to know that I succeeded +in obtaining the man's acquittal." + +"I know that you did," the woman replied. "I was in the Court +when the verdict was brought in. It has since occurred to me +that I should like you to understand exactly what you have done, +the responsibility you have incurred." + +Ledsam raised his eyebrows. + +"Responsibility?" he repeated. "What I have done is simple +enough. I have earned a very large fee and won my case." + +"You have secured the acquittal of Oliver Hilditch," she +persisted. "He is by this time a free man. Now I am going to +speak to you of that responsibility. I am going to tell you a +little about the man who owes his freedom to your eloquence." + +It was exactly twenty minutes after their entrance into the +teashop when the woman finished her monologue. She began to draw +on her gloves again. Before them were two untasted cups of tea +and an untouched plate of bread and butter. From a corner of the +room the waitress was watching them curiously. + +"Good God!" Francis Ledsam exclaimed at last, suddenly realising +his whereabouts. "Do you mean to affirm solemnly that what you +have been telling me is the truth?" + +The woman continued to button her gloves. "It is the truth," she +said. + +Ledsam sat up and looked around him. He was a little dazed. He +had almost the feeling of a man recovering from the influence of +some anaesthetic. Before his eyes were still passing visions of +terrible deeds, of naked, ugly passion, of man's unscrupulous +savagery. During those few minutes he had been transported to +New York and Paris, London and Rome. Crimes had been spoken of +which made the murder for which Oliver Hilditch had just been +tried seem like a trifling indiscretion. Hard though his +mentality, sternly matter-of-fact as was his outlook, he was +still unable to fully believe in himself, his surroundings, or in +this woman who had just dropped a veil over her ashen cheeks. +Reason persisted in asserting itself. + +"But if you knew all this," he demanded, "why on earth didn't you +come forward and give evidence?" + +"Because," she answered calmly, as she rose to her feet, "my +evidence would not have been admissible. I am Oliver Hilditch's +wife." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Francis Ledsam arrived at his club, the Sheridan, an hour later +than he had anticipated. He nodded to the veteran hall-porter, +hung up his hat and stick, and climbed the great staircase to the +card-room without any distinct recollection of performing any of +these simple and reasonable actions. In the cardroom he +exchanged a few greetings with friends, accepted without comment +or without the slightest tinge of gratification a little chorus +of chafing congratulations upon his latest triumph, and left the +room without any inclination to play, although there was a vacant +place at his favourite table. From sheer purposelessness he +wandered back again into the hall, and here came his first gleam +of returning sensation. He came face to face with his most +intimate friend, Andrew Wilmore. The latter, who had just hung +up his coat and hat, greeted him with a growl of welcome. + +"So you've brought it off again, Francis!" + +"Touch and go," the barrister remarked. "I managed to squeak +home." + +Wilmore laid his hand upon his friend's shoulder and led the way +towards two easy-chairs in the lounge. + +"I tell you what it is, old chap," he confided, "you'll be making +yourself unpopular before long. Another criminal at large, +thanks to that glib tongue and subtle brain of yours. The crooks +of London will present you with a testimonial when you're made a +judge." + +"So you think that Oliver Hilditch was guilty, then?" Francis +asked curiously. + +"My dear fellow, how do I know or care?" was the indifferent +reply. "I shouldn't have thought that there had been any doubt +about it. You probably know, anyway." + +"That's just what I didn't when I got up to make my speech," +Francis assured his friend emphatically. "The fellow was given +an opportunity of making a clean breast of it, of course--Wensley, +his lawyer, advised him to, in fact--but the story he told me +was precisely the story he told at the inquest." + +They were established now in their easy-chairs, and Wilmore +summoned a waiter. + +"Two large whiskies and sodas," he ordered. "Francis," he went +on, studying his companion intently, "what's the matter with you? +You don't look as though your few days in the country last week +had done you any good." + +Francis glanced around as though to be sure that they were alone. + +"I was all right when I came up, Andrew," he muttered. "This +case has upset me." + +"Upset you? But why the dickens should it?" the other demanded, +in a puzzled tone. "It was quite an ordinary case, in its way, +and you won it." + +"I won it," Francis admitted. + +"Your defence was the most ingenious thing I ever heard." + +"Mostly suggested, now I come to think of it," the barrister +remarked grimly, "by the prisoner himself." + +"But why are you upset about it, anyway?" Wilmore persisted. + +Francis rose to his feet, shook himself, and with his elbow +resting upon the mantelpiece leaned down towards his friend. He +could not rid himself altogether of this sense of unreality. He +had the feeling that he had passed through one of the great +crises of his life. + +"I'll tell you, Andrew. You're about the only man in the world I +could tell. I've gone crazy." + +"I thought you looked as though you'd been seeing spooks," +Wilmore murmured sympathetically. + +"I have seen a spook," Francis rejoined, with almost passionate +seriousness, "a spook who lifted an invisible curtain with +invisible fingers, and pointed to such a drama of horrors as De +Quincey, Poe and Sue combined could never have imagined. Oliver +Hilditch was guilty, Andrew. He murdered the man Jordan--murdered +him in cold blood." + +"I'm not surprised to hear that," was the somewhat puzzled reply. + +"He was guilty, Andrew, not only of the murder of this man, his +partner, but of innumerable other crimes and brutalities," +Francis went on. "He is a fiend in human form, if ever there was +one, and I have set him loose once more to prey upon Society. I +am morally responsible for his next robbery, his next murder, the +continued purgatory of those forced to associate with him." + +"You're dotty, Francis," his friend declared shortly. + +"I told you I was crazy," was the desperate reply. "So would you +be if you'd sat opposite that woman for half-an-hour, and heard +her story." + +"What woman?" Wilmore demanded, leaning forward in his chair and +gazing at his friend with increasing uneasiness. + +"A woman who met me outside the Court and told me the story of +Oliver Hilditch's life." + +"A stranger?" + +"A complete stranger to me. It transpired that she was his +wife." + +Wilmore lit a cigarette. + +"Believe her?" + +"There are times when one doesn't believe or disbelieve," Francis +answered. "One knows." + +Wilmore nodded. + +"All the same, you're crazy," he declared. "Even if you did save +the fellow from the gallows, you were only doing your job, doing +your duty to the best of poor ability. You had no reason to +believe him guilty." + +"That's just as it happened," Francis pointed out. "I really +didn't care at the time whether he was or not. I had to proceed +on the assumption that he was not, of course, but on the other +hand I should have fought just as hard for him if I had known him +to be guilty." + +"And you wouldn't now--to-morrow, say?" + +"Never again." + +"Because of that woman's story?" + +"Because of the woman." + +There was a short silence. Then Wilmore asked a very obvious +question. + +"What sort of a person was she?" + +Francis Ledsam was several moments before he replied. The +question was one which he had been expecting, one which he had +already asked himself many times, yet he was unprepared with any +definite reply. + +"I wish I could answer you, Andrew," his friend confessed. "As a +matter of fact, I can't. I can only speak of the impression she +left upon me, and you are about the only person breathing to whom +I could speak of that." + +Wilmore nodded sympathetically. He knew that, man of the world +though Francis Ledsam appeared, he was nevertheless a highly +imaginative person, something of an idealist as regards women, +unwilling as a rule to discuss them, keeping them, in a general +way, outside his daily life. + +"Go ahead, old fellow," he invited. "You know I understand." + +"She left the impression upon me," Francis continued quietly, "of +a woman who had ceased to live. She was young, she was beautiful, +she had all the gifts--culture, poise and breeding--but she had +ceased to live. We sat with a marble table between us, and a +few feet of oil-covered floor. Those few feet, Andrew, were like +an impassable gulf. She spoke from the shores of another world. +I listened and answered, spoke and listened again. And when she +told her story, she went. I can't shake off the effect she had +upon me, Andrew. I feel as though I had taken a step to the +right or to the left over the edge of the world." + +Andrew Wilmore studied his friend thoughtfully. + +He was full of sympathy and understanding. His one desire at +that moment was not to make a mistake. He decided to leave +unasked the obvious question. + +"I know," he said simply. "Are you dining anywhere?" + +"I thought of staying on here," was the indifferent reply. + +"We won't do anything of the sort," Wilmore insisted. "There's +scarcely a soul in to-night, and the place is too humpy for a man +who's been seeing spooks. Get back to your rooms and change. +I'll wait here." + +"What about you?" + +"I have some clothes in my locker. Don't be long. And, by-the-bye, +which shall it be--Bohemia or Mayfair? I'll telephone for a table. +London's so infernally full, these days." + +Francis hesitated. + +"I really don't care," he confessed. "Now I think of it, I shall +be glad to get away from here, though. I don't want any more +congratulations on saving Oliver Hilditch's life. Let's go where +we are least likely to meet any one we know." + +"Respectability and a starched shirt-front, then," Wilmore +decided. "We'll go to Claridge's." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The two men occupied a table set against the wall, not far from +the entrance to the restaurant, and throughout the progress of +the earlier part of their meal were able to watch the constant +incoming stream of their fellow-guests. They were, in their way, +an interesting contrast physically, neither of them good-looking +according to ordinary standards, but both with many pleasant +characteristics. Andrew Wilmore, slight and dark, with sallow +cheeks and brown eyes, looked very much what he was--a moderately +successful journalist and writer of stories, a keen golfer, a +bachelor who preferred a pipe to cigars, and lived at Richmond +because he could not find a flat in London which he could afford, +large enough for his somewhat expansive habits. Francis Ledsam +was of a sturdier type, with features perhaps better known to the +world owing to the constant activities of the cartoonist. His +reputation during the last few years had carried him, +notwithstanding his comparative youth--he was only thirty-five +years of age--into the very front ranks of his profession, and +his income was one of which men spoke with bated breath. He came +of a family of landed proprietors, whose younger sons for +generations had drifted always either to the Bar or the Law, and +his name was well known in the purlieus of Lincoln's Inn before +he himself had made it famous. He was a persistent refuser of +invitations, and his acquaintances in the fashionable world were +comparatively few. Yet every now and then he felt a mild +interest in the people whom his companion assiduously pointed out +to him. + +"A fashionable restaurant, Francis, is rather like your Law +Courts--it levels people up," the latter remarked. "Louis, the +head-waiter, is the judge, and the position allotted in the room +is the sentence. I wonder who is going to have the little table +next but one to us. Some favoured person, evidently." + +Francis glanced in the direction indicated without curiosity. +The table in question was laid for two and was distinguished by a +wonderful cluster of red roses. + +"Why is it," the novelist continued speculatively, "that, +whenever we take another man's wife out, we think it necessary to +order red roses?" + +"And why is it," Francis queried, a little grimly, "that a dear +fellow like you, Andrew, believes it his duty to talk of trifles +for his pal's sake, when all the time he is thinking of something +else? I know you're dying to talk about the Hilditch case, +aren't you? Well, go ahead." + +"I'm only interested in this last development," Wilmore +confessed. "Of course, I read the newspaper reports. To tell +you the truth, for a murder trial it seemed to me to rather lack +colour." + +"It was a very simple and straightforward case," Francis said +slowly. "Oliver Hilditch is the principal partner in an American +financial company which has recently opened offices in the West +End. He seems to have arrived in England about two years ago, to +have taken a house in Hill Street, and to have spent a great deal +of money. A month or so ago, his partner from New York arrived +in London, a man named Jordan of whom nothing was known. It has +since transpired, however, that his journey to Europe was +undertaken because he was unable to obtain certain figures +relating to the business, from Hilditch. Oliver Hilditch met him +at Southampton, travelled with him to London and found him a room +at the Savoy. The next day, the whole of the time seems to have +been spent in the office, and it is certain, from the evidence of +the clerk, that some disagreement took place between the two men. +They dined together, however, apparently on good terms, at the +Cafe Royal, and parted in Regent Street soon after ten. At +twelve o'clock, Jordan's body was picked up on the pavement in +Hill Street, within a few paces of Heidrich's door. He had been +stabbed through the heart with some needle-like weapon, and was +quite dead." + +"Was there any vital cause of quarrel between them?" Wilmore +enquired. + +"Impossible to say," Francis replied. "The financial position of +the company depends entirely upon the value of a large quantity +of speculative bonds, but as there was only one clerk employed, +it was impossible to get at any figures. Hilditch declared that +Jordan had only a small share in the business, from which he had +drawn a considerable income for years, and that he had not the +slightest cause for complaint." + +"What were Hilditch's movements that evening?" Wilmore asked. + +"Not a soul seems to have seen him after he left Regent Street," +was the somewhat puzzled answer. "His own story was quite +straightforward and has never been contradicted. He let himself +into his house with a latch-key after his return from the Cafe +Royal, drank a whisky and soda in the library, and went to bed +before half-past eleven. The whole affair--" + +Francis broke off abruptly in the middle of his sentence. He sat +with his eyes fixed upon the door, silent and speechless. + +"What in Heaven's name is the matter, old fellow?" Wilmore +demanded, gazing at his companion in blank amazement. + +The latter pulled himself together with an effort. The sight of +the two new arrivals talking to Louis on the threshold of the +restaurant, seemed for the moment to have drawn every scrap of +colour from his cheeks. Nevertheless, his recovery was almost +instantaneous. + +"If you want to know any more," he said calmly, "you had better +go and ask him to tell you the whole story himself. There he +is." + +"And the woman with him?" Wilmore exclaimed under his breath. + +"His wife!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +To reach their table, the one concerning which Francis and his +friend had been speculating, the new arrivals, piloted by Louis, +had to pass within a few feet of the two men. The woman, serene, +coldly beautiful, dressed like a Frenchwoman in unrelieved black, +with extraordinary attention to details, passed them by with a +careless glance and subsided into the chair which Louis was +holding. Her companion, however, as he recognised Francis +hesitated. His expression of somewhat austere gloom was +lightened. A pleasant but tentative smile parted his lips. He +ventured upon a salutation, half a nod, half a more formal bow, a +salutation which Francis instinctively returned. Andrew Wilmore +looked on with curiosity. + +"So that is Oliver Hilditch," he murmured. + +"That is the man," Francis observed, "of whom last evening half +the people in this restaurant were probably asking themselves +whether or not he was guilty of murder. To-night they will be +wondering what he is going to order for dinner. It is a strange +world." + +"Strange indeed," Wilmore assented. "This afternoon he was in +the dock, with his fate in the balance--the condemned cell or a +favoured table at Claridge's. And your meeting! One can imagine +him gripping your hands, with tears in his eyes, his voice broken +with emotion, sobbing out his thanks. And instead you exchange +polite bows. I would not have missed this situation for anything." + +"Tradesman!" Francis scoffed. "One can guess already at the plot +of your next novel." + +"He has courage," Wilmore declared. "He has also a very +beautiful companion. Were you serious, Francis, when you told me +that that was his wife?" + +"She herself was my informant," was the quiet reply. + +Wilmore was puzzled. + +"But she passed you just now without even a glance of +recognition, and I thought you told me at the club this afternoon +that all your knowledge of his evil ways came from her. Besides, +she looks at least twenty years younger than he does." + +Francis, who had been watching his glass filled with champagne, +raised it to his lips and drank its contents steadily to the last +drop. + +"I can only tell you what I know, Andrew," he said, as he set +down the empty glass. "The woman who is with him now is the +woman who spoke to me outside the Old Bailey this afternoon. We +went to a tea-shop together. She told me the story of his +career. I have never listened to so horrible a recital in my +life." + +"And yet they are here together, dining tete-a-tete, on a night +when it must have needed more than ordinary courage for either of +them to have been seen in public at all," Wilmore pointed out. + +"It is as astounding to me as it is to you," Francis confessed. +"From the way she spoke, I should never have dreamed that they +were living together." + +"And from his appearance," Wilmore remarked, as he called the +waiter to bring some cigarettes, "I should never have imagined +that he was anything else save a high-principled, well-born, +straightforward sort of chap. I never saw a less criminal type +of face." + +They each in turn glanced at the subject of their discussion. +Oliver Hilditch's good-looks had been the subject of many press +comments during the last few days. They were certainly +undeniable. His face was a little lined but his hair was thick +and brown. His features were regular, his forehead high and +thoughtful, his mouth a trifle thin but straight and shapely. +Francis gazed at him like a man entranced. The hours seemed to +have slipped away. He was back in the tea-shop, listening to the +woman who spoke of terrible things. He felt again his shivering +abhorrence of her cold, clearly narrated story. Again he shrank +from the horrors from which with merciless fingers she had +stripped the coverings. He seemed to see once more the agony in +her white face, to hear the eternal pain aching and throbbing in +her monotonous tone. He rose suddenly to his feet. + +"Andrew," he begged, "tell the fellow to bring the bill outside. +We'll have our coffee and liqueurs there." + +Wilmore acquiesced willingly enough, but even as they turned +towards the door Francis realised what was in store for him. +Oliver Hilditch had risen to his feet. With a courteous little +gesture he intercepted the passer-by. Francis found himself +standing side by side with the man for whose life he had pleaded +that afternoon, within a few feet of the woman whose terrible +story seemed to have poisoned the very atmosphere he breathed, +to have shown him a new horror in life, to have temporarily, +at any rate, undermined every joy and ambition he possessed. + +"Mr. Ledsam," Hilditch said, speaking with quiet dignity, "I hope +that you will forgive the liberty I take in speaking to you here. +I looked for you the moment I was free this afternoon, but found +that you had left the Court. I owe you my good name, probably my +life. Thanks are poor things but they must be spoken." + +"You owe me nothing at all," Francis replied, in a tone which +even he found harsh. "I had a brief before me and a cause to +plead. It was a chapter out of my daily work." + +"That work can be well done or ill," the other reminded him +gently. "In your case, my presence here proves how well it was +done. I wish to present you to my wife, who shares my +gratitude." + +Francis bowed to the woman, who now, at her husband's words, +raised her eyes. For the first time he saw her smile. It seemed +to him that the effort made her less beautiful. + +"Your pleading was very wonderful, Mr. Ledsam," she said, a very +subtle note of mockery faintly apparent in her tone. "We poor +mortals find it difficult to understand that with you all that +show of passionate earnestness is merely--what did you call it? +--a chapter in your day's work? It is a great gift to be able +to argue from the brain and plead as though from the heart." + +"We will not detain Mr. Ledsam," Oliver Hilditch interposed, a +little hastily. "He perhaps does not care to be addressed in +public by a client who still carries with him the atmosphere of +the prison. My wife and I wondered, Mr. Ledsam, whether you +would be good enough to dine with us one night. I think I could +interest you by telling you more about my case than you know at +present, and it would give us a further opportunity, and a more +seemly one, for expressing our gratitude." + +Francis had recovered himself by this time. He was after all a +man of parts, and though he still had the feeling that he had +been through one of the most momentous days of his life, his +savoir faire was making its inevitable reappearance. He knew +very well that the idea of that dinner would be horrible to him. +He also knew that he would willingly cancel every engagement he +had rather than miss it. + +"You are very kind," he murmured. + +"Are we fortunate enough to find you disengaged," Hilditch +suggested, "to-morrow evening?" + +"I am quite free," was the ready response. + +"That suits you, Margaret?" Hilditch asked, turning courteously +to his wife. + +For a single moment her eyes were fixed upon those of her +prospective guest. He read their message which pleaded for his +refusal, and he denied it. + +"To-morrow evening will suit me as well as any other," she +acquiesced, after a brief pause. + +"At eight o'clock, then--number 10 b, Hill Street," Hilditch +concluded. + +Francis bowed and turned away with a murmured word of polite +assent. Outside, he found Wilmore deep in the discussion of the +merits of various old brandies with an interested maitre d'hotel. + +"Any choice, Francis?" his host enquired. + +"None whatever," was the prompt reply, "only, for God's sake, +give me a double one quickly!" + +The two men were on the point of departure when Oliver Hilditch +and his wife left the restaurant. As though conscious that they +had become the subject of discussion, as indeed was the case, +thanks to the busy whispering of the various waiters, they passed +without lingering through the lounge into the entrance hall, +where Francis and Andrew Wilmore were already waiting for a +taxicab. Almost as they appeared, a new arrival was ushered +through the main entrance, followed by porters carrying luggage. +He brushed past Francis so closely that the latter looked into +his face, half attracted and half repelled by the waxen-like +complexion, the piercing eyes, and the dignified carriage of the +man whose arrival seemed to be creating some stir in the hotel. +A reception clerk and a deputy manager had already hastened +forward. The newcomer waved them back for a moment. Bareheaded, +he had taken Margaret Hilditch's hands in his and raised them to +his lips. + +"I came as quickly as I could," he said. "There was the usual +delay, of course, at Marseilles, and the trains on were terrible. +So all has ended well." + +Oliver Hilditch, standing by, remained speechless. It seemed for +a moment as though his self-control were subjected to a severe +strain. + +"I had the good fortune," he interposed, in a low tone, "to be +wonderfully defended. Mr. Ledsam here--" + +He glanced around. Francis, with some idea of what was coming, +obeyed an imaginary summons from the head-porter, touched Andrew +Wilmore upon the shoulder, and hastened without a backward glance +through the swing-doors. Wilmore turned up his coat-collar and +looked doubtfully up at the rain. + +"I say, old chap," he protested, "you don't really mean to walk?" + +Francis thrust his hand through his friend's arm and wheeled him +round into Davies Street. + +"I don't care what the mischief we do, Andrew," he confided, "but +couldn't you see what was going to happen? Oliver Hilditch was +going to introduce me as his preserver to the man who had just +arrived!" + +"Are you afflicted with modesty, all of a sudden?" Wilmore +grumbled. + +"No, remorse," was the terse reply. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Indecision had never been one of Francis Ledsam's faults, but +four times during the following day he wrote out a carefully +worded telegraphic message to Mrs. Oliver Hilditch, 10 b, Hill +Street, regretting his inability to dine that night, and each +time he destroyed it. He carried the first message around +Richmond golf course with him, intending to dispatch his caddy +with it immediately on the conclusion of the round. The fresh +air, however, and the concentration required by the game, seemed +to dispel the nervous apprehensions with which he had anticipated +his visit, and over an aperitif in the club bar he tore the +telegram into small pieces and found himself even able to derive +a certain half-fearful pleasure from the thought of meeting again +the woman who, together with her terrible story, had never for +one moment been out of his thoughts. Andrew Wilmore, who had +observed his action, spoke of it as they settled down to lunch. + +"So you are going to keep your engagement tonight, Francis?" he +observed. + +The latter nodded. + +"After all, why not?" he asked, a little defiantly. "It ought to +be interesting." + +"Well, there's nothing of the sordid criminal, at any rate, about +Oliver Hilditch," Wilmore declared. "Neither, if one comes to +think of it, does his wife appear to be the prototype of +suffering virtue. I wonder if you are wise to go, Francis?" + +"Why not?" the man who had asked himself that question a dozen +times already, demanded. + +"Because," Wilmore replied coolly, "underneath that steely +hardness of manner for which your profession is responsible, you +have a vein of sentiment, of chivalrous sentiment, I should say, +which some day or other is bound to get you into trouble. The +woman is beautiful enough to turn any one's head. As a matter of +fact, I believe that you are more than half in love with her +already." + +Francis Ledsam sat where the sunlight fell upon his strong, +forceful face, shone, too, upon the table with its simple but +pleasant appointments, upon the tankard of beer by his side, upon +the plate of roast beef to which he was already doing ample +justice. He laughed with the easy confidence of a man awakened +from some haunting nightmare, relieved to find his feet once more +firm upon the ground. + +"I have been a fool to take the whole matter so seriously, +Andrew," he declared. "I expect to walk back to Clarges Street +to-night, disillusioned. The man will probably present me with a +gold pencil-case, and the woman--" + +"Well, what about the woman?" Wilmore asked, after a brief pause. + +"Oh, I don't know!" Francis declared, a little impatiently. "The +woman is the mystery, of course. Probably my brain was a little +over-excited when I came out of Court, and what I imagined to be +an epic was nothing more than a tissue of exaggerations from a +disappointed wife. I'm sure I'm doing the right thing to go +there .... What about a four-ball this afternoon, Andrew?" + +The four-ball match was played and won in normal fashion. The +two men returned to town together afterwards, Wilmore to the club +and Francis to his rooms in Clarges Street to prepare for dinner. +At a few minutes to eight he rang the bell of number 10 b, Hill +Street, and found his host and hostess awaiting him in the small +drawing-room into which he was ushered. It seemed to him that +the woman, still colourless, again marvellously gowned, greeted +him coldly. His host, however, was almost too effusive. There +was no other guest, but the prompt announcement of dinner +dispelled what might have been a few moments of embarrassment +after Oliver Hilditch's almost too cordial greeting. The woman +laid her fingers upon her guest's coat-sleeve. The trio crossed +the little hall almost in silence. + +Dinner was served in a small white Georgian dining-room, with +every appurtenance of almost Sybaritic luxury. The only light in +the room was thrown upon the table by two purple-shaded electric +lamps, and the servants who waited seemed to pass backwards and +forwards like shadows in some mysterious twilight--even the faces +of the three diners themselves were out of the little pool of +light until they leaned forward. The dinner was chosen with +taste and restraint, the wines were not only costly but rare. A +watchful butler, attended now and then by a trim parlour-maid, +superintended the service. Only once, when she ordered a bowl of +flowers removed from the table, did their mistress address either +of them. Conversation after the first few amenities speedily +became almost a monologue. One man talked whilst the others +listened, and the man who talked was Oliver Hilditch. He +possessed the rare gift of imparting colour and actuality in a +few phrases to the strange places of which he spoke, of bringing +the very thrill of strange happenings into the shadowy room. It +seemed that there was scarcely a country of the world which he +had not visited, a country, that is to say, where men congregate, +for he admitted from the first that he was a city worshipper, +that the empty places possessed no charm for him. + +"I am not even a sportsman," he confessed once, half +apologetically, in reply to a question from his guest. "I have +passed down the great rivers of the world without a thought of +salmon, and I have driven through the forest lands and across the +mountains behind a giant locomotive, without a thought of the +beasts which might be lurking there, waiting to be killed. My +only desire has been to reach the next place where men and women +were." + +"Irrespective of nationality?" Francis queried. + +"Absolutely. I have never minded much of what race--I have the +trick of tongues rather strangely developed--but I like the +feeling of human beings around me. I like the smell and sound +and atmosphere of a great city. Then all my senses are awake, +but life becomes almost turgid in my veins during the dreary +hours of passing from one place to another." + +"Do you rule out scenery as well as sport from amongst the joys +of travel?" Francis enquired. + +"I am ashamed to make such a confession," his host answered, "but +I have never lingered for a single unnecessary moment to look at +the most wonderful landscape in the world. On the other hand, I +have lounged for hours in the narrowest streets of Pekin, in the +markets of Shanghai, along Broadway in New York, on the +boulevards in Paris, outside the Auditorium in Chicago. These +are the obvious places where humanity presses the thickest, but I +know of others. Some day we will talk of them." + +Francis, too, although that evening, through sheer lack of +sympathy, he refused to admit it, shared to some extent +Hilditch's passionate interest in his fellow-creatures, and +notwithstanding the strange confusion of thought into which he +had been thrown during the last twenty-four hours, he felt +something of the pungency of life, the thrill of new and +appealing surroundings, as he sat in his high-backed chair, +sipping his wonderful wine, eating almost mechanically what was +set before him, fascinated through all his being by his strange +company. + +For three days he had cast occasional glances at this man, seated +in the criminal dock with a gaoler on either side of him, his +fine, nervous features gaining an added distinction from the +sordidness of his surroundings. Now, in the garb of +civilisation, seated amidst luxury to which he was obviously +accustomed, with a becoming light upon his face and this strange, +fascinating flow of words proceeding always from his lips, the +man, from every external point of view, seemed amongst the chosen +ones of the world. The contrast was in itself amazing. And then +the woman! Francis looked at her but seldom, and when he did it +was with a curious sense of mental disturbance; poignant but +unanalysable. + +It was amazing to see her here, opposite the man of whom she had +told him that ghastly story, mistress of his house, to all +appearance his consort, apparently engrossed in his polished +conversation, yet with that subtle withholding of her real self +which Francis rather imagined than felt, and which somehow seemed +to imply her fierce resentment of her husband's re-entry into the +arena of life. It was a situation so strange that Francis, +becoming more and more subject to its influence, was inclined to +wonder whether he had not met with some accident on his way from +the Court, and whether this was not one of the heated nightmares +following unconsciousness. + +"Tell me," he asked his host, during one of the brief pauses in +the conversation, "have you ever tried to analyse this interest +of yours in human beings and crowded cities, this hatred of +solitude and empty spaces?" + +Oliver Hilditch smiled thoughtfully, and gazed at a salted almond +which he was just balancing between the tips of his fingers. + +"I think," he said simply, "it is because I have no soul." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The three diners lingered for only a short time over their +dessert. Afterwards, they passed together into a very delightful +library on the other side of the round, stone-paved hall. +Hilditch excused himself for a moment. + +"I have some cigars which I keep in my dressing-room," he +explained, "and which I am anxious for you to try. There is an +electric stove there and I can regulate the temperature." + +He departed, closing the door behind him. Francis came a little +further into the room. His hostess, who had subsided into an +easy-chair and was holding a screen between her face and the +fire, motioned him to, seat himself opposite. He did so without +words. He felt curiously and ridiculously tongue-tied. He fell +to studying the woman instead of attempting the banality of +pointless speech. From the smooth gloss of her burnished hair, +to the daintiness of her low, black brocaded shoes, she +represented, so far as her physical and outward self were +concerned, absolute perfection. No ornament was amiss, no line +or curve of her figure other than perfectly graceful. Yet even +the fire's glow which she had seemed to dread brought no flush of +colour to her cheeks. Her appearance of complete lifelessness +remained. It was as though some sort of crust had formed about +her being, a condition which her very physical perfection seemed +to render the more incomprehensible. + +"You are surprised to see me here living with my husband, after +what I told you yesterday afternoon?" she said calmly, breaking +at last the silence which had reigned between them. + +"I am," he admitted. + +"It seems unnatural to you, I suppose?" + +"Entirely." + +"You still believe all that I told you?" + +"I must." + +She looked at the door and raised her head a little, as though +either listening or adjudging the time before her husband would +return. Then she glanced across at him once more. + +"Hatred," she said, "does not always drive away. Sometimes it +attracts. Sometimes the person who hates can scarcely bear the +other out of his sight. That is where hate and love are somewhat +alike." + +The room was warm but Francis was conscious of shivering. She +raised her finger warningly. It seemed typical of the woman, +somehow, that the message could not be conveyed by any glance or +gesture. + +"He is coming," she whispered. + +Oliver Hilditch reappeared, carrying cigars wrapped in gold foil +which he had brought with him from Cuba, the tobacco of which was +a revelation to his guest. The two men smoked and sipped their +coffee and brandy. The woman sat with half-closed eyes. It was +obvious that Hilditch was still in the mood for speech. + +"I will tell you, Mr. Ledsam," he said, "why I am so happy to +have you here this evening. In the first place, I desire to +tender you once more my thanks for your very brilliant efforts on +my behalf. The very fact that I am able to offer you hospitality +at all is without a doubt due to these." + +"I only did what I was paid to do," Francis insisted, a little +harshly. "You must remember that these things come in the day's +work with us." + +His host nodded. + +"Naturally," he murmured. "There was another reason, too, why I +was anxious to meet you, Mr. Ledsam," he continued. "You have +gathered already that I am something of a crank. I have a +profound detestation of all sentimentality and affected morals. +It is a relief to me to come into contact with a man who is free +from that bourgeois incubus to modern enterprise--a conscience." + +"Is that your estimate of me?" Francis asked. + +"Why not? You practise your profession in the criminal courts, +do you not?" + +"That is well-known," was the brief reply. + +"What measure of conscience can a man have," Oliver Hilditch +argued blandly, "who pleads for the innocent and guilty alike +with the same simulated fervour? Confess, now, Mr. Ledsam--there +is no object in being hypocritical in this matter--have you not +often pleaded for the guilty as though you believed them +innocent?" + +"That has sometimes been my duty," Francis acknowledged. + +Hilditch laughed scornfully. + +"It is all part of the great hypocrisy of society," he proclaimed. +"You have an extra glass of champagne for dinner at night and are +congratulated by your friends because you have helped some poor +devil to cheat the law, while all the time you know perfectly +well, and so do your high-minded friends, that your whole +attitude during those two hours of eloquence has been a lie. +That is what first attracted me to you, Mr. Ledsam." + +"I am sorry to hear it," Francis commented coldly. "The ethics +of my profession--" + +His host stopped him with a little wave of the hand. + +"Spare me that," he begged. "While we are on the subject, +though, I have a question to ask you. My lawyer told me, +directly after he had briefed you, that, although it would make +no real difference to your pleading, it would be just as well for +me to keep up my bluff of being innocent, even in private +conversation with you. Why was that?" + +"For the very obvious reason," Francis told him, "that we are not +all such rogues and vagabonds as you seem to think. There is +more satisfaction to me, at any rate, in saving an innocent man's +life than a guilty one's." + +Hilditch laughed as though amused. + +"Come," he threatened, "I am going to be ill-natured. You have +shown signs of smugness, a quality which I detest. I am going to +rob you of some part of your self-satisfaction. Of course I +killed Jordan. I killed him in the very chair in which you are +now sitting." + +There was a moment's intense silence. The woman was still +fanning herself lazily. Francis leaned forward in his place. + +"I do not wish to hear this!" he exclaimed harshly. + +"Don't be foolish," his host replied, rising to his feet and +strolling across the room. "You know the whole trouble of the +prosecution. They couldn't discover the weapon, or anything like +it, with which the deed was done. Now I'll show you something +ingenious." + +Francis followed the other's movements with fascinated eyes. The +woman scarcely turned her head. Hilditch paused at the further +end of the room, where there were a couple of gun cases, some +fishing rods and a bag, of golf clubs. From the latter he +extracted a very ordinary-looking putter, and with it in his +hands strolled back to them. + +"Do you play golf, Ledsam?" he asked. "What do you think of +that?" + +Francis took the putter into his hand. It was a very ordinary +club, which had apparently seen a good deal of service, so much, +indeed, that the leather wrapping at the top was commencing to +unroll. The maker's name was on the back of the blade, also the +name of the professional from whom it had been purchased. +Francis swung the implement mechanically with his wrists. + +"There seems to be nothing extraordinary about the club," he +pronounced. "It is very much like a cleek I putt with myself." + +"Yet it contains a secret which would most certainly have hanged +me," Oliver Hilditch declared pleasantly. "See!" + +He held the shaft firmly in one hand and bent the blade away from +it. In a moment or two it yielded and he commenced to unscrew +it. A little exclamation escaped from Francis' lips. The woman +looked on with tired eyes. + +"The join in the steel," Hilditch pointed out, "is so fine as to +be undistinguishable by the naked eye. Yet when the blade comes +off, like this, you see that although the weight is absolutely +adjusted, the inside is hollow. The dagger itself is encased in +this cotton wool to avoid any rattling. I put it away in rather +a hurry the last time I used it, and as you see I forgot to clean +it." + +Francis staggered back and gripped at the mantelpiece. His eyes +were filled with horror. Very slowly, and with the air of one +engaged upon some interesting task, Oliver Hilditch had removed +the blood-stained sheath of cotton wool from around the thin +blade of a marvellous-looking stiletto, on which was also a long +stain of encrusted blood. + +"There is a handle," he went on, "which is perhaps the most +ingenious thing of all. You touch a spring here, and behold!" + +He pressed down two tiny supports which opened upon hinges about +four inches from the top of the handle. There was now a complete +hilt. + +"With this little weapon," he explained, "the point is so +sharpened and the steel so wonderful that it is not necessary to +stab. It has the perfection of a surgical instrument. You have +only to lean it against a certain point in a man's anatomy, lunge +ever so little and the whole thing is done. Come here, Mr. +Ledsam, and I will show you the exact spot." + +Francis made no movement. His eyes were fixed upon the weapon. + +"If I had only known!" he muttered. + +"My dear fellow, if you had," the other protested soothingly, +"you know perfectly well that it would not have made the +slightest difference. Perhaps that little break in your voice +would not have come quite so naturally, the little sweep of your +arm towards me, the man whom a moment's thoughtlessness might +sweep into Eternity, would have been a little stiffer, but what +matter? You would still have done your best and you would +probably still have succeeded. You don't care about trifling +with Eternity, eh? Very well, I will find the place for you." + +Hilditch's fingers strayed along his shirt-front until he found +a certain spot. Then he leaned the dagger against it, his +forefinger and second finger pressed against the hilt. His eyes +were fixed upon his guest's. He seemed genuinely interested. +Francis, glancing away for a moment, was suddenly conscious of +a new horror. The woman had leaned a little forward in her +easy-chair until she had attained almost a crouching position. +Her eyes seemed to be measuring the distance from where she sat +to that quivering thread of steel. + +"You see, Ledsam," his host went on, "that point driven now at +that angle would go clean through the vital part of my heart. +And it needs no force, either--just the slow pressure of these +two fingers. What did you say, Margaret?" he enquired, breaking +off abruptly. + +The woman was seated upon the very edge of her chair, her eyes +rivetted upon the dagger. There was no change in her face, not a +tremor in her tone. + +"I said nothing," she replied. "I did not speak at all. I was +just watching." + +Hilditch turned back to his guest. + +"These two fingers," he repeated, "and a flick of the wrist +--very little more than would be necessary for a thirty yard putt +right across the green." + +Francis had recovered himself, had found his bearings to a +certain extent. + +"I am sorry that you have told me this, Mr. Hilditch," he said, a +little stiffly. + +"Why?" was the puzzled reply. "I thought you would be +interested." + +"I am interested to this extent," Francis declared, "I shall +accept no more cases such as yours unless I am convinced of my +client's innocence. I look upon your confession to me as being +in the worst possible taste, and I regret very much my efforts on +your behalf." + +The woman was listening intently. Hilditch's expression was one +of cynical wonder. Francis rose to his feet and moved across to +his hostess. + +"Mrs. Hilditch," he said, "will you allow me to make my +apologies? Your husband and I have arrived at an understanding +--or perhaps I should say a misunderstanding--which renders the +acceptance of any further hospitality on my part impossible." + +She held out the tips of her fingers. + +"I had no idea," she observed, with gentle sarcasm, "that you +barristers were such purists morally. I thought you were rather +proud of being the last hope of the criminal classes." + +"Madam," Francis replied, "I am not proud of having saved the +life of a self-confessed murderer, even though that man may be +your husband." + +Hilditch was laughing softly to himself as he escorted his +departing guest to the door. + +"You have a quaint sense of humour," Francis remarked. + +"Forgive me," Oliver Hilditch begged, "but your last few words +rather appealed to me. You must be a person of very scanty +perceptions if you could spend the evening here and not +understand that my death is the one thing in the world which +would make my wife happy." + +Francis walked home with these last words ringing in his ears. +They seemed with him even in that brief period of troubled sleep +which came to him when he had regained his rooms and turned in. +They were there in the middle of the night when he was awakened, +shivering, by the shrill summons of his telephone bell. He stood +quaking before the instrument in his pajamas. It was the voice +which, by reason of some ghastly premonition, he had dreaded to +hear--level, composed, emotionless. + +"Mr. Ledsam?" she enquired. + +"I am Francis Ledsam," he assented. "Who wants me?" + +"It is Margaret Hilditch speaking," she announced. "I felt that +I must ring up and tell you of a very strange thing which +happened after you left this evening." + +"Go on," he begged hoarsely. + +"After you left," she went on, "my husband persisted in playing +with that curious dagger. He laid it against his heart, and +seated himself in the chair which Mr. Jordan had occupied, in the +same attitude. It was what he called a reconstruction. While he +was holding it there, I think that he must have had a fit, or it +may have been remorse, we shall never know. He called out and I +hurried across the room to him. I tried to snatch the dagger +away--I did so, in fact--but I must have been too late. He had +already applied that slight movement of the fingers which was +necessary. The doctor has just left. He says that death must +have been instantaneous." + +"But this is horrible!" Francis cried out into the well of +darkness. + +"A person is on the way from Scotland Yard," the voice continued, +without change or tremor. "When he has satisfied himself, I am +going to bed. He is here now. Good-night!" + +Francis tried to speak again but his words beat against a wall of +silence. He sat upon the edge of the bed, shivering. In that +moment of agony he seemed to hear again the echo of Oliver +Hilditch's mocking words: + +"My death is the one thing in the world which would make my wife +happy!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +There was a good deal of speculation at the Sheridan Club, of +which he was a popular and much envied member, as to the cause +for the complete disappearance from their midst of Francis Ledsam +since the culmination of the Hilditch tragedy. + +"Sent back four topping briefs, to my knowledge, last week," one +of the legal luminaries of the place announced to a little group +of friends and fellow-members over a before-dinner cocktail. + +"Griggs offered him the defence of William Bull, the Chippenham +murderer, and he refused it," another remarked. "Griggs wrote +him personally, and the reply came from the Brancaster Golf Club! +It isn't like Ledsam to be taking golfing holidays in the middle +of the session." + +"There's nothing wrong with Ledsam," declared a gruff voice from +the corner. "And don't gossip, you fellows, at the top of your +voices like a lot of old women. He'll be calling here for me in +a moment or two." + +They all looked around. Andrew Wilmore rose slowly to his feet +and emerged from behind the sheets of an evening paper. He laid +his hand upon the shoulder of a friend, and glanced towards the +door. + +"Ledsam's had a touch of nerves," he confided. "There's been +nothing else the matter with him. We've been down at the Dormy +House at Brancaster and he's as right as a trivet now. That +Hilditch affair did him in completely." + +"I don't see why," one of the bystanders observed. "He got +Hilditch off all right. One of the finest addresses to a jury I +ever heard." + +"That's just the point," Wilmore explained "You see, Ledsam had +no idea that Hilditch was really guilty, and for two hours that +afternoon he literally fought for his life, and in the end +wrested a verdict from the jury, against the judge's summing up, +by sheer magnetism or eloquence or whatever you fellows like to +call it. The very night after, Hilditch confesses his guilt and +commits suicide." + +"I still don't see where Ledsam's worry comes in," the legal +luminary remarked. "The fact that the man was guilty is rather a +feather in the cap of his counsel. Shows how jolly good his +pleading must have been." + +"Just so," Wilmore agreed, "but Ledsam, as you know, is a very +conscientious sort of fellow, and very sensitive, too. The whole +thing was a shock to him." + +"It must have been a queer experience," a novelist remarked from +the outskirts of the group, "to dine with a man whose life you +have juggled away from the law, and then have him explain his +crime to you, and the exact manner of its accomplishment. Seems +to bring one amongst the goats, somehow." + +"Bit of a shock, no doubt," the lawyer assented, "but I still +don't understand Ledsam's sending back all his briefs. He's not +going to chuck the profession, is he?" + +"Not by any means," Wilmore declared. "I think he has an idea, +though, that he doesn't want to accept any briefs unless he is +convinced that the person whom he has to represent is innocent, +and lawyers don't like that sort of thing, you know. You can't +pick and choose, even when you have Leadsam's gifts." + +"The fact of it is," the novelist commented, "Francis Ledsam +isn't callous enough to be associated with you money-grubbing +dispensers of the law. He'd be all right as Public Prosecutor, a +sort of Sir Galahad waving the banner of virtue, but he hates to +stuff his pockets at the expense of the criminal classes." + +"Who the mischief are the criminal classes?" a police court +magistrate demanded. "Personally, I call war profiteering +criminal, I call a good many Stock Exchange deals criminal, and," +he added, turning to a member of the committee who was hovering +in the background, "I call it criminal to expect us to drink +French vermouth like this." + +"There is another point of view," the latter retorted. "I call +it a crime to expect a body of intelligent men to administer +without emolument to the greed of such a crowd of rotters. +You'll get the right stuff next week." + +The hall-porter approached and addressed Wilmore. + +"Mr. Ledsam is outside in a taxi, sir," he announced. + +"Outside in a taxi?" the lawyer repeated. "Why on earth can't he +come in?" + +"I never heard such rot," another declared. "Let's go and rope +him in." + +"Mr. Ledsam desired me to say, sir," the hall porter continued, +"to any of his friends who might be here, that he will be in to +lunch to-morrow." + +"Leave him to me till then," Wilmore begged. "He'll be all right +directly. He's simply altering his bearings and taking his time +about it. If he's promised to lunch here to-morrow, he will. +He's as near as possible through the wood. Coming up in the +train, he suggested a little conversation to-night and afterwards +the normal life. He means it, too. There's nothing neurotic +about Ledsam." + +The magistrate nodded. + +"Run along, then, my merry Andrew," he said, "but see that Ledsam +keeps his word about to-morrow." + + +Andrew Wilmore plunged boldly into the forbidden subject later on +that evening, as the two men sat side by side at one of the wall +tables in Soto's famous club restaurant. They had consumed an +excellent dinner. An empty champagne bottle had just been +removed, double liqueur brandies had taken its place. Francis, +with an air of complete and even exuberant humanity, had lit a +huge cigar. The moment seemed propitious. + +"Francis," his friend began, "they say at the club that you +refused to be briefed in the Chippenham affair." + +"Quite true," was the calm reply. "I told Griggs that I wouldn't +have anything to do with it." + +Wilmore knew then that all was well. Francis' old air of +strength and decision had returned. His voice was firm, his eyes +were clear and bright. His manner seemed even to invite +questioning. + +"I think I know why," Wilmore said, "but I should like you to +tell me in your own words." + +Francis glanced around as though to be sure that they were not +overheard. + +"Because," he replied, dropping his voice a little but still +speaking with great distinctness, "William Bull is a cunning and +dangerous criminal whom I should prefer to see hanged." + +"You know that?" + +"I know that." + +"It would be a great achievement to get him off," Wilmore +persisted. "The evidence is very weak in places." + +"I believe that I could get him off," was the confident reply. +"That is why I will not touch the brief. I think," Francis +continued, "that I have already conveyed it to you indirectly, +but here you are in plain words, Andrew. I have made up my mind +that I will defend no man in future unless I am convinced of his +innocence." + +"That means--" + +"It means practically the end of my career at the bar," Francis +admitted. "I realise that absolutely: Fortunately, as you know, +I am not dependent upon my earnings, and I have had a wonderful +ten years." + +"This is all because of the Hilditch affair, I suppose?" + +"Entirely." + +Wilmore was still a little puzzled. + +"You seem to imagine that you have something on your conscience +as regards that business," he said boldly. + +"I have," was the calm reply. + +"Come," Wilmore protested, "I don't quite follow your line of +thought. Granted that Hilditch was a desperate criminal whom by +the exercise of your special gifts you saved from the law, surely +his tragic death balanced the account between you and Society?" + +"It might have done," Francis admitted, "if he had really +committed suicide." + +Wilmore was genuinely startled. He looked at his companion +curiously. + +"What the devil do you mean, old chap?" he demanded. "Your own +evidence at the inquest was practically conclusive as to that." + +Francis glanced around him with apparent indifference but in +reality with keen and stealthy care. On their right was a glass +division, through which the sound of their voices could not +possibly penetrate. On their left was an empty space, and a +table beyond was occupied by a well-known cinema magnate engaged +in testing the attractions in daily life of a would-be film star. +Nevertheless, Francis' voice was scarcely raised above a whisper. + +"My evidence at the coroner's inquest," he confided, "was a +subtly concocted tissue of lies. I committed perjury freely. +That is the real reason why I've been a little on the nervy side +lately, and why I took these few months out of harness." + +"Good God!" Wilmore exclaimed, setting down untasted the glass of +brandy which he had just raised to his lips. + +"I want to finish this matter up," Francis continued calmly, "by +making a clean breast of it to you, because from to-night I am +starting afresh, with new interests in my life, what will +practically amount to a new career. That is why I preferred not +to dine at the club to-night, although I am looking forward to +seeing them all again. I wanted instead to have this +conversation with you. I lied at the inquest when I said that +the relations between Oliver Hilditch and his wife that night +seemed perfectly normal. I lied when I said that I knew of no +cause for ill-will between them. I lied when I said that I left +them on friendly terms. I lied when I said that Oliver Hilditch +seemed depressed and nervous. I lied when I said that he +expressed the deepest remorse for what he had done. There was +every indication that night, of the hate which I happen to know +existed between the woman and the man. I have not the faintest +doubt in my mind but that she murdered him. In my judgment, she +was perfectly justified in doing so." + +There followed a brief but enforced silence as some late arrivals +passed their table. The room was well-ventilated but Andrew +Wilmore felt suddenly hot and choking. A woman, one of the +little group of newcomers, glanced towards Francis curiously. + +"Francis Ledsam, the criminal barrister," her companion +whispered,--"the man who got Oliver Hilditch off. The man with +him is Andrew Wilmore, the novelist. Discussing a case, I +expect." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The little party of late diners passed on their way to the +further end of the room, leaving a wave of artificiality behind, +or was it, Andrew Wilmore wondered, in a moment of half-dazed +speculation, that it was they and the rest of the gay company who +represented the real things, and he and his companion who were +playing a sombre part in some unreal and gloomier world. +Francis' voice, however, when he recommenced his diatribe, was +calm and matter-of-fact enough. + +"You see," he continued, argumentatively, "I was morally and +actually responsible for the man's being brought back into +Society. And far worse than that, I was responsible for his +being thrust back again upon his wife. Ergo, I was also +responsible for what she did that night. The matter seems as +plain as a pikestaff to me. I did what I could to atone, rightly +or wrongly it doesn't matter, because it is over and done with. +There you are, old fellow, now you know what's been making me +nervy. I've committed wholesale perjury, but I acted according +to my conscience and I think according to justice. The thing has +worried me, I admit, but it has passed, and I'm glad it's off my +chest. One more liqueur, Andrew, and if you want to we'll talk +about my plans for the future." + +The brandy was brought. Wilmore studied his friend curiously, +not without some relief. Francis had lost the harassed and +nervous appearance upon which his club friends had commented, +which had been noticeable, even, to a diminishing extent, upon +the golf course at Brancaster. He was alert and eager. He had +the air of a man upon the threshold of some enterprise dear to +his heart. + +"I have been through a queer experience," Francis continued +presently, as he sipped his second liqueur. "Not only had I +rather less than twelve hours to make up my mind whether I should +commit a serious offence against the law, but a sensation which I +always hoped that I might experience, has come to me in what I +suppose I must call most unfortunate fashion." + +"The woman?" Wilmore ventured. + +Francis assented gloomily. There was a moment's silence. +Wilmore, the metaphysician, saw then a strange thing. He saw a +light steal across his friend's stern face. He saw his eyes for +a moment soften, the hard mouth relax, something incredible, +transforming, shine, as it were, out of the man's soul in that +moment of self-revelation. It was gone like the momentary +passing of a strange gleam of sunshine across a leaden sea, but +those few seconds were sufficient. Wilmore knew well enough what +had happened. + +"Oliver Hilditch's wife," Francis went on, after a few minutes' +pause, "presents an enigma which at present I cannot hope to +solve. The fact that she received her husband back again, +knowing what he was and what he was capable of, is inexplicable +to me. The woman herself is a mystery. I do not know what lies +behind her extraordinary immobility. Feeling she must have, and +courage, or she would never have dared to have ridded herself of +the scourge of her life. But beyond that my judgment tells me +nothing. I only know that sooner or later I shall seek her out. +I shall discover all that I want to know, one way or the other. +It may be for happiness--it may be the end of the things that +count." + +"I guessed this," Wilmore admitted, with a little shiver which he +was wholly unable to repress. + +Francis nodded. + +"Then keep it to yourself, my dear fellow," he begged, "like +everything else I am telling you tonight. I have come out of my +experience changed in many ways," he continued, "but, leaving out +that one secret chapter, this is the dominant factor which looms +up before me. I bring into life a new aversion, almost a +passion, Andrew, born in a tea-shop in the city, and ministered +to by all that has happened since. I have lost that sort of +indifference which my profession engenders towards crime. I am +at war with the criminal, sometimes, I hope, in the Courts of +Justice, but forever out of them. I am no longer indifferent as +to whether men do good or evil so long as they do not cross my +path. I am a hunter of sin. I am out to destroy. There's a +touch of melodrama in this for you, Andrew," he concluded, with a +little laugh, "but, my God, I'm in earnest!" + +"What does this mean so far as regards the routine of your daily +life?" Wilmore asked curiously. + +"Well, it brings us to the point we discussed down at +Brancaster," Francis replied. "It will affect my work to this +extent. I shall not accept any brief unless, after reading the +evidence, I feel convinced that the accused is innocent." + +"That's all very well," Wilmore observed, "but you know what it +will mean, don't you? Lawyers aren't likely to single you out +for a brief without ever feeling sure whether you will accept it +or not." + +"That doesn't worry me," Francis declared. "I don't need the +fees, fortunately, and I can always pick up enough work to keep +me going by attending Sessions. One thing I can promise you--I +certainly shall not sit in my rooms and wait for things to +happen. Mine is a militant spirit and it needs the outlet of +action." + +"Action, yes, but how?" Wilmore queried. "You can't be always +hanging about the courts, waiting for the chance of defending +some poor devil who's been wrongfully accused--there aren't +enough of them, for one thing. On the other hand, you can't walk +down Regent Street, brandishing a two-edged sword and hunting for +pickpockets." + +Francis smiled. + +"Nothing so flamboyant, I can assure you, Andrew," he replied; +"nor shall I play the amateur detective with his mouth open for +mysteries. But listen," he went on earnestly. "I've had some +experience, as you know, and, notwithstanding the Oliver +Hilditch's of the world, I can generally tell a criminal when I +meet him face to face. There are plenty of them about, too, +Andrew--as many in this place as any other. I am not going to be +content with a negative position as regards evildoers. I am +going to set my heel on as many of the human vermin of this city +as I can find." + +"A laudable, a most exhilarating and delightful pursuit! `human +vermin,' too, is excellent. It opens up a new and fascinating +vista for the modern sportsman. My congratulations!" + +It was an interruption of peculiar and wonderful significance, +but Francis did not for the moment appreciate the fact. Turning +his head, he simply saw a complete stranger seated unaccountably +at the next table, who had butted into a private conversation and +whose tone of gentle sarcasm, therefore, was the more offensive. + +"Who the devil are you, sir," he demanded, "and where did you +come from?" + +The newcomer showed no resentment at Francis' little outburst. +He simply smiled with deprecating amiability--a tall, spare man, +with lean, hard face, complexion almost unnaturally white; black +hair, plentifully besprinkled with grey; a thin, cynical mouth, +notwithstanding its distinctly humourous curve, and keen, almost +brilliant dark eyes. He was dressed in ordinary dinner garb; his +linen and jewellery was indeed in the best possible taste. +Francis, at his second glance, was troubled with a vague sense of +familiarity. + +"Let me answer your last question first, sir," the intruder +begged. "I was seated alone, several tables away, when the +couple next to you went out, and having had pointed out to me the +other evening at Claridge's Hotel, and knowing well by repute, +the great barrister, Mr. Francis Ledsam, and his friend the +world-famed novelist, Mr. Andrew Wilmore, I--er--unobtrusively +made my way, half a yard at a time, in your direction--and here I +am. I came stealthily, you may object? Without a doubt. If I +had come in any other fashion, I should have disturbed a +conversation in which I was much interested." + +"Could you find it convenient," Francis asked, with icy +politeness, "to return to your own table, stealthily or not, as +you choose?" + +The newcomer showed no signs of moving. + +"In after years," he declared, "you would be the first to regret +the fact if I did so. This is a momentous meeting. It gives me +an opportunity of expressing my deep gratitude to you, Mr. +Ledsam, for the wonderful evidence you tendered at the inquest +upon the body of my son-in-law, Oliver Hilditch." + +Francis turned in his place and looked steadily at this unsought-for +companion, learning nothing, however, from the half-mocking smile +and imperturbable expression. + +"Your son-in-law?" he repeated. "Do you mean to say that you are +the father of--of Oliver Hilditch's wife?" + +"Widow," the other corrected gently. "I have that honour. You +will understand, therefore, that I feel myself on this, the first +opportunity, compelled to tender my sincere thanks for evidence +so chivalrously offered, so flawlessly truthful." + +Francis was a man accustomed to self-control, but he clenched his +hands so that his finger nails dug into his flesh. He was filled +with an insane and unreasoning resentment against this man whose +words were biting into his conscience. Nevertheless, he kept his +tone level. + +"I do not desire your gratitude," he said, "nor, if you will +permit me to say so, your further acquaintance." + +The stranger shook his head regretfully. + +"You are wrong," he protested. "We were bound, in any case, to +know one another. Shall I tell you why? You have just declared +yourself anxious to set your heel upon the criminals of the +world. I have the distinction of being perhaps the most famous +patron of that maligned class now living--and my neck is at your +service." + +"You appear to me," Francis said suavely, "to be a buffoon." + +It might have been fancy, but Francis could have sworn that he +saw the glitter of a sovereign malevolence in the other's dark +eyes. If so, it was but a passing weakness, for a moment later +the half good-natured, half cynical smile was back again upon the +man's lips. + +"If so, I am at least a buffoon of parts," was the prompt +rejoinder. "I will, if you choose, prove myself." + +There was a moment's silence. Wilmore was leaning forward in his +place, studying the newcomer earnestly. An impatient invective +was somehow stifled upon Francis' lips. + +"Within a few yards of this place, sometime before the closing +hour to-night," the intruder continued, earnestly yet with a +curious absence of any human quality in his hard tone, "there +will be a disturbance, and probably what you would call a crime +will be committed. Will you use your vaunted gifts to hunt down +the desperate criminal, and, in your own picturesque phraseology, +set your heel upon his neck? Success may bring you fame, and the +trail may lead--well, who knows where?" + +Afterwards, both Francis and Andrew Wilmore marvelled at +themselves, unable at any time to find any reasonable explanation +of their conduct, for they answered this man neither with +ridicule, rudeness nor civility. They simply stared at him, +impressed with the convincing arrogance of his challenge and +unable to find words of reply. They received his mocking +farewell without any form of reciprocation or sign of resentment. +They watched him leave the room, a dignified, distinguished +figure, sped on his way with marks of the deepest respect by +waiters, maitres d'hotels and even the manager himself. They +behaved, indeed, as they both admitted afterwards, like a couple +of moonstruck idiots. When he had finally disappeared, however, +they looked at one another and the spell was broken. + +"Well, I'm damned!" Francis exclaimed. "Soto, come here at +once." + +The manager hastened smilingly to their table. + +"Soto," Francis invoked, "tell us quickly--tell us the name of +the gentleman who has just gone out, and who he is?" + +Soto was amazed. + +"You don't know Sir Timothy Brast, sir?" he exclaimed. "Why, he +is supposed to be one of the richest men in the world! He spends +money like water. They say that when he is in England, his place +down the river alone costs a thousand pounds a week. When he +gives a party here, we can find nothing good enough. He is our +most generous client." + +"Sir Timothy Brast," Wilmore repeated. "Yes, I have heard of +him." + +"Why, everybody knows Sir Timothy," Soto went on eloquently. "He +is the greatest living patron of boxing. He found the money for +the last international fight." + +"Does he often come in alone like this?" Francis asked curiously. + +"Either alone," Soto replied, "or with a very large party. He +entertains magnificently." + +"I've seen his name in the paper in connection with something or +other, during the last few weeks," Wilmore remarked reflectively. + +"Probably about two months ago, sir," Soto suggested. "He gave a +donation of ten thousand pounds to the Society for the Prevention +of Cruelty to Animals, and they made him a Vice President.... In +one moment, sir." + +The manager hurried away to receive a newly-arrived guest. +Francis and his friend exchanged a wondering glance. + +"Father of Oliver Hilditch's wife," Wilmore observed, "the most +munificent patron of boxing in the world, Vice President of +the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and +self-confessed arch-criminal! He pulled our legs pretty well!" + +"I suppose so," Francis assented absently. + +Wilmore glanced at his watch. + +"What about moving on somewhere?" he suggested. "We might go +into the Alhambra for half-an-hour, if you like. The last act of +the show is the best." + +Francis shook his head. + +"We've got to see this thing out," he replied. "Have you +forgotten that our friend promised us a sensation before we +left?" + +Wilmore began to laugh a little derisively. Then, suddenly aware +of some lack of sympathy between himself and his friend, he broke +off and glanced curiously at the latter. + +"You're not taking him seriously, are you?" he enquired. + +Francis nodded. + +"Certainly I am," he confessed. + +"You don't believe that he was getting at us?" + +"Not for a moment." + +"You believe that something is going to happen here in this +place, or quite close?" + +"I am convinced of it," was the calm reply. + +Wilmore was silent. For a moment he was troubled with his old +fears as to his friend's condition. A glance, however, at +Francis' set face and equable, watchful air, reassured him. + +"We must see the thing through, of course, then," he assented. +"Let us see if we can spot the actors in the coming drama." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +It happened that the two men, waiting in the vestibule of the +restaurant for Francis' car to crawl up to the entrance through +the fog which had unexpectedly rolled up, heard the slight +altercation which was afterwards referred to as preceding the +tragedy. The two young people concerned were standing only a few +feet away, the girl pretty, a little peevish, an ordinary type; +her companion, whose boyish features were marred with dissipation, +a very passable example of the young man about town going a little +beyond his tether. + +"It's no good standing here, Victor!" the girl exclaimed, +frowning. "The commissionaire's been gone ages already, and +there are two others before us for taxis." + +"We can't walk," her escort replied gloomily. "It's a foul +night. Nothing to do but wait, what? Let's go back and have +another drink." + +The girl stamped her satin-shod foot impatiently. + +"Don't be silly," she expostulated. "You know I promised Clara +we'd be there early." + +"All very well," the young man grumbled, "but what can we do? We +shall have to wait our turn." + +"Why can't you slip out and look for a taxi yourself?" she +suggested. "Do, Victor," she added, squeezing his arm. "You're +so clever at picking them up." + +He made a little grimace, but lit a cigarette and turned up his +coat collar. + +"I'll do my best," he promised. "Don't go on without me." + +"Try up towards Charing Cross Road, not the other way," she +advised earnestly. + +"Right-oh!" he replied, which illuminative form of assent, a word +spoken as he plunged unwillingly into the thick obscurity on the +other side of the revolving doors, was probably the last he ever +uttered on earth. + +Left alone, the girl began to shiver, as though suddenly cold. +She turned around and glanced hurriedly back into the restaurant. +At that moment she met the steady, questioning scrutiny of +Francis' eyes. She stood as though transfixed. Then came the +sound which every one talked of for months afterwards, the sound +which no one who heard it ever forgot--the death cry of Victor +Bidlake, followed a second afterwards by a muffled report. A +strain of frenzied surprise seemed mingled with the horror. +Afterwards, silence. + +There was the sound of some commotion outside, the sound of +hurried footsteps and agitated voices. Then a terrible little +procession appeared. Something--it seemed to be a shapeless heap +of clothes--was carried in and laid upon the floor, in the little +space between the revolving doors and the inner entrance. Two +blue-liveried attendants kept back the horrified but curious +crowd. Francis, vaguely recognised as being somehow or other +connected with the law, was one of the few people allowed to +remain whilst a doctor, fetched out from the dancing-room, +kneeled over the prostrate form. He felt that he knew beforehand +the horrible verdict which the latter whispered in his ear after +his brief examination. + +"Quite dead! A ghastly business!" + +Francis gazed at the hole in the shirt-front, disfigured also by +a scorching stain. + +"A bullet?" he asked. + +The doctor nodded. + +"Fired within a foot of the poor fellow's heart," he whispered. +"The murderer wasn't taking any chances, whoever he was." + +"Have the police been sent for?" + +The head-porter stepped forward. + +"There was a policeman within a few yards of the spot, sir," he +replied. "He's gone down to keep every one away from the place +where we found the body. We've telephoned to Scotland Yard for +an inspector." + +The doctor rose to his feet. + +"Nothing more can be done," he pronounced. "Keep the people out +of here whilst I go and fetch my hat and coat. Afterwards, I'll +take the body to the mortuary when the ambulance arrives." + +An attendant pushed his way through the crowd of people on the +inner side of the door. + +"Miss Daisy Hyslop, young lady who was with Mr. Bidlake, has just +fainted in the ladies' room, sir," he announced. "Could you +come?" + +"I'll be there immediately," the doctor promised. + +The rest of the proceedings followed a normal course. The police +arrived, took various notes, the ambulance followed a little +later, the body was removed, and the little crowd of guests, +still infected with a sort of awed excitement, were allowed to +take their leave. Francis and Wilmore drove almost in silence to +the former's rooms in Clarges Street. + +"Come up and have a drink, Andrew," Francis invited. + +"I need it," was the half-choked response. + +Francis led the way in silence up the two flights of stairs into +his sitting-room, mixed whiskies and sodas from the decanter and +syphon which stood upon the sideboard, and motioned his friend to +an easy-chair. Then he gave form to the thought which had been +haunting them both. + +"What about our friend Sir Timothy Brast?" he enquired. "Do you +believe now that he was pulling our legs?" + +Wilmore dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief. It was a +chilly evening, but there were drops of perspiration still +standing there. + +"Francis," he confessed, "it's horrible! I don't think realism +like this attracts me. It's horrible! What are we going to do?" + +"Nothing for the present," was the brief reply. "If we were to +tell our story, we should only be laughed at. What there is to +be done falls to my lot." + +"Had the police anything to say about it?" Wilmore asked. + +"Only a few words," Francis replied. "Shopland has it in hand. +A good man but unimaginative. I've come across him in one or two +cases lately. You'll find a little bit like this in the papers +to-morrow: 'The murder is believed to have been committed by one +of the gang of desperadoes who have infested the west-end during +the last few months.' You remember the assault in the Albany +Court Yard, and the sandbagging in Shepherd Market only last +week?" + +"That seems to let Sir Timothy out," Wilmore remarked. + +"There are many motives for crime besides robbery," Francis +declared. "Don't be afraid, Andrew, that I am going to turn +amateur detective and make the unravelment of this case all the +more difficult for Scotland Yard. If I interfere, it will be on +a certainty. Andrew, don't think I'm mad but I've taken up the +challenge our great philanthropist flung at me to-night. I've +very little interest in who killed this boy Victor Bidlake, or +why, but I'm convinced of one thing--Brast knew about it, and if +he is posing as a patron of crime on a great scale, sooner or +later I shall get him. He may think himself safe, and he may +have the courage of Beelzebub--he seems rather that type--but if +my presentiment about him--comes true, his number's up. I can +almost divine the meaning of his breaking in upon our +conversation to-night. He needs an enemy--he is thirsting for +danger. He has found it!" + +Wilmore filled his pipe thoughtfully. At the first whiff of +tobacco he began to feel more normal. + +"After all, Francis," he said, "aren't we a little overstrung +to-night? Sir Timothy Brast is no adventurer. He is a prince +in the city, a persona grata wherever he chooses to go. He isn't +a hanger-on in Society. He isn't even dependent upon Bohemia for +his entertainment. You can't seriously imagine that a man with +his possessions is likely to risk his life and liberty in +becoming the inspiration of a band of cutthroats?" + +Francis smiled. He, too, had lit his pipe and had thrown himself +into his favourite chair. He smiled confidently across at his +friend. + +"A millionaire with brains," he argued, "is just the one person +in the world likely to weary of all ordinary forms of diversion. +I begin to remember things about him already. Haven't you heard +about his wonderful parties down at The Walled House?" + +Wilmore struck the table by his side with his clenched fist. + +"By George, that's it!" he exclaimed. "Who hasn't!" + +"I remember Baker talking about one last year," Francis +continued, "never any details, but all kinds of mysterious hints +--a sort of mixture between a Roman orgy and a chapter from the +'Arabian Nights'--singers from Petrograd, dancers from Africa and +fighting men from Chicago." + +"The fellow's magnificent, at any rate," Wilmore remarked. + +His host smoked furiously for a moment. + +"That's the worst of these multi-millionaires," he declared. +"They think they can rule the world, traffic in human souls, buy +morals, mock at the law. We shall see!" + +"Do you know the thing that I found most interesting about him?" +Wilmore asked. + +"His black opals," the other suggested. "You're by the way of +being a collector, aren't you?" + +Wilmore shook his head. + +"The fact that he is the father of Oliver Hilditch's widow." + +Francis sat quite still for a moment. There was a complete +change in his expression. He looked like a man who has received +a shock. + +"I forgot that," he muttered. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Francis met Shopland one morning about a week later, on his way +from Clarges Street to his chambers in the Temple. The detective +raised his hat and would have passed on, but Francis accosted +him. + +"Any progress, Mr. Shopland?" he enquired. + +The detective fingered his small, sandy moustache. He was an +insignificant-looking little man, undersized, with thin frame and +watery eyes. His mouth, however, was hard, and there were some +tell-tale little lines at its corners. + +"None whatever, I am sorry to say, Mr. Ledsam," he admitted. "At +present we are quite in the dark." + +"You found the weapon, I hear?" + +Shopland nodded. + +"It was just an ordinary service revolver, dating from the time +of the war, exactly like a hundred thousand others. The +enquiries we were able to make from it came to nothing." + +"Where was it picked up?" + +"In the middle of the waste plot of ground next to Soto's. The +murderer evidently threw it there the moment he had discharged +it. He must have been wearing rubber-soled shoes, for not a soul +heard him go." + +Francis nodded thoughtfully. + +"I wonder," he said, after a slight pause, "whether it ever +occurred to you to interview Miss Daisy Hyslop, the young lady +who was with Bidlake on the night of his murder?" + +"I called upon her the day afterwards," the detective answered. + +"She had nothing to say?" + +"Nothing whatever." + +"Indirectly, of course," Francis continued, "the poor girl was +the cause of his death. If she had not insisted upon his going +out for a taxicab, the man who was loitering about would probably +have never got hold of him." + +The detective glanced up furtively at the speaker. He seemed to +reflect for a moment. + +"I gathered," he said, "in conversation with the commissionaire, +that Miss Hyslop was a little impatient that night. It seems, +however, that she was anxious to get to a ball which was being +given down in Kensington." + +"There was a ball, was there?" Francis asked. + +"Without a doubt," the detective replied. "It was given by a +Miss Clara Bultiwell. She happens to remember urging Miss Hyslop +to come on as early as possible." + +"So that's that," Francis observed. + +"Just so, Mr. Ledsam," the detective murmured. + +They were walking along the Mall now, eastwards. The detective, +who seemed to have been just a saunterer, had accommodated +himself to Francis' destination. + +"Let me see, there was nothing stolen from the young man's +person, was there?" Francis asked presently. + +"Apparently nothing at all, sir." + +"And I gather that you have made every possible enquiry as to the +young man's relations with his friends?" + +"So far as one can learn, sir, they seem to have been perfectly +amicable." + +"Of course," Francis remarked presently, "this may have been +quite a purposeless affair. The deed may have been committed by +a man who was practically a lunatic, without any motive or reason +whatever." + +"Precisely so, sir," the detective agreed. + +"But, all the same, I don't think it was." + +"Neither do I, sir." + +Francis smiled slightly. + +"Shopland," he said, "if there is no further external evidence to +be collected, I suggest that there is only one person likely to +prove of assistance to you." + +"And that one person, sir?" + +"Miss Daisy Hyslop." + +"The young lady whom I have already seen?" + +Francis nodded. + +"The young lady whom you have already seen," he assented. "At +the same time, Mr. Shopland, we must remember this. If Miss +Hyslop has any knowledge of the facts which are behind Mr. +Bidlake's murder, it is more likely to be to her interest to keep +them to herself, than to give them away to the police free gratis +and for nothing. Do you follow me?" + +"Precisely, sir." + +"That being so," Francis continued, "I am going to make a +proposition to you for what it is worth. Where were you going +when I met you this morning, Shopland?" + +"To call upon you in Clarges Street, sir." + +"What for?" + +"I was going to ask you if you would be so kind as to call upon +Miss Daisy Hyslop, sir." + +Francis smiled. + +"Great minds," he murmured. "I will see the young lady this +afternoon, Shopland." + +The detective raised his hat. They had reached the spot where +his companion turned off by the Horse Guards Parade. + +"I may hope to hear from you, then, sir?" + +"Within the course of a day or two, perhaps earlier," Francis +promised. + + +Francis continued his walk along the Embankment to his chambers +in the Temple. He glanced in the outer office as he passed to +his consulting room. + +"Anything fresh, Angrave?" he asked his head-clerk. + +"Nothing whatever, sir," was the quiet reply. + +He passed on to his own den--a bare room with long windows +looking out over the gardens. He glanced at the two or three +letters which lay on his desk, none of them of the least +interest, and leaning back in his chair commenced to fill his +pipe. There was a knock at the door. Fawsitt, a young beginner +at the bar, in whom he had taken some interest and who deviled +for him, presented himself. + +"Can I have a word with you, Mr. Ledsam?" he asked. + +"By all means," was the prompt response. "Sit down." + +Fawsitt seated himself on the other side of the table. He had a +long, thin face, dark, narrow eyes, unwholesome complexion, a +slightly hooked nose, and teeth discoloured through constant +smoking. His fingers, too, bore the tell-tale yellow stains. + +"Mr. Ledsam," he said, "I think, with your permission, I should +like to leave at the end of my next three months." + +Francis glanced across at him. + +"Sorry to hear that, Fawsitt. Are you going to work for any one +else?" + +"I haven't made arrangements yet, sir," the young man replied. +"I thought of offering myself to Mr. Barnes." + +"Why do you want to leave me?" Francis asked. + +"There isn't enough for me to do, sir." + +Francis lit his pipe. + +"It's probably just a lull, Fawsitt," he remarked. + +"I don't think so, sir." + +"The devil! You've been gossiping with some of these solicitors' +clerks, Fawsitt." + +"I shouldn't call it gossiping, sir. I am always interested to +hear anything that may concern our--my future. I have reason to +believe, sir, that we are being passed over for briefs." + +"The reason being?" + +"One can't pick and choose, sir. One shouldn't, anyway." + +Francis smiled. + +"You evidently don't approve of any measure of personal choice as +to the work which one takes up." + +"Certainly I do not, sir, in our profession. The only brief I +would refuse would be a losing or an ill-paid one. I don't +conceive it to be our business to prejudge a case." + +"I see," Francis murmured. "Go on, Fawsitt." + +"There's a rumour about," the young man continued, "that you are +only going to plead where the chances are that your client is +innocent." + +"There's some truth in that," Francis admitted. + +"If I could leave a little before the three months, sir, I should +be glad," Fawsitt said. "I look at the matter from an entirely +different point of view." + +"You shall leave when you like, of course, Fawsitt, but tell me +what that point of view is?" + +"Just this, sir. The simplest-minded idiot who ever stammered +through his address, can get an innocent prisoner off if he knows +enough of the facts and the law. To my mind, the real triumph in +our profession is to be able to unwind the meshes of damning +facts and force a verdict for an indubitably guilty client." + +"How does the moral side of that appeal to you?" his senior +enquired. + +"I didn't become a barrister to study morals, or even to consider +them," was the somewhat caustic reply. "When once a brief is in +my mind, it is a matter of brain, cunning and resource. The +guiltier a man, the greater the success if you can get him off." + +"And turn him loose again upon Society?" + +"It isn't our job to consider that, sir. The moral question is +only confusing in the matter. Our job is to make use of the law +for the benefit of our client. That's what we're paid for. +That's the measure of our success or failure." + +Francis nodded. + +"Very reasonably put, Fawsitt," he conceded. "I'll give you a +letter to Barnes whenever you like." + +"I should be glad if you would do so, sir," the young man said. +"I'm only wasting my time here ...." + +Francis wrote a letter of recommendation to Barnes, the great K.C., +considered a stray brief which had found its way in, and strolled +up towards the Milan as the hour approached luncheon-time. In the +American bar of that palatial hotel he found the young man he was +looking for--a flaxen-haired youth who was seated upon one of the +small tables, with his feet upon a chair, laying down the law to +a little group of acquaintances. He greeted Francis cordially +but without that due measure of respect which nineteen should +accord to thirty-five. + +"Cheerio, my elderly relative!" he exclaimed. "Have a cocktail." + +Francis nodded assent. + +"Come into this corner with me for a moment, Charles," he +invited. "I have a word for your ear." + +The young man rose and sat by his uncle's side on a settee. + +"In my declining years," the latter began, "I find myself +reverting to the follies of youth. I require a letter of +introduction from you to a young lady of your acquaintance." + +"The devil! Not one of my own special little pets, I hope?" + +"Her name is Miss Daisy Hyslop," Francis announced. + +Lord Charles Southover pursed his lips and whistled. He glanced +at Francis sideways. + +"Is this the beginning of a campaign amongst the butterflies," he +enquired, "because, if so, I feel it my duty, uncle, to address +to you a few words of solemn warning. Miss Daisy Hyslop is hot +stuff." + +"Look here, young fellow," Francis said equably, "I don't know +what the state of your exchequer is--" + +"I owe you forty," Lord Charles interrupted. "Spring another +tenner, make it fifty, that is, and the letter of introduction I +will write for you will bring tears of gratitude to your eyes." + +"I'll spring the tenner," Francis promised, "but you'll write +just what I tell you--no more and no less." + +"Anything extra for keeping mum at home?" the young man ventured +tentatively. + +"You're a nice sort of nephew to have!" Francis declared. +"Abandon these futile attempts at blackmail and just come this +way to the writing-table." + +"You've got the tenner with you?" the young man asked anxiously. + +Francis produced a well-filled pocketbook. His nephew led the +way to a writing-table, lit a cigarette which he stuck into the +corner of his mouth, and in painstaking fashion wrote the few +lines which Francis dictated. The ten pounds changed hands. + +"Have one with me for luck?" the young man invited brightly. +"No? Perhaps you're right," he added, in valedictory fashion. +"You'd better keep your head clear for Daisy!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Miss Daisy Hyslop received Francis that afternoon, in the +sitting-room of her little suite at the Milan. Her welcoming +smile was plaintive and a little subdued, her manner undeniably +gracious. She was dressed in black, a wonderful background for +her really gorgeous hair, and her deportment indicated a recent +loss. + +"How nice of you to come and see me," she murmured, with a +lingering touch of the fingers. "Do take that easy-chair, +please, and sit down and talk to me. Your roses were beautiful, +but whatever made you send them to me?" + +"Impulse," he answered. + +She laughed softly. + +"Then please yield to such impulses as often as you feel them," +she begged. "I adore flowers. Just now, too," she added, with a +little sigh, "anything is welcome which helps to keep my mind off +my own affairs." + +"It was very good of you to let me come," he declared. "I can +quite understand that you don't feel like seeing many people just +now." + +Francis' manner, although deferential and courteous, had +nevertheless some quality of aloofness in it to which she was +unused and which she was quick to recognise. The smile, faded +from her face. She seemed suddenly not quite so young. + +"Haven't I seen you before somewhere quite lately?" she asked, a +little sharply. + +"You saw me at Soto's, the night that Victor Bidlake was +murdered," he reminded her. "I stood quite close to you both +while you were waiting for your taxi." + +The animation evoked by this call from a presumably new admirer, +suddenly left her. She became nervous and constrained. She +glanced again at his card. + +"Don't tell me," she begged, "that you have come to ask me any +questions about that night! I simply could not bear it. The +police have been here twice, and I had nothing to tell them, +absolutely nothing." + +"Quite right," he assented soothingly. "Police have such a +clumsy way of expecting valuable information for nothing. I'm +always glad to hear of their being disappointed." + +She studied her visitor for a moment carefully. Then she turned +to the table by her side, picked up a note and read it through. + +"Lord Southover tells me here," she said, "that you are just a +pal of his who wants to make my acquaintance. He doesn't say +why." + +"Is that necessary?" Francis asked good-naturedly. + +She moved in her chair a little nervously, crossing and +uncrossing her legs more than once. Her white silk stockings +underneath her black skirt were exceedingly effective, a fact of +which she never lost consciousness, although at that moment she +was scarcely inspired to play the coquette. + +"I'd like to think it wasn't," she admitted frankly. + +"I've seen you repeatedly upon the stage," he told her, "and, +though musical comedy is rather out of my line, I have always +admired you immensely." + +She studied him once more almost wistfully. + +"You look very nice," she acknowledged, "but you don't look at +all the kind of man who admires girls who do the sort of rubbish +I do on the stage." + +"What do I look like?" he asked, smiling. + +"A man with a purpose," she answered. + +"I begin to think," he ventured, "that we shall get on. You are +really a very astute young lady." + +"You are quite sure you're not one of these amateur detectives +one reads about?" she demanded. + +"Certainly not," he assured her. "I will confess that I am +interested in Victor Bidlake's death, and I should like to +discover the truth about it, but I have a reason for that which I +may tell you some day. It has nothing whatever to do with the +young man himself. To the best of my belief, I never saw or +heard of him before in my life. My interest lies with another +person. You have lost a great friend, I know. If you felt +disposed to tell me the whole story, it might make such a +difference." + +She sighed. Her confidence was returning--also her self-pity. +The latter at once betrayed itself. + +"You see," she confided, "Victor and I were engaged to be +married, so naturally I let him help me a little. I shan't be +able to stay on here now. They are bothering me about their bill +already," she added, with a side-glance at an envelope which +stood on a table by her side. + +He drew a little nearer to her. + +"Miss Hyslop--" he began. + +"Daisy," she interrupted. + +"Miss Daisy Hyslop, then," he continued, smiling, "I suggested +just now that I did not want to come and bother you for +information without any return. If I can be of any assistance to +you in that matter," he added, glancing towards the envelope, "I +shall be very pleased." + +She sighed gratefully. + +"Just till Victor's people return to town," she said. "I know +that they mean to do something for me." + +"How much?" he asked. + +"Two hundred pounds would keep me going," she told him. + +He wrote out a cheque. Miss Hyslop drew a sigh of relief as she +laid it on one side with the envelope. Then she swung round in +her chair to face him where he sat at the writing-table. + +"I am afraid you will think that what I have to tell is very +insignificant," she confessed. "Victor was one of those boys who +always fancied themselves bored. He was bored with polo, bored +with motoring, bored with the country and bored with town. Then +quite suddenly during the last few weeks he seemed changed. All +that he would tell me was that he had found a new interest in +life. I don't know what it was but I don't think it was a nice +one. He seemed to drop all his old friends, too, and go about +with a new set altogether--not a nice set at all. He used to +stay out all night, and he quite gave up going to dances and +places where he could take me. Once or twice he came here in +the afternoon, dead beat, without having been to bed at all, +and before he could say half-a-dozen words he was asleep in my +easy-chair. He used to mutter such horrible things that I had +to wake him up." + +"Was he ever short of money?" Francis asked. + +She shook her head. + +"Not seriously," she answered. "He was quite well-off, besides +what his people allowed him. I was going to have a wonderful +settlement as soon as our engagement was announced. However, to +go on with what I was telling you, the very night before--it +happened--he came in to see me, looking like nothing on earth. +He cried like a baby, behaved like a lunatic, and called himself +all manner of names. He had had a great deal too much to drink, +and I gathered that he had seen something horrible. It was then +he asked me to dine with him the next night, and told me that he +was going to break altogether with his new friends. Something in +connection with them seemed to have given him a terrible fright." + +Francis nodded. He had the tact to abandon his curiosity at this +precise point. + +"The old story," he declared, "bad company and rotten habits. I +suppose some one got to know that the young man usually carried a +great deal of money about with him." + +"It was so foolish of him," she assented eagerly: "I warned him +about it so often. The police won't listen to it but I am +absolutely certain that he was robbed. I noticed when he paid +the bill that he had a great wad of bank-notes which were never +discovered afterwards." + +Francis rose to his feet. + +"What are you doing to-night?" he enquired. + +"Nothing," she acknowledged eagerly. + +"Then let's dine somewhere and see the show at the Frivolity," he +suggested. + +"You dear man!" she assented with enthusiasm. "The one thing I +wanted to do, and the one person I wanted to do it with." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +It was after leaving Miss Daisy Hyslop's flat that the event to +which Francis Ledsam had been looking forward more than anything +else in the world, happened. It came about entirely by chance. +There were no taxis in the Strand. Francis himself had finished +work for the day, and feeling disinclined for his usual rubber of +bridge, he strolled homewards along the Mall. At the corner of +Green Park, he came face to face with the woman who for the last +few months had scarcely been out of his thoughts. Even in that +first moment he realised to his pain that she would have avoided +him if she could. They met, however, where the path narrowed, +and he left her no chance to avoid him. That curious impulse of +conventionality which opens a conversation always with cut and +dried banalities, saved them perhaps from a certain amount of +embarrassment. Without any conscious suggestion, they found +themselves walking side by side. + +"I have been wanting to see you very much indeed," he said. "I +even went so far as to wonder whether I dared call." + +"Why should you?" she asked. "Our acquaintance began and ended +in tragedy. There is scarcely any purpose in carrying it +further." + +He looked at her for a moment before replying. She was wearing +black, but scarcely the black of a woman who sorrows. She was +still frigidly beautiful, redolent, in all the details of her +toilette, of that almost negative perfection which he had learnt +to expect from her. She suggested to him still that same sense +of aloofness from the actualities of life. + +"I prefer not to believe that it is ended," he protested. "Have +you so many friends that you have no room for one who has never +consciously done you any harm?" + +She looked at him with some faint curiosity in her immobile +features. + +"Harm? No! On the contrary, I suppose I ought to thank you for +your evidence at the inquest." + +"Some part of it was the truth," he replied. + +"I suppose so," she admitted drily. "You told it very cleverly." + +He looked her in the eyes. + +"My profession helped me to be a good witness," he said. "As for +the gist of my evidence, that was between my conscience and +myself." + +"Your conscience?" she repeated. "Are there really men who +possess such things?" + +"I hope you will discover that for yourself some day," he +answered. "Tell me your plans? Where are you living?" + +"For the present with my father in Curzon Street." + +"With Sir Timothy Brast?" + +She assented. + +"You know him?" she asked indifferently. + +"Very slightly," Francis replied. "We talked together, some +nights ago, at Soto's Restaurant. I am afraid that I did not +make a very favourable impression upon him. I gathered, too, +that he has somewhat eccentric tastes." + +"I do not see a great deal of my father," she said. "We met, a +few months ago, for the first time since my marriage, and things +have been a little difficult between us--just at first. He +really scarcely ever puts in an appearance at Curzon Street. I +dare say you have heard that he makes a hobby of an amazing +country house which he has down the river." + +"The Walled House?" he ventured. + +She nodded. + +"I see you have heard of it. All London, they tell me, gossips +about the entertainments there." + +"Are they really so wonderful?" he asked. + +"I have never been to one," she replied. "As a matter of fact, I +have spent scarcely any time in England since my marriage. My +husband, as I remember he told you, was fond of travelling." + +Notwithstanding the warm spring air he was conscious of a certain +chilliness. Her level, indifferent tone seemed to him almost +abnormally callous. A horrible realisation flashed for a moment +in his brain. She was speaking of the man whom she had killed! + +"Your father overheard a remark of mine," Francis told her. "I +was at Soto's with a friend--Andrew Wilmore, the novelist--and +to tell you the truth we were speaking of the shock I experienced +when I realised that I had been devoting every effort of which I +was capable, to saving the life of--shall we say a criminal? +Your father heard me say, in rather a flamboyant manner, perhaps, +that in future I declared war against all crime and all +criminals." + +She smiled very faintly, a smile which had in it no single +element of joy or humour. + +"I can quite understand my father intervening," she said. "He +poses as being rather a patron of artistically-perpetrated crime. +Sue is his favourite author, and I believe that he has exceedingly +grim ideas as to duelling and fighting generally. He was in prison +once for six months at New Orleans for killing a man who insulted +my mother. Nothing in the world would ever have convinced him that +he had not done a perfectly legitimate thing." + +"I am expecting to find him quite an interesting study, when I +know him better," Francis pronounced. "My only fear is that he +will count me an unfriendly person and refuse to have anything to +do with me." + +"I am not at all sure," she said indifferently, "that it would +not be very much better for you if he did." + +"I cannot admit that," he answered, smiling. "I think that our +paths in life are too far apart for either of us to influence the +other. You don't share his tastes, do you?" + +"Which ones?" she asked, after a moment's silence. + +"Well, boxing for one," he replied. "They tell me that he is the +greatest living patron of the ring, both here and in America." + +"I have never been to a fight in my life," she confessed. "I +hope that I never may." + +"I can't go so far as that," he declared, "but boxing isn't +altogether one of my hobbies. Can't we leave your father and +his tastes alone for the present? I would rather talk about +--ourselves. Tell me what you care about most in life?" + +"Nothing," she answered listlessly. + +"But that is only a phase," he persisted. "You have had terrible +trials, I know, and they must have affected your outlook on life, +but you are still young, and while one is young life is always +worth having." + +"I thought so once," she assented. "I don't now." + +"But there must be--there will be compensations," he assured her. +"I know that just now you are suffering from the reaction--after +all you have gone through. The memory of that will pass." + +"The memory of what I have gone through will never pass," she +answered. + +There was a moment's intense silence, a silence pregnant with +reminiscent drama. The little room rose up before his memory +--the woman's hopeless, hating eyes, the quivering thread of steel, +the dead man's mocking words. He seemed at that moment to see +into the recesses of her mind. Was it remorse that troubled +her, he wondered? Did she lack strength to realise that in that +half-hour at the inquest he had placed on record for ever his +judgment of her deed? Even to think of it now was morbid. +Although he would never have confessed it even to himself, there +was growing daily in his mind some idea of reward. She had never +thanked him--he hoped that she never would--but he had surely a +right to claim some measure of her thoughts, some light place in +her life. + +"Please look at me," he begged, a little abruptly. + +She turned her head in some surprise. Francis was almost +handsome in the clear Spring sunlight, his face alight with +animation, his deep-set grey eyes full of amused yet anxious +solicitude. Even as she appreciated these things and became +dimly conscious of his eager interest, her perturbation seemed to +grow. + +"Well?" she ventured. + +"Do I look like a person who knew what he was talking about?" he +asked. + +"On the whole, I should say that you did," she admitted. + +"Very well, then," he went on cheerfully, "believe me when I say +that the shadow which depresses you all the time now will pass. +I say this confidently," he added, his voice softening, "because +I hope to be allowed to help. Haven't you guessed that I am very +glad indeed to see you again?" + +She came to a sudden standstill. They had just passed through +Lansdowne Passage and were in the quiet end of Curzon Street. + +"But you must not talk to me like that!" she expostulated. + +"Why not?" he demanded. "We have met under strange and untoward +circumstances, but are you so very different from other women?" + +For a single moment she seemed infinitely more human, startled, a +little nervous, exquisitely sympathetic to an amazing and +unexpected impression. She seemed to look with glad but +terrified eyes towards the vision of possible things--and then to +realise that it was but a trick of the fancy and to come +shivering back to the world of actualities. + +"I am very different," she said quietly. "I have lived my life. +What I lack in years has been made up to me in horror. I have no +desire now but to get rid of this aftermath of years as smoothly +and quickly as possible. I do not wish any man, Mr. Ledsam, to +talk to me as you are doing." + +"You will not accept my friendship?" + +"It is impossible," she replied. + +"May I be allowed to call upon you?" he went on, doggedly. + +"I do not receive visitors," she answered. + +They were walking slowly up Curzon Street now. She had given him +every opportunity to leave her, opportunities to which he was +persistently blind. Her obstinacy had been a shock to him. + +"I am sorry," he said, "but I cannot accept my dismissal like +this. I shall appeal to your father. However much he may +dislike me, he has at least common-sense." + +She looked at him with a touch of the old horror in her +coldly-questioning eyes. + +"In your way you have been kind to me," she admitted. "Let me in +return give you a word of advice. Let me beg you to have nothing +whatever to do with my father, in friendship or in enmity. +Either might be equally disastrous. Either, in the long run, is +likely to cost you dear." + +"If that is your opinion of your father, why do you live with +him?" he asked. + +She had become entirely callous again. Her smile, with its +mocking quality, reminded him for a moment of the man whom they +were discussing. + +"Because I am a luxury and comfort-loving parasite," she answered +deliberately, "because my father gladly pays my accounts at +Lucille and Worth and Reville, because I have never learnt to do +without things. And please remember this. My father, so far as +I am concerned, has no faults. He is a generous and courteous +companion. Nevertheless, number 70 b, Curzon Street is no place +for people who desire to lead normal lives." + +And with that she was gone. Her gesture of dismissal was so +complete and final that he had no courage for further argument. +He had lost her almost as soon as he had found her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Four men were discussing the verdict at the adjourned inquest +upon Victor Bidlake, at Soto's American Bar about a fortnight +later. They were Robert Fairfax, a young actor in musical +comedy, Peter Jacks, a cinema producer, Gerald Morse, a dress +designer, and Sidney Voss, a musical composer and librettist, all +habitues of the place and members of the little circle towards +which the dead man had seemed, during the last few weeks of his +life, to have become attracted. At a table a short distance +away, Francis Ledsam was seated with a cocktail and a dish of +almonds before him. He seemed to be studying an evening paper +and to be taking but the scantiest notice of the conversation at +the bar. + +"It just shows," Peter Jacks declared, "that crime is the easiest +game in the world. Given a reasonable amount of intelligence, +and a murderer's business is about as simple as a sandwich-man's." + +"The police," Gerald Morse, a pale-faced, anaemic-looking youth, +declared, "rely upon two things, circumstantial evidence and +motive. In the present case there is no circumstantial evidence, +and as to motive, poor old Victor was too big a fool to have an +enemy in the world." + +Sidney Voss, who was up for the Sheridan Club and had once been +there, glanced respectfully across at Francis. + +"You ought to know something about crime and criminals, Mr. +Ledsam," he said. "Have you any theory about the affair?" + +Francis set down the glass from which he had been drinking, and, +folding up the evening paper, laid it by the side of him. + +"As a matter of fact," he answered calmly, "I have." + +The few words, simply spoken, yet in their way charged with +menace, thrilled through the little room. Fairfax swung round +upon his stool, a tall, aggressive-looking youth whose good-looks +were half eaten up with dissipation. His eyes were unnaturally +bright, the cloudy remains in his glass indicated absinthe. + +"Listen, you fellows!" he exclaimed. "Mr. Francis Ledsam, the +great criminal barrister, is going to solve the mystery of poor +old Victor's death for us!" + +The three other young men all turned around from the bar. Their +eyes and whole attention seemed rivetted upon Francis. No one +seemed to notice the newcomer who passed quietly to a chair in +the background, although he was a person of some note and +interest to all of them. Imperturbable and immaculate as ever, +Sir Timothy Brast smiled amiably upon the little gathering, +summoned a waiter and ordered a Dry Martini. + +"I can scarcely promise to do that," Francis said slowly, his +eyes resting for a second or two upon each of the four faces. +"Exact solutions are a little out of my line. I think I can +promise to give you a shock, though, if you're strong enough to +stand it." + +There was another of those curiously charged silences. The +bartender paused with the cocktail shaker still in his hand. +Voss began to beat nervously upon the counter with his knuckles. + +"We can stand anything but suspense," he declared. "Get on with +your shock-giving." + +"I believe that the person responsible for the death of Victor +Bidlake is in this room at the present moment," Francis declared. + +Again the silence, curious, tense and dramatic. Little Jimmy, +the bartender, who had leaned forward to listen, stood with his +mouth slightly open and the cocktail-shaker which was in his hand +leaked drops upon the counter. The first conscious impulse of +everybody seemed to be to glance suspiciously around the room. +The four young men at the bar, Jimmy and one waiter, Francis and +Sir Timothy Brast, were its only occupants. + +"I say, you know, that's a bit thick, isn't it?" Sidney Voss +stammered at last. "I wasn't in the place at all, I was in +Manchester, but it's a bit rough on these other chaps, Victor's +pals." + +"I was dining at the Cafe Royal," Jacks declared, loudly. + +Morse drew a little breath. + +"Every one knows that I was at Brighton," he muttered. + +"I went home directly the bar here closed," Jimmy said, in a +still dazed tone. "I heard nothing about it till the next +morning." + +"Alibis by the bushel," Fairfax laughed harshly. "As for me, I +was doing my show--every one knows that. I was never in the +place at all." + +"The murder was not committed in the place," Francis commented +calmly. + +Fairfax slid off his stool. A spot of colour blazed in his pale +cheeks, the glass which he was holding snapped in his fingers. +He seemed suddenly possessed. + +"I say, what the hell are you getting at?" he cried. "Are you +accusing me--or any of us Victor's pals?" + +"I accuse no one," Francis replied, unperturbed. "You invited a +statement from me and I made it." + +Sir Timothy Brast rose from his place and made his way to the end +of the counter, next to Fairfax and nearest Francis. He +addressed the former. There was an inscrutable smile upon his +lips, his manner was reassuring. + +"Young gentleman," he begged, "pray do not disturb yourself. I +will answer for it that neither you nor any of your friends are +the objects of Mr. Leadsam's suspicion. Without a doubt, it is I +to whom his somewhat bold statement refers." + +They all stared at him, immersed in another crisis, bereft of +speech. He tapped a cigarette upon the counter and lit it. +Fairfax, whose glass had just been refilled by the bartender, was +still ghastly pale, shaking with nervousness and breathing +hoarsely. Francis, tense and alert in his chair, watched the +speaker but said nothing. + +"You see," Sir Timothy continued, addressing himself to the four +young men at the bar, "I happen to have two special aversions in +life. One is sweet champagne and the other amateur detectives +--their stories, their methods and everything about them. I +chanced to sit upstairs in the restaurant, within hearing of Mr. +Ledsam and his friend Mr. Wilmore, the novelist, the other night, +and I heard Mr. Ledsam, very much to my chagrin, announce his +intention of abandoning a career in which he has, if he will +allow me to say so,"--with a courteous bow to Francis--"attained +considerable distinction, to indulge in the moth-eaten, +flamboyant and melodramatic antics of the lesser Sherlock Holmes. +I fear that I could not resist the opportunity of--I think you +young men call it--pulling his leg." + +Every one was listening intently, including Shopland, who had +just drifted into the room and subsided into a chair near +Francis. + +"I moved my place, therefore," Sir Timothy continued, "and I +whispered in Mr. Ledsam's ear some rodomontade to the effect that +if he were planning to be the giant crime-detector of the world, +I was by ambition the arch-criminal--or words to that effect. And +to give emphasis to my words, I wound up by prophesying a crime +in the immediate vicinity of the place within a few hours." + +"A somewhat significant prophecy, under the circumstances," +Francis remarked, reaching out for a dish of salted almonds and +drawing them towards him. + +Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. + +"I will confess," he admitted, "that I had not in my mind an +affair of such dimensions. My harmless remark, however, has +produced cataclysmic effects. The conversation to which I refer +took place on the night of young Bidlake's murder, and Mr. +Ledsam, with my somewhat, I confess, bombastic words in his +memory, has pitched upon me as the bloodthirsty murderer." + +"Hold on for a moment, sir," Peter Jacks begged, wiping the +perspiration from his forehead. "We've got to have another drink +quick. Poor old Bobby here looks knocked all of a heap, and I'm +kind of jumpy myself. You'll join us, sir?" + +"I thank you," was the courteous reply. "I do not as a rule +indulge to the extent of more than one cocktail, but I will +recognise the present as an exceptional occasion. To continue, +then," he went on, after the glasses had been filled, "I have +during the last few weeks experienced the ceaseless and lynx-eyed +watch of Mr. Ledsam and presumably his myrmidons. I do not know +whether you are all acquainted with my name, but in case you are +not, let me introduce myself. I am Sir Timothy Brast, Chairman, +as I dare say you know, of the United Transvaal Gold Mines, +Chairman, also, of two of the principal hospitals in London, Vice +President of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to +Animals, a patron of sport in many forms, a traveller in many +countries, and a recipient of the honour of knighthood from His +Majesty, in recognition of my services for various philanthropic +works. These facts, however, have availed me nothing now that +the bungling amateur investigator into crime has pointed the +finger of suspicion towards me. My servants and neighbours have +alike been plagued to death with cunning questions as to my life +and habits. I have been watched in the streets and watched in my +harmless amusements. My simple life has been peered into from +every perspective and direction. In short, I am suspect. Mr. +Ledsam's terrifying statement a few minutes ago was directed +towards me and me only." + +There were murmurs of sympathy from the four young men, who each +in his own fashion appeared to derive consolation from Sir +Timothy's frank and somewhat caustic statement. Francis, who had +listened unmoved to this flow of words, glanced towards the door +behind which dark figures seemed to be looming. + +"That is all you have to say, Sir Timothy?" he asked politely. + +"For the present, yes," was the guarded reply. "I trust that I +have succeeded in setting these young gentlemen's minds at ease." + +"There is one of them," Francis said gravely, "whose mind not +even your soothing words could lighten." + +Shopland had risen unobtrusively to his feet. He laid his hand +suddenly on Fairfax's shoulder and whispered in his ear. +Fairfax, after his first start, seemed cool enough. He stretched +out his hand towards the glass which as yet he had not touched; +covered it with his fingers for a moment and drained its +contents. The gently sarcastic smile left Sir Timothy's lips. +His eyebrows met in a quick frown, his eyes glittered. + +"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded sharply. + +A policeman in plain clothes had advanced from the door. The +manager hovered in the background. Shopland saw that all was +well. + +"It means," he announced, "that I have just arrested Mr. Robert +Fairfax here on a charge of wilful murder. There is a way out +through the kitchens, I believe. Take his other arm, Holmes. +Now, gentlemen, if you please." + +There were a few bewildered exclamations--then a dramatic hush. +Fairfax had fallen forward on his stool. He seemed to have +relapsed into a comatose state. Every scrap of colour was +drained from his sallow cheeks, his eyes were covered with a film +and he was breathing heavily. The detective snatched up the +glass from which the young man had been drinking, and smelt it. + +"I saw him drop a tablet in just now," Jimmy faltered. "I +thought it was one of the digestion pills he uses sometimes." + +Shopland and the policeman placed their hands underneath the +armpits of the unconscious man. + +"He's done, sir," the former whispered to Francis. "We'll try +and get him to the station if we can." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The greatest tragedies in the world, provided they happen to +other people, have singularly little effect upon the externals of +our own lives. There was certainly not a soul in Soto's that +night who did not know that Bobby Fairfax had been arrested in +the bar below for the murder of Victor Bidlake, had taken poison +and died on the way to the police station. Yet the same number +of dinners were ordered and eaten, the same quantity of wine +drunk. The management considered that they had shown marvellous +delicacy of feeling by restraining the orchestra from their usual +musical gymnastics until after the service of dinner. +Conversation, in consequence, buzzed louder than ever. One +speculation in particular absorbed the attention of every single +person in the room--why had Bobby Fairfax, at the zenith of a +very successful career, risked the gallows and actually accepted +death for the sake of killing Victor Bidlake, a young man with +whom, so far as anybody knew, he had no cause of quarrel +whatever? There were many theories, many people who knew the +real facts and whispered them into a neighbour's ear, only to +have them contradicted a few moments later. Yet, curiously +enough, the two men who knew most about it were the two most +silent men in the room, for each was dining alone. Francis, who +had remained only in the hope that something of the sort might +happen, was conscious of a queer sense of excitement when, with +the service of coffee, Sir Timothy, glass in hand, moved up from +a table lower down and with a word of apology took the vacant +place by his side. It was what he had desired, and yet he felt a +thrill almost of fear at Sir Timothy's murmured words. He felt +that he was in the company of one who, if not an enemy, at any +rate had no friendly feeling towards him. + +"My congratulations, Mr. Ledsam," Sir Timothy said quietly. "You +appear to have started your career with a success." + +"Only a partial one," Francis acknowledged, "and as a matter of +fact I deny that I have started in any new career. It was easy +enough to make use of a fluke and direct the intelligence of +others towards the right person, but when the real significance +of the thing still eludes you, one can scarcely claim a triumph." + +Sir Timothy gently knocked the ash from the very fine cigar which +he was smoking. + +"Still, your groundwork was good," he observed. + +Francis shrugged his shoulders. + +"That," he admitted, "was due to chance." + +"Shall we exchange notes?" Sir Timothy suggested gently. "It +might be interesting." + +"As you will," Francis assented. "There is no particular secret +in the way I stumbled upon the truth. I was dining here that +night, as you know, with Andrew Wilmore, and while he was +ordering the dinner and talking to some friends, I went down to +the American Bar to have a cocktail. Miss Daisy Hyslop and +Fairfax were seated there alone and talking confidentially. +Fairfax was insisting that Miss Hyslop should do something which +puzzled her. She consented reluctantly, and Fairfax then hurried +off to the theatre. Later on, Miss Hyslop and the unfortunate +young man occupied a table close to ours, and I happened to +notice that she made a point of leaving the restaurant at a +particular time. While they were waiting in the vestibule she +grew very impatient. I was standing behind them and I saw her +glance at the clock just before she insisted upon her companion's +going out himself to look for a taxicab. Ergo, one enquires at +Fairfax's theatre. For that exact three-quarters of an hour he +is off the stage. At that point my interest in the matter +ceases. Scotland Yard was quite capable of the rest." + +"Disappointing," Sir Timothy murmured. "I thought at first that +you were over-modest. I find that I was mistaken. It was chance +alone which set you on the right track." + +"Well, there is my story, at any rate," Francis declared. "With +how much of your knowledge of the affair are you going to indulge +me?" + +Sir Timothy slowly revolved his brandy glass. + +"Well," he said, "I will tell you this. The two young men +concerned, Bidlake and Fairfax, were both guests of mine recently +at my country house. They had discovered for one another a very +fierce and reasonable antipathy. With that recurrence to +primitivism with which I have always been a hearty sympathiser, +they agreed, instead of going round their little world making +sneering remarks about each other, to fight it out." + +"At your suggestion, I presume?" Francis interposed. + +"Precisely," Sir Timothy assented. "I recommended that course, +and I offered them facilities for bringing the matter to a +crisis. The fight, indeed, was to have come off the day after +the unfortunate episode which anticipated it." + +"Do you mean to tell me that you knew--" Francis began. + +Sir Timothy checked him quietly but effectively. + +"I knew nothing," he said, "except this. They were neither of +them young men of much stomach, and I knew that the one who was +the greater coward would probably try to anticipate the matter by +attacking the other first if he could. I knew that Fairfax was +the greater coward--not that there was much to choose between +them--and I also knew that he was the injured person. That is +really all there is about it. My somewhat theatrical statement +to you was based upon probability, and not upon any certain +foreknowledge. As you see, it came off." + +"And the cause of their quarrel?" Francis asked. + +"There might have been a hundred reasons," Sir Timothy observed. +"As a matter of fact, it was the eternal one. There is no need +to mention a woman's name, so we will let it go at that." + +There was a moment's silence--a strange, unforgettable moment for +Francis Ledsam, who seemed by some curious trick of the +imagination to have been carried away into an impossible and +grotesque world. The hum of eager conversation, the popping of +corks, the little trills of feminine laughter, all blended into +one sensual and not unmusical chorus, seemed to fade from his +ears. He fancied himself in some subterranean place of vast +dimensions, through the grim galleries of which men and women +with evil faces crept like animals. And towering above them, +unreal in size, his scornful face an epitome of sin, the knout +which he wielded symbolical and ghastly, driving his motley flock +with the leer of the evil shepherd, was the man from whom he had +already learnt to recoil with horror. The picture came and went +in a flash. Francis found himself accepting a courteously +offered cigar from his companion. + +"You see, the story is very much like many others," Sir Timothy +murmured, as he lit a fresh Cigar himself and leaned back with +the obvious enjoyment of the cultivated smoker. "In every +country of the world, the animal world as well as the human +world, the male resents his female being taken from him. +Directly he ceases to resent it, he becomes degenerate. Surely +you must agree with me, Mr. Leddam?" + +"It comes to this, then," Francis pronounced deliberately, "that +you stage-managed the whole affair." + +Sir Timothy smiled. + +"It is my belief, Mr. Ledsam," he said, "that you grow more and +more intelligent every hour." + +Sir Timothy glanced presently at his thin gold watch and put it +back in his pocket regretfully. + +"Alas!" he sighed, "I fear that I must tear myself away. I +particularly want to hear the last act of 'Louise.' The new +Frenchwoman sings, and my daughter is alone. You will excuse +me." + +Francis nodded silently. His companion's careless words had +brought a sudden dazzling vision into his mind. Sir Timothy +scrawled his name at the foot of his bill. + +"It is one of my axioms in life, Mr. Ledsam," he continued, "that +there is more pleasure to be derived from the society of one's +enemies than one's friends. If I thought you sufficiently +educated in the outside ways of the world to appreciate this, I +would ask if you cared to accompany me?" + +Francis did not hesitate for a moment. + +"Sir Timothy," he said, "I have the greatest detestation for you, +and I am firmly convinced that you represent all the things in +life abhorrent to me. On the other hand, I should very much like +to hear the last act of 'Louise,' and it would give me the +greatest pleasure to meet your daughter. So long as there is no +misunderstanding." + +Sir Timothy laughed. + +"Come," he said, "we will get our hats. I am becoming more and +more grateful to you, Mr. Ledsam. You are supplying something in +my life which I have lacked. You appeal alike to my sense of +humour and my imagination. We will visit the opera together." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The two men left Soto's together, very much in the fashion of two +ordinary acquaintances sallying out to spend the evening +together. Sir Timothy's Rolls-Royce limousine was in attendance, +and in a few minutes they were threading the purlieus of Covent +Garden. It was here that an incident occurred which afforded +Francis considerable food for thought during the next few days. + +It was a Friday night, and one or two waggons laden with +vegetable produce were already threading their way through the +difficult thoroughfares. Suddenly Sir Timothy, who was looking +out of the window, pressed the button of the car, which was at +once brought to a standstill. Before the footman could reach +the door Sir Timothy was out in the street. For the first +time Francis saw him angry. His eyes were blazing. His voice +--Francis had followed him at once into the street--shook with +passion. His hand had fallen heavily upon the shoulder of a huge +carter, who, with whip in hand, was belabouring a thin scarecrow +of a horse. + +"What the devil are you doing?" Sir Timothy demanded. + +The man stared at his questioner, and the instinctive antagonism +of race vibrated in his truculent reply. The carter was a +beery-faced, untidy-looking brute, but powerfully built and with +huge shoulders. Sir Timothy, straight as a dart, without overcoat +or any covering to his thin evening clothes, looked like a stripling +in front of him. + +"I'm whippin' 'er, if yer want to know," was the carter's reply. +"I've got to get up the 'ill, 'aven't I? Garn and mind yer own +business!" + +"This is my business," Sir Timothy declared, laying his hand upon +the neck of the horse. "I am an official of the Society for the +Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. You are laying yourself open +to a fine for your treatment of this poor brute." + +"I'll lay myself open for a fine for the treatment of something +else, if you don't quid 'old of my 'oss," the carter retorted, +throwing his whip back into the waggon and coming a step nearer. +"D'yer 'ear? I don't want any swells interferin' with my +business. You 'op it. Is that strite enough? 'Op it, quick!" + +Sir Timothy's anger seemed to have abated. There was even the +beginning of a smile upon his lips. All the time his hand +caressed the neck of the horse. Francis noticed with amazement +that the poor brute had raised his head and seemed to be making +some faint effort at reciprocation. + +"My good man," Sir Timothy said, "you seem to be one of those +brutal persons unfit to be trusted with an animal. However--" + +The carter had heard quite enough. Sir Timothy's tone seemed +to madden him. He clenched his fist and rushed in. + +"You take that for interferin', you big toff!" he shouted. + +The result of the man's effort at pugilism was almost ridiculous. +His arms appeared to go round like windmills beating the air. It +really seemed as though he had rushed upon the point of Sir +Timothy's knuckles, which had suddenly shot out like the piston +of an engine. The carter lay on his back for a moment. Then he +staggered viciously to his feet. + +"Don't," Sir Timothy begged, as he saw signs of another attack. +"I don't want to hurt you. I have been amateur champion of two +countries. Not quite fair, is it?" + +"Wot d'yer want to come interferin' with a chap's business for?" +the man growled, dabbing his cheek with a filthy handkerchief but +keeping at a respectful distance. + +"It happens to be my business also," Sir Timothy replied, "to +interfere whenever I see animals ill-treated. Now I don't want +to be unreasonable. That animal has done all the work it ought +to do in this world. How much is she worth to you?" + +Through the man's beer-clogged brain a gleam of cunning began to +find its way. He looked at the Rolls-Royce, with the two +motionless servants on the box, at Francis standing by, at Sir +Timothy, even to his thick understanding the very prototype of a +"toff." + +"That 'oss," he said, "ain't what she was, it's true, but there's +a lot of work in 'er yet. She may not be much to look at but +she's worth forty quid to me--ay, and one to spit on!" + +Sir Timothy counted out some notes from the pocketbook which he +had produced, and handed them to the man. + +"Here are fifty pounds," he said. "The mare is mine. Johnson!" + +The second man sprang from his seat and came round. + +"Unharness that mare," his master ordered, "help the man push his +trolley back out of the way, then lead the animal to the mews in +Curzon Street. See that she is well bedded down and has a good +feed of corn. To-morrow I shall send her down to the country, +but I will come and have a look at her first." + +The man touched his hat and hastened to commence his task. The +carter, who had been busy counting the notes, thrust them into +his pocket with a grin. + +"Good luck to yer, guvnor!" he shouted out, in valedictory +fashion. "'Ope I meets yer again when I've an old crock on the +go." + +Sir Timothy turned his head. + +"If ever I happen to meet you, my good man," he threatened, +"using your whip upon a poor beast who's doing his best, I +promise you you won't get up in two minutes, or twenty .... We +might walk the last few yards, Mr. Ledsam." + +The latter acquiesced at once, and in a moment or two they were +underneath the portico of the Opera House. Sir Timothy had begun +to talk about the opera but Francis was a little distrait. His +companion glanced at him curiously. + +"You are puzzled, Mr. Ledsam?" he remarked. + +"Very," was the prompt response. + +Sir Timothy smiled. + +"You are one of these primitive Anglo-Saxons," he said, "who can +see the simple things with big eyes, but who are terribly worried +at an unfamiliar constituent. You have summed me up in your mind +as a hardened brute, a criminal by predilection, a patron of +murderers. Ergo, you ask yourself why should I trouble to save a +poor beast of a horse from being chastised, and go out of my way +to provide her with a safe asylum for the rest of her life? +Shall I help you, Mr. Ledsam?" + +"I wish you would," Francis confessed. + +They had passed now through the entrance to the Opera House and +were in the corridor leading to the grand tier boxes. On every +side Sir Timothy had been received with marks of deep respect. +Two bowing attendants were preceding them. Sir Timothy leaned +towards his companion. + +"Because," he whispered, "I like animals better than human +beings." + +Margaret Hilditch, her chair pushed back into the recesses of the +box, scarcely turned her head at her father's entrance. + +"I have brought an acquaintance of yours, Margaret," the latter +announced, as he hung up his hat. "You remember Mr. Ledsam?" + +Francis drew a little breath of relief as he bowed over her hand. +For the second time her inordinate composure had been assailed. +She was her usual calm and indifferent self almost immediately, +but the gleam of surprise, and he fancied not unpleasant +surprise, had been unmistakable. + +"Are you a devotee, Mr. Ledsam?" she asked. + +"I am fond of music," Francis answered, "especially this opera." + +She motioned to the chair in the front of the box, facing the +stage. + +"You must sit there," she insisted. "I prefer always to remain +here, and my father always likes to face the audience. I really +believe," she went on, "that he likes to catch the eye of the +journalist who writes little gossipy items, and to see his name +in print." + +"But you yourself?" Francis ventured. + +"I fancy that my reasons for preferring seclusion should be +obvious enough," she replied, a little bitterly. + +"My daughter is inclined, I fear, to be a little morbid," Sir +Timothy said, settling down in his place. + +Francis made no reply. A triangular conversation of this sort +was almost impossible. The members of the orchestra were already +climbing up to their places, in preparation for the overture to +the last act. Sir Timothy rose to his feet. + +"You will excuse me for a moment," he begged. "I see a lady to +whom I must pay my respects." + +Francis drew a sigh of relief at his departure. He turned at +once to his companion. + +"Did you mind my coming?" he asked. + +"Mind it?" she repeated, with almost insolent nonchalance. "Why +should it affect me in any way? My father's friends come and go. +I have no interest in any of them." + +"But," he protested, "I want you to be interested in me." + +She moved a little uneasily in her place. Her tone, +nevertheless, remained icy. + +"Could you possibly manage to avoid personalities in your +conversation, Mr. Ledsam?" she begged. + +"I have tried already to tell you how I feel about such things." + +She was certainly difficult. Francis realised that with a little +sigh. + +"Were you surprised to see me with your father?" he asked, a +little inanely. + +"I cannot conceive what you two have found in common," she +admitted. + +"Perhaps our interest in you," he replied. "By-the-bye, I have +just seen him perform a quixotic but a very fine action," Francis +said. "He stopped a carter from thrashing his horse; knocked him +down, bought the horse from him and sent it home." + +She was mildly interested. + +"An amiable side of my father's character which no one would +suspect," she remarked. "The entire park of his country house at +Hatch End is given over to broken-down animals." + +"I am one of those," he confessed, "who find this trait amazing." + +"And I am another," she remarked coolly. "If any one settled +down seriously to try and understand my father, he would need the +spectacles of a De Quincey, the outlook of a Voltaire, and the +callousness of a Borgia. You see, he doesn't lend himself to any +of the recognised standards." + +"Neither do you," he said boldly. + +She looked away from him across the House, to where Sir Timothy +was talking to a man and woman in one of the ground-floor boxes. +Francis recognised them with some surprise--an agricultural Duke +and his daughter, Lady Cynthia Milton, one of the most, beautiful +and famous young women in London. + +"Your father goes far afield for his friends," Francis remarked. + +"My father has no friends," she replied. "He has many +acquaintances. I doubt whether he has a single confidant. I +expect Cynthia is trying to persuade him to invite her to his +next party at The Walled House." + +"I should think she would fail, won't she?" he asked. + +"Why should you think that?" + +Francis shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +"Your father's entertainments have the reputation of being +somewhat unique," he remarked. "You do not, by-the-bye, attend +them yourself." + +"You must remember that I have had very few opportunities so +far," she observed. "Besides, Cynthia has tastes which I do not +share." + +"As, for instance?" + +"She goes to the National Sporting Club. She once travelled, I +know, over a hundred miles to go to a bull fight." + +"On the whole," Francis said, "I am glad that you do not share +her tastes." + +"You know her?" Margaret enquired. + +"Indifferently well," Francis replied. "I knew her when she was +a child, and we seem to come together every now and then at long +intervals. As a debutante she was charming. Lately it seems to +me that she has got into the wrong set." + +"What do you call the wrong set?" + +He hesitated for a moment. + +"Please don't think that I am laying down the law," he said. "I +have been out so little, the last few years, that I ought not, +perhaps, to criticise. Lady Cynthia, however, seems to me to +belong to the extreme section of the younger generation, the +section who have a sort of craze for the unusual, whose taste in +art and living is distorted and bizarre. You know what I mean, +don't you--black drawing-rooms, futurist wall-papers, opium dens +and a cocaine box! It's to some extent affectation, of course, +but it's a folly that claims its victims." + +She studied him for a moment attentively. His leanness was the +leanness of muscular strength and condition, his face was full of +vigour and determination. + +"You at least have escaped the abnormal," she remarked. "I am +not quite sure how the entertainments at The Walled House would +appeal to you, but if my father should invite you there, I should +advise you not to go." + +"Why not?" he asked. + +She hesitated for a moment. + +"I really don't know why I should trouble to give you advice," +she said. "As a matter of fact, I don't care whether you go or +not. In any case, you are scarcely likely to be asked." + +"I am not sure that I agree with you," he protested. "Your +father seems to have taken quite a fancy to me." + +"And you?" she murmured. + +"Well, I like the way he bought that horse," Francis admitted. +"And I am beginning to realise that there may be something in the +theory which he advanced when he invited me to accompany him here +this evening--that there is a certain piquancy in one's +intercourse with an enemy, which friendship lacks. There may be +complexities in his character which as yet I have not +appreciated." + +The curtain had gone up and the last act of the opera had +commenced. She leaned back in her chair. Without a word or even +a gesture, he understood that a curtain had been let down between +them. He obeyed her unspoken wish and relapsed into silence. +Her very absorption, after all, was a hopeful sign. She would +have him believe that she felt nothing, that she was living +outside all the passion and sentiment of life. Yet she was +absorbed in the music .... Sir Timothy came back and seated +himself silently. It was not until the tumult of applause which +broke out after the great song of the French ouvrier, that a word +passed between them. + +"Cavalisti is better," Sir Timothy commented. "This man has not +the breadth of passion. At times he is merely peevish." + +She shook her head. + +"Cavalisti would be too egotistical for the part," she said +quietly. "It is difficult." + +Not another word was spoken until the curtain fell. Francis +lingered for a moment over the arrangement of her cloak. Sir +Timothy was already outside, talking to some acquaintances. + +"It has been a great pleasure to see you like this unexpectedly," +he said, a little wistfully. + +"I cannot imagine why," she answered, with an undernote of +trouble in her tone. "Remember the advice I gave you before. No +good can come of any friendship between my father and you." + +"There is this much of good in it, at any rate," he answered, as +he held open the door for her. "It might give me the chance of +seeing you sometimes." + +"That is not a matter worth considering," she replied. + +"I find it very much worth considering," he whispered, losing his +head for a moment as they stood close together in the dim light +of the box, and a sudden sense of the sweetness of her thrilled +his pulses. "There isn't anything in the world I want so much as +to see you oftener--to have my chance." + +There was a momentary glow in her eyes. Her lips quivered. The +few words which he saw framed there--he fancied of reproof +--remained unspoken. Sir Timothy was waiting for them at the +entrance. + +"I have been asking Mrs. Hilditch's permission to call in Curzon +Street," Francis said boldly. + +"I am sure my daughter will be delighted," was the cold but +courteous reply. + +Margaret herself made no comment. The car drew up and she +stepped into it--a tall, slim figure, wonderfully graceful in her +unrelieved black, her hair gleaming as though with some sort of +burnish, as she passed underneath the electric light. She looked +back at him with a smile of farewell as he stood bareheaded upon +the steps, a smile which reminded him somehow of her father, a +little sardonic, a little tender, having in it some faintly +challenging quality. The car rolled away. People around were +gossiping--rather freely. + +"The wife of that man Oliver Hilditch," he heard a woman say, +"the man who was tried for murder, and committed suicide the +night after his acquittal. Why, that can't be much more than +three months ago." + +"If you are the daughter of a millionaire," her escort observed, +"you can defy convention." + +"Yes, that was Sir Timothy Brast," another man was saying. "He's +supposed to be worth a cool five millions." + +"If the truth about him were known," his companion confided, +dropping his voice, "it would cost him all that to keep out of +the Old Bailey. They say that his orgies at Hatch End-- Our +taxi. Come on, Sharpe." + +Francis strolled thoughtfully homewards. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Francis Ledsam was himself again, the lightest-hearted and most +popular member of his club, still a brilliant figure in the +courts, although his appearances there were less frequent, still +devoting the greater portion of his time, to his profession, +although his work in connection with it had become less +spectacular. One morning, at the corner of Clarges Street and +Curzon Street, about three weeks after his visit to the Opera, he +came face to face with Sir Timothy Brast. + +"Well, my altruistic peerer into other people's affairs, how goes +it?" the latter enquired pleasantly. + +"How does it seem, my arch-criminal, to be still breathing God's +fresh air?" Francis retorted in the same vein. "Make the most of +it. It may not last for ever." + +Sir Timothy smiled. He was looking exceedingly well that +morning, the very prototype of a man contented with life and his +part in it. He was wearing a morning coat and silk hat, his +patent boots were faultlessly polished, his trousers pressed to +perfection, his grey silk tie neat and fashionable. +Notwithstanding his waxenlike pallor, his slim figure and lithe, +athletic walk seemed to speak of good health. + +"You may catch the minnow," he murmured. "The big fish swim on. +By-the-bye," he added, "I do not notice that your sledge-hammer +blows at crime are having much effect. Two undetected murders +last week, and one the week before. What are you about, my +astute friend?" + +"Those are matters for Scotland Yard," Francis replied, with an +indifferent little wave of the hand which held his cigarette. +"Details are for the professional. I seek that corner in Hell +where the thunders are welded and the poison gases mixed. In +other words, I seek for the brains of crime." + +"Believe me, we do not see enough of one another, my young +friend," Sir Timothy said earnestly. "You interest me more and +more every time we meet. I like your allegories, I like your +confidence, which in any one except a genius would seem blatant. +When can we dine together and talk about crime?" + +"The sooner the better," Francis replied promptly. "Invite me, +and I will cancel any other engagement I might happen to have." + +Sir Timothy considered for a moment. The June sunshine was +streaming down upon them and the atmosphere was a little +oppressive. + +"Will you dine with me at Hatch End to-night?" he asked. "My +daughter and I will be alone." + +"I should be delighted," Francis replied promptly. "I ought to +tell you, perhaps, that I have called three times upon your +daughter but have not been fortunate enough to find her at home." + +Sir Timothy was politely apologetic. + +"I fear that my daughter is a little inclined to be morbid," he +confessed. "Society is good for her. I will undertake that you +are a welcome guest." + +"At what time do I come and how shall I find your house?" Francis +enquired. + +"You motor down, I suppose?" Sir Timothy observed. "Good! In +Hatch End any one will direct you. We dine at eight. You had +better come down as soon as you have finished your day's work. +Bring a suitcase and spend the night." + +"I shall be delighted," Francis replied. + +"Do not," Sir Timothy continued, "court disappointment by +over-anticipation. You have without doubt heard of my little +gatherings at Hatch End. They are viewed, I am told, with grave +suspicion, alike by the moralists of the City and, I fear, the +police. I am not inviting you to one of those gatherings. They +are for people with other tastes. My daughter and I have been +spending a few days alone in the little bungalow by the side of +my larger house. That is where you will find us--The Sanctuary, +we call it." + +"Some day," Francis ventured, "I shall hope to be asked to one of +your more notorious gatherings. For the present occasion I much +prefer the entertainment you offer." + +"Then we are both content," Sir Timothy said, smiling. "Au +revoir!" + + +Francis walked across Green Park, along the Mall, down Horse +Guards Parade, along the Embankment to his rooms on the fringe of +the Temple. Here he found his clerk awaiting his arrival in some +disturbance of spirit. + +"There is a young gentleman here to see you, sir," he announced. +"Mr. Reginald Wilmore his name is, I think." + +"Wilmore?" Francis repeated. "What have you done with him?" + +"He is in your room, sir. He seems very impatient. He has been +out two or three times to know how long I thought you would be." + +Francis passed down the stone passage and entered his room, a +large, shady apartment at the back of the building. To his +surprise it was empty. He was on the point of calling to his +clerk when he saw that the writing-paper on his desk had been +disturbed. He went over and read a few lines written in a boy's +hasty writing: + +DEAR Mr. LEDSAM: + +I am in a very strange predicament and I have come to ask your +advice. You know my brother Andrew well, and you may remember +playing tennis with me last year. I am compelled-- + +At that point the letter terminated abruptly. There was a blot +and a smudge. The pen lay where it seemed to have rolled -on the +floor. The ink was not yet dry. Francis called to his clerk. + +"Angrave," he said, "Mr. Wilmore is not here." + +The clerk looked around in obvious surprise. + +"It isn't five minutes since he came out to my office, sir!" he +exclaimed. "I heard him go back again afterwards." + +Francis shrugged his shoulders. + +"Perhaps he decided not to wait and you didn't hear him go by." + +Angrave shook his head. + +"I do not see how he could have left the place without my hearing +him, sir," he declared. "The door of my office has been open all +the time, and I sit opposite to it. Besides, on these stone +floors one can hear any one so distinctly." + +"Then what," Francis asked, "has become of him?" + +The clerk shook his head. + +"I haven't any idea, sir," he confessed. + +Francis plunged into his work and forgot all about the matter. +He was reminded of it, however, at luncheon-time, when, on +entering the dining-room of the club, he saw Andrew Wilmore +seated alone at one of the small tables near the wall. He went +over to him at once. + +"Hullo, Andrew," he greeted him, "what are you doing here by +yourself?" + +"Bit hipped, old fellow," was the depressed reply. "Sit down, +will you?" + +Francis sat down and ordered his lunch. + +"By-the-bye," he said, "I had rather a mysterious visit this +morning from your brother Reggie." + +Wilmore stared at him for a moment, half in relief, half in +amazement. + +"Good God, Francis, you don't say so!" he exclaimed. "How was +he? What did he want? Tell me about it at once? We've been +worried to death about the boy." + +"Well, as a matter of fact, I didn't see him," Francis explained. +"He arrived before I reached my rooms--as you know, I don't live +there--waited some time, began to write me this note,"--drawing +the sheet of paper from his pocket--"and when I got there had +disappeared without leaving a message or anything." + +Wilmore adjusted his pince nez with trembling fingers. Then he +read the few lines through. + +"Francis," he said, when he had finished them, "do you know that +this is the first word we've heard of him for three days?" + +"Great heavens!" Francis exclaimed. "He was living with his +mother, wasn't he?" + +"Down at Kensington, but he hasn't been there since Monday," +Andrew replied. "His mother is in a terrible state. And now +this, I don't understand it at all." + +"Was the boy hard up?" + +"Not more than most young fellows are," was the puzzled reply. +"His allowance was due in a few days, too. He had money in the +bank, I feel sure. He was saving up for a motorcar." + +"Haven't I seen him once or twice at restaurants lately?" Francis +enquired. "Soto's, for instance?" + +"Very likely," his brother assented. "Why not? He's fond of +dancing, and we none of us ever encouraged him to be a +stay-at-home." + +"Any particular girl was he interested in?" + +"Not that we know of. Like most young fellows of his age, he was +rather keen on young women with some connection with the stage, +but I don't believe there was any one in particular. Reggie was +too fond of games to waste much time that way. He's at the +gymnasium three evenings a week." + +"I wish I'd been at the office a few minutes earlier this +morning," Francis observed. "I tell you what, Andrew. I have +some pals down at Scotland Yard, and I'll go down and see them +this afternoon. They'll want a photograph, and to ask a few +questions, I dare say, but I shouldn't talk about the matter too +much." + +"You're very kind, Francis," his friend replied, "but it isn't so +easy to sit tight. I was going to the police myself this +afternoon." + +"Take my advice and leave it to me," Francis begged. "I have a +particular pal down at Scotland Yard who I know will be +interested, and I want him to take up the case." + +"You haven't any theory, I suppose?" Wilmore asked, a little +wistfully. + +Francis shook his head. + +"Not the ghost of one," he admitted. "The reason I am advising +you to keep as quiet as possible, though, is just this. If you +create a lot of interest in a disappearance, you have to satisfy +the public curiosity when the mystery is solved." + +"I see," Wilmore murmured. "All the same, I can't imagine Reggie +getting mixed up in anything discreditable." + +"Neither can I, from what I remember of the boy," Francis agreed. +"Let me see, what was he doing in the City?" + +"He was with Jameson & Scott, the stockbrokers," Wilmore replied. +"He was only learning the business and he had no +responsibilities. Curiously enough, though, when I went to see +Mr. Jameson he pointed out one or two little matters that Reggie +had attended to, which looked as though he were clearing up, +somehow or other." + +"He left no message there, I suppose?" + +"Not a line or a word. He gave the porter five shillings, +though, on the afternoon before he disappeared--a man who has +done some odd jobs for him." + +"Well, a voluntary disappearance is better than an involuntary +one," Francis remarked. "What was his usual programme when he +left the office?" + +"He either went to Queen's and played racquets, or he went +straight to his gymnasium in the Holborn. I telephoned to +Queen's. He didn't call there on the Wednesday night, anyhow." + +"Where's the gymnasium?" + +"At 147 a Holborn. A lot of city young men go there late in the +evening, but Reggie got off earlier than most of them and used to +have the place pretty well to himself. I think that's why he +stuck to it." + +Francis made a note of the address. + +"I'll get Shopland to step down there some time," he said. "Or +better still, finish your lunch and we'll take a taxi there +ourselves. I'm going to the country later on, but I've +half-an-hour to spare. We can go without our coffee and be +there in ten minutes." + +"A great idea," Wilmore acquiesced. "It's probably the last +place Reggie visited, anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The gymnasium itself was a source of immense surprise to both +Francis and Wilmore. It stretched along the entire top storey of +a long block of buildings, and was elaborately fitted with +bathrooms, a restaurant and a reading-room. The trapezes, bars, +and all the usual appointments were of the best possible quality. +The manager, a powerful-looking man dressed with the precision of +the prosperous city magnate, came out of his office to greet +them. + +"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he enquired. + +"First of all," Francis replied, "accept our heartiest +congratulations upon your wonderful gymnasium." + +The man bowed. + +"It is the best appointed in the country, sir," he said proudly. +"Absolutely no expense has been spared in fitting it up. Every +one of our appliances is of the latest possible description, and +our bathrooms are an exact copy of those in a famous Philadelphia +club." + +"What is the subscription?" Wilmore asked. + +"Five shillings a year." + +"And how many members?" + +"Two thousand." + +The manager smiled as he saw his two visitors exchange puzzled +glances. + +"Needless to say, sir," he added, "we are not self-supporting. +We have very generous patrons." + +"I lave heard my brother speak of this place as being quite +wonderful," Wilmore remarked, "but I had no idea that it was upon +this scale." + +"Is your brother a member?" the man asked. + +"He is. To tell you the truth, we came here to ask you a +question about him." + +"What is his name?" + +"Reginald Wilmore. He was here, I think, last Wednesday night." + +While Wilmore talked, Francis watched. He was conscious of a +curious change in the man's deportment at the mention of Reginald +Wilmore's name. From being full of bumptious, almost +condescending good-nature, his expression had changed into one of +stony incivility. There was something almost sinister in the +tightly-closed lips and the suspicious gleam in his eyes. + +"What questions did you wish to ask?" he demanded. + +"Mr. Reginald Wilmore has disappeared," Francis explained simply. +"He came here on leaving the office last Monday. He has not been +seen or heard of since." + +"Well?" the manager asked. + +"We came to ask whether you happen to remember his being here on +that evening, and whether he gave any one here any indication of +his future movements. We thought, perhaps, that the instructor +who was with him might have some information." + +"Not a chance," was the uncompromising reply. "I remember Mr. +Wilmore being here perfectly. He was doing double turns on the +high bar. I saw more of him myself than any one. I was with him +when he went down to have his swim." + +"Did he seem in his usual spirits?" Wilmore ventured. + +"I don't notice what spirits my pupils are in," the man answered, +a little insolently. "There was nothing the matter with him so +far as I know." + +"He didn't say anything about going away?" + +"Not a word. You'll excuse me, gentlemen--" + +"One moment," Francis interrupted. "We came here ourselves +sooner than send a detective. Enquiries are bound to be made as +to the young man's disappearance, and we have reason to know that +this is the last place at which he was heard of. It is not +unreasonable, therefore, is it, that we should come to you for +information?" + +"Reasonable or unreasonable, I haven't got any," the man declared +gruffly. "If Mr. Wilmore's cleared out, he's cleared out for +some reason of his own. It's not my business and I don't know +anything about it." + +"You understand," Francis persisted, "that our interest in young +Mr. Wilmore is entirely a friendly one?" + +"I don't care whether it's friendly or unfriendly. I tell you I +don't know anything about him. And," he added, pressing his +thumb upon the button for the lift, "I'll wish you two gentlemen +good afternoon. I've business to attend to." + +Francis looked at him curiously. + +"Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" he asked, a little +abruptly. + +"I can't say. My name is John Maclane." + +"Heavy-weight champion about seven years ago?" + +"I was," the man acknowledged. "You may have seen me in the +ring. Now, gentlemen, if you please." + +The lift had stopped opposite to them. The manager's gesture of +dismissal was final. + +"I am sorry, Mr. Maclane, if we have annoyed you with our +questions," Francis said. "I wish you could remember a little +more of Mr. Wilmore's last visit." + +"Well, I can't, and that's all there is to it," was the blunt +reply. "As to being annoyed, I am only annoyed when my time's +wasted. Take these gents down, Jim. Good afternoon!" + +The door was slammed to and they shot downwards. Francis turned +to the lift man. + +"Do you know a Mr. Wilmore who comes here sometimes?" he asked. + +"Not likely!" the man scoffed. "They're comin' and goin' all the +time from four o'clock in the afternoon till eleven at night. If +I heard a name I shouldn't remember it. This way out, +gentlemen." + +Wilmore's hand was in his pocket but the man turned deliberately +away. They walked out into the street. + +"For downright incivility," the former observed, "commend me to +the attendants of a young men's gymnasium!" + +Francis smiled. + +"All the same, old fellow," he said, "if you worry for another +five minutes about Reggie, you're an ass." + +At six o'clock that evening Francis turned his two-seater into a +winding drive bordered with rhododendrons, and pulled up before +the porch of a charming two-storied bungalow, covered with +creepers, and with French-windows opening from every room onto +the lawns. A man-servant who had heard the approach of the car +was already standing in the porch. Sir Timothy, in white +flannels and a panama hat, strolled across the lawn to greet his +approaching guest. + +"Excellently timed, my young friend," he said. "You will have +time for your first cocktail before you change. My daughter you +know, of course. Lady Cynthia Milton I think you also know." + +Francis shook hands with the two girls who were lying under the +cedar tree. Margaret Hilditch seemed to him more wonderful than +ever in her white serge boating clothes. Lady Cynthia, who had +apparently just arrived from some function in town, was still +wearing muslin and a large hat. + +"I am always afraid that Mr. Ledsam will have forgotten me," she +observed, as she gave him her hand. "The last time I met you was +at the Old Bailey, when you had been cheating the gallows of a +very respectable wife murderer. Poynings, I think his name was." + +"I remember it perfectly," Francis assented. "We danced together +that night, I remember, at your aunt's, Mrs. Malcolm's, and you +were intensely curious to know how Poynings had spent his +evening." + +"Lady Cynthia's reminder is perhaps a little unfortunate," Sir +Timothy observed. "Mr. Ledsam is no longer the last hope of the +enterprising criminal. He has turned over a new leaf. To secure +the services of his silver tongue, you have to lay at his feet no +longer the bags of gold from your ill-gotten gains but the white +flower of the blameless life." + +"This is all in the worst possible taste," Margaret Hilditch +declared, in her cold, expressionless tone. "You might consider +my feelings." + +Lady Cynthia only laughed. + +"My dear Margaret," she said, "if I thought that you had any, I +should never believe that you were your father's daughter. +Here's to them, anyway," she added, accepting the cocktail from +the tray which the butler had just brought out. "Mr. Ledsam, are +you going to attach yourself to me, or has Margaret annexed you?" + +"I have offered myself to Mrs. Hilditch," Francis rejoined +promptly, "but so far I have made no impression." + +"Try her with a punt and a concertina after dinner," Lady Cynthia +suggested. "After all, I came down here to better my +acquaintance with my host. You flirted with me disgracefully +when I was a debutante, and have never taken any notice of me +since. I hate infidelity in a man. Sir Timothy, I shall devote +myself to you. Can you play a concertina?" + +"Where the higher forms of music are concerned," he replied, "I +have no technical ability. I should prefer to sit at your feet." + +"While I punt, I suppose?" + +"There are backwaters," he suggested. + +Lady Cynthia sipped her cocktail appreciatively. + +"I wonder how it is," she observed, "that in these days, although +we have become callous to everything else in life, cocktails and +flirtations still attract us. You shall take me to a backwater +after dinner, Sir Timothy. I shall wear my silver-grey and take +an armful of those black cushions from the drawing-room. In that +half light, there is no telling what success I may not achieve." + +Sir Timothy sighed. + +"Alas!" he said, "before dinner is over you will probably have +changed your mind." + +"Perhaps so," she admitted, "but you must remember that Mr. +Ledsam is my only alternative, and I am not at all sure that he +likes me. I am not sufficiently Victorian for his taste." + +The dressing-bell rang. Sir Timothy passed his arm through +Francis'. + +"The sentimental side of my domain;" he said, "the others may +show you. My rose garden across the stream has been very much +admired. I am now going to give you a glimpse of The Walled +House, an edifice the possession of which has made me more or +less famous." + +He led the way through a little shrubbery, across a further strip +of garden and through a door in a high wall, which he opened with +a key attached to his watch-chain. They were in an open park +now, studded with magnificent trees, in the further corner of +which stood an imposing mansion, with a great domed roof in the +centre, and broad stone terraces, one of which led down to the +river. The house itself was an amazingly blended mixture of old +and new, with great wings supported by pillars thrown out on +either side. It seemed to have been built without regard to any +definite period of architecture, and yet to have attained a +certain coherency--a far-reaching structure, with long lines of +outbuildings. In the park itself were a score or more of horses, +and in the distance beyond a long line of loose boxes with open +doors. Even as they stood there, a grey sorrel mare had trotted +up to their side and laid her head against Sir Timothy's +shoulder. He caressed her surreptitiously, affecting not to +notice the approach of other animals from all quarters. + +"Let me introduce you to The Walled House," its owner observed, +"so called, I imagine, because this wall, which is a great deal +older than you or I, completely encloses the estate. Of course, +you remember the old house, The Walled Palace, they called it? +It belonged for many years to the Lynton family, and afterwards +to the Crown." + +"I remember reading of your purchase," Francis said, "and of +course I remember the old mansion. You seem to have wiped it out +pretty effectually." + +"I was obliged to play the vandal," his host confessed. "In its +previous state, the house was picturesque but uninhabitable. As +you see it now, it is an exact reproduction of the country home +of one of the lesser known of the Borgias--Sodina, I believe the +lady's name was. You will find inside some beautiful arches, and +a sense of space which all modern houses lack. It cost me a +great deal of money, and it is inhabited, when I am in Europe, +about once a fortnight. You know the river name for it? +'Timothy's Folly!"' + +"But what on earth made you build it, so long as you don't care +to live there?" Francis enquired. + +Sir Timothy smiled reflectively. + +"Well," he explained, "I like sometimes to entertain, and I like +to entertain, when I do, on a grand scale. In London, if I give +a party, the invitations are almost automatic. I become there a +very insignificant link in the chain of what is known as Society, +and Society practically helps itself to my entertainment, and +sees that everything is done according to rule. Down here things +are entirely different. An invitation to The Walled House is a +personal matter. Society has nothing whatever to do with my +functions here. The reception-rooms, too, are arranged according +to my own ideas. I have, as you may have heard, the finest +private gymnasium in England. The ballroom and music-room and +private theatre, too, are famous." + +"And do you mean to say that you keep that huge place empty?" +Francis asked curiously. + +"I have a suite of rooms there which I occasionally occupy," Sir +Timothy replied, "and there are always thirty or forty servants +and attendants of different sorts who have their quarters there. +I suppose that my daughter and I would be there at the present +moment but for the fact that we own this cottage. Both she and +I, for residential purposes, prefer the atmosphere there." + +"I scarcely wonder at it," Francis agreed. + +They were surrounded now by various quadrupeds. As well as the +horses, half-a-dozen of which were standing patiently by Sir +Timothy's side, several dogs had made their appearance and after +a little preliminary enthusiasm had settled down at his feet. +He leaned over and whispered something in the ear of the mare who +had come first. She trotted off, and the others followed suit in +a curious little procession. Sir Timothy watched them, keeping +his head turned away from Francis. + +"You recognise the mare the third from the end?" he pointed out. +"That is the animal I bought in Covent Garden. You see how she +has filled out?" + +"I should never have recognised her," the other confessed. + +"Even Nero had his weaknesses," Sir Timothy remarked, waving the +dogs away. "My animals' quarters are well worth a visit, if you +have time. There is a small hospital, too, which is quite up to +date." + +"Do any of the horses work at all?" Francis asked. + +Sir Timothy smiled. + +"I will tell you a very human thing about my favourites," he +said. "In the gardens on the other side of the house we have +very extensive lawns, and my head groom thought he would make use +of one of a my horses who had recovered from a serious accident +and was really quite a strong beast, for one of the machines. He +found the idea quite a success, and now he no sooner appears in +the park with a halter than, instead of stampeding, practically +every one of those horses comes cantering up with the true +volunteering spirit. The one which he selects, arches his neck +and goes off to work with a whole string of the others following. +Dodsley--that is my groom's name--tells me that he does a great +deal more mowing now than he need, simply because they worry him +for the work. Gratitude, you see, Mr. Ledsam, sheer gratitude. +If you were to provide a dozen alms-houses for your poor +dependants, I wonder how many of them would be anxious to mow +your lawn.... Come, let me show you your room now." + +They passed back through the postern-gate into the gardens of The +Sanctuary. Sir Timothy led the way towards the house. + +"I am glad that you decided to spend the night, Mr. Ledsam," he +said. "The river sounds a terribly hackneyed place to the +Londoner, but it has beauties which only those who live with it +can discover. Mind your head. My ceilings are low." + +Francis followed his host along many passages, up and down +stairs, until he reached a little suite of rooms at the extreme +end of the building. The man-servant who had unpacked his bag +stood waiting. Sir Timothy glanced around critically. + +"Small but compact," he remarked. "There is a little sitting-room +down that stair, and a bathroom beyond. If the flowers annoy you, +throw them out of the window. And if you prefer to bathe in the +river to-morrow morning, Brooks here will show you the diving pool. +I am wearing a short coat myself to-night, but do as you please. +We dine at half-past eight." + +Sir Timothy disappeared with a courteous little inclination of the +head. Francis dismissed the manservant at once as being out of +keeping with his quaint and fascinating surroundings. The tiny +room with its flowers, its perfume of lavender, its old-fashioned +chintzes, and its fragrant linen, might still have been a room in +a cottage. The sitting-room, with its veranda looking down upon +the river, was provided with cigars, whisky and soda and +cigarettes; a bookcase, with a rare copy of Rabelais, an original +Surtees, a large paper Decameron, and a few other classics. Down +another couple of steps was a perfectly white bathroom, with shower +and plunge. Francis wandered from room to room, and finally threw +himself into a chair on the veranda to smoke a cigarette. From +the river below him came now and then the sound of voices. Through +the trees on his right he could catch a glimpse, here and there, of +the strange pillars and green domed roof of the Borghese villa. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +It was one of those faultless June evenings when the only mission +of the faintly stirring breeze seems to be to carry perfumes from +garden to garden and to make the lightest of music amongst the +rustling leaves. The dinner-table had been set out of doors, +underneath the odorous cedar-tree. Above, the sky was an arc of +the deepest blue through which the web of stars had scarcely yet +found its way. Every now and then came the sound of the splash +of oars from the river; more rarely still, the murmur of light +voices as a punt passed up the stream. The little party at The +Sanctuary sat over their coffee and liqueurs long after the fall +of the first twilight, till the points of their cigarettes glowed +like little specks of fire through the enveloping darkness. +Conversation had been from the first curiously desultory, edited, +in a way, Francis felt, for his benefit. There was an atmosphere +about his host and Lady Cynthia, shared in a negative way by +Margaret Hilditch, which baffled Francis. It seemed to establish +more than a lack of sympathy--to suggest, even, a life lived upon +a different plane. Yet every now and then their references to +everyday happenings were trite enough. Sir Timothy had assailed +the recent craze for drugs, a diatribe to which Lady Cynthia had +listened in silence for reasons which Francis could surmise. + +"If one must soothe the senses," Sir Timothy declared, "for the +purpose of forgetting a distasteful or painful present, I cannot +see why the average mind does not turn to the contemplation of +beauty in some shape or other. A night like to-night is surely +sedative enough. Watch these lights, drink in these perfumes, +listen to the fall and flow of the water long enough, and you +would arrive at precisely the same mental inertia as though you +had taken a dose of cocaine, with far less harmful an aftermath." + +Lady Cynthia shrugged her shoulders. + +"Cocaine is in one's dressing-room," she objected, "and beauty is +hard to seek in Grosvenor Square." + +"The common mistake of all men," Sir Timothy continued, "and +women, too, for the matter of that, is that we will persist in +formulating doctrines for other people. Every man or woman is an +entity of humanity, with a separate heaven and a separate hell. +No two people can breathe the same air in the same way, or see +the same picture with the same eyes." + +Lady Cynthia rose to her feet and shook out the folds of her +diaphanous gown, daring alike in its shapelessness and +scantiness. She lit a cigarette and laid her hand upon Sir +Timothy's arm. + +"Come," she said, "must I remind you of your promise? You are to +show me the stables at The Walled House before it is dark." + +"You would see them better in the morning," he reminded her, +rising with some reluctance to his feet. + +"Perhaps," she answered, "but I have a fancy to see them now." + +Sir Timothy looked back at the table. + +"Margaret," he said, "will you look after Mr. Ledsam for a little +time? You will excuse us, Ledsam? We shall not be gone long." + +They moved away together towards the shrubbery and the door in +the wall behind. Francis resumed his seat. + +"Are you not also curious to penetrate the mysteries behind the +wall, Mr. Ledsam?" Margaret asked. + +"Not so curious but that I would much prefer to remain here," he +answered. + +"With me?" + +"With you." + +She knocked the ash from her cigarette. She was looking directly +at him, and he fancied that there was a gleam of curiosity in her +beautiful eyes. There was certainly a little more abandon about +her attitude. She was leaning back in a corner of her high-backed +chair, and her gown, although it lacked the daring of Lady Cynthia's, +seemed to rest about her like a cloud of blue-grey smoke. + +"What a curious meal!" she murmured. "Can you solve a puzzle for +me, Mr. Ledsam?" + +"I would do anything for you that I could," he answered. + +"Tell me, then, why my father asked you here to-night? I can +understand his bringing you to the opera, that was just a whim of +the moment, but an invitation down here savours of deliberation. +Studiously polite though you are to one another, one is conscious +all the time of the hostility beneath the surface." + +"I think that so far as your father is concerned, it is part of +his peculiar disposition," Francis replied. "You remember he +once said that he was tired of entertaining his friends--that +there was more pleasure in having an enemy at the board." + +"Are you an enemy, Mr. Ledsam?" she asked curiously. + +He rose a little abruptly to his feet, ignoring her question. +There were servants hovering in the background. + +"Will you walk with me in the gardens?" he begged. "Or may I +take you upon the river?" + +She rose to her feet. For a moment she seemed to hesitate. + +"The river, I think," she decided. "Will you wait for three +minutes while I get a wrap. You will find some punts moored to +the landing-stage there in the stream. I like the very largest +and most comfortable." + +Francis strolled to the edge of the stream, and made his choice +of punts. Soon a servant appeared with his arms full of +cushions, and a moment or two later, Margaret herself, wrapped in +an ermine cloak. She smiled a little deprecatingly as she picked +her way across the lawn. + +"Don't laugh at me for being such a chilly mortal, please," she +enjoined. "And don't be afraid that I am going to propose a long +expedition. I want to go to a little backwater in the next +stream." + +She settled herself in the stern and they glided down the narrow +thoroughfare. The rose bushes from the garden almost lapped the +water as they passed. Behind, the long low cottage, the deserted +dinner-table, the smooth lawn with its beds of scarlet geraniums +and drooping lilac shrubs in the background, seemed like a scene +from fairyland, to attain a perfection of detail unreal, almost +theatrical. + +"To the right when you reach the river, please," she directed. +"You will find there is scarcely any current. We turn up the +next stream." + +There was something almost mysterious, a little impressive, about +the broad expanse of river into which they presently turned. +Opposite were woods and then a sloping lawn. From a house hidden +in the distance they heard the sound of a woman singing. They +even caught the murmurs of applause as she concluded. Then there +was silence, only the soft gurgling of the water cloven by the +punt pole. They glided past the front of the great unlit house, +past another strip of woodland, and then up a narrow stream. + +"To the left here," she directed, "and then stop." + +They bumped against the bank. The little backwater into which +they had turned seemed to terminate in a bed of lilies whose +faint fragrance almost enveloped them. The trees on either side +made a little arch of darkness. + +"Please ship your pole and listen," Margaret said dreamily. +"Make yourself as comfortable as you can. There are plenty of +cushions behind you. This is where I come for silence." + +Francis obeyed her orders without remark. For a few moments, +speech seemed impossible. The darkness was so intense that +although he was acutely conscious of her presence there, only a +few feet away, nothing but the barest outline of her form was +visible. The silence which she had brought him to seek was all +around them. There was just the faintest splash of water from +the spot where the stream and the river met, the distant barking +of a dog, the occasional croaking of a frog from somewhere in the +midst of the bed of lilies. Otherwise the silence and the +darkness were like a shroud. Francis leaned forward in his +place. His hands, which gripped the sides of the punt, were hot. +The serenity of the night mocked him. + +"So this is your paradise," he said, a little hoarsely. + +She made no answer. Her silence seemed to him more thrilling +than words. He leaned forward. His hands fell upon the soft fur +which encompassed her. They rested there. Still she did not +speak. He tightened his grasp, moved further forward, the +passion surging through his veins, his breath almost failing him. +He was so near now that he heard her breathing, saw her face, as +pale as ever. Her lips were a little parted, her eyes looked +out, as it seemed to him, half in fear, half in hope. He bent +lower still. She neither shrank away nor invited him. + +"Dear!" he whispered. + +Her arms stole from underneath the cloak, her fingers rested upon +his shoulders. He scarcely knew whether it was a caress or +whether she were holding him from her. In any case it was too +late. With a little sob of passion his lips were pressed to +hers. Even as she closed her eyes, the scent of the lilies +seemed to intoxicate him. + +He was back in his place without conscious movement. His pulses +were quivering, the passion singing in his blood, the joy of her +faint caress living proudly in his memory. It had been the +moment of his life, and yet even now he felt sick at heart with +fears, with the torment of her passiveness. She had lain there +in his arms, he had felt the thrill of her body, some quaint +inspiration had told him that she had sought for joy in that +moment and had not wholly failed. Yet his anxiety was +tumultuous, overwhelming. Then she spoke, and his heart leaped +again. Her voice was more natural. It was not a voice which he +had ever heard before. + +"Give me a cigarette, please--and I want to go back." + +He leaned over her again, struck a match with trembling fingers +and gave her the cigarette. She smiled at him very faintly. + +"Please go back now," she begged. "Smoke yourself, take me home +slowly and say nothing." + +He obeyed, but his knees were shaking when he stood up. Slowly, +a foot at a time, they passed from the mesh of the lilies out +into the broad stream. Almost as they did so, the yellow rim of +the moon came up over the low hills. As they turned into their +own stream, the light was strong enough for him to see her face. +She lay there like a ghost, her eyes half closed, the only touch +of colour in the shining strands of her beautiful hair. She +roused herself a little as they swung around. He paused, leaning +upon the pole. + +"You are not angry?" he asked. + +"No, I am not angry," she answered. "Why should I be? But I +cannot talk to you about it tonight." + +They glided to the edge of the landing-stage. A servant appeared +and secured the punt. + +"Is Sir Timothy back yet?" Margaret enquired. + +"Not yet, madam." + +She turned to Francis. + +"Please go and have a whisky and soda in the smoking-room," she +said, pointing to the open French windows. "I am going to my +favourite seat. You will find me just across the bridge there." + +He hesitated, filled with a passionate disinclination to leave +her side even for a moment. She seemed to understand but she +pointed once more to the room. + +"I should like very much," she added, "to be alone for five +minutes. If you will come and find me then--please!" + +Francis stepped through the French windows into the smoking-room, +where all the paraphernalia for satisfying thirst were set out +upon the sideboard. He helped himself to whisky and soda and +drank it absently, with his eyes fixed upon the clock. In five +minutes he stepped once more back into the gardens, soft and +brilliant now in the moonlight. As he did so, he heard the click +of the gate in the wall, and footsteps. His host, with Lady +Cynthia upon his arm, came into sight and crossed the lawn +towards him. Francis, filled though his mind was with other +thoughts, paused for a moment and glanced towards them curiously. +Lady Cynthia seemed for a moment to have lost all her weariness. +Her eyes were very bright, she walked with a new spring in her +movements. Even her voice, as she addressed Francis, seemed +altered. + +"Sir Timothy has been showing me some of the wonders of his +villa--do you call it a villa or a palace?" she asked. + +"It is certainly not a palace," Sir Timothy protested, "and I +fear that it has scarcely the atmosphere of a villa. It is an +attempt to combine certain ideas of my own with the requirements +of modern entertainment. Come and have a drink with us, Ledsam." + +"I have just had one," Francis replied. "Mrs. Hilditch is in the +rose garden and I am on my way to join her." + +He passed on and the two moved towards the open French windows. +He crossed the rustic bridge that led into the flower garden, +turned down the pergola and came to a sudden standstill before +the seat which Margaret had indicated. It was empty, but in the +corner lay the long-stalked lily which she had picked in the +backwater. He stood there for a moment, transfixed. There were +other seats and chairs in the garden, but he knew before he +started his search that it was in vain. She had gone. The +flower, drooping a little now though the stalk was still wet with +the moisture of the river, seemed to him like her farewell. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Francis was surprised, when he descended for breakfast the next +morning, to find the table laid for one only. The butler who was +waiting, handed him the daily papers and wheeled the electric +heater to his side. + +"Is no one else breakfasting?" Francis asked. + +"Sir Timothy and Mrs. Hilditch are always served in their rooms, +sir. Her ladyship is taking her coffee upstairs." + +Francis ate his breakfast, glanced through the Times, lit a +cigarette and went round to the garage for his car. The butler +met him as he drove up before the porch. + +"Sir Timothy begs you to excuse him this morning, sir," he +announced. "His secretary has arrived from town with a very +large correspondence which they are now engaged upon." + +"And Mrs. Hilditch?" Francis ventured. + +"I have not seen her maid this morning, sir," the man replied, +"but Mrs. Hilditch never rises before midday. Sir Timothy hopes +that you slept well, sir, and would like you to sign the +visitors' book." + +Francis signed his name mechanically, and was turning away when +Lady Cynthia called to him from the stairs. She was dressed for +travelling and followed by a maid, carrying her dressing-case. + +"Will you take me up to town, Mr. Ledsam?" she asked. + +"Delighted," he answered. + +Their dressing-cases were strapped together behind and Lady +Cynthia sank into the cushions by his side. They drove away from +the house, Francis with a backward glance of regret. The striped +sun-blinds had been lowered over all the windows, thrushes and +blackbirds were twittering on the lawn, the air was sweet with +the perfume of flowers, a boatman was busy with the boats. Out +beyond, through the trees, the river wound its placid way. + +"Quite a little paradise," Lady Cynthia murmured. + +"Delightful," her companion assented. "I suppose great wealth +has its obligations, but why any human being should rear such a +structure as what he calls his Borghese villa, when he has a +charming place like that to live in, I can't imagine." + +Her silence was significant, almost purposeful. She unwound the +veil from her motoring turban, took it off altogether and +attached it to the cushions of the car with a hatpin. + +"There," she said, leaning back, "you can now gaze upon a +horrible example to the young women of to-day. You can see the +ravages which late hours, innumerable cocktails, a thirst for +excitement, a contempt of the simple pleasures of life, have +worked upon my once comely features. I was quite good-looking, +you know, in the days you first knew me." + +"You were the most beautiful debutante of your season," he +agreed. + +"What do you think of me now?" she asked. + +She met his gaze without flinching. Her face was unnaturally +thin, with disfiguring hollows underneath her cheekbones; her +lips lacked colour; even her eyes were lustreless. Her hair +seemed to lack brilliancy. Only her silken eyebrows remained +unimpaired, and a certain charm of expression which nothing +seemed able to destroy. + +"You look tired," he said. + +"Be honest, my dear man," she rejoined drily. "I am a physical +wreck, dependent upon cosmetics for the looks which I am still +clever enough to palm off on the uninitiated." + +"Why don't you lead a quieter life?" he asked. "A month or so in +the country would put you all right." + +She laughed a little hardly. Then for a moment she looked at him +appraisingly. + +"I was going to speak to you of nerves," she said, "but how would +you ever understand? You look as though you had not a nerve in +your body. I can't think how you manage it, living in London. I +suppose you do exercises and take care of what you eat and +drink." + +"I do nothing of the sort," he assured her indignantly. "I eat +and drink whatever I fancy. I have always had a direct object in +life--my work--and I believe that has kept me fit and well. +Nerve troubles come as a rule, I think, from the under-used +brain." + +"I must have been born with a butterfly disposition," she said. +"I am quite sure that mine come because I find it so hard to be +amused. I am sure I am most enterprising. I try whatever comes +along, but nothing satisfies me." + +"Why not try being in love with one of these men who've been in +love with you all their lives?" + +She laughed bitterly. + +"The men who have cared for me and have been worth caring about," +she said, "gave me up years ago. I mocked at them when they were +in earnest, scoffed at sentiment, and told them frankly that when +I married it would only be to find a refuge for broader life. +The right sort wouldn't have anything to say to me after that, +and I do not blame them. And here is the torture of it. I can't +stand the wrong sort near me--physically, I mean. Mind, I +believe I'm attracted towards people with criminal tastes and +propensities. I believe that is what first led me towards Sir +Timothy. Every taste I ever had in life seems to have become +besmirched. I'm all the time full of the craving to do horrible +things, but all the same I can't bear to be touched. That's the +torment of it. I wonder if you can understand?" + +"I think I can," he answered. "Your trouble lies in having the +wrong friends and in lack of self-discipline. If you were my +sister, I'd take you away for a fortnight and put you on the road +to being cured." + +"Then I wish I were your sister," she sighed. + +"Don't think I'm unsympathetic," he went on, "because I'm not. +Wait till we've got into the main road here and I'll try and +explain." + +They were passing along a country lane, so narrow that twigs +from the hedges, wreathed here and there in wild roses, brushed +almost against their cheeks. On their left was the sound of a +reaping-machine and the perfume of new-mown hay. The sun was +growing stronger at every moment. A transitory gleam of pleasure +softened her face. + +"It is ages since I smelt honeysuckle," she confessed, "except in +a perfumer's shop. I was wondering what it reminded me of." + +"That," he said, as they turned out into the broad main road, +with its long vista of telegraph poles, "is because you have been +neglecting the real for the sham, flowers themselves for their +artificially distilled perfume. What I was going to try and put +into words without sounding too priggish, Lady Cynthia," he went +on, "is this. It is just you people who are cursed with a +restless brain who are in the most dangerous position, nowadays. +The things which keep us healthy and normal physically--games, +farces, dinner-parties of young people, fresh air and exercise +--are the very things which after a time fail to satisfy the +person with imagination. You want more out of life, always the +something you don't understand, the something beyond. And so you +keep on trying new things, and for every new thing you try, you +drop an old one. Isn't it something like that?" + +"I suppose it is," she admitted wearily. + +"Drugs take the place of wholesome wine," he went on, warming to +his subject. "The hideous fascination of flirting with the +uncouth or the impossible some way or another, stimulates a +passion which simple means have ceased to gratify. You seek for +the unusual in every way--in food, in the substitution of +absinthe for your harmless Martini, of cocaine for your +stimulating champagne. There is a horrible wave of all this +sort of thing going on to-day in many places, and I am afraid," +he concluded, "that a great many of our very nicest young women +are caught up in it." + +"Guilty," she confessed. "Now cure me." + +"I could point out the promised land, but how, could I lead you +to it?" he answered. + +"You don't like me well enough," she sighed. + +"I like you better than you believe," he assured her, slackening +his speed a little. "We have met, I suppose, a dozen times in +our lives. I have danced with you here and there, talked +nonsense once, I remember, at a musical reception--" + +"I tried to flirt with you then," she interrupted. + +He nodded. + +"I was in the midst of a great case," he said, "and everything +that happened to me outside it was swept out of my mind day by +day. What I was going to say is that I have always liked you, +from the moment when your mother presented me to you at your +first dance." + +"I wish you'd told me so," she murmured. + +"It wouldn't have made any difference," he declared. "I wasn't +in a position to think of a duke's daughter, in those days. I +don't suppose I am now." + +"Try," she begged hopefully. + +He smiled back at her. The reawakening of her sense of humour +was something. + +"Too late," he regretted. "During the last month or so the thing +has come to me which we all look forward to, only I don't think +fate has treated me kindly. I have always loved normal ways and +normal people, and the woman I care for is different." + +"Tell me about her?" she insisted. + +"You will be very surprised when I tell you her name," he said. +"It is Margaret Hilditch." + +She looked at him for a moment in blank astonishment. + +"Heavens!" she exclaimed. "Oliver Hilditch's wife!" + +"I can't help that," he declared, a little doggedly. "She's had +a miserable time, I know. She was married to a scamp. I'm not +quite sure that her father isn't as bad a one. Those things +don't make any difference." + +"They wouldn't with you," she said softly. "Tell me, did you say +anything to her last night?" + +"I did," he replied. "I began when we were out alone together. +She gave me no encouragement to speak of, but at any rate she +knows." + +Lady Cynthia leaned a little forward in her place. + +"Do you know where she is now?" + +He was a little startled. + +"Down at the cottage, I suppose. The butler told me that she +never rose before midday." + +"Then for once the butler was mistaken," his companion told him. +"Margaret Hilditch left at six o'clock this morning. I saw her +in travelling clothes get into the car and drive away." + +"She left the cottage this morning before us?" Francis repeated, +amazed. + +"I can assure you that she did," Lady Cynthia insisted. "I never +sleep, amongst my other peculiarities," she went on bitterly, +"and I was lying on a couch by the side of the open window when +the car came for her. She stopped it at the bend of the avenue +--so that it shouldn't wake us up, I suppose. I saw her get in +and drive away." + +Francis was silent for several moments. Lady Cynthia watched him +curiously. + +"At any rate," she observed, "in whatever mood she went away this +morning, you have evidently succeeded in doing what I have never +seen any one else do--breaking through her indifference. I +shouldn't have thought that anything short of an earthquake would +have stirred Margaret, these days." + +"These days?" he repeated quickly. "How long have you known +her?" + +"We were at school together for a short time," she told him. "It +was while her father was in South America. Margaret was a very +different person in those days." + +"However was she induced to marry a person like Oliver Hilditch?" +Francis speculated. + +His companion shrugged her shoulders. + +"Who knows?" she answered indifferently. "Are you going to drop +me?" + +"Wherever you like." + +"Take me on to Grosvenor Square, if you will, then," she begged, +"and deposit me at the ancestral mansion. I am really rather +annoyed about Margaret," she went on, rearranging her veil. "I +had begun to have hopes that you might have revived my taste for +normal things." + +"If I had had the slightest intimation--" he murmured. + +"It would have made no difference," she interrupted dolefully. +"Now I come to think of it, the Margaret whom I used to know--and +there must be plenty of her left yet--is just the right type of +woman for you." + +They drew up outside the house in Grosvenor Square. Lady Cynthia +held out her hand. + +"Come and see me one afternoon, will you?" she invited. + +"I'd like to very much," he replied. + +She lingered on the steps and waved her hand to him--a graceful, +somewhat insolent gesture. + +"All the same, I think I shall do my best to make you forget +Margaret," she called out. "Thanks for the lift up. A bientot!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Francis drove direct from Grosvenor Square to his chambers in the +Temple, and found Shopland, his friend from Scotland Yard, +awaiting his arrival. + +"Any news?" Francis enquired. + +"Nothing definite, I am sorry, to say," was the other's reluctant +admission. + +Francis hung up his hat, threw himself into his easy-chair and +lit a cigarette. + +"The lad's brother is one of my oldest friends, Shopland," he +said. "He is naturally in a state of great distress." + +The detective scratched his chin thoughtfully. + +"I said 'nothing definite' just now, sir," he observed. "As a +rule, I never mention suspicions, but with you it is a different +matter. I haven't discovered the slightest trace of Mr. Reginald +Wilmore, or the slightest reason for his disappearance. He seems +to have been a well-conducted young gentleman, a little +extravagant, perhaps, but able to pay his way and with nothing +whatever against him. Nothing whatever, that is to say, except +one almost insignificant thing." + +"And that?" + +"A slight tendency towards bad company, sir. I have heard of his +being about with one or two whom we are keeping our eye upon." + +"Bobby Fairfax's lot, by any chance?" + +Shopland nodded. + +"He was with Jacks and Miss Daisy Hyslop, a night or two before +he disappeared. I am not sure that a young man named Morse +wasn't of the party, too." + +"What do you make of that lot?" Francis asked curiously. "Are +they gamesters, dope fiends, or simply vicious?" + +The detective was silent. He was gazing intently at his rather +square-toed shoes. + +"There are rumours, sir," he said, presently, "of things going on +in the West End which want looking into very badly--very badly +indeed. You will remember speaking to me of Sir Timothy Brast?" + +"I remember quite well," Francis acknowledged. + +"I've nothing to go on," the other continued. "I am working +almost on your own lines, Mr. Ledsam, groping in the dark to find +a clue, as it were, but I'm beginning to have ideas about Sir +Timothy Brast, just ideas." + +"As, for instance?" + +"Well, he stands on rather queer terms with some of his +acquaintances, sir. Now you saw, down at Soto's Bar, the night +we arrested Mr. Fairfax, that not one of those young men there +spoke to Sir Timothy as though they were acquainted, nor he to +them. Yet I happened to find out that every one of them, +including Mr. Fairfax himself, was present at a party Sir Timothy +Brast gave at his house down the river a week or two before." + +"I'm afraid there isn't much in that," Francis declared. "Sir +Timothy has the name of being an eccentric person everywhere, +especially in this respect--he never notices acquaintances. I +heard, only the other day, that while he was wonderfully +hospitable and charming to all his guests, he never remembered +them outside his house." + +Shopland nodded. + +"A convenient eccentricity," he remarked, a little drily. "I +have heard the same thing myself. You spent the night at his +country cottage, did you not, Mr. Ledsam? Did he offer to show +you over The Walled House?" + +"How the dickens did you know I was down there?" Francis +demanded, with some surprise. "I was just thinking as I drove up +that I hadn't left my address either here or at Clarges Street." + +"Next time you visit Sir Timothy," the detective observed, "I +should advise you to do so. I knew you were there, Mr. Ledsam, +because I was in the neighbourhood myself. I have been doing a +little fishing, and keeping my eye on that wonderful estate of +Sir Timothy's." + +Francis was interested. + +"Shopland," he said, "I believe that our intelligences, such as +they are, are akin." + +"What do you suspect Sir Timothy of?" the detective asked +bluntly. + +"I suspect him of nothing," Francis replied. "He is simply, to +my mind, an incomprehensible, somewhat sinister figure, who might +be capable of anything. He may have very excellent qualities +which he contrives to conceal, or he may be an arch-criminal. His +personality absolutely puzzles me." + +There was a knock at the door and Angrave appeared. Apparently +he had forgotten Shopland's presence, for he ushered in another +visitor. + +"Sir Timothy Brast to see you, sir," he announced. + +The moment was one of trial to every one, admirably borne. +Shopland remained in his chair, with only a casual glance at the +newcomer. Francis rose to his feet with a half-stifled +expression of anger at the clumsiness of his clerk. Sir Timothy, +well-shaven and groomed, attired in a perfectly-fitting suit of +grey flannel, nodded to Francis in friendly fashion and laid his +Homburg hat upon the table with the air of a familiar. + +"My dear Ledsam," he said, "I do hope that you will excuse this +early call. I could only have been an hour behind you on the +road. I dare say you can guess what I have come to see you +about. Can we have a word together?" + +"Certainly," was the ready reply. "You remember my friend +Shopland, Sir Timothy? It was Mr. Shopland who arrested young +Fairfax that night at Soto's." + +"I remember him perfectly," Sir Timothy declared. "I fancied, +directly I entered, that your face was familiar," he added, +turning to Shopland. "I am rather ashamed of myself about that +night. My little outburst must have sounded almost ridiculous to +you two. To tell you the truth, I quite failed at that time to +give Mr. Ledsam credit for gifts which I have since discovered +him to possess." + +"Mr. Shopland and I are now discussing another matter," Francis +went on, pushing a box of cigarettes towards Sir Timothy, who was +leaning against the table in an easy attitude. "Don't go, +Shopland, for a minute. We were consulting together about the +disappearance of a young man, Reggie Wilmore, the brother of a +friend of mine--Andrew Wilmore, the novelist." + +"Disappearance?" Sir Timothy repeated, as he lit a cigarette. +"That is rather a vague term." + +"The young man has been missing from home for over a week," +Francis said, "and left no trace whatever of his whereabouts. +He was not in financial trouble, he does not seem to have been +entangled with any young woman, he had not quarrelled with his +people, and he seems to have been on the best of terms with the +principal at the house of business where he was employed. His +disappearance, therefore, is, to say the least of it, mysterious." + +Sir Timothy assented gravely. + +"The lack of motive to which you allude," he pointed out, "makes +the case interesting. Still, one must remember that London is +certainly the city of modern mysteries. If a new 'Arabian +Nights' were written, it might well be about London. I dare say +Mr. Shopland will agree with me," he continued, turning +courteously towards the detective, "that disappearances of this +sort are not nearly so uncommon as the uninitiated would believe. +For one that is reported in the papers, there are half-a-dozen +which are not. Your late Chief Commissioner, by-the-bye," he +added meditatively, "once a very intimate friend of mine, was my +informant." + +"Where do you suppose they disappear to?" Francis enquired. + +"Who can tell?" was the speculative reply. "For an adventurous +youth there are a thousand doors which lead to romance. Besides, +the lives of none of us are quite so simple as they seem. Even +youth has its secret chapters. This young man, for instance, +might be on his way to Australia, happy in the knowledge that he +has escaped from some murky chapter of life which will now never +be known. He may write to his friends, giving them a hint. The +whole thing will blow over." + +"There may be cases such as you suggest, Sir Timothy," the +detective said quietly. "Our investigations, so far as regards +the young man in question, however, do not point that way." + +Sir Timothy turned over his cigarette to look at the name of the +maker. + +"Excellent tobacco," he murmured. "By-the-bye, what did you say +the young man's name was?" + +"Reginald Wilmore," Francis told him. + +"A good name," Sir Timothy murmured. "I am sure I wish you both +every good fortune in your quest. Would it be too much to ask +you now, Mr. Ledsam, for that single minute alone?" + +"By no means," Francis answered. + +"I'll wait in the office, if I may," Shopland suggested, rising +to his feet. "I want to have another word with you before I go." + +"My business with Mr. Ledsam is of a family nature," Sir Timothy +said apologetically, as Shopland passed out. "I will not keep +him for more than a moment." + +Shopland closed the door behind him. Sir Timothy waited until he +heard his departing footsteps. Then he turned back to Francis. + +"Mr. Ledsam," he said, "I have come to ask you if you know +anything of my daughter's whereabouts?" + +"Nothing whatever," Francis replied. "I was on the point of +ringing you up to ask you the same question." + +"Did she tell you that she was leaving The Sanctuary?" + +"She gave me not the slightest intimation of it," Francis assured +his questioner, "in fact she invited me to meet her in the rose +garden last night. When I arrived there, she was gone. I have +heard nothing from her since." + +"You spent the evening with her?" + +"To my great content." + +"What happened between you?" + +"Nothing happened. I took the opportunity, however, of letting +your daughter understand the nature of my feelings for her." + +"Dear me! May I ask what they are?" + +"I will translate them into facts," Francis replied. "I wish +your daughter to become my wife." + +"You amaze me!" Sir Timothy exclaimed, with the old mocking smile +at his lips. "How can you possibly contemplate association with +the daughter of a man whom you suspect and distrust as you do +me?" + +"If I suspect and distrust you, it is your own fault," Francis +reminded him. "You have declared yourself to be a criminal and a +friend of criminals. I am inclined to believe that you have +spoken the truth. I care for that fact just as little as I care +for the fact that you are a millionaire, or that Margaret has +been married to a murderer. I intend her to become my wife." + +"Did you encourage her to leave me?" + +"I did not. I had not the slightest idea that she had left The +Sanctuary until Lady Cynthia told me, halfway to London this +morning." + +Sir Timothy was silent for several moments. + +"Have you any idea in your own mind," he persisted, "as to where +she has gone and for what purpose?" + +"Not the slightest in the world," Francis declared. "I am just +as anxious to hear from her; and to know where she is, as you +seem to be." + +Sir Timothy sighed. + +"I am disappointed," he admitted. "I had hoped to obtain some +information from you. I must try in another direction." + +"Since you are here, Sir Timothy," Francis said, as his visitor +prepared to depart, "may I ask whether you have any objection to +my marrying your daughter?" + +Sir Timothy frowned. + +"The question places me in a somewhat difficult position," he +replied coldly. "In a certain sense I have a liking for you. +You are not quite the ingenuous nincompoop I took you for on the +night of our first meeting. On the other hand, you have +prejudices against me. My harmless confession of sympathy with +criminals and their ways seems to have stirred up a cloud of +suspicion in your mind. You even employ a detective to show the +world what a fool he can look, sitting in a punt attempting to +fish, with one eye on the supposed abode of crime." + +"I have nothing whatever to do with the details of Shopland's +investigations," Francis protested. "He is in search of Reggie +Wilmore." + +"Does he think I have secret dungeons in my new abode," Sir +Timothy demanded, "or oubliettes in which I keep and starve +brainless youths for some nameless purpose? Be reasonable, Mr. +Ledsam. What the devil benefit could accrue to me from abducting +or imprisoning or in any way laying my criminal hand upon this +young man?" + +"None whatever that we have been able to discover as yet," +Francis admitted. + +"A leaning towards melodrama, admirable in its way, needs the +leaven of a well-balanced discretion and a sense of humour," Sir +Timothy observed. "The latter quality is as a rule singularly +absent amongst the myrmidons of Scotland Yard. I do not think +that Mr. Shopland will catch even fish in the neighbourhood of +The Walled House. As regards your matrimonial proposal, let us +waive that until my daughter returns." + +"As you will," Francis agreed. "I will be frank to this extent, +at any rate. If I can persuade your daughter to marry me, your +consent will not affect the matter." + +"I can leave Margaret a matter of two million pounds," Sir +Timothy said pensively. + +"I have enough money to support my wife myself," Francis +observed. + +"Utopian but foolish," Sir Timothy declared. "All the same, Mr. +Ledsam, let me tell you this. You have a curious attraction for +me. When I was asked why I had invited you to The Sanctuary last +night, I frankly could not answer the question. I didn't know. +I don't know. Your dislike of me doesn't seem to affect the +question. I was glad to have you there last night. It pleases +me to hear you talk, to hear your views of things. I feel that I +shall have to be very careful, Mr. Ledsam, or--" + +"Or what?" Francis demanded. + +"Or I shall even welcome the idea of having you for a son-in-law," +Sir Timothy concluded reluctantly. "Make my excuses to Mr. +Shopland. Au revoir!" + +Shopland came in as the door closed behind the departing visitor. +He listened to all that Francis had to say, without comment. + +"If The Walled House," he said at last, "is so carefully guarded +that Sir Timothy has been informed of my watching the place and +has been made aware of my mild questionings, it must be because +there is something to conceal. I may or may not be on the track +of Mr. Reginald Wilmore, but," the detective concluded, "of one +thing I am becoming convinced--The Walled House will pay for +watching." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +It was a day when chance was kind to Francis. After leaving his +rooms at the Temple, he made a call at one of the great clubs in +Pall Mall, to enquire as to the whereabouts of a friend. On his +way back towards the Sheridan, he came face to face with Margaret +Hilditch, issuing from the doors of one of the great steamship +companies. For a moment he almost failed to recognise her. She +reminded him more of the woman of the tea-shop. Her costume, +neat and correct though it was, was studiously unobtrusive. Her +motoring veil, too, was obviously worn to assist her in escaping +notice. + +She, too, came to a standstill at seeing him. Her first +ejaculations betrayed a surprise which bordered on consternation. +Then Francis, with a sudden inspiration, pointed to the long +envelope which she was carrying in her hand. + +"You have been to book a passage somewhere!" he exclaimed. + +"Well?" + +The monosyllable was in her usual level tone. Nevertheless, he +could see that she was shaken: + +"You were going away without seeing me again?"' he asked +reproachfully. + +"Yes!" she admitted. + +"Why?" + +She looked up and down a little helplessly. + +"I owe you no explanation for my conduct," she said. "Please let +me pass." + +"Could we talk for a few minutes, please?" he begged. "Tell me +where you were going?" + +"Oh, back to lunch, I suppose," she answered. + +"Your father has been up, looking for you," he told her. + +"I telephoned to The Sanctuary," she replied. "He had just +left." + +"I am very anxious," he continued, "not to distress you, but I +cannot let you go away like this. Will you come to my rooms and +let us talk for a little time?" + +She made no answer. Somehow, he realised that speech just then +was difficult. He called a taxi and handed her in. They drove +to Clarges Street in silence. He led the way up the stairs, gave +some quick orders to his servant whom he met coming down, ushered +her into his sitting-room and saw her ensconced in an easy-chair. + +"Please take off that terrible veil," he begged. + +"It is pinned on to my hat," she told him. + +"Then off with both," he insisted. "You can't eat luncheon like +that. I'm not going to try and bully you. If you've booked your +passage to Timbuctoo and you really want to go--why, you must. I +only want the chance of letting you know that I am coming after +you." + +She took off her hat and veil and threw them on to the sofa, +glancing sideways at a mirror let into the door of a cabinet. + +"My hair is awful," she declared: + +He laughed gaily, and turned around from the sideboard, where he +was busy mixing cocktails. + +"Thank heavens for that touch of humanity!" he exclaimed. "A +woman who can bother about her hair when she takes her hat off, +is never past praying for. Please drink this." + +She obeyed. He took the empty glass away from her. Then he came +over to the hearthrug by her side. + +"Do you know that I kissed you last night?" he reminded her. + +"I do," she answered. "That is why I have just paid eighty-four +pounds for a passage to Buenos Ayres." + +"I should have enjoyed the trip," he said. "Still, I'm glad I +haven't to go." + +"Do you really mean that you would have come after me?" she asked +curiously. + +"Of course I should," he assured her. "Believe me, there isn't +such an obstinate person in the world as the man of early +middle-age who suddenly discovers the woman he means to marry." + +"But you can't marry me," she protested. + +"Why not?" he asked. + +"Because I was Oliver Hilditch's wife, for one thing." + +"Look here," he said, "if you had been Beelzebub's wife, it +wouldn't make the least difference to me. You haven't given me +much of a chance to tell you so yet, Margaret, but I love you." + +She sat a little forward in her chair. Her eyes were fixed upon +his wonderingly. + +"But how can you?" she exclaimed. "You know, nothing of me except +my associations, and they have been horrible. What is there to +love in me? I am a frozen-up woman. Everything is dead here," +she went on, clasping her hand to her heart. "I have no +sentiment, no passion, nothing but an animal desire to live my +life luxuriously and quickly." + +He smiled confidently. Then, with very little warning, he sank +on one knee, drew her face to his, kissed her lips and then her +eyes. + +"Are you so sure of all these things, Margaret?" he whispered. +"Don't you think it is, perhaps, because there has been no one to +care for you as I do--as I shall--to the end of my days? The +lily you left on your chair last night was like you--fair and +stately and beautiful, but a little bruised. You will come back +as it has done, come back to the world. My love will bring you. +My care. Believe it, please!" + +Then he saw the first signs of change in her face. There was +the faintest shade of almost shell-like pink underneath the +creamy-white of her cheeks. Her lips were trembling a little, +her eyes were misty. With a sudden passionate little impulse, +her arms were around his neck, her lips sought his of their +own accord. + +"Let me forget," she sobbed. "Kiss me let me forget!" + +Francis' servant was both heavy-footed and discreet. When he +entered the room with a tray, his master was standing at the +sideboard. + +"I've done the best I could, sir," he announced, a little +apologetically. "Shall I lay the cloth?" + +"Leave everything on the tray, Brooks," Francis directed. "We +will help ourselves. In an hour's time bring coffee." + +The man glanced around the room. + +"There are glasses on the sideboard, sir, and the corkscrew is +here. I think you will have everything you want." + +He departed, closing the door behind him. Francis held out his +hands to Margaret. She rose slowly to her feet, looked in the +glass helplessly and then back at him. She was very beautiful +but a little dazed. + +"Are we going to have luncheon?" she asked. + +"Of course," he answered. "Did you think I meant to starve you?" + +He picked up the long envelope which she had dropped upon the +carpet, and threw it on to the sofa. Then he drew up two chairs +to the table, and opened a small bottle of champagne. + +"I hope you won't mind a picnic," he said. "Really, Brooks +hasn't done so badly--pate de foie gras, hot toast and Devonshire +butter. Let me spread some for you. A cold chicken afterwards, +and some strawberries. Please be hungry, Margaret." + +She laughed at him. It occurred to him suddenly, with a little +pang, that he had never heard her laugh before. It was like +music. + +"I'm too happy," she murmured. + +"Believe me," he assured her, as he buttered a piece of toast, +"happiness and hunger might well be twins. They go so well +together. Misery can take away one's appetite. Happiness, when +one gets over the gulpiness of it, is the best tonic in the +world. And I never saw any one, dear, with whom happiness agreed +so well," he added, pausing in his task to bend over and kiss +her. "Do you know you are the most beautiful thing on earth? It +is a lucky thing we are going to live in England, and that these +are sober, matter-of-fact days, or I should find myself committed +to fighting duels all the time." + +She had a momentary relapse. A look of terror suddenly altered +her face. She caught at his wrist. + +"Don't!" she cried. "Don't talk about such things!" + +He was a little bewildered. The moment passed. She laughed +almost apologetically. + +"Forgive me," she begged, "but I hate the thought of fighting of +any sort. Some day I'll explain." + +"Clumsy ass I was!" he declared, completing his task and setting +the result before her. "Now how's that for a first course? +Drink a little of your wine." + +He leaned his glass against hers. + +"My love," he whispered, "my love now, dear, and always, and +you'll find it quite strong enough," he went on, "to keep you +from all the ugly things. And now away with sentiment. I had a +very excellent but solitary breakfast this morning, and it seems +a long time ago." + +"It seems amazing to think that you spent last night at The +Sanctuary," she reflected. + +"And that you and I were in a punt," he reminded her, "in the +pool of darkness where the trees met, and the lilies leaned over +to us." + +"And you nearly upset the punt." + +"Nothing of the sort! As a matter of fact, I was very careful. +But," he proceeded, with a sudden wave of memory, "I don't think +my heart will ever beat normally again. It seemed as though it +would tear its way out of my side when I leaned towards you, and +you knew, and you lay still." + +She laughed. + +"You surely didn't expect I was going to get up? It was quite +encouragement enough to remain passive. As a matter of fact," +she went on, "I couldn't have moved. I couldn't have uttered a +sound. I suppose I must have been like one of those poor birds +you read about, when some devouring animal crouches for its last +spring." + +"Compliments already!" he remarked. "You won't forget that my +name is Francis, will you? Try and practise it while I carve the +chicken." + +"You carve very badly, Francis," she told him demurely. + +"My dear," he said, "thank heavens we shall be able to afford a +butler! By-the-bye, I told your father this morning that I was +going to marry you, and he didn't seem to think it possible +because he had two million pounds." + +"Braggart!" she murmured. "When did you see my father?" + +"He came to my rooms in the Temple soon after I arrived this +morning. He seemed to think I might know where you were. I dare +say he won't like me for a son-in-law," Francis continued with a +smile. "I can't help that. He shouldn't have let me go out with +you in a punt." + +There was a discreet knock at the door. Brooks made his +apologetic and somewhat troubled entrance. + +"Sir Timothy Brast is here to see you, sir," he announced. +"I ventured to say that you were not at home--" + +"But I happened to know otherwise," a still voice remarked from +outside. "May I come in, Mr. Ledsam?" + +Sir Timothy stepped past the servant, who at a sign from Francis +disappeared, closing the door behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +After his first glance at Sir Timothy, Francis' only thought was +for Margaret. To his intense relief, she showed no signs +whatever of terror, or of any relapse to her former state. She +was entirely mistress of herself and the occasion. Sir Timothy's +face was cold and terrible. + +"I must apologise for this second intrusion, Mr. Ledsam," he said +cuttingly. "I think you will admit that the circumstances +warrant it. Am I to understand that you lied to me this +morning?" + +"You are to understand nothing of the sort," Francis answered. +"I told you everything I knew at that time of your daughter's +movements." + +"Indeed!" Sir Timothy murmured. "This little banquet, then, was +unpremeditated?" + +"Entirely," Francis replied. "Here is the exact truth, so far as +I am concerned. I met your daughter little more than an hour +ago, coming out of a steamship office, where she had booked a +passage to Buenos Ayres to get away from me. I was fortunate +enough to induce her to change her mind. She has consented +instead to remain in England as my wife. We were, as you see, +celebrating the occasion." + +Sir Timothy laid his hat upon the sideboard and slowly removed +his gloves. + +"I trust," he said, "that this pint bottle does not represent +your cellar. I will drink a glass of wine with you, and with +your permission make myself a pate sandwich. I was just sitting +down to luncheon when I received the information which brought me +here." + +Francis produced another bottle of wine from the sideboard and +filled his visitor's glass. + +"You will drink, I hope, to our happiness," he said. + +"I shall do nothing of the sort," Sir Timothy declared, helping +himself with care to the pate. "I have no superstitions about +breaking bread with an enemy, or I should not have asked you to +visit me at The Sanctuary, Mr. Ledsam. I object to your marriage +with my daughter, and I shall take what steps I can to prevent +it." + +"Why?" + +Sir Timothy did not at once reply. He seemed to be enjoying his +sandwich; he also appreciated the flavour of his wine. + +"Your question," he said, "strikes me as being a little +ingenuous. You are at the present moment suspecting me of crimes +beyond number. You encourage Scotland Yard detectives to make +asses of themselves in my stream. Your myrmidons scramble on to +the top of my walls and try to bribe my servants to disclose the +mysteries of my household. You have accepted to the fullest +extent my volunteered statement that I am a patron of crime. You +are, in short--forgive me if I help myself to a little more of +this pate--engaged in a strenuous attempt to bring me to +justice." + +"None of these things affects your daughter," Francis pointed out. + +"Pardon me," Sir Timothy objected. "You are a great and shining +light of the English law. People speak of you as a future +Chancellor. How can you contemplate an alliance with the widow +of one criminal and the daughter of another?" + +"As to Margaret being Oliver Hilditch's widow," Francis replied, +"you were responsible for that, and no one else. He was your +protege; you gave your consent to the marriage. As to your being +her father, that again is not Margaret's fault. I should marry +her if Oliver Hilditch had been three times the villain he was, +and if you were the Devil himself." + +"I am getting quite to like you, Mr. Ledsam," Sir Timothy +declared, helping himself to another piece of toast and +commencing to butter it. "Margaret, what have you to say about +all this?" + +"I have nothing to say," she answered. "Francis is speaking for +me. I never dreamed that after what I have gone through I should +be able to care for any one again in this world. I do care, and +I am very happy about it. All last night I lay awake, making up +my mind to run away, and this morning I actually booked my +passage to Buenos Ayres. Then we met--just outside the steamship +office--and I knew at once that I was making a mistake. I shall +marry Francis exactly when he wants me to." + +Sir Timothy passed his glass towards his proposed son-in-law. + +"Might one suggest," he began--"thank you very much. This is of +course very upsetting to me. I seem to be set completely at +defiance. It is a very excellent wine, this, and a wonderful +vintage." + +Francis bent over Margaret. + +"Please finish your lunch, dear," he begged. "It is perhaps just +as well that your father came. We shall know exactly where we +are." + +"Just so," Sir Timothy agreed. + +There was a queer constrained silence for several moments. Then +Sir Timothy leaned back in his chair and with a word of apology +lit a cigarette. + +"Let us," he said, "consider the situation. Margaret is my +daughter. You wish to marry her. Margaret is of age and has +been married before. She is at liberty, therefore, to make her +own choice. You agree with me so far?" + +"Entirely," Francis assented. + +"It happens," Sir Timothy went on, "that I disapprove of her +choice. She desires to marry a young man who belongs to a +profession which I detest, and whose efforts in life are directed +towards the extermination of a class of people for whom I have +every sympathy. To me he represents the smug as against the +human, the artificially moral as against the freethinker. He is +also my personal enemy. I am therefore naturally desirous that +my daughter should not marry this young man." + +"We will let it go at that," Francis commented, "but I should +like to point out to you that the antagonism between us is in no +way personal. You have declared yourself for forces with which I +am at enmity, like any other decent-living citizen. Your +declaration might at any time be amended." + +Sir Timothy bowed. + +"The situation is stated," he said. "I will ask you this +question as a matter of form. Do you recognise my right to +forbid your marriage with my daughter, Mr. Ledsam?" + +"I most certainly do not," was the forcible reply. + +"Have I any rights at all?" Sir Timothy asked. "Margaret has +lived under my roof whenever it has suited her to do so. Since +she has taken up her residence at Curzon Street, she has been her +own mistress, her banking account has known no limit whatsoever. +I may be a person of evil disposition, but I have shown no +unkindness to her." + +"It is quite true," Margaret Admitted, turning a little pale. +"Since I have been alone, you have been kindness itself." + +"Then let me repeat my question," Sir Timothy went on, "have I +the right to any consideration at all?" + +"Yes," Francis replied. "Short of keeping us apart, you have the +ordinary rights of a parent." + +"Then I ask you to delay the announcement of your engagement, or +taking any further steps concerning it, for fourteen days," Sir +Timothy said. "I place no restrictions on your movements during +that time. Such hospitality as you, Mr. Ledsam, care to accept +at my hands, is at your disposal. I am Bohemian enough, indeed, +to find nothing to complain of in such little celebrations as you +are at present indulging in--most excellent pate, that. But I +request that no announcement of your engagement be made, or any +further arrangements made concerning it, for that fourteen days." + +"I am quite willing, father," Margaret acquiesced. + +"And I, sir," Francis echoed. + +"In which case," Sir Timothy concluded, rising to his feet, +lighting a cigarette and taking up his hat and gloves, "I shall +go peaceably away. You will admit, I trust," he added, with that +peculiar smile at the corner of his lips, "that I have not in any +way tried to come the heavy father? I can even command a certain +amount of respect, Margaret, for a young man who is able to +inaugurate his engagement by an impromptu meal of such perfection. +I wish you both good morning. Any invitation which Margaret +extends, Ledsam, please consider as confirmed by me." + +He closed the door softly. They heard his footsteps descending +the stairs. Francis leaned once more over Margaret. She seemed +still dazed, confused with new thoughts. She responded, however, +readily to his touch, yielded to his caress with an almost +pathetic eagerness. + +"Francis," she murmured, as his arms closed around her, "I want +to forget." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +There followed a brief period of time, the most wonderful of his +life, the happiest of hers. They took advantage of Sir Timothy's +absolute license, and spent long days at The Sanctuary, ideal +lovers' days, with their punt moored at night amongst the lilies, +where her kisses seemed to come to him with an aroma and wonder +born of the spot. Then there came a morning when he found a +cloud on her face. She was looking at the great wall, and away +at the minaret beyond. They had heard from the butler that Sir +Timothy had spent the night at the villa, and that preparations +were on hand for another of his wonderful parties. Francis, who +was swift to read her thoughts, led her away into the rose garden +where once she had failed him. + +"You have been looking over the wall, Margaret," he said +reproachfully. + +She looked at him with a little twitch at the corners of her +lips. + +"Francis dear," she confessed, "I am afraid you are right. I +cannot even look towards The Walled House without wondering why +it was built--or catch a glimpse of that dome without stupid +guesses as to what may go on underneath." + +"I think very likely," he said soothingly, "we have both +exaggerated the seriousness of your father's hobbies. We know +that he has a wonderful gymnasium there, but the only definite +rumour I have ever heard about the place is that men fight there +who have a grudge against one another, and that they are not too +particular about the weight of the gloves. That doesn't appeal +to us, you know, Margaret, but it isn't criminal." + +"If that were all!" she murmured. + +"I dare say it is," he declared. "London, as you know, is a +hot-bed of gossip. Everything that goes on is ridiculously +exaggerated, and I think that it rather appeals to your father's +curious sense of humour to pose as the law-breaker." + +She pressed his arm a little. The day was overcast, a slight +rain was beginning to fall. + +"Francis," she whispered, "we had a perfect day here yesterday. +Now the sun has gone and I am shivery." + +He understood in a moment. + +"We'll lunch at Ranelagh," he suggested. "It is almost on the +way up. Then we can see what the weather is like. If it is bad, +we can dine in town tonight and do a theatre." + +"You are a dear," she told him fervently. "I am going in to get +ready." + +Francis went round to the garage for his car, and brought it to +the front. While he was sitting there, Sir Timothy came through +the door in the wall. He was smoking a cigar and he was holding +an umbrella to protect his white flannel suit. He was as usual +wonderfully groomed and turned out, but he walked as though he +were tired, and his smile, as he greeted Francis, lacked a little +of its usual light-hearted mockery. + +"Are you going up to town?" he enquired. + +Francis pointed to the grey skies. + +"Just for the day," he answered. "Lady Cynthia went by the early +train. We missed you last night." + +"I came down late," Sir Timothy explained, "and I found it more +convenient to stay at The Walled House. I hope you find that +Grover looks after you while I am away? He has carte blanche so +far as regards my cellar." + +"We have been wonderfully served," Francis assured him. + +In the distance they could hear the sound of hammering on the +other side of the wall. Francis moved his head in that +direction. + +"I hear that they are preparing for another of your wonderful +entertainments over there," he remarked. + +"On Thursday," Sir Timothy assented. "I shall have something to +say to you about it later on." + +"Am I to take it that I am likely to receive an invitation?" +Francis asked. + +"I should think it possible," was the calm reply. + +"What about Margaret?" + +"My entertainment would not appeal to her," Sir Timothy declared. +"The women whom I have been in the habit of asking are not women +of Margaret's type." + +"And Lady Cynthia?" + +Sir Timothy frowned slightly. + +"I find myself in some difficulty as regards Lady Cynthia," he +admitted. "I am the guardian of nobody's morals, nor am I the +censor of their tastes, but my entertainments are for men. The +women whom I have hitherto asked have been women in whom I have +taken no personal interest. They are necessary to form a +picturesque background for my rooms, in the same way that I look +to the gardeners to supply the floral decorations. Lady +Cynthia's instincts, however, are somewhat adventurous. She +would scarcely be content to remain a decoration." + +"The issuing of your invitations," Francis remarked, "is of +course a matter which concerns nobody else except yourself. If +you do decide to favour me with one, I shall be delighted to +come, provided Margaret has no objection." + +"Such a reservation promises well for the future," Sir Timothy +observed, with gentle sarcasm. "Here comes Margaret, looking +very well, I am glad to see." + +Margaret came forward to greet her father before stepping into +the car. They exchanged only a few sentences, but Francis, whose +interest in their relations was almost abnormally keen, fancied +that he could detect signs of some change in their demeanour +towards one another. The cold propriety of deportment which had +characterised her former attitude towards her father, seemed to +have given place to something more uncertain, to something less +formal, something which left room even for a measure of +cordiality. She looked at him differently. It was as though +some evil thought which lived in her heart concerning him had +perished. + +"You are busy over there, father?" she asked. + +"In a way," he replied. "We are preparing for some festivities +on Thursday." + +Her face fell. + +"Another party?" + +"One more," he replied. "Perhaps the last--for the present, at +any rate." + +She waited as though expecting him to explain. He changed the +subject, however. + +"I think you are wise to run up to town this morning," he said, +glancing up at the grey skies. "By-the-bye, if you dine at +Curzon Street to-night, do ask Hedges to serve you some of the +'99 Cliquot. A marvellous wine, as you doubtless know, Ledsam, +but it should be drunk. Au revoir!" + + +Francis, after a pleasant lunch at Ranelagh, and having arranged +with Margaret to dine with her in Curzon Street, spent an hour or +two that afternoon at his chambers. As he was leaving, just +before five, he came face to face with Shopland descending from a +taxi. + +"Are you busy, Mr. Ledsam?" the latter enquired. "Can you spare +me half-an-hour?" + +"An hour, if you like," Francis assented. + +Shopland gave the driver an address and the two men seated +themselves in the taxicab. + +"Any news?" Francis asked curiously. + +"Not yet," was the cautious reply. "It will not be long, +however." + +"Before you discover Reggie Wilmore?" + +The detective smiled in a superior way. + +"I am no longer particularly interested in Mr. Reginald Wilmore," +he declared. "I have come to the conclusion that his disappearance +is not a serious affair." + +"It's serious enough for his relatives," Francis objected. + +"Not if they understood the situation," the detective rejoined. +"Assure them from me that nothing of consequence has happened to +that young man. I have made enquiries at the gymnasium in +Holborn, and in other directions. I am convinced that his +absence from home is voluntary, and that there is no cause for +alarm as to his welfare." + +"Then the sooner you make your way down to Kensington and tell +his mother so, the better," Francis said, a little severely. +"Don't forget that I put you on to this." + +"Quite right, sir," the detective acquiesced, "and I am grateful +to you. The fact of it is that in making my preliminary +investigations with regard to the disappearance of Mr. Wilmore, I +have stumbled upon a bigger thing. Before many weeks are past, I +hope to be able to unearth one of the greatest scandals of modern +times." + +"The devil!" Francis muttered. + +He looked thoughtfully, almost anxiously at his companion. +Shopland's face reflected to the full his usual confidence. +He had the air of a man buoyant with hope and with stifled +self-satisfaction. + +"I am engaged," he continued, "upon a study of the methods and +habits of one whom I believe to be a great criminal. I think +that when I place my prisoner in the bar, Wainwright and these +other great artists in crime will fade from the memory." + +"Is Sir Timothy Brast your man?" Francis asked quietly. + +His companion frowned portentously. + +"No names," he begged. + +"Considering that it was I who first put you on to him," Francis +expostulated, "I don't think you need be so sparing of your +confidence." + +"Mr. Ledsam," the detective assured him, "I shall tell you +everything that is possible. At the same time, I will be frank +with you. You are right when you say that it was you who first +directed my attention towards Sir Timothy Brast. Since that +time, however, your own relations with him, to an onlooker, have +become a little puzzling." + +"I see," Francis murmured. "You've been spying on me?" + +Shopland shook his head in deprecating fashion. + +"A study of Sir Timothy during the last month," he said, "has +brought you many a time into the focus." + +"Where are we going to now?" Francis asked, a little abruptly. + +"Just a side show, sir. It's one of those outside things I have +come across which give light and shade to the whole affair. We +get out here, if you please." + +The two men stepped on to the pavement. They were in a street a +little north of Wardour Street, where the shops for the most part +were of a miscellaneous variety. Exactly in front of them, the +space behind a large plate-glass window had been transformed into +a sort of show-place for dogs. There were twenty or thirty of +them there, of all breeds and varieties. + +"What the mischief is this?" Francis demanded. + +"Come in and make enquiries," Shopland replied. "I can promise +that you will find it interesting. It's a sort of dog's home." + +Francis followed his companion into the place. A pleasant-looking, +middle-aged woman came forward and greeted the latter. + +"Do you mind telling my friend what you told me the other day?" +he asked. + +"Certainly, sir," she replied. "We collect stray animals here, +sir," she continued, turning to Francis. "Every one who has a +dog or a cat he can't afford to keep, or which he wants to get +rid of, may bring it to us. We have agents all the time in the +streets, and if any official of the Society for the Prevention +of Cruelty to Animals brings us news of a dog or a cat being +ill-treated, we either purchase it or acquire it in some way or +other and keep it here." + +"But your dogs in the window," Francis observed, "all seem to be +in wonderful condition." + +The woman smiled. + +"We have a large dog and cat hospital behind," she explained, +"and a veterinary surgeon who is always in attendance. The +animals are treated there as they are brought in, and fed up if +they are out of condition. When they are ready to sell, we show +them." + +"But is this a commercial undertaking," Francis enquired +carefully, "or is it a branch of the S.P.C.A.?" + +"It's quite a private affair, sir," the woman told him. "We +charge only five shillings for the dogs and half-a-crown for the +cats, but every one who has one must sign our book, promising to +give it a good home, and has to be either known to us or to +produce references. We do not attempt, of course, to snake a +profit." + +"Who on earth is responsible for the upkeep?" + +"We are not allowed to mention any names here, sir, but as a +matter of fact I think that your friend knows. He met the +gentleman in here one day. Would you care to have a look at the +hospital, sir?" + +Francis spent a quarter of an hour wandering around. When they +left the place, Shopland turned to him with a smile. + +"Now, sir," he said, "shall I tell you at whose expense that +place is run?" + +"I think I can guess," Francis replied. "I should say that Sir +Timothy Brast was responsible for it." + +The detective nodded. He was a little disappointed. + +"You know about his collection of broken-down horses in the park +at The Walled House, too, then, I suppose? They come whinnying +after him like a flock of sheep whenever he shows himself." + +"I know about them, too," Francis admitted. "I was present +once when he got out of his car, knocked a carter down who was +ill-treating a horse, bought it on the spot and sent it home." + +Shopland smiled, inscrutably yet with the air of one vastly +pleased. + +"These little side-shows," he said, "are what help to make this, +which I believe will be the greatest case of my life, so +supremely interesting. Any one of my fraternity," he continued, +with an air of satisfaction, "can take hold of a thread and +follow it step by step, and wind up with the handcuffs, as I did +myself with the young man Fairfax. But a case like this, which +includes a study of temperament, requires something more." + +They were seated once more in the taxicab, on their way westward. +Francis for the first time was conscious of an utterly new +sensation with regard to his companion. He watched him through +half-closed eyes--an insignificant-looking little man whose +clothes, though neat, were ill-chosen, and whose tie was an +offense. There was nothing in the face to denote unusual +intelligence, but the eyes were small and cunning and the mouth +dogged. Francis looked away out of the window. A sudden flash +of realisation had come to him, a wave of unreasoning but +positive dislike. + +"When do you hope to bring your case to an end?" he asked. + +The man smiled once more, and the very smile irritated his +companion. + +"Within the course of the next few days, sir," he replied. + +"And the charge?" + +The detective turned around. + +"Mr. Ledsam," he said, "we have been old friends, if you will +allow me to use the word, ever since I was promoted to my present +position in the Force. You have trusted me with a good many +cases, and I acknowledge myself your debtor, but in the matter of +Sir Timothy Brast, you will forgive my saying with all respect, +sir, that our ways seem to lie a little apart." + +"Will you tell me why you have arrived at that conclusion?" +Francis asked. "It was I who first incited you to set a watch +upon Sir Timothy. It was to you I first mentioned certain +suspicions I myself had with regard to him. I treated you with +every confidence. Why do you now withhold yours from me?" + +"It is quite true, Mr. Ledsam," Shopland admitted, "that it was +you who first pointed out Sir Timothy as an interesting study for +my profession, but that was a matter of months ago. If you will +forgive my saying so, your relations with Sir Timothy have +altered since then. You have been his guest at The Sanctuary, +and there is a rumour, sir--you will pardon me if I seem to be +taking a liberty--that you are engaged to be married to his +daughter, Oliver Hilditch's widow." + +"You seem to be tolerably well informed as to my affairs, +Shopland," Francis remarked. + +"Only so far as regards your associations with Sir Timothy," was +the deprecating reply. "If you will excuse me, sir, this is +where I should like to descend." + +"You have no message for Mr. Wilmore, then?" Francis asked. + +"Nothing definite, sir, but you can assure him of this. His +brother is not likely to come to any particular harm. I have no +absolute information to offer, but it is my impression that Mr. +Reginald Wilmore will be home before a week is past. Good +afternoon, sir." + +Shopland stepped out of the taxicab and, raising his hat, walked +quickly away. Francis directed the man to drive to Clarges +Street. As they drove off, he was conscious of a folded piece of +paper in the corner where his late companion had been seated. He +picked it up, opened it, realised that it was a letter from a +firm of lawyers, addressed to Shopland, and deliberately read it +through. It was dated from a small town not far from Hatch End: + + + DEAR SIR: + + Mr. John Phillips of this firm, who is coroner for the +district, has desired me to answer the enquiry contained in +your official letter of the 13th. The number of inquests held +upon bodies recovered from the Thames in the neighbourhood to +which you allude, during the present year has been seven. +Four of these have been identified. Concerning the remaining +three nothing has ever been heard. Such particulars as are on +our file will be available to any accredited representative of +the police at any time. + + Faithfully yours, + PHILLIPS & SON. + + +The taxicab came to a sudden stop. Francis glanced up. Very +breathless, Shopland put his head in at the window. + +"I dropped a letter," he gasped. + +Francis folded it up and handed it to him. + +"What about these three unidentified people, Shopland?" he asked, +looking at him intently. + +The man frowned angrily. There was a note of defiance in his +tone as he stowed the letter away in his pocketbook. + +"There were two men and one woman," he replied, "all three of the +upper classes. The bodies were recovered from Wilson's lock, +some three hundred yards from The Walled House." + +"Do they form part of your case?" Francis persisted. + +Shopland stepped back. + +"Mr. Ledsam," he said, "I told you, some little time ago, that so +far as this particular case was concerned I had no confidences to +share with you. I am sorry that you saw that letter. Since you +did, however, I hope you will not take it as a liberty from one +in my position if I advise you most strenuously to do nothing +which might impede the course of the law. Good day, sir!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Francis, in that pleasant half-hour before dinner which he spent +in Margaret's sitting-room, told her of the dogs' home near +Wardour Street. She listened sympathetically to his description +of the place. + +"I had never heard of it," she acknowledged, "but I am not in +anyway surprised. My father spends at least an hour of every +day, when he is down at Hatch End, amongst the horses, and every +time a fresh crock is brought down, he is as interested as though +it were a new toy." + +"It is a remarkable trait in a very remarkable character," +Francis commented. + +"I could tell you many things that would surprise you," Margaret +continued. "One night, for instance, when we were staying at The +Sanctuary, he and I were going out to dine with some neighbours +and he heard a cat mewing in the hedge somewhere. He stopped the +car, got out himself, found that the cat had been caught in a +trap, released it, and sent me on to the dinner alone whilst he +took the animal back to the veterinary surgeon at The Walled +House. He was simply white with fury whilst he was tying up the +poor thing's leg. I couldn't help asking him what he would have +done if he could have found the farmer who set the trap. He +looked up at me and I was almost frightened. 'I should have +killed him,' he said,--and I believe he meant it. And, Francis, +the very next day we were motoring to London and saw a terrible +accident. A motor bicyclist came down a side road at full speed +and ran into a motor-lorry. My father got out of the car, helped +them lift the body from under the wheels of the lorry, and came +back absolutely unmoved. 'Serve the silly young fool right!' was +his only remark. He was so horribly callous that I could +scarcely bear to sit by his side. Do you understand that?" + +"It isn't easy," he admitted. + +There was a knock at the door. Margaret glanced at the clock. + +"Surely dinner can't be served already!" she exclaimed. "Come +in." + +Very much to their surprise, it was Sir Timothy himself who +entered. He was in evening dress and wearing several orders, one +of which Francis noted with surprise. + +"My apologies," he said. "Hedges told me that there were +cocktails here, and as I am on my way to a rather weary dinner, I +thought I might inflict myself upon you for a moment." + +Margaret rose at once to her feet. + +"I am a shocking hostess," she declared. "Hedges brought the +things in twenty minutes ago." + +She took up the silver receptacle, shook it vigorously and filled +three glasses. Sir Timothy accepted his and bowed to them both. + +"My best wishes," he said. "Really, when one comes to think of +it, however much it may be against my inclinations I scarcely see +how I shall be able to withhold my consent. I believe that you +both have at heart the flair for domesticity. This little +picture, and the thought of your tete-a-tete dinner, almost +touches me." + +"Don't make fun of us, father," Margaret begged. "Tell us where +you are going in all that splendour?" + +Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. + +"A month or so ago," he explained, "I was chosen to induct a +scion of Royalty into the understanding of fighting as it is +indulged in at the National Sporting Club. This, I suppose, is +my reward--an invitation to something in the nature of a State +dinner, which, to tell you the truth, I had forgotten until my +secretary pointed it out to me this afternoon. I have grave +fears of being bored or of misbehaving myself. I have, as Ledsam +here knows, a distressing habit of truthfulness, especially to +new acquaintances. However, we must hope for the best. By-the-bye, +Ledsam, in case you should have forgotten, I have spoken to Hedges +about the '99 Cliquot." + +"Shall we see you here later?" Margaret asked, after Francis had +murmured his thanks. + +"I shall probably return direct to Hatch End," Sir Timothy +replied. "There are various little matters down there which are +interesting me just now preparations for my party. Au revoir! A +delicious cocktail, but I am inclined to resent the Angostura." + +He sauntered out, after a glance at the clock. They heard his +footsteps as he descended the stairs. + +"Tell me, what manner of a man is your father?" Francis asked +impulsively. + +"I am his daughter and I do not know," Margaret answered. +"Before he came, I was going to speak to you of a strange +misunderstanding which has existed between us and which has just +been removed. Now I have a fancy to leave it until later. You +will not mind?" + +"When you choose," Francis assented. "Nothing will make any +difference. We are past the days when fathers or even mothers +count seriously in the things that exist between two people like +you and me, who have felt life. Whatever your father may be, +whatever he may turn out to be, you are the woman I love--you are +the woman who is going to be my wife." + +She leaned towards him for a moment. + +"You have an amazing gift," she whispered, "of saying just the +thing one loves to hear in the way that convinces." + +Dinner was served to them in the smaller of the two dining-rooms, +an exquisite meal, made more wonderful still by the wine, which +Hedges himself dispensed with jealous care. The presence of +servants, with its restraining influence upon conversation, was +not altogether unwelcome to Francis. He and Margaret had had so +little opportunity for general conversation that to discuss other +than personal subjects in this pleasant, leisurely way had its +charm. They spoke of music, of which she knew far more than he; +of foreign travel, where they met on common ground, for each had +only the tourist's knowledge of Europe, and each was anxious for +a more individual acquaintance with it. She had tastes in books +which delighted him, a knowledge of games which promised a common +resource. It was only whilst they were talking that he realised +with a shock how young she was, how few the years that lay +between her serene school-days and the tempestuous years of her +married life. Her school-days in Naples were most redolent of +delightful memories. She broke off once or twice into the +language, and he listened with delight to her soft accent. +Finally the time came when dessert was set upon the table. + +"I have ordered coffee up in the little sitting-room again," she +said, a little shyly. "Do you mind, or would you rather have it +here?" + +"I much prefer it there," he assured her. + +They sat before an open window, looking out upon some elm trees +in the boughs of which town sparrows twittered, and with a +background of roofs and chimneys. Margaret's coffee was +untasted, even her cigarette lay unlit by her side. There was a +touch of the old horror upon her face. The fingers which he drew +into his were as cold as ice. + +"You must have wondered sometimes," she began, "why I ever +married Oliver Hilditch." + +"You were very young," he reminded her, with a little shiver, +"and very inexperienced. I suppose he appealed to you in some +way or another." + +"It wasn't that," she replied. "He came to visit, me at +Eastbourne, and he certainly knew all the tricks of making +himself attractive and agreeable. But he never won my heart--he +never even seriously took my fancy. I married him because I +believed that by doing so I was obeying my father's wishes." + +"Where was your father at the time, then?" Francis asked. + +"In South America. Oliver Hilditch was nothing more than a +discharged employ of his, discharged for dishonesty. He had to +leave South America; within a week to escape prosecution, and on +the way to Europe he concocted the plot which very nearly ruined +my life. He forged a letter from my father, begging me, if I +found it in any way possible, to listen to Oliver Hilditch's +proposals, and hinting guardedly at a very serious financial +crisis which it was in his power to avert. It never occurred to +me or to my chaperon to question his bona fides. He had lived +under the same roof as my father, and knew all the intimate +details of his life. He was very clever and I suppose I was a +fool. I remember thinking I was doing quite a heroic action when +I went to the registrar with him. What it led to you know." + +There was a moment's throbbing silence. Francis, notwithstanding +his deep pity, was conscious of an overwhelming sensation of +relief. She had never cared for Oliver Hilditch! She had never +pretended to! He put the thought into words. + +"You never cared for him, then?" + +"I tried to," she replied simply, "but I found it impossible. +Within a week of our marriage I hated him." + +Francis leaned back, his eyes half closed. In his ears was the +sonorous roar of Piccadilly, the hooting of motor-cars, close at +hand the rustling of a faint wind in the elm trees. It was a +wonderful moment. The nightmare with which he had grappled so +fiercely, which he had overthrown, but whose ghost still +sometimes walked by his side, had lost its chief and most +poignant terror. She had been tricked into the marriage. She +had never cared or pretended to care. The primal horror of that +tragedy which he had figured so often to himself, seemed to have +departed with the thought. Its shadow must always remain, but in +time his conscience would acquiesce in the pronouncement of his +reason. It was the hand of justice, not any human hand, which +had slain Oliver Hilditch. + +"What did your father say when he discovered the truth?" he +asked. + +"He did not know it until he came to England--on the day that +Oliver Hilditch was acquitted. My husband always pretended that +he had a special mail bag going out to South America, so he took +away all the letters I wrote to my father, and he took care that +I received none except one or two which I know now were +forgeries. He had friends in South America himself who helped +him--one a typist in my father's office, of whom I discovered +afterwards--but that really doesn't matter. He was a wonderful +master of deceit." + +Francis suddenly took her hands. He had an overwhelming desire +to escape from the miasma of those ugly days, with their train of +attendant thoughts and speculations. + +"Let us talk about ourselves," he whispered. + +After that, the evening glided away incoherently, with no sustained +conversation, but with an increasing sense of well-being, of soothed +nerves and happiness, flaming seconds of passion, sign-posts of the +wonderful world which lay before them. They sat in the cool silence +until the lights of the returning taxicabs and motor-cars became +more frequent, until the stars crept into the sky and the yellow +arc of the moon stole up over the tops of the houses. Presently +they saw Sir Timothy's Rolls-Royce glide up to the front door below +and Sir Timothy himself enter the house, followed by another man +whose appearance was somehow familiar. + +"Your father has changed his mind," Francis observed. + +"Perhaps he has called for something," she suggested, "or he may +want to change his clothes before he goes down to the country." + +Presently, however, there was a knock at the door. Hedges made +his diffident appearance. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," he began, addressing Francis. "Sir +Timothy has been asking if you are still here. He would be very +glad if you could spare him a moment in the library." + +Francis rose at once to his feet. + +"I was just leaving," he said. "I will look in at the library +and see Sir Timothy on my way out." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Sir Timothy was standing upon the hearthrug of the very wonderful +apartment which he called his library. By his side, on a black +marble pedestal, stood a small statue by Rodin. Behind him, lit +by a shielded electric light, was a Vandyck, "A Portrait of a +Gentleman Unknown," and Francis, as he hesitated for a moment +upon the threshold, was struck by a sudden quaint likeness +between the face of the man in the picture, with his sunken +cheeks, his supercilious smile, his narrowed but powerful eyes, +to the face of Sir Timothy himself. There was something of the +same spirit there--the lawless buccaneer, perhaps the criminal. + +"You asked for me, Sir Timothy," Francis said. + +Sir Timothy smiled. + +"I was fortunate to find that you had not left," he answered. "I +want you to be present at this forthcoming interview. You are to +a certain extent in the game. I thought it might amuse you." + +Francis for the first time was aware that his host was not alone. +The room, with its odd splashes of light, was full of shadows, +and he saw now that in an easy-chair a little distance away from +Sir Timothy, a girl was seated. Behind her, still standing, with +his hat in his hand, was a man. Francis recognised them both +with surprise. + +"Miss Hyslop!" he exclaimed. + +She nodded a little defiantly. Sir Timothy smiled. "Ah!" he +said. "You know the young lady, without a doubt. Mr. Shopland, +your coadjutor in various works of philanthropy, you recognise, +of course? I do not mind confessing to you, Ledsam, that I am +very much afraid of Mr. Shopland. I am not at all sure that he +has not a warrant for my arrest in his pocket." + +The detective came a little further into the light. He was +attired in an ill-fitting dinner suit, a soft-fronted shirt of +unpleasing design, a collar of the wrong shape, and a badly +arranged tie. He seemed, nevertheless, very pleased with +himself. + +"I came on here, Mr. Ledsam, at Sir Timothy's desire," he said. +"I should like you to understand," he added, with a covert glance +of warning, "that I have been devoting every effort, during the +last few days, to the discovery of your friend's brother, Mr. +Reginald Wilmore." + +"I am very glad to hear it," Francis replied shortly. "The boy's +brother is one of my greatest friends." + +"I have come to the conclusion," the detective pronounced, "that +the young man has been abducted, and is being detained at The +Walled House against his will for some illegal purpose." + +"In other respects," Sir Timothy said, stretching out his hand +towards a cedar-wood box of cigarettes and selecting one, "this +man seems quite sane. I have watched him very closely on the way +here, but I could see no signs of mental aberration. I do not +think, at any rate, that he is dangerous." + +"Sir Timothy," Shopland explained, with some anger in his tone, +"declines to take me seriously. I can of course apply for a +search warrant, as I shall do, but it occurred to me to be one of +those cases which could be better dealt with, up to a certain +point, without recourse to the extremities of the law." + +Sir Timothy, who had lit his cigarette, presented a wholly +undisturbed front. + +"What I cannot quite understand," he said, "is the exact meaning +of that word 'abduction.' Why should I be suspected of forcibly +removing a harmless and worthy young man from his regular +avocation, and, as you term it, abducting him, which I presume +means keeping him bound and gagged and imprisoned? I do not eat +young men. I do not even care for the society of young men. I +am not naturally a gregarious person, but I think I would go so +far," he added, with a bow towards Miss Hyslop, "as to say that I +prefer the society of young women. Satisfy my curiosity, +therefore, I beg of you. For what reason do you suppose that I +have been concerned in the disappearance of this Mr. Reginald +Wilmore?" + +Francis opened his lips, but Shopland, with a warning glance, +intervened. + +"I work sometimes as a private person, sir," he said, "but it is +not to be forgotten that I am an officer of the law. It is not +for us to state motives or even to afford explanations for our +behaviour. I have watched your house at Hatch End, Sir Timothy, +and I have come to the conclusion that unless you are willing to +discuss this matter with me in a different spirit, I am justified +in asking the magistrates for a search warrant." + +Sir Timothy sighed. + +"Mr. Ledsam," he said, "I think, after all, that yours is the +most interesting end of this espionage business. It is you who +search for motives, is it not, and pass them on to our more +automatic friend, who does the rest. May I ask, have you +supplied the motive in the present case?" + +"I have failed to discover any motive at all for Reginald +Wilmore's disappearance," Francis admitted, "nor have I at any +time been able to connect you with it. Mr. Shopland's efforts, +however, although he has not seen well to take me into his entire +confidence, have my warmest approval and sympathy. Although I +have accepted your very generous hospitality, Sir Timothy, I +think there has been no misunderstanding between us on this +matter." + +"Most correct," Sir Timothy murmured. "The trouble seems to be, +so far as I am concerned, that no one will tell me exactly of +what I am suspected? I am to give Mr. Shopland the run of my +house, or he will make his appearance in the magistrate's court +and the evening papers will have placards with marvellous +headlines at my expense. How will it run, Mr. Shopland-- + + "'MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN. + MILLIONAIRE'S HOUSE TO BE SEARCHED.'" + +"We do not necessarily acquaint the press with our procedure," +Shopland rejoined. + +"Nevertheless," Sir Timothy continued, "I have known awkward +consequences arise from a search warrant too rashly applied for +or granted. However, we are scarcely being polite. So far, Miss +Hyslop has had very little to say." + +The young lady was not altogether at her ease. + +"I have had very little to say," she repeated, "because I did not +expect an audience." + +Sir Timothy drew a letter from his pocket, opened it and adjusted +his eyeglass. + +"Here we are," he said. "After leaving my dinner-party tonight, +I called at the club and found this note. Quite an inviting +little affair, you see young lady's writing, faint but very +delicate perfume, excellent stationery, Milan Court--the home of +adventures!" + + "DEAR SIR TIMOTHY BRAST: + + "Although I am not known to you personally, there is a +certain matter concerning which information has come into my +possession, which I should like to discuss with you. Will +you call and see me as soon as possible?" + Sincerely yours, + "DAISY HYSLOP." + +"On receipt of this note," Sir Timothy continued, folding it up, +"I telephoned to the young lady and as I was fortunate enough to +find her at home I asked her to come here. I then took the +liberty of introducing myself to Mr. Shopland, whose interest in +my evening has been unvarying, and whose uninvited company I have +been compelled to bear with, and suggested that, as I was on my +way back to Curzon Street, he had better come in and have a drink +and tell me what it was all about. I arranged that he should +find Miss Hyslop here, and for a person of observation, which I +flatter myself to be, it was easy to discover the interesting +fact that Mr. Shopland and Miss Daisy Hyslop were not strangers. + +"Now tell me, young lady," Sir Timothy went on. "You see, I have +placed myself entirely in your hands. Never mind the presence of +these two gentlemen. Tell me exactly what you wanted to say to me?" + +"The matter is of no great importance," Miss Hyslop declared, "in +any case I should not discuss it before these two gentlemen." + +"Don't go for a moment, please," Sir Timothy begged, as she +showed signs of departure. "Listen. I want to make a suggestion +to you. There is an impression abroad that I was interested in +the two young men, Victor Bidlake and Fairfax, and that I knew +something of their quarrel. You were an intimate friend of young +Bidlake's and presumably in his confidence. It occurs to me, +therefore, that Mr. Shopland might very well have visited you in +search of information, linking me up with that unfortunate +affair. Hence your little note to me." + +Miss Hyslop rose to her feet. She had the appearance of being +very angry indeed. + +"Do you mean to insinuate--" she began. + +"Madam, I insinuate nothing," Sir Timothy interrupted sternly. +"I only desire to suggest this. You are a young lady whose +manner of living, I gather, is to a certain extent precarious. +It must have seemed to you a likelier source of profit to +withhold any information you might have to give at the +solicitation of a rich man, than to give it free gratis and for +nothing to a detective. Now am I right?" + +Miss Hyslop turned towards the door. She had the air of a person +who had been entirely misunderstood. + +"I wrote you out of kindness, Sir Timothy," she said in an +aggrieved manner. "I shall have nothing more to say on the +matter--to you, at any rate." + +Sir Timothy sighed. + +"You see," he said, turning to the others, "I have lost my chance +of conciliating a witness. My cheque-book remains locked up and +she has gone over to your side." + +She turned around suddenly. + +"You know that you made Bobby Fairfax kill Victor!" she almost +shouted. + +Sir Timothy smiled in triumph. + +"My dear young lady," he begged, "let us now be friends again. I +desired to know your trump card. For that reason I fear that I +have been a little brutal. Now please don't hurry away. You +have shot your bolt. Already Mr. Shopland is turning the thing +over in his mind. Was I lurking outside that night, Mr. +Shopland, to guide that young man's flabby arm? He scarcely +seemed man enough for a murderer, did he, when he sat quaking on +that stool in Soto's Bar while Mr. Ledsam tortured him? I beg +you again not to hurry, Miss Hyslop. At any rate wait while my +servants fetch you a taxi. It was clouding over when I came in. +We may even have a thunderstorm." + +"I want to get out of this house," Daisy Hyslop declared. +"I think you are all horrible. Mr. Ledsam did behave like +a gentleman when he came to see me, and Mr. Shopland asked +questions civilly. But you--" she added, turning round to Sir +Timothy. + +"Hush, my dear," he interrupted, holding out his hand. "Don't +abuse me. I am not angry with you--not in the least--and I am +going to prove it. I shall oppose any search warrant which you +might apply for, Mr. Shopland, and I think I can oppose it with +success. But I invite you two, Miss Hyslop and Mr. Ledsam, to my +party on Thursday night. Once under my roof you shall have carte +blanche. You can wander where you please, knock the walls for +secret hiding-places, stamp upon the floor for oubliettes. +Upstairs or down, the cellars and the lofts, the grounds and the +park, the whole of my domain is for you from midnight on Thursday +until four o'clock. What do you say, Mr. Shopland? Does my +offer satisfy you?" + +The detective hesitated. + +"I should prefer an invitation for myself," he declared bluntly. + +Sir Timothy shook his head. + +"Alas, my dear Mr. Shopland," he regretted, "that is impossible! +If I had only myself to consider I would not hesitate. +Personally I like you. You amuse me more than any one I have met +for a long time. But unfortunately I have my guests to consider! +You must be satisfied with Mr. Ledsam's report." + +Shopland stroked his stubbly moustache. It was obvious that he +was not in the least disconcerted. + +"There are three days between now and then," he reflected. + +"During those three days, of course," Sir Timothy said drily, "I +shall do my best to obliterate all traces of my various crimes. +Still, you are a clever detective, and you can give Mr. Ledsam a +few hints. Take my advice. You won't get that search warrant, +and if you apply for it none of you will be at my party." + +"I accept," Shopland decided. + +Sir Timothy crossed the room, unlocked the drawer of a +magnificent writing-table, and from a little packet drew out two +cards of invitation. They were of small size but thick, and the +colour was a brilliant scarlet. On one he wrote the name of +Francis, the other he filled in for Miss Hyslop. + +"Miss Daisy Hyslop," he said, "shall we drink a glass of wine +together on Thursday evening, and will you decide that although, +perhaps, I am not a very satisfactory correspondent, I can at +least be an amiable host?" + +The girl's eyes glistened. She knew very well that the +possession of that card meant that for the next few days she +would be the envy of every one of her acquaintances. + +"Thank you, Sir Timothy," she replied eagerly. "You have quite +misunderstood me but I should like to come to your party." + +Sir Timothy handed over the cards. He rang for a servant and +bowed the others out. Francis he detained for a moment. + +"Our little duel, my friend, marches," he said. "After Thursday +night we will speak again of this matter concerning Margaret. +You will know then what you have to face." + +Margaret herself opened the door and looked in. + +"What have those people been doing here?" she asked. "What is +happening?" + +Her father unlocked his drawer once more and drew out another of +the red cards. + +"Margaret," he said, "Ledsam here has accepted my invitation for +Thursday night. You have never, up till now, honoured me, nor +have I ever asked you. I suggest that for the first part of the +entertainment, you give me the pleasure of your company." + +"For the first part?" + +"For the first part only," he repeated, as he wrote her name upon +the card. + +"What about Francis?" she asked. "Is he to stay all the time?" + +Sir Timothy smiled. He locked up his drawer and slipped the +key into his pocket. + +"Ledsam and I," he said, "have promised one another a more +complete mutual understanding on Thursday night. I may not be +able to part with him quite so soon." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Bored and listless, like a tired and drooping lily in the arms of +her somewhat athletic partner, Lady Cynthia brought her dance to +a somewhat abrupt conclusion. + +"There is some one in the lounge there to whom I wish to speak," +she said. "Perhaps you won't mind if we finish later. The floor +seems sticky tonight, or my feet are heavy." + +Her partner made the best of it, as Lady Cynthia's partners, +nowadays, generally had to. She even dispensed with his escort, +and walked across the lounge of Claridge's alone. Sir Timothy +rose to his feet. He had been sitting in a corner, half +sheltered by a pillar, and had fancied himself unseen. + +"What a relief!" she exclaimed. "Another turn and I should have +fainted through sheer boredom." + +"Yet you are quite wonderful dancing," he said. "I have been +watching you for some time." + +"It is one of my expiring efforts," she declared, sinking into +the chair by his side. "You know whose party it is, of course? +Old Lady Torrington's. Quite a boy and girl affair. Twenty-four +of us had dinner in the worst corner of the room. I can hear the +old lady ordering the dinner now. Charles with a long menu. She +shakes her head and taps him on the wrist with her fan. +'Monsieur Charles, I am a poor woman. Give me what there is--a +small, plain dinner--and charge me at your minimum.' The dinner +was very small and very plain, the champagne was horribly sweet. +My partner talked of a new drill, his last innings for the +Household Brigade, and a wonderful round of golf he played last +Sunday week. I was turned on to dance with a man who asked me to +marry him, a year ago, and I could feel him vibrating with +gratitude, as he looked at me, that I had refused. I suppose I +am very haggard." + +"Does that matter, nowadays?" Sir Timothy asked. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"I am afraid it does. The bone and the hank of hair stuff is +played out. The dairy-maid style is coming in. Plump little +Fanny Torrington had a great success to-night, in one of those +simple white dresses, you know, which look like a sack with a +hole cut in the top. What are you doing here by yourself?" + +"I have an engagement in a few minutes," he explained. "My car +is waiting now. I looked in at the club to dine, found my +favourite table taken and nearly every man I ever disliked +sidling up to tell me that he hears I am giving a wonderful party +on Thursday. I decided not to dine there, after all, and Charles +found me a corner here. I am going in five minutes." + +"Where to?" she asked. "Can't I come with you?" + +"I fear not," he answered. "I am going down in the East End." + +"Adventuring?" + +"More or less," he admitted. + +Lady Cynthia became beautiful. She was always beautiful when she +was not tired. + +"Take me with you, please," she begged. + +He shook his head. + +"Not to be done!" + +"Don't shake your head like that," she enjoined, with a little +grimace. "People will think I am trying to borrow money from you +and that you are refusing me! Just take me with you some of the +way. I shall scream if I go back into that dancing-room again." + +Sir Timothy glanced at the clock. + +"If there is any amusement to you in a rather dull drive +eastwards--" + +She was on her feet with the soft, graceful speed which had made +her so much admired before her present listlessness had set in. + +"I'll get my cloak," she said. + +They drove along the Embankment, citywards. The heat of the city +seemed to rise from the pavements. The wall of the Embankment +was lined with people, leaning over to catch the languid breeze +that crept up with the tide. They crossed the river and threaded +their way through a nightmare of squalid streets, where half-dressed +men and women hung from the top windows and were even to be seen +upon the roof, struggling for air. The car at last pulled up at the +corner of a long street. + +"I am going down here," Sir Timothy announced. "I shall be gone +perhaps an hour. The neighbourhood is not a fit one for you to +be left alone in. I shall have time to send you home. The car +will be back here for me by the time I require it." + +"Where are you going?" she asked curiously. "Why can't I come +with you?" + +"I am going where I cannot take you," was the firm reply. "I +told you that before I started." + +"I shall sit here and wait for you," she decided. "I rather like +the neighbourhood. There is a gentleman in shirt-sleeves, +leaning over the rail of the roof there, who has his eye on me. +I believe I shall be a success here--which is more than I can say +of a little further westwards." + +Sir Timothy smiled slightly. He had exchanged his hat for a +tweed cap, and had put on a long dustcoat. + +"There is no gauge by which you may know the measure of your +success," he said. "If there were--" + +"If there were?" she asked, leaning a little forward and looking +at him with a touch of the old brilliancy in her eyes. + +"If there were," he said, with a little show of mock gallantry, +"a very jealously-guarded secret might escape me. I think you +will be quite all right here," he continued. "It is an open +thoroughfare, and I see two policemen at the corner. Hassell, my +chauffeur, too, is a reliable fellow. We will be back within the +hour." + +"We?" she repeated. + +He indicated a man who had silently made his appearance during +the conversation and was standing waiting on the sidewalk. + +"Just a companion. I do not advise you to wait. If you insist +--au revoir!" + +Lady Cynthia leaned back in a corner of the car. + +Through half-closed eyes she watched the two men on their way +down the crowded thoroughfare--Sir Timothy tall, thin as a lath, +yet with a certain elegance of bearing; the man at his side +shorter, his hands thrust into the pockets of his coat, his +manner one of subservience. She wondered languidly as to their +errand in this unsavoury neighbourhood. Then she closed her eyes +altogether and wondered about many things. + +Sir Timothy and his companion walked along the crowded, squalid +street without speech. Presently they turned to the right and +stopped in front of a public-house of some pretensions. + +"This is the place?" Sir Timothy asked. + +"Yes, sir!" + +Both men entered. Sir Timothy made his way to the counter, his +companion to a table near, where he took a seat and ordered a +drink. Sir Timothy did the same. He was wedged in between a +heterogeneous crowd of shabby, depressed but apparently not +ill-natured men and women. A man in a flannel shirt and pair of +shabby plaid trousers, which owed their precarious position to a +pair of worn-out braces, turned a beery eye upon the newcomer. + +"I'll 'ave one with you, guvnor," he said. + +"You shall indeed," Sir Timothy assented. + +"Strike me lucky but I've touched first time!" the man exclaimed. +"I'll 'ave a double tot of whisky," he added, addressing the +barman. "Will it run to it, guvnor?" + +"Certainly," was the cordial reply, "and the same to your +friends, if you will answer a question." + +"Troop up, lads," the man shouted. "We've a toff 'ere. He ain't +a 'tec--I know the cut of them. Out with the question." + +"Serve every one who desires it with drinks," Sir Timothy +directed the barman. "My question is easily answered. Is this +the place which a man whom I understand they call Billy the +Tanner frequents?" + +The question appeared to produce an almost uncomfortable +sensation. The enthusiasm for the free drinks, however, was only +slightly damped, and a small forest of grimy hands was extended +across the counter. + +"Don't you ask no questions about 'im, guvnor," Sir Timothy's +immediate companion advised earnestly. "He'd kill you as soon as +look at you. When Billy the Tanner's in a quarrelsome mood, I've +see 'im empty this place and the whole street, quicker than if a +mad dog was loose. 'E's a fair and 'oly terror, 'e is. 'E about +killed 'is wife, three nights ago, but there ain't a living soul +as 'd dare to stand in the witness-box about it." + +"Why don't the police take a hand in the matter if the man is +such a nuisance?" Sir Timothy asked. + +His new acquaintance, gripping a thick tumbler of spirits and +water with a hand deeply encrusted with the stains of his trade, +scoffed. + +"Police! Why, 'e'd take on any three of the police round these +parts!" he declared. "Police! You tell one on 'em that Billy +the Tanner's on the rampage, and you'll see 'em 'op it. Cheero, +guvnor and don't you get curious about Billy. It ain't 'ealthy." + +The swing-door was suddenly opened. A touslehaired urchin shoved +his face in. + +"Billy the Tanner's coming!" he shouted. "Cave, all! He's been +'avin' a rare to-do in Smith's Court." + +Then a curious thing happened. The little crowd at the bar +seemed somehow to melt away. Half-a-dozen left precipitately by +the door. Half-a-dozen more slunk through an inner entrance into +some room beyond. Sir Timothy's neighbour set down his tumbler +empty. He was the last to leave. + +"If you're going to stop 'ere, guvnor," he begged fervently, "you +keep a still tongue in your 'ead. Billy ain't particular who it +is. 'E'd kill 'is own mother, if 'e felt like it. 'E'll swing +some day, sure as I stand 'ere, but 'e'll do a bit more mischief +first. 'Op it with me, guvnor, or get inside there." + +"Jim's right," the man behind the bar agreed. "He's a very nasty +customer, Bill the Tanner, sir. If he's coming down, I'd clear +out for a moment. You can go in the guvnor's sitting-room, if +you like." + +Sir Timothy shook his head. + +"Billy the Tanner will not hurt me," he said. "As a matter of +fact, I came down to see him." + +His new friend hesitated no longer but made for the door through +which most of his companions had already disappeared. The barman +leaned across the counter. + +"Guvnor," he whispered hoarsely, "I don't know what the game is, +but I've given you the office. Billy won't stand no truck from +any one. He's a holy terror." + +Sir Timothy nodded. + +"I quite understand," he said. + +There was a moment's ominous silence. The barman withdrew to the +further end of his domain and busied himself cleaning some +glasses. Suddenly the door was swung open. A man entered whose +appearance alone was calculated to inspire a certain amount of +fear. He was tall, but his height escaped notice by reason of +the extraordinary breadth of his shoulders. He had a coarse and +vicious face, a crop of red hair, and an unshaven growth of the +same upon his face. He wore what appeared to be the popular +dress in the neighbourhood--a pair of trousers suspended by a +belt, and a dirty flannel shirt. His hands and even his chest, +where the shirt fell away, were discoloured by yellow stains. He +looked around the room at first with an air of disappointment. +Then he caught sight of Sir Timothy standing at the counter, and +he brightened up. + +"Where's all the crowd, Tom?" he asked the barman. + +"Scared of you, I reckon," was the brief reply. "There was +plenty here a few minutes ago." + +"Scared of me, eh?" the other repeated, staring hard at Sir +Timothy. "Did you 'ear that, guvnor?" + +"I heard it," Sir Timothy acquiesced. + +Billy the Tanner began to cheer up. He walked all round this +stranger. + +"A toff! A big toff! I'll 'ave a drink with you, guvnor," he +declared, with a note of incipient truculence in his tone. + +The barman had already reached up for two glasses but Sir Timothy +shook his head. + +"I think not," he said. + +There was a moment's silence. The barman made despairing signs +at Sir Timothy. Billy the Tanner was moistening his lips with +his tongue. + +"Why not?" he demanded. + +"Because I don't know you and I don't like you," was the bland +reply. + +Billy the Tanner wasted small time upon preliminaries. He spat +upon his hands. + +"I dunno you and I don't like you," he retorted. "D'yer know wot +I'm going to do?" + +"I have no idea," Sir Timothy confessed. + +"I'm going to make you look so that your own mother wouldn't know +you--then I'm going to pitch you into the street," he added, with +an evil grin. "That's wot we does with big toffs who come +'anging around 'ere." + +"Do you?" Sir Timothy said calmly. "Perhaps my friend may have +something to say about that." + +The man of war was beginning to be worked up. + +"Where's your big friend?" he shouted. "Come on! I'll take on +the two of you." + +The man who had met Sir Timothy in the street had risen to his +feet. He strolled up to the two. Billy the Tanner eyed him +hungrily. + +"The two of you, d'yer 'ear?" he shouted. "And 'ere's just a +flick for the toff to be going on with!" + +He delivered a sudden blow at Sir Timothy--a full, vicious, +jabbing blow which had laid many a man of the neighbourhood in +the gutter. To his amazement, the chin at which he had aimed +seemed to have mysteriously disappeared. Sir Timothy himself was +standing about half-a-yard further away. Billy the Tanner was +too used to the game to be off his balance, but he received at +that moment the surprise of his life. With the flat of his hand +full open, Sir Timothy struck him across the cheek such a blow +that it resounded through the place, a blow that brought both the +inner doors ajar, that brought peering eyes from every direction. +There was a moment's silence. The man's fists were clenched now, +there was murder in his face. Sir Timothy stepped on one side. + +"I am not a fighter," he said coolly, leaning back against the +marble table. "My friend will deal with you." + +Billy the Tanner glared at the newcomer, who had glided in +between him and Sir Timothy. + +"You can come and join in, too," he shouted to Sir Timothy. +"I'll knock your big head into pulp when I've done with this +little job!" + +The bully knew in precisely thirty seconds what had happened to +him. So did the crowds who pressed back into the place through +the inner door. So did the barman. So did the landlord, who had +made a cautious appearance through a trapdoor. Billy the Tanner, +for the first time in his life, was fighting a better man. For +two years he had been the terror of the neighbourhood, and he +showed now that at least he had courage. His smattering of +science, however, appeared only ridiculous. Once, through sheer +strength and blundering force, he broke down his opponent's guard +and struck him in the place that had dispatched many a man +before--just over the heart. His present opponent scarcely +winced, and Billy the Tanner paid the penalty then for his years +of bullying. His antagonist paused for a single second, as though +unnerved by the blow. Red fire seemed to stream from his eyes. +Then it was all over. With a sickening crash, Billy the Tanner +went down upon the sanded floor. It was no matter of a count for +him. He lay there like a dead man, and from the two doors the +hidden spectators streamed into the room. Sir Timothy laid some +money upon the table. + +"This fellow insulted me and my friend," he said. "You see, he +has paid the penalty. If he misbehaves again, the same thing +will happen to him. I am leaving some money here with your +barman. I shall be glad for every one to drink with me. +Presently, perhaps, you had better send for an ambulance or a +doctor." + +A little storm of enthusiastic excitement, evidenced for the most +part in expletives of a lurid note, covered the retreat of Sir +Timothy and his companion. Out in the street a small crowd was +rushing towards the place. A couple of policemen seemed to be +trying to make up their minds whether it was a fine night. An +inspector hurried up to them. + +"What's doing in 'The Rising Sun'?" he demanded sharply. + +"Some one's giving Billy the Tanner a hiding," one of the +policemen replied. + +"Honest?" + +"A fair, ripe, knock-out hiding," was the emphatic confirmation. +"I looked in at the window." + +The inspector grinned. + +"I'm glad you had the sense not to interfere," he remarked. + +Sir Timothy and his companion reached the car. The latter took a +seat by the chauffeur. Sir Timothy stepped in. It struck him +that Lady Cynthia was a little breathless. Her eyes, too, were +marvellously bright. Wrapped around her knees was the +chauffeur's coat. + +"Wonderful!" she declared. "I haven't had such a wonderful five +minutes since I can remember! You are a dear to have brought me, +Sir Timothy." + +"What do you mean?" he demanded. + +"Mean?" she laughed, as the car swung around and they glided +away. "You didn't suppose I was going to sit here and watch you +depart upon a mysterious errand? I borrowed your chauffeur's +coat and his cap, and slunk down after you. I can assure you I +looked the most wonderful female apache you ever saw! And I saw +the fight. It was better than any of the prize fights I have +ever been to. The real thing is better than the sham, isn't it?" + +Sir Timothy leaned back in his place and remained silent. Soon +they passed out of the land of tired people, of stalls decked out +with unsavoury provender, of foetid smells and unwholesome-looking +houses. They passed through a street of silent warehouses on to +the Embankment. A stronger breeze came down between the curving +arc of lights. + +"You are not sorry that you brought me?" Lady Cynthia asked, +suddenly holding out her hand. + +Sir Timothy took it in his. For some reason or other, he made no +answer at all. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +The car stopped in front of the great house in Grosvenor Square. +Lady Cynthia turned to her companion. + +"You must come in, please," she said. "I insist, if it is only +for five minutes." + +Sir Timothy followed her across the hall to a curved recess, +where the footman who had admitted them touched a bell, and a +small automatic lift came down. + +"I am taking you to my own quarters," she explained. "They are +rather cut off but I like them--especially on hot nights." + +They glided up to the extreme top of the house. She opened the +gates and led the way into what was practically an attic +sitting-room, decorated in black and white. Wide-flung doors +opened onto the leads, where comfortable chairs, a small table and +an electric standard were arranged. They were far above the tops +of the other houses, and looked into the green of the Park. + +"This is where I bring very few people," she said. "This is +where, even after my twenty-eight years of fraudulent life, I am +sometimes myself. Wait." + +There were feminine drinks and sandwiches arranged on the table. +She opened the cupboard of a small sideboard just inside the +sitting-room, however, and produced whisky and a syphon of soda. +There was a pail of ice in a cool corner. From somewhere in the +distance came the music of violins floating through the window of +a house where a dance was in progress. They could catch a +glimpse of the striped awning and the long line of waiting +vehicles with their twin eyes of fire. She curled herself up on +a settee, flung a cushion at Sir Timothy, who was already +ensconced in a luxurious easy-chair, and with a tumbler of iced +sherbet in one hand, and a cigarette in the other, looked across +at him. + +"I am not sure," she said, "that you have not to-night dispelled +an illusion." + +"What manner of one?" he asked. + +"Above all things," she went on, "I have always looked upon you +as wicked. Most people do. I think that is one reason why so +many of the women find you attractive. I suppose it is why I +have found you attractive." + +The smile was back upon his lips. He bowed a little, and, +leaning forward, dropped a chunk of ice into his whisky and soda. + +"Dear Lady Cynthia," he murmured, "don't tell me that I am going +to slip back in your estimation into some normal place." + +"I am not quite sure," she said deliberately. "I have always +looked upon you as a kind of amateur criminal, a man who loved +black things and dark ways. You know how weary one gets of the +ordinary code of morals in these days. You were such a +delightful antidote. And now, I am not sure that you have not +shaken my faith in you." + +"In what way?" + +"You really seem to have been engaged to-night in a very sporting +and philanthropic enterprise. I imagined you visiting some den +of vice and mixing as an equal with these terrible people who +never seem to cross the bridges. I was perfectly thrilled when I +put on your chauffeur's coat and hat and followed you." + +"The story of my little adventure is a simple one," Sir Timothy +said. "I do not think it greatly affects my character. I +believe, as a matter of fact, that I am just as wicked as you +would have me be, but I have friends in every walk of life, and, +as you know, I like to peer into the unexpected places. I had +heard of this man Billy the Tanner. He beats women, and has +established a perfect reign of terror in the court and +neighbourhood where he lives. I fear I must agree with you that +there were some elements of morality--of conforming, at any rate, +to the recognised standards of justice--in what I did. You know, +of course, that I am a great patron of every form of boxing, +fencing, and the various arts of self-defence and attack. I just +took along one of the men from my gymnasium who I knew was equal +to the job, to give this fellow a lesson." + +"He did it all right," Lady Cynthia murmured. + +"But this is where I think I re-establish myself," Sir Timothy +continued, the peculiar nature of his smile reasserting itself. +"I did not do this for the sake of the neighbourhood. I did not +do it from any sense of justice at all. I did it to provide for +myself an enjoyable and delectable spectacle." + +She smiled lazily. + +"That does rather let you out," she admitted. "However, on the +whole I am disappointed. I am afraid that you are not so bad as +people think." + +"People?" he repeated. "Francis Ledsam, for instance--my son-in-law +in posse?" + +"Francis Ledsam is one of those few rather brilliant persons who +have contrived to keep sane without becoming a prig," she +remarked. + +"You know why?" he reminded her. "Francis Ledsam has been a +tremendous worker. It is work which keeps a man sane. +Brilliancy without the capacity for work drives people to the +madhouse." + +"Where we are all going, I suppose," she sighed. + +"Not you," he answered. "You have just enough--I don't know what +we moderns call it--soul, shall I say?--to keep you from the +muddy ways." + +She rose to her feet and leaned over the rails. Sir Timothy +watched her thoughtfully. Her figure, notwithstanding its +suggestions of delicate maturity, was still as slim as a young +girl's. She was looking across the tree-tops towards an angry +bank of clouds--long, pencil-like streaks of black on a purple +background. Below, in the street, a taxi passed with grinding of +brakes and noisy horn. The rail against which she leaned looked +very flimsy. Sir Timothy stretched out his hand and held her +arm. + +"My nerves are going with my old age," he apologised. "That +support seems too fragile." + +She did not move. The touch of his fingers grew firmer. + +"We have entered upon an allegory," she murmured. "You are +preserving me from the depths." + +He laughed harshly. + +"I!" he exclaimed, with a sudden touch of real and fierce +bitterness which brought the light dancing into her eyes and a +spot of colour to her cheeks. "I preserve you! Why, you can +never hear my name without thinking of sin, of crime of some +sort! Do you seriously expect me to ever preserve any one from +anything?" + +"You haven't made any very violent attempts to corrupt me," she +reminded him. + +"Women don't enter much into my scheme of life," he declared. +"They played a great part once. It was a woman, I think, who +first headed me off from the pastures of virtue." + +"I know," she said softly. "It was Margaret's mother." + +His voice rang out like a pistol-shot. + +"How did you know that?" + +She turned away from the rail and threw herself back in her +chair. His hand, however, she still kept in hers. + +"Uncle Joe was Minister at Rio, you know, the year it all +happened," she explained. "He told us the story years ago--how +you came back from Europe and found things were not just as they +should be between Margaret's mother and your partner, and how you +killed your partner." + +His nostrils quivered a little. One felt that the fire of +suffering had touched him again for a moment. + +"Yes, I killed him," he admitted. "That is part of my creed. +The men who defend their honour in the Law Courts are men I know +nothing of. This man would have wronged me and robbed me of my +honour. I bade him defend himself in any way he thought well. +It was his life or mine. He was a poor fighter and I killed +him." + +"And Margaret's mother died from the shock." + +"She died soon afterwards." + +The stars grew paler. The passing vehicles, with their brilliant +lights, grew fewer and fewer. The breeze which had been so +welcome at first, turned into a cold night wind. She led the way +back into the room. + +"I must go," he announced. + +"You must go," she echoed, looking up at him. "Good-bye!" + +She was so close to him that his embrace, sudden and passionate +though it was, came about almost naturally. She lay in his arms +with perfect content and raised her lips to his. + +He broke away. He was himself again, self-furious. + +"Lady Cynthia," he said, "I owe you my most humble apologies. +The evil that is in me does not as a rule break out in this +direction." + +"You dear, foolish person," she laughed, "that was good, not +evil. You like me, don't you? But I know you do. There is one +crime you have always forgotten to develop--you haven't the +simplest idea in the world how to lie." + +"Yes, I like you," he admitted. "I have the most absurd feeling +for you that any man ever found it impossible to put into words. +We have indeed strayed outside the world of natural things," he +added. + +"Why?" she murmured. "I never felt more natural or normal in my +life. I can assure you that I am loving it. I feel like muslin +gowns and primroses and the scent of those first March violets +underneath a warm hedge where the sun comes sometimes. I feel +very natural indeed, Sir Timothy." + +"What about me?" he asked harshly. "In three weeks' time I shall +be fifty years old." + +She laughed softly. + +"And in no time at all I shall be thirty--and entering upon a +terrible period of spinsterhood!" + +"Spinsterhood!" he scoffed. "Why, whenever the Society papers +are at a loss for a paragraph, they report a few more offers of +marriage to the ever-beautiful Lady Cynthia." + +"Don't be sarcastic," she begged. "I haven't yet had the offer +of marriage I want, anyhow." + +"You'll get one you don't want in a moment," he warned her. + +She made a little grimace. + +"Don't!" she laughed nervously. "How am I to preserve my +romantic notions of you as the emperor of the criminal world, if +you kiss me as you did just now--you kissed me rather well--and +then ask me to marry you? It isn't your role. You must light a +cigarette now, pat the back of my hand, and swagger off to +another of your haunts of vice." + +"In other words, I am not to propose?" Sir Timothy said slowly. + +"You see how decadent I am," she sighed. "I want to toy with my +pleasures. Besides, there's that scamp of a brother of mine +coming up to have a drink--I saw him get out of a taxi--and you +couldn't get it through in time, not with dignity." + +The rattle of the lift as it stopped was plainly audible. He +stooped and kissed her fingers. + +"I fear some day," he murmured, "I shall be a great +disappointment to you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +There was a great deal of discussion, the following morning at +the Sheridan Club, during the gossipy half-hour which preceded +luncheon, concerning Sir Timothy Brast's forthcoming +entertainment. One of the men, Philip Baker, who had been for +many years the editor of a famous sporting weekly, had a ticket +of invitation which he displayed to an envious little crowd. + +"You fellows who get invitations to these parties," a famous +actor declared, "are the most elusive chaps on earth. Half +London is dying to know what really goes on there, and yet, if by +any chance one comes across a prospective or retrospective guest, +he is as dumb about it as though it were some Masonic function. +We've got you this time, Baler, though. We'll put you under the +inquisition on Friday morning." + +"There a won't be any need," the other replied. "One hears a +great deal of rot talked about these affairs, but so far as I +know, nothing very much out of the way goes on. There are always +one or two pretty stiff fights in the gymnasium, and you get the +best variety show and supper in the world." + +"Why is there this aroma of mystery hanging about the affair, +then?" some one asked. + +"Well, for one or two reasons," Baker answered. "One, no doubt, +is because Sir Timothy has a great idea of arranging the fights +himself, and the opponents actually don't know until the fight +begins whom they are meeting, and sometimes not even then. There +has been some gossiping, too, about the rules, and the weight of +the gloves, but that I know, nothing about." + +"And the rest of the show?" a younger member enquired. "Is it +simply dancing and music and that sort of thing?" + +"Just a variety entertainment," the proud possessor of the +scarlet-hued ticket declared. "Sir Timothy always has something +up his sleeve. Last year, for instance, he had those six African +girls over from Paris in that queer dance which they wouldn't +allow in London at all. This time no one knows what is going to +happen. The house, as you know, is absolutely surrounded by that +hideous stone wall, and from what I have heard, reporters who try +to get in aren't treated too kindly. Here's Ledsam. Very likely +he knows more about it." + +"Ledsam," some one demanded, as Francis joined the group, "are +you going to Sir Timothy Brast's show to-morrow night?" + +"I hope so," Francis replied, producing his strip of pasteboard. + +"Ever been before?" + +"Never." + +"Do you know what sort of a show it's going to be?" the actor +enquired. + +"Not the slightest idea. I don't think any one does. That's +rather a feature of the affair, isn't it?" + +"It is the envious outsider who has never received an invitation, +like myself," some one remarked, "who probably spreads these +rumours, for one always hears it hinted that some disgraceful and +illegal exhibition is on tap there--a new sort of drugging party, +or some novel form of debauchery." + +"I don't think," Francis said quietly, "that Sir Timothy is quite +that sort of man." + +"Dash it all, what sort of man is he?" the actor demanded. "They +tell me that financially he is utterly unscrupulous, although he +is rolling in money. He has the most Mephistophelian expression +of any man I ever met--looks as though he'd set his heel on any +one's neck for the sport of it--and yet they say he has given at +least fifty thousand pounds to the Society for the Prevention of +Cruelty to Animals, and that the whole of the park round that +estate of his down the river is full of lamed and decrepit beasts +which he has bought himself off the streets." + +"The man must have an interesting personality," a novelist who +had joined the party observed. "Of course, you know that he was +in prison for six months?" + +"What for?" some one asked. + +"Murder, only they brought it in manslaughter," was the terse +reply. "He killed his partner. It was many years ago, and no +one knows all the facts of the story." + +"I am not holding a brief for Sir Timothy," Francis remarked, as +he sipped his cocktail. "As a matter of fact, he and I are very +much at cross-purposes. But as regards that particular instance, +I am not sure that he was very much to be blamed, any more than +you can blame any injured person who takes the law into his own +hands." + +"He isn't a man I should care to have for an enemy," Baker +declared. + +"Well, we'll shake the truth out of you fellows, somehow or +other," one of the group threatened. "On Friday morning we are +going to have the whole truth--none of this Masonic secrecy which +Baker indulged in last year." + +The men drifted in to luncheon and Francis, leaving them, took a +taxi on to the Ritz. Looking about in the vestibule for +Margaret, he came face to face with Lady Cynthia. She was +dressed with her usual distinction in a gown of yellow muslin and +a beflowered hat, and was the cynosure of a good many eyes. + +"One would almost imagine, Lady Cynthia," he said, as they +exchanged greetings, "that you had found that elixir we were +talking about." + +"Perhaps I have," she answered, smiling. "Are you looking for +Margaret? She is somewhere about. We were just having a chat +when I was literally carried off by that terrible Lanchester +woman. Let's find her." + +They strolled up into the lounge. Margaret came to meet them. +Her smile, as she gave Francis her left hand, transformed and +softened her whole appearance. + +"You don't mind my having asked Cynthia to lunch with us?" she +said. "I really couldn't get rid of the girl. She came in to +see me this morning the most aggressively cheerful person I ever +knew. I believe that she had an adventure last night. All that +she will tell me is that she dined and danced at Claridge's with +a party of the dullest people in town." + +A tall, familiar figure passed down the vestibule. Lady Cynthia +gave a little start, and Francis, who happened to be watching +her, was amazed at her expression. + +"Your father, Margaret!" she pointed out. "I wonder if he is +lunching here." + +"He told me that he was lunching somewhere with a South American +friend--one of his partners, I believe," Margaret replied. "I +expect he is looking for him." + +Sir Timothy caught sight of them, hesitated for a moment and came +slowly in their direction. + +"Have you found your friend?" Margaret asked. + +"The poor fellow is ill in bed," her father answered. "I was +just regretting that I had sent the car away, or I should have +gone back to Hatch End." + +"Stay and lunch with us," Lady Cynthia begged, a little +impetuously. + +"I shall be very pleased if you will," Francis put in. "I'll go +and tell the waiter to enlarge my table." + +He hurried off. On his way back, a page-boy touched him on the +arm. + +"If you please, sir," he announced, "you are wanted on the +telephone." + +"I?" Francis exclaimed. "Some mistake, I should think. Nobody +knows that I am here." + +"Mr. Ledsam," the boy said. "This way, sir." + +Francis walked down the vestibule to the row of telephone boxes +at the further end. The attendant who was standing outside, +indicated one of them and motioned the boy to go away. Francis +stepped inside. The man followed, closing the door behind him. + +"I am asking your pardon, sir, for taking a great liberty," he +confessed. "No one wants you on the telephone. I wished to +speak to you." + +Francis looked at him in surprise. The man was evidently +agitated. Somehow or other, his face was vaguely familiar. + +"Who are you, and what do you want with me?" Francis asked. + +"I was butler to Mr. Hilditch, sir," the man replied. "I waited +upon you the night you dined there, sir--the night of Mr. +Hilditch's death." + +"Well?" + +"I have a revelation to make with regard to that night, sir," the +man went on, "which I should like to place in your hands. It is +a very serious matter, and there are reasons why something must +be done about it at once. Can I come and see you at your rooms, +sir?" + +Francis studied the man for a moment intently. He was evidently +agitated--evidently, too, in very bad health. His furtive manner +was against him. On the other hand, that might have arisen from +nervousness. + +"I shall be in at half-past three, number 13 b, Clarges Street," +Francis told him. + +"I can get off for half-an-hour then, sir," the man replied. "I +shall be very glad to come. I must apologise for having troubled +you, sir." + +Francis went slowly back to his trio of guests. All the way down +the carpeted vestibule he was haunted by the grim shadow of a +spectral fear. The frozen horror of that ghastly evening was +before him like a hateful tableau. Hilditch's mocking words rang +in his cars: "My death is the one thing in the world which would +make my wife happy." The Court scene, with all its gloomy +tragedy, rose before his eyes--only in the dock, instead of +Hilditch, he saw another! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +There were incidents connected with that luncheon which Francis +always remembered. In the first place, Sir Timothy was a great +deal more silent than usual. A certain vein of half-cynical, +half-amusing comment upon things and people of the moment, which +seemed, whenever he cared to exert himself, to flow from his lips +without effort, had deserted him. He sat where the rather +brilliant light from the high windows fell upon his face, and +Francis wondered more than once whether there were not some +change there, perhaps some prescience of trouble to come, which +had subdued him and made him unusually thoughtful. Another +slighter but more amusing feature of the luncheon was the number +of people who stopped to shake hands with Sir Timothy and made +more or less clumsy efforts to obtain an invitation to his coming +entertainment. Sir Timothy's reply to these various hints was +barely cordial. The most he ever promised was that he would +consult with his secretary and see if their numbers were already +full. Lady Cynthia, as a somewhat blatant but discomfited Peer +of the Realm took his awkward leave of them, laughed softly. + +"Of course, I think they all deserve what they get," she +declared. "I never heard such brazen impudence in my life--from +people who ought to know better, too." + +Lord Meadowson, a sporting peer, who was one of Sir Timothy's few +intimates, came over to the table. He paid his respects to the +two ladies and Francis, and turned a little eagerly to Sir +Timothy. + +"Well?" he asked. + +Sir Timothy nodded. + +"We shall be quite prepared for you," he said. "Better bring +your cheque-book." + +"Capital!" the other exclaimed. "As I hadn't heard anything, I +was beginning to wonder whether you would be ready with your end +of the show." + +"There will be no hitch so far as we are concerned," Sir Timothy +assured him. + +"More mysteries?" Margaret enquired, as Meadowson departed with a +smile of satisfaction. + +Her father shrugged his shoulders. + +"Scarcely that," he replied. "It is a little wager between Lord +Meadowson and myself which is to be settled to-morrow." + +Lady Torrington, a fussy little woman, her hostess of the night +before, on her way down the room stopped and shook hands with +Lady Cynthia. + +"Why, my dear," she exclaimed, "wherever did you vanish to last +night? Claude told us all that, in the middle of a dance with +him, you excused yourself for a moment and he never saw you +again. I quite expected to read in the papers this morning that +you had eloped." + +"Precisely what I did," Lady Cynthia declared. "The only trouble +was that my partner had had enough of me before the evening was +over, and deposited me once more in Grosvenor Square. It is +really very humiliating," she went on meditatively, "how every +one always returns me." + +"You talk such nonsense, Cynthia!" Lady Torrington exclaimed, a +little pettishly. "However, you found your way home all right?" + +"Quite safely, thank you. I was going to write you a note this +afternoon. I went away on an impulse. All I can say is that I +am sorry. Do forgive me." + +"Certainly!" was the somewhat chilly reply. "Somehow or other, +you seem to have earned the right to do exactly as you choose. +Some of my young men whom you had promised to dance with, were +disappointed, but after all, I suppose that doesn't matter." + +"Not much," Lady Cynthia assented sweetly. "I think a few +disappointments are good for most of the young men of to-day." + +"What did you do last night, Cynthia?" Margaret asked her +presently, when Lady Torrington had passed on. + +"I eloped with your father," Lady Cynthia confessed, smiling +across at Sir Timothy. "We went for a little drive together and +I had a most amusing time. The only trouble was, as I have been +complaining to that tiresome woman, he brought me home again." + +"But where did you go to?" Margaret persisted. + +"It was an errand of charity," Sir Timothy declared. + +"It sounds very mysterious," Francis observed. "Is that all we +are to be told?" + +"I am afraid," Sir Timothy complained, "that very few people +sympathise with my hobbies or my prosecution of them. That is +why such little incidents as last night's generally remain +undisclosed. If you really wish to know what happened," he went +on, after a moment's pause, "I will tell you. As you know, I +have a great many friends amongst the boxing fraternity, and I +happened to hear of a man down in the East End who has made +himself a terror to the whole community in which he lives. I +took Peter Fields, my gymnasium instructor, down to the East End +last night, and Peter Fields--dealt with him." + +"There was a fight?" Margaret exclaimed, with a little shudder. + +"There was a fight," Sir Timothy repeated, "if you can call it +such. Fields gave him some part of the punishment he deserved." + +"And you were there, Cynthia?" + +"I left Lady Cynthia in the car," Sir Timothy explained. "She +most improperly bribed my chauffeur to lend her his coat and hat, +and followed me." + +"You actually saw the fight, then?" Francis asked. + +"I did," Lady Cynthia admitted. "I saw it from the beginning to +the end." + +Margaret looked across the table curiously. It seemed to her +that her friend had turned a little paler. + +"Did you like it?" she asked simply. + +Lady Cynthia was silent for a moment. She glanced at Sir +Timothy. He, too, was waiting for her answer with evident +interest. + +"I was thrilled," she acknowledged. "That was the pleasurable +part of it I have been so, used to looking on at shows that bored +me, listening to conversations that wearied me, attempting +sensations which were repellent, that I just welcomed feeling, +when it came--feeling of any sort. I was excited. I forgot +everything else. I was so fascinated that I could not look away. +But if you ask me whether I liked it, and I have to answer +truthfully, I hated it! I felt nothing of the sort at the time, +but when I tried to sleep I found myself shivering. It was +justice, I know, but it was ugly." + +She watched Sir Timothy, as she made her confession, a little +wistfully. He said nothing, but there was a very curious change +in his expression. He smiled at her in an altogether unfamiliar +way. + +"I suppose," she said, appealing to him, "that you are very +disappointed in me?" + +"On the contrary," he answered, "I am delighted." + +"You mean that?" she asked incredulously. + +"I do," he declared. "Companionship between our sexes is very +delightful so far as it goes, but the fundamental differences +between a man's outlook and tastes and a woman's should never be +bridged over. I myself do not wish to learn to knit. I do not +care for the womenkind in whom I am interested to appreciate and +understand fighting." + +Margaret looked across the table in amazement. + +"You are most surprising this morning, father," she declared. + +"I am perhaps misunderstood," he sighed, "perhaps have acquired a +reputation for greater callousness than I possess. Personally, I +love fighting. I was born a fighter, and I should find no +happier way of ending my life than fighting, but, to put it +bluntly, fighting is a man's job." + +"What about women going to see fights at the National Sporting +Club?" Lady Cynthia asked curiously. + +"It is their own affair, but if you ask my opinion I do not +approve of it," Sir Timothy replied. "I am indifferent upon the +subject, because I am indifferent upon the subject of the +generality of your sex," he added, with a little smile, "but I +simply hold that it is not a taste which should be developed in +women, and if they do develop it, it is at the expense of those +very qualities which make them most attractive." + +Lady Cynthia took a cigarette from her case and leaned over to +Francis for a light. + +"The world is changing," she declared. "I cannot bear many more +shocks. I fancied that I had written myself for ever out of Sir +Timothy's good books because of my confession just now." + +He smiled across at her. His words were words of courteous +badinage, but Lady Cynthia was conscious of a strange little +sense of pleasure. + +"On the contrary," he assured her, "you found your way just a +little further into my heart." + +"It seems to me, in a general sort of way," Margaret observed, +leaning back in her chair, "that you and my father are becoming +extraordinarily friendly, Cynthia." + +"I am hopefully in love with your father," Lady Cynthia +confessed. "It has been coming on for a long time. I suspected +it the first time I ever met him. Now I am absolutely certain." + +"It's quite a new idea," Margaret remarked. "Shall we like her +in the family, Francis?" + +"No airs!" Lady Cynthia warned her. "You two are not properly +engaged yet. It may devolve upon me to give my consent." + +"In that case," Francis replied, "I hope that we may at least +count upon your influence with Sir Timothy?" + +"If you'll return the compliment and urge my suit with him," Lady +Cynthia laughed. "I am afraid he can't quite make up his mind +about me, and I am so nice. I haven't flirted nearly so much as +people think, and my instincts are really quite domestic." + +"My position," Sir Timothy remarked, as he made an unsuccessful +attempt to possess himself of the bill which Francis had called +for, "is becoming a little difficult." + +"Not really difficult," Lady Cynthia objected, "because the real +decision rests in your hands." + +"Just listen to the woman!" Margaret exclaimed. "Do you realise, +father, that Cynthia is making the most brazen advances to you? +And I was going to ask her if she'd like to come back to The +Sanctuary with us this evening!" + +Lady Cynthia was suddenly eager. Margaret glanced across at her +father. Sir Timothy seemed almost imperceptibly to stiffen a +little. + +"Margaret has carte blanche at The Sanctuary as regards her +visitors," he said. "I am afraid that I shall be busy over at +The Walled House." + +"But you'd come and dine with us?" + +Sir Timothy hesitated. An issue which had been looming in his +mind for many hours seemed to be suddenly joined. + +"Please!" Lady Cynthia begged. + +Sir Timothy followed the example of the others and rose to his +feet. He avoided Lady Cynthia's eyes. He seemed suddenly a +little tired. + +"I will come and dine," he assented quietly. "I am afraid that I +cannot promise more than that. Lady Cynthia, as she knows, is +always welcome at The Sanctuary." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +Punctual to his appointment that afternoon, the man who had +sought an interview with Francis was shown into the latter's +study in Clarges Street. + +He wore an overcoat over his livery, and directly he entered the +room Francis was struck by his intense pallor. He had been +trying feverishly to assure himself that all that the man +required was the usual sort of help, or assistance into a +hospital. Yet there was something furtive in his visitor's +manner, something which suggested the bearer of a guilty secret. + +"Please tell me what you want as quickly as you can," Francis +begged. "I am due to start down into the country in a few +minutes." + +"I won't keep you long, sir," the man replied. "The matter is +rather a serious one." + +"Are you ill?" + +"Yes, sir!" + +"You had better sit down." + +The man relapsed gratefully into a chair. + +"I'll leave out everything that doesn't count, sir," he said. +"I'll be as brief as I can. I want you to go back to the night I +waited upon you at dinner the night Mr. Oliver Hilditch was found +dead. You gave evidence. The jury brought it in 'suicide.' It +wasn't suicide at all, sir. Mr. Hilditch was murdered." + +The sense of horror against which he had been struggling during +the last few hours, crept once more through the whole being of +the man who listened. He was face to face once more with that +terrible issue. Had he perjured himself in vain? Was the whole +structure of his dreams about to collapse, to fall about his +ears? + +"By whom?" he faltered. + +"By Sir Timothy Brast, sir." + +Francis, who had been standing with his hand upon the table, felt +suddenly inclined to laugh. Facile though his brain was, the +change of issues was too tremendous for him to readily assimilate +it. He picked up a cigarette from an open box, with shaking +fingers, lit it, and threw himself into an easy-chair. He was +all the time quite unconscious of what he was doing. + +"Sir Timothy Brast?" he repeated. + +"Yes, sir," the man reiterated. "I wish to tell you the whole +story." + +"I am listening," Francis assured him. + +"That evening before dinner, Sir Timothy Brast called to see Mr. +Hilditch, and a very stormy interview took place. I do not know +the rights of that, sir. I only know that there was a fierce +quarrel. Mrs. Hilditch came in and Sir Timothy left the house. +His last words to Mr. Hilditch were, 'You will hear from me again.' +As you know, sir--I mean as you remember, if you followed the +evidence--all the servants slept at the back of the house. I +slept in the butler's room downstairs, next to the plate pantry. +I was awake when you left, sitting in my easy-chair, reading. +Ten minutes after you had left, there was a sound at the front +door as though some one had knocked with their knuckles. I got +up, to open it but Mr. Hilditch was before me. He admitted Sir +Timothy. They went back into the library together. It struck me +that Mr. Hilditch had had a great deal to drink, and there was a +queer look on Sir Timothy's face that I didn't understand. I +stepped into the little room which communicates with the library +by folding doors. There was a chink already between the two. I +got a knife from the pantry and widened it until I could see +through. I heard very little of the conversation but there was +no quarrel. Mr. Hilditch took up the weapon which you know about, +sat in a chair and held it to his heart. I heard him say something +like this. 'This ought to appeal to you, Sir Timothy. You're a +specialist in this sort of thing. One little touch, and there you +are.' Mrs. Hilditch said something about putting it away. My +master turned to Sir Timothy and said something in a low tone. +Suddenly Sir Timothy leaned over. He caught hold of Mr. Hilditch's +hand which held the hilt of the dagger, and and--well, he just +drove it in, sir. Then he stood away. Mrs. Hilditch sprang up +and would have screamed, but Sir Timothy placed his hand over her +mouth. In a moment I heard her say, 'What have you done?' Sir +Timothy looked at Mr. Hilditch quite calmly. 'I have ridded the +world of a verminous creature,' he said. My knees began to shake. +My nerves were always bad. I crept back into my room, took off my +clothes and got into bed. I had just put the light out when they +called for me." + +Francis was himself again. There was an immense relief, a joy in +his heart. He had never for a single moment blamed Margaret, but +he had never for a single moment forgotten. It was a closed +chapter but the stain was on its pages. It was wonderful to tear +it out and scatter the fragments. + +"I remember you at the inquest," he said. "Your name is John +Walter." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Your evidence was very different." + +"Yes, sir." + +"You kept all this to yourself." + +"I did, sir. I thought it best." + +"Tell me what has happened since?" + +The man looked down at the table. + +"I have always been a poor man, sir," he said. "I have had bad +luck whenever I've made a try to start at anything. I thought +there seemed a chance for me here. I went to Sir Timothy and I +told him everything." + +"Well?" + +"Sir Timothy never turned a hair, sir. When I had finished he +was very short with me, almost curt. 'You have behaved like a +man of sense, Walter,' he said. 'How much?' I hesitated for +some time. Then I could see he was getting impatient. I doubled +what I had thought of first. 'A thousand pounds, sir,' I said. +Sir Timothy he went to a safe in the wall and he counted out a +thousand pounds in notes, there and then. He brought them over +to me. 'Walter,' he said, 'there is your thousand pounds. For +that sum I understand you promise to keep what you saw to +yourself?' 'Yes, sir,' I agreed. 'Take it, then,' he said, 'but +I want you to understand this. There have been many attempts but +no one yet has ever succeeded in blackmailing me. No one ever +will. I give you this thousand pounds willingly. It is what you +have asked for. Never let me see your face again. If you come +to me starving, it will be useless. I shall not part with +another penny.'" + +The man's simple way of telling his story, his speech, slow and +uneven on account of his faltering breath, seemed all to add to +the dramatic nature of his disclosure. Francis found himself +sitting like a child who listens to a fairy story. + +"And then?" he asked simply. + +"I went off with the money," Walter continued, "and I had cruel +bad luck. I put it into a pub. I was robbed a little, I drank a +little, my wife wasn't any good. I lost it all, sir. I found +myself destitute. I went back to Sir Timothy." + +"Well?" + +The man shifted his feet nervously. He seemed to have come to +the difficult part of his story. + +"Sir Timothy was as hard as nails," he said slowly. "He saw me. +The moment I had finished, he rang the bell. 'Hedges,' he said +to the manservant who came in, 'this man has come here to try and +blackmail me. Throw him out. If he gives any trouble, send for +the police. If he shows himself here again, send for the +police."' + +"What happened then?" + +"Well, I nearly blurted out the whole story," the man confessed, +"and then I remembered that wouldn't do me any good, so I went +away. I got a job at the Ritz, but I was took ill a few days +afterwards. I went to see a doctor. From him I got my +death-warrant, sir." + +"Is it heart?" + +"It's heart, sir," the man acknowledged. "The doctor told me I +might snuff out at any moment. I can't live, anyway, for more +than a year. I've got a little girl." + +"Now just why have you come to see me?" Francis asked. + +"For just this, sir," the man replied. "Here's my account of +what happened," he went on, drawing some sheets of foolscap from +his pocket. "It's written in my own hand and there are two +witnesses to my signature--one a clergyman, sir, and the other a +doctor, they thinking it was a will or something. I had it in my +mind to send that to Scotland Yard, and then I remembered that I +hadn't a penny to leave my little girl. I began to wonder--think +as meanly of me as you like, sir--how I could still make some +money out of this. I happened to know that you were none too +friendly disposed towards Sir Timothy. This confession of mine, +if it wouldn't mean hanging, would mean imprisonment for the rest +of his life. You could make a better bargain with him than me, +sir. Do you want to hold him in your power? If so, you can have +this confession, all signed and everything, for two hundred +pounds, and as I live, sir, that two hundred pounds is to pay for +my funeral, and the balance for my little girl." + +Francis took the papers and glanced them through. + +"Supposing I buy this document from you," he said, "what is its +actual value? You could write out another confession, get that +signed, and sell it to another of Sir Timothy's enemies, or you +could still go to Scotland Yard yourself." + +"I shouldn't do that, sir, I assure you," the man declared +nervously, "not on my solemn oath. I want simply to be quit of +the whole matter and have a little money for the child." + +Francis considered for a moment. + +"There is only one way I can see," he said, "to make this +document worth the money to me. If you will sign a confession +that any statement you have made as to the death of Mr. Hilditch +is entirely imaginary, that you did not see Sir Timothy in the +house that night, that you went to bed at your usual time and +slept until you were awakened, and that you only made this charge +for the purpose of extorting money--if you will sign a confession +to that effect and give it me with these papers, I will pay you +the two hundred pounds and I will never use the confession unless +you repeat the charge." + +"I'll do it, sir," the man assented. + +Francis drew up a document, which his visitor read through and +signed. Then he wrote out an open cheque. + +"My servant shall take you to the bank in a taxi," he said. +"They would scarcely pay you this unless you were identified. We +understand one another?" + +"Perfectly, sir!" + +Francis rang the bell, gave his servant the necessary orders, and +dismissed the two men. Half-an-hour later, already changed into +flannels, he was on his way into the country. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +Sir Timothy walked that evening amongst the shadows. Two hours +ago, the last of the workmen from the great furnishing and +catering establishments who undertook the management of his +famous entertainments, had ceased work for the day and driven off +in the motor-brakes hired to take them to the nearest town. The +long, low wing whose use no one was able absolutely to divine, +was still full of animation, but the great reception-rooms and +stately hall were silent and empty. In the gymnasium, an +enormous apartment as large as an ordinary concert hall, two or +three electricians were still at work, directed by the man who +had accompanied Sir Timothy to the East End on the night before. +The former crossed the room, his footsteps awaking strange +echoes. + +"There will be seating for fifty, sir, and standing room for +fifty," he announced. "I have had the ring slightly enlarged, as +you suggested, and the lighting is being altered so that the +start is exactly north and south." + +Sir Timothy nodded thoughtfully. The beautiful oak floor of the +place was littered with sawdust and shavings of wood. Several +tiers of seats had been arranged on the space usually occupied by +swings, punching-balls and other artifices. On a slightly raised +dais at the further end was an exact replica of a ring, corded +around and with sawdust upon the floor. Upon the walls hung a +marvellous collection of weapons of every description, from the +modern rifle to the curved and terrible knife used by the most +savage of known tribes. + +"How are things in the quarters?" Sir Timothy asked. + +"Every one is well, sir. Doctor Ballantyne arrived this +afternoon. His report is excellent." + +Sir Timothy nodded and turned away. He looked into the great +gallery, its waxen floors shining with polish, ready for the feet +of the dancers on the morrow; looked into a beautiful concert-room, +with an organ that reached to the roof; glanced into the banquetting +hall, which extended far into the winter-garden; made his way up +the broad stairs, turned down a little corridor, unlocked a door and +passed into his own suite. There was a small dining-room, a library, +a bedroom, and a bathroom fitted with every sort of device. A +man-servant who had heard him enter, hurried from his own apartment +across the way. + +"You are not dining here, sir? "he enquired. + +Sir Timothy shook his head. + +"No, I am dining late at The Sanctuary," he replied. "I just +strolled over to see how the preparations were going on. I shall +be sleeping over there, too. Any prowlers?" + +"Photographer brought some steps and photographed the horses in +the park from the top of the wall this afternoon, sir," the man +announced. "Jenkins let him go. Two or three pressmen sent in +their cards to you, but they were not allowed to pass the lodge." + +Sir Timothy nodded. Soon he left the house and crossed the park +towards The Sanctuary. He was followed all the way by horses, of +which there were more than thirty in the great enclosure. One +mare greeted him with a neigh of welcome and plodded slowly after +him. Another pressed her nose against his shoulder and walked by +his side, with his hand upon her neck. Sir Timothy looked a +little nervously around, but the park itself lay almost like a +deep green pool, unobserved, and invisible from anywhere except +the house itself. He spoke a few words to each of the horses, +and, producing his key, passed through the door in the wall into +The Sanctuary garden, closing it quickly as he recognised Francis +standing under the cedar-tree. + +"Has Lady Cynthia arrived yet?" he enquired. + +"Not yet," Francis replied. "Margaret will be here in a minute. +She told me to say that cocktails are here and that she has +ordered dinner served on the terrace." + +"Excellent!" Sir Timothy murmured. "Let me try one of your +cigarettes." + +"Everything ready for the great show to-morrow night?" Francis +asked, as he served the cocktails. + +"Everything is in order. I wonder, really," Sir Timothy went on, +looking at Francis curiously, "what you expect to see?" + +"I don't think we any of us have any definite idea," Francis +replied. "We have all, of course, made our guesses." + +"You will probably be disappointed," Sir Timothy warned him. +"For some reason or other--perhaps I have encouraged the idea +--people look upon my parties as mysterious orgies where things +take place which may not be spoken of. They are right to some +extent. I break the law, without a doubt, but I break it, I am +afraid, in rather a disappointing fashion." + +A limousine covered in dust raced in at the open gates and came +to a standstill with a grinding of brakes. Lady Cynthia stepped +lightly out and came across the lawn to them. + +"I am hot and dusty and I was disagreeable," she confided, "but +the peace of this wonderful place, and the sight of that +beautiful silver thing have cheered me. May I have a cocktail +before I go up to change? I am a little late, I know," she went. +on, "but that wretched garden-party! I thought my turn would +never come to receive my few words. Mother would have been +broken-hearted if I had left without them. What slaves we are to +royalty! Now shall I hurry and change? You men have the air of +wanting your dinner, and I am rather that way myself. You look +tired, dear host," she added, a little hesitatingly. + +"The heat," he answered. + +"Why you ever leave this spot I can't imagine," she declared, as +she turned away, with a lingering glance around. "It seems like +Paradise to come here and breathe this air. London is like a +furnace." + +The two men were alone again. In Francis' pocket were the two +documents, which he had not yet made up his mind how to use. +Margaret came out to them presently, and he strolled away with +her towards the rose garden. + +"Margaret," he said, "is it my fancy or has there been a change +in your father during the last few days?" + +"There is a change of some sort," she admitted. "I cannot +describe it. I only know it is there. He seems much more +thoughtful and less hard. The change would be an improvement," +she went on, "except that somehow or other it makes me feel +uneasy. It is as though he were grappling with some crisis." + +They came to a standstill at the end of the pergola, where the +masses of drooping roses made the air almost faint with their +perfume. Margaret stretched out her hand, plucked a handful of +the creamy petals and held them against her cheek. A thrush was +singing noisily. A few yards away they heard the soft swish of +the river. + +"Tell me," she asked curiously, "my father still speaks of you as +being in some respects an enemy. What does he mean?" + +"I will tell you exactly," he answered. "The first time I ever +spoke to your father I was dining at Soto's. I was talking to +Andrew Wilmore. It was only a short time after you had told me +the story of Oliver Hilditch, a story which made me realise the +horror of spending one's life keeping men like that out of the +clutch of the law." + +"Go on, please," she begged. + +"Well, I was talking to Andrew. I told him that in future I +should accept no case unless I not only believed in but was +convinced of the innocence of my client. I added that I was at +war with crime. I think, perhaps, I was so deeply in earnest +that I may have sounded a little flamboyant. At any rate, your +father, who had overheard me, moved up to our table. I think he +deduced from what I was saying that I was going to turn into a +sort of amateur crime-investigator, a person who I gathered later +was particularly obnoxious to him. At any rate, he held out a +challenge. 'If you are a man who hates crime,' he said, or +something like it, 'I am one who loves it.' He then went on to +prophesy that a crime would be committed close to where we were, +within an hour or so, and he challenged me to discover the +assassin. That night Victor Bidlake was murdered just outside +Soto's." + +"I remember! Do you mean to tell me, then," Margaret went on, +with a little shiver, "that father told you this was going to +happen?" + +"He certainly did," Francis replied. "How his knowledge came I +am not sure--yet. But he certainly knew." + +"Have you anything else against him?" she asked. + +"There was the disappearance of Andrew Wilmore's younger brother, +Reginald Wilmore. I have no right to connect your father with +that, but Shopland, the Scotland Yard detective, who has charge +of the case, seems to believe that the young man was brought into +this neighbourhood, and some other indirect evidence which came +into my hands does seem to point towards your father being +concerned in the matter. I appealed to him at once but he only +laughed at me. That matter, too, remains a mystery." + +Margaret was thoughtful for a moment. Then she turned towards +the house. They heard the soft ringing of the gong. + +"Will you believe me when I tell you this?" she begged, as they +passed arm in arm down the pergola. "I am terrified of my +father, though in many ways he is almost princely in his +generosity and in the broad view he takes of things. Then his +kindness to all dumb animals, and the way they love him, is the +most amazing thing I ever knew. If we were alone here to-night, +every animal in the house would be around his chair. He has even +the cats locked up if we have visitors, so that no one shall see +it. But I am quite honest when I tell you this--I do not believe +that my father has the ordinary outlook upon crime. I believe +that there is a good deal more of the Old Testament about him +than the New." + +"And this change which we were speaking about?" he asked, +lowering his voice as they reached the lawn. + +"I believe that somehow or other the end is coming," she said. +"Francis, forgive me if I tell you this--or rather let me be +forgiven--but I know of one crime my father has committed, and it +makes me fear that there may be others. And I have the feeling, +somehow, that the end is close at hand and that he feels it, just +as we might feel a thunder-storm in the air." + +"I am going to prove the immemorial selfishness of my sex," he +whispered, as they drew near the little table. "Promise me one +thing and I don't care if your father is Beelzebub himself. +Promise me that, whatever happens, it shall not make any +difference to us?" + +She smiled at him very wonderfully, a smile which had to take the +place of words, for there were servants now within hearing, and +Sir Timothy himself was standing in the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +Lady Cynthia and Sir Timothy strolled after dinner to the bottom +of the lawn and watched the punt which Francis was propelling +turn from the stream into the river. + +"Perfectly idyllic," Lady Cynthia sighed. + +"We have another punt," her companion suggested. + +She shook her head. + +"I am one of those unselfish people," she declared, "whose idea +of repose is not only to rest oneself but to see others rest. I +think these two chairs, plenty of cigarettes, and you in your +most gracious and discoursive mood, will fill my soul with +content." + +"Your decision relieves my mind," her companion declared, as he +arranged the cushions behind her back. "I rather fancy myself +with a pair of sculls, but a punt-pole never appealed to me. We +will sit here and enjoy the peace. To-morrow night you will find +it all disturbed--music and raucous voices and the stampede of my +poor, frightened horses in the park. This is really a very +gracious silence." + +"Are those two really going to marry?" Lady Cynthia asked, moving +her head lazily in the direction of the disappearing punt. + +"I imagine so." + +"And you? What are you going to do then?" + +"I am planning a long cruise. I telegraphed to Southampton to-day. +I am having my yacht provisioned and prepared. I think I shall go +over to South America." + +She was silent for a moment. + +"Alone?" she asked presently. + +"I am always alone," he answered. + +"That is rather a matter of your own choice, is it not?" + +"Perhaps so. I have always found it hard to make friends. +Enemies seem to be more in my line." + +"I have not found it difficult to become your friend," she +reminded him. + +"You are one of my few successes," he replied. + +She leaned back with half-closed eyes. There was nothing new +about their environment--the clusters of roses, the perfume of +the lilies in the rock garden, the even sweeter fragrance of the +trim border of mignonette. Away in the distance, the night was +made momentarily ugly by the sound of a gramophone on a passing +launch, yet this discordant note seemed only to bring the perfection +of present things closer. Back across the velvety lawn, through the +feathery strips of foliage, the lights of The Sanctuary, shaded and +subdued, were dimly visible. The dining-table under the cedar-tree +had already been cleared. Hedges, newly arrived from town to play +the major domo, was putting the finishing touches to a little array +of cool drinks. And beyond, dimly seen but always there, the wall. +She turned to him suddenly. + +"You build a wall around your life," she said, "like the wall +which encircles your mystery house. Last night I thought that I +could see a little way over the top. To-night you are different." + +"If I am different," he answered quietly, "it is because, for the +first time for many years, I have found myself wondering whether +the life I had planned for myself, the things which I had planned +should make life for me, are the best. I have had doubts--perhaps +I might say regrets." + +"I should like to go to South America," Lady Cynthia declared +softly. + +He finished the cigarette which he was smoking and deliberately +threw away the stump. Then he turned and looked at her. His +face seemed harder than ever, clean-cut, the face of a man able +to defy Fate, but she saw something in his eyes which she had +never seen before. + +"Dear child," he said, "if I could roll back the years, if from +all my deeds of sin, as the world knows sin, I could cancel one, +there is nothing in the world would make me happier than to ask +you to come with me as my cherished companion to just whatever +part of the world you cared for. But I have been playing pitch +and toss with fortune all my life, since the great trouble came +which changed me so much. Even at this moment, the coin is in +the air which may decide my fate." + +"You mean?" she ventured. + +"I mean," he continued, "that after the event of which we spoke +last night, nothing in life has been more than an incident, and I +have striven to find distraction by means which none of you--not +even you, Lady Cynthia, with all your breadth of outlook and all +your craving after new things--would justify." + +"Nothing that you may have done troubles me in the least," she +assured him. "I do wish that you could put it all out of your +mind and let me help you to make a fresh start." + +"I may put the thing itself out of my mind," he answered sadly, +"but the consequences remain." + +"There is a consequence which threatens?" she asked. + +He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, he had +recovered all his courage. + +"There is the coin in the air of which I spoke," he replied. +"Let us forget it for a moment. Of the minor things I will +make you my judge. Ledsam and Margaret are coming to my party +to-morrow night. You, too, shall be my guest. Such secrets as +lie on the other side of that wall shall be yours. After that, +if I survive your judgment of them, and if the coin which I have +thrown into the air comes, down to the tune I call--after that--I +will remind you of something which happened last night--of +something which, if I live for many years, I shall never forget." + +She leaned towards him. Her eyes were heavy with longing. Her +arms, sweet and white in the dusky twilight, stole hesitatingly +out. + +"Last night was so long ago. Won't you take a later memory?" + +Once again she lay in his arms, still and content. + +As they crossed the lawn, an hour or so later, they were +confronted by Hedges--who hastened, in fact, to meet them. + +"You are being asked for on the telephone, sir," he announced. +"It is a trunk call. I have switched it through to the study." + +"Any name?" Sir Timothy asked indifferently. + +The man hesitated. His eyes sought his master's respectfully but +charged with meaning. + +"The person refuses to give his name, sir, but I fancied that I +recognised his voice. I think it would be as well for you to +speak, sir." + +Lady Cynthia sank into a chair. + +"You shall go and answer your telephone call," she said, "and +leave Hedges to serve me with one of these strange drinks. I +believe I see some of my favourite orangeade." + +Sir Timothy made his way into the house and into the low, +oak-beamed study with its dark furniture and latticed windows. +The telephone bell began to ring again as he entered. He took +up the receiver. + +"Sir Timothy?" a rather hoarse, strained voice asked. + +"I am speaking," Sir Timothy replied. "Who is it?" + +The man at the other end spoke as though he were out of breath. +Nevertheless, what he said was distinct enough. + +"I am John Walter." + +"Well?" + +"I am just ringing you up," the voice went on, "to give you +what's called a sporting chance. There's a boat from Southampton +midday tomorrow. If you're wise, you'll catch it. Or better +still, get off on your own yacht. They carry a wireless now, +these big steamers. Don't give a criminal much of a chance, does +it?" + +"I am to understand, then," Sir Timothy said calmly, "that you +have laid your information?" + +"I've parted with it and serve you right," was the bitter reply. +"I'm not saying that you're not a brave man, Sir Timothy, but +there's such a thing as being foolhardy, and that's what you are. +I wasn't asking you for half your fortune, nor even a dab of it, +but if your life wasn't worth a few hundred pounds--you, with all +that money--well, it wasn't worth saving. So now you know. I've +spent ninepence to give you a chance to hop it, because I met a +gent who has been good to me. I've had a good dinner and I feel +merciful. So there you are." + +"Do I gather," Sir Timothy asked, in a perfectly level tone, +"that the deed is already done?" + +"It's already done and done thoroughly," was the uncompromising +answer. "I'm not ringing up to ask you to change your mind. If +you were to offer me five thousand now, or ten, I couldn't stop +the bally thing. You've a sporting chance of getting away if you +start at once. That's all there is to it." + +"You have nothing more to say?" + +"Nothing! Only I wish to God I'd never stepped into that Mayfair +agency. I wish I'd never gone to Mrs. Hilditch's as a temporary +butler. I wish I'd never seen any one of you! That's all. You +can go to Hell which way you like, only, if you take my advice, +you'll go by the way of South America. The scaffold isn't every +man's fancy." + +There was a burr of the instrument and then silence. Sir Timothy +carefully replaced the receiver, paused on his way out of the +room to smell a great bowl of lavender, and passed back into the +garden. + +"More applicants for invitations?" Lady Cynthia enquired lazily. + +Her host smiled. + +"Not exactly! Although," he added, "as a matter of fact my party +would have been perhaps a little more complete with the presence +of the person to whom I have been speaking." + +Lady Cynthia pointed to the stream, down which the punt was +slowly drifting. The moon had gone behind a cloud, and Francis' +figure, as he stood there, was undefined and ghostly. A thought +seemed to flash into her mind. She leaned forward. + +"Once," she said, "he told me that he was your enemy." + +"The term is a little melodramatic," Sir Timothy protested. "We +look at certain things from opposite points of view. You see, my +prospective son-in-law, if ever he becomes that, represents the +law--the Law with a capital 'L'--which recognises no human errors +or weaknesses, and judges crime out of the musty books of the +law-givers of old. He makes of the law a mechanical thing which +can neither bend nor give, and he judges humanity from the same +standpoint. Yet at heart he is a good fellow and I like him." + +"And you?" + +"My weakness lies the other way," he confessed, "and my sympathy +is with those who do not fear to make their own laws." + +She held out her hand, white and spectral in the momentary gloom. +At the other end of the lawn, Francis and Margaret were +disembarking from the punt. + +"Does it sound too shockingly obvious," she murmured, "if I say +that I want to make you my law?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +It would have puzzled anybody, except, perhaps, Lady Cynthia +herself, to have detected the slightest alteration in Sir +Timothy's demeanour during the following day, when he made fitful +appearances at The Sanctuary, or at the dinner which was served a +little earlier than usual, before his final departure for the +scene of the festivities. Once he paused in the act of helping +himself to some dish and listened for a moment to the sound of +voices in the hall, and when a taxicab drove up he set down his +glass and again betrayed some interest. + +"The maid with my frock, thank heavens!" Lady Cynthia announced, +glancing out of the window. "My last anxiety is removed. I am +looking forward now to a wonderful night." + +"You may very easily be disappointed," her host warned her. "My +entertainments appeal more, as a rule, to men." + +"Why don't you be thoroughly original and issue no invitations to +women at all?" Margaret enquired. + +"For the same reason that you adorn your rooms and the dinner-table +with flowers," he answered. "One needs them--as a relief. Apart +from that, I am really proud of my dancing-room, and there again, +you see, your sex is necessary." + +"We are flattered," Margaret declared, with a little bow. "It +does seem queer to think that you should own what Cynthia's +cousin, Davy Hinton, once told me was the best floor in London, +and that I have never danced on it." + +"Nor I," Lady Cynthia put in. "There might have been some excuse +for not asking you, Margaret, but why an ultra-Bohemian like +myself has had to beg and plead for an invitation, I really +cannot imagine." + +"You might find," Sir Timothy said, "you may even now--that some +of my men guests are not altogether to your liking." + +"Quite content to take my risk," Lady Cynthia declared +cheerfully. "The man with the best manners I ever met--it was at +one of Maggie's studio dances, too--was a bookmaker. And a +retired prize-fighter brought me home once from an Albert Hall +dance." + +"How did he behave?" Francis asked. + +"He was wistful but restrained," Lady Cynthia replied, "quite the +gentleman, in fact." + +"You encourage me to hope for the best," Sir Timothy said, rising +to his feet. "You will excuse me now? I have a few final +preparations to make." + +"Are we to be allowed," Margaret enquired, "to come across the +park?" + +"You would not find it convenient," her father assured her. "You +had better order a car, say for ten o'clock. Don't forget to +bring your cards of invitation, and find me immediately you +arrive. I wish to direct your proceedings to some extent." + +Lady Cynthia strolled across with him to the postern-gate and +stood by his side after he had opened it. Several of the +animals, grazing in different parts of the park, pricked up their +ears at the sound. An old mare came hobbling towards him; a +flea-bitten grey came trotting down the field, his head in the +air, neighing loudly. + +"You waste a great deal of tenderness upon your animal friends, +dear host," she murmured. + +He deliberately looked away from her. + +"The reciprocation, at any rate, has its disadvantages," he +remarked, glancing a little disconsolately at the brown hairs +upon his coat-sleeve. "I shall have to find another coat before +I can receive my guests--which is a further reason," he added, +"why I must hurry." + +At the entrance to the great gates of The Walled House, two men +in livery were standing. One of them examined with care the red +cards of invitation, and as soon as he was satisfied the gates +were opened by some unseen agency. The moment the car had passed +through, they were closed again. + +"Father seems thoroughly mediaeval over this business," Margaret +remarked, looking about her with interest. "What a quaint +courtyard, too! It really is quite Italian." + +"It seems almost incredible that you have never been here!" Lady +Cynthia exclaimed. "Curiosity would have brought me if I had had +to climb over the wall!" + +"It does seem absurd in one way," Margaret agreed, "but, as a +matter of fact, my father's attitude about the place has always +rather set me against it. I didn't feel that there was any +pleasure to be gained by coming here. I won't tell you really +what I did think. We must keep to our bargain. We are not to +anticipate." + +At the front entrance, under the covered portico, the white +tickets which they had received in exchange for their tickets of +invitation, were carefully collected by another man, who stopped +the car a few yards from the broad, curving steps. After that, +there was no more suggestion of inhospitality. The front doors, +which were of enormous size and height, seemed to have been +removed, and in the great domed hall beyond Sir Timothy was +already receiving his guests. Being without wraps, the little +party made an immediate entrance. Sir Timothy, who was talking +to one of the best-known of the foreign ambassadors, took a step +forward to meet them. + +"Welcome," he said, "you, the most unique party, at least, +amongst my guests. Prince, may I present you to my daughter, +Mrs. Hilditch? Lady Cynthia Milton and Mr. Ledsam you know, I +believe." + +"Your father has just been preparing me for this pleasure," the +Prince remarked, with a smile. "I am delighted that his views as +regards these wonderful parties are becoming a little more--would +it be correct to say latitudinarian? He has certainly been very +strict up to now." + +"It is the first time I have been vouchsafed an invitation," +Margaret confessed. + +"You will find much to interest you," the Prince observed. "For +myself, I love the sport of which your father is so noble a +patron. That, without doubt, though, is a side of his +entertainment of which you will know nothing." + +Sir Timothy, choosing a moment's respite from the inflowing +stream of guests, came once more across to them. + +"I am going to leave you, my honoured guests from The Sanctuary," +he said, with a faint smile, "to yourselves for a short time. In +the room to your left, supper is being served. In front is the +dancing-gallery. To the right, as you see, is the lounge leading +into the winter-garden. The gymnasium is closed until midnight. +Any other part of the place please explore at your leisure, but I +am going to ask you one thing. I want you to meet me in a room +which I will show you, at a quarter to twelve." + +He led them down one of the corridors which opened from the hall. +Before the first door on the right a man-servant was standing as +though on sentry duty. Sir Timothy tapped the panel of the door +with his forefinger. + +"This is my sanctum," he announced. "I allow no one in here +without special permission. I find it useful to have a place to +which one can come and rest quite quietly sometimes. Williams +here has no other duty except to guard the entrance. Williams, +you will allow this gentleman and these two ladies to pass in at +a quarter to twelve." + +The man looked at them searchingly. + +"Certainly, sir," he said. "No one else?" + +"No one, under any pretext." + +Sir Timothy hurried back to the hall, and the others followed him +in more leisurely fashion. They were all three full of +curiosity. + +"I never dreamed," Margaret declared, as she looked around her, +"that I should ever find myself inside this house. It has always +seemed to me like one great bluebeard's chamber. If ever my +father spoke of it at all, it was as of a place which he intended +to convert into a sort of miniature Hell." + +Sir Timothy leaned back to speak to them as they passed. + +"You will find a friend over there, Ledsam," he said. + +Wilmore turned around and faced them. The two men exchanged +somewhat surprised greetings. + +"No idea that I was coming until this afternoon," Wilmore +explained. "I got my card at five o'clock, with a note from Sir +Timothy's secretary. I am racking my brains to imagine what it +can mean." + +"We're all a little addled," Francis confessed. "Come and join +our tour of exploration. You know Lady Cynthia. Let me present +you to Mrs. Hilditch." + +The introduction was effected and they all, strolled on together. +Margaret and Lady Cynthia led the way into the winter-garden, a +palace of glass, tall palms, banks of exotics, flowering shrubs +of every description, and a fountain, with wonderfully carved +water nymphs, brought with its basin from Italy. Hidden in the +foliage, a small orchestra was playing very softly. The +atmosphere of the place was languorous and delicious. + +"Leave us here," Margaret insisted, with a little exclamation of +content. "Neither Cynthia nor I want to go any further. Come +back and fetch us in time for our appointment." + +The two men wandered off. The place was indeed a marvel of +architecture, a country house, of which only the shell remained, +modernised and made wonderful by the genius of a great architect. +The first room which they entered when they left the winter-garden, +was as large as a small restaurant, panelled in cream colour, with +a marvellous ceiling. There were tables of various sizes laid for +supper, rows of champagne bottles in ice buckets, and servants +eagerly waiting for orders. Already a sprinkling of the guests +had found their way here. The two men crossed the floor to the +cocktail bar in the far corner, behind which a familiar face +grinned at them. It was Jimmy, the bartender from Soto's, who +stood there with a wonderful array of bottles on a walnut table. + +"If it were not a perfectly fatuous question, I should ask what +you were doing here, Jimmy?" Francis remarked. + +"I always come for Sir Timothy's big parties, sir," Jimmy +explained. "Your first visit, isn't it, sir?" + +"My first," Francis assented. + +"And mine," his companion echoed. + +"What can I have the pleasure of making for you, sir?" the man +enquired. + +"A difficult question," Francis admitted. "It is barely an hour +and a half since we finished diner. On the other hand, we are +certainly going to have some supper some time or other." + +Jimmy nodded understandingly. + +"Leave it to me, sir," he begged. + +He served them with a foaming white concoction in tall glasses. +A genuine lime bobbed up and down in the liquid. + +"Sir Timothy has the limes sent over from his own estate in South +America," Jimmy announced. "You will find some things in that +drink you don't often taste." + +The two men sipped their beverage and pronounced it delightful. +Jimmy leaned a little across the table. + +"A big thing on to-night, isn't there, sir?" he asked cautiously. + +"Is there?" Francis replied. "You mean--?" + +Jimmy motioned towards the open window, close to which the river +was flowing by. + +"You going down, sir?" + +Francis shook his head dubiously. + +"Where to?" + +The bartender looked with narrowed eyes from one to the other of +the two men. Then he suddenly froze up. Wilmore leaned a little +further over the impromptu counter. + +"Jimmy," he asked, "what goes on here besides dancing and boxing +and gambling?" + +"I never heard of any gambling," Jimmy answered, shaking his +head. "Sir Timothy doesn't care about cards being played here at +all." + +"What is the principal entertainment, then?" Francis demanded. +"The boxing?" + +The bartender shook his head. + +"No one understands very much about this house, sir," he said, +"except that it offers the most wonderful entertainment in +Europe. That is for the guests to find out, though. We servants +have to attend to our duties. Will you let me mix you another +drink, sir?" + +"No, thanks," Francis answered. "The last was too good to spoil. +But you haven't answered my question, Jimmy. What did you mean +when you asked if we were going down?" + +Jimmy's face had become wooden. + +"I meant nothing, sir," he said. "Sorry I spoke." + +The two men turned away. They recognised many acquaintances in +the supper-room, and in the long gallery beyond, where many +couples were dancing now to the music of a wonderful orchestra. +By slow stages they made their way back to the winter-garden, +where Lady Cynthia and Margaret were still lost in admiration +of their surroundings. They all walked the whole length of +the place. Beyond, down a flight of stone steps, was a short, +paved way to the river. A large electric launch was moored at +the quay. The grounds outside were dimly illuminated with +cunningly-hidden electric lights shining through purple-coloured +globes into the cloudy darkness. In the background, enveloping +the whole of the house and reaching to the river on either side, +the great wall loomed up, unlit, menacing almost in its suggestions. +A couple of loiterers stood within a few yards of them, looking +at the launch. + +"There she is, ready for her errand, whatever it may be," one +said to the other curiously. "We couldn't play the stowaway, I +suppose, could we?" + +"Dicky Bell did that once," the other answered. "Sir Timothy has +only one way with intruders. He was thrown into the river and +jolly nearly drowned." + +The two men passed out of hearing. + +"I wonder what part the launch plays in the night's +entertainment," Wilmore observed. + +Francis shrugged his shoulders. + +"I have given up wondering," he said. "Margaret, do you hear +that music?" + +She laughed. + +"Are we really to dance?" she murmured. "Do you want to make a +girl of me again?" + +"Well, I shouldn't be a magician, should I?" he answered. + +They passed into the ballroom and danced for some time. The +music was seductive and perfect, without any of the blatant notes +of too many of the popular orchestras. The floor seemed to sway +under their feet. + +"This is a new joy come back into life!" Margaret exclaimed, as +they rested for a moment. + +"The first of many," he assured her. + +They stood in the archway between the winter-garden and the +dancing-gallery, from which they could command a view of the +passing crowds. Francis scanned the faces of the men and women +with intense interest. Many of them were known to him by sight, +others were strangers. There was a judge, a Cabinet Minister, +various members of the aristocracy, a sprinkling from the foreign +legations, and although the stage was not largely represented, +there were one or two well-known actors. The guests seemed to +belong to no universal social order, but to Francis, watching +them almost eagerly, they all seemed to have something of the +same expression, the same slight air of weariness, of restless +and unsatisfied desires. + +"I can't believe that the place is real, or that these people we +see are not supers," Margaret whispered. + +"I feel every moment that a clock will strike and that it will +all fade away." + +"I'm afraid I'm too material for such imaginings," Francis +replied, "but there is a quaintly artificial air about it all. +We must go and look for Wilmore and Lady Cynthia." + +They turned back into the enervating atmosphere of the winter-garden, +and came suddenly face to face with Sir Timothy, who had escorted a +little party of his guests to see the fountain, and was now +returning alone. + +"You have been dancing, I am glad to see," the latter observed. +"I trust that you are amusing yourselves?" + +"Excellently, thank you," Francis replied. + +"And so far," Sir Timothy went on, with a faint smile, "you find +my entertainment normal? You have no question yet which you +would like to ask?" + +"Only one--what do you do with your launch up the river on +moonless nights, Sir Timothy?" + +Sir Timothy's momentary silence was full of ominous significance. + +"Mr. Ledsam," he said, after a brief pause, "I have given you +almost carte blanche to explore my domains here. Concerning the +launch, however, I think that you had better ask no questions at +present." + +"You are using it to-night?" Francis persisted. + +"Will you come and see, my venturesome guest?" + +"With great pleasure," was the prompt reply. + +Sir Timothy glanced at his watch. + +"That," he said, "is one of the matters of which we will speak at +a quarter to twelve. Meanwhile, let me show you something. It +may amuse you as it has done me." + +The three moved back towards one of the arched openings which led +into the ballroom. + +"Observe, if you please," their host continued, "the third couple +who pass us. The girl is wearing green--the very little that she +does wear. Watch the man, and see if he reminds you of any one." + +Francis did as he was bidden. The girl was a well-known member +of the chorus of one of the principal musical comedies, and she +seemed to be thoroughly enjoying both the dance and her partner. +The latter appeared to be of a somewhat ordinary type, sallow, +with rather puffy cheeks, and eyes almost unnaturally dark. He +danced vigorously and he talked all the time. Something about +him was vaguely familiar to Francis, but he failed to place him. + +"Notwithstanding all my precautions," Sir Timothy continued, +"there, fondly believing himself to be unnoticed, is an emissary +of Scotland Yard. Really, of all the obvious, the dry-as-dust, +hunt-your-criminal-by-rule-of-three kind of people I ever met, +the class of detective to which this man belongs can produce the +most blatant examples." + +"What are you going to do about him?" Francis asked. + +Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. + +"I have not yet made up my mind," he said. "I happen to know +that he has been laying his plans for weeks to get here, +frequenting Soto's and other restaurants, and scraping +acquaintances with some of my friends. The Duke of Tadchester +brought him--won a few hundreds from him at baccarat, I suppose. +His grace will never again find these doors open to him." + +Francis' attention had wandered. He was gazing fixedly at the +man whom Sir Timothy had pointed out. + +"You still do not fully recognise our friend," the latter +observed carelessly. "He calls himself Manuel Loito, and he +professes to be a Cuban. His real name I understood, when you +introduced us, to be Shopland." + +"Great heavens, so it is!" Francis exclaimed. + +"Let us leave him to his precarious pleasures," Sir Timothy +suggested. "I am free for a few moments. We will wander round +together." + +They found Lady Cynthia and Wilmore, and looked in at the +supper-room, where people were waiting now for tables, a babel of +sound and gaiety. The grounds and winter-gardens were crowded. +Their guide led the way to a large apartment on the other side of +the hall, from which the sound of music was proceeding. + +"My theatre," he said. "I wonder what is going on." + +They passed inside. There was a small stage with steps leading +down to the floor, easy-chairs and round tables everywhere, and +waiters serving refreshments. A girl was dancing. Sir Timothy +watched her approvingly. + +"Nadia Ellistoff," he told them. "She was in the last Russian +ballet, and she is waiting now for the rest of the company to +start again at Covent Garden. You see, it is Metzger who plays +there. They improvise. Rather a wonderful performance, I +think." + +They watched her breathlessly, a spirit in grey tulle, with great +black eyes now and then half closed. + +"It is 'Wind before Dawn,'" Lady Cynthia whispered. "I heard him +play it two days after he composed it, only there are variations +now. She is the soul of the south wind." + +The curtain went down amidst rapturous applause. The dancer +had left the stage, floating away into some sort of +wonderfully-contrived nebulous background. Within a few moments, +the principal comedian of the day was telling stories. Sir Timothy +led them away. + +"But how on earth do you get all these people?" Lady Cynthia +asked. + +"It is arranged for me," Sir Timothy replied. "I have an agent +who sees to it all. Every man or woman who is asked to perform, +has a credit at Cartier's for a hundred guineas. I pay no fees. +They select some little keepsake." + +Margaret laughed softly. + +"No wonder they call this place a sort of Arabian Nights!" she +declared. + +"Well, there isn't much else for you to see," Sir Timothy said +thoughtfully. "My gymnasium, which is one of the principal +features here, is closed just now for a special performance, of +which I will speak in a moment. The concert hall I see they are +using for an overflow dance-room. What you have seen, with the +grounds and the winter-garden, comprises almost everything." + +They moved back through the hall with difficulty. People were +now crowding in. Lady Cynthia laughed softly. + +"Why, it is like a gala night at the Opera, Sir Timothy!" she +exclaimed. "How dare you pretend that this is Bohemia!" + +"It has never been I who have described my entertainments," he +reminded her. "They have been called everything--orgies, +debauches--everything you can think of. I have never ventured +myself to describe them." + +Their passage was difficult. Every now and then Sir Timothy was +compelled to shake hands with some of his newly-arriving guests. +At last, however, they reached the little sitting-room. Sir +Timothy turned back to Wilmore, who hesitated. + +"You had better come in, too, Mr. Wilmore, if you will," he +invited. "You were with Ledsam, the first day we met, and +something which I have to say now may interest you." + +"If I am not intruding," Wilmore murmured. + +They entered the room, still jealously guarded. Sir Timothy +closed the door behind them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +The apartment was one belonging to the older portion of the +house, and had been, in fact, an annex to the great library. The +walls were oak-panelled, and hung with a collection of old +prints. There were some easy-chairs, a writing-table, and some +well-laden bookcases. There were one or two bronze statues of +gladiators, a wonderful study of two wrestlers, no minor +ornaments. Sir Timothy plunged at once into what he had to say. + +"I promised you, Lady Cynthia, and you, Ledsam," he said, "to +divulge exactly the truth as regards these much-talked-of +entertainments here. You, Margaret, under present circumstances, +are equally interested. You, Wilmore, are Ledsam's friend, and +you happen to have an interest in this particular party. +Therefore, I am glad to have you all here together. The +superficial part of my entertainment you have seen. The part +which renders it necessary for me to keep closed doors, I shall +now explain. I give prizes here of considerable value for boxing +contests which are conducted under rules of our own. One is due +to take place in a very few minutes. The contests vary in +character, but I may say that the chief officials of the National +Sporting Club are usually to be found here, only, of course, in +an unofficial capacity. The difference between the contests +arranged by me, and others, is that my men are here to fight. +They use sometimes an illegal weight of glove and they sometimes +hurt one another. If any two of the boxing fraternity have a +grudge against one another, and that often happens, they are +permitted here to fight it out, under the strictest control as +regards fairness, but practically without gloves at all. You +heard of the accident, for instance, to Norris? That happened in +my gymnasium. He was knocked out by Burgin. It was a wonderful +fight. + +"However, I pass on. There is another class of contest which +frequently takes place here. Two boxers place themselves +unreservedly in my hands. The details of the match are arranged +without their knowledge. They come into the ring without knowing +whom they are going to fight. Sometimes they never know, for my +men wear masks. Then we have private matches. There is one +to-night. Lord Meadowson and I have a wager of a thousand +guineas. He has brought to-night from the East End a boxer who, +according to the terms of our bet, has never before engaged in a +professional contest. I have brought an amateur under the same +conditions. The weight is within a few pounds the same, neither +has ever seen the other, only in this case the fight is with +regulation gloves and under Queensberry rules." + +"Who is your amateur, Sir Timothy?" Wilmore asked harshly. + +"Your brother, Mr. Wilmore," was the prompt reply. "You shall +see the fight if I have your promise not to attempt in any way to +interfere." + +Wilmore rose to his feet. + +"Do you mean to tell me," he demanded, "that my brother has been +decoyed here, kept here against his will, to provide amusement +for your guests?" + +"Mr. Wilmore, I beg that you will be reasonable," Sir Timothy +expostulated. "I saw your brother box at his gymnasium in +Holborn. My agent made him the offer of this fight. One of my +conditions had to be that he came here to train and that whilst +he was here he held no communication whatever with the outside +world. My trainer has ideas of his own and this he insists upon. +Your brother in the end acquiesced. He was at first difficult to +deal with as regards this condition, and he did, in fact, I +believe, Mr. Ledsam, pay a visit to your office, with the object +of asking you to become an intermediary between him and his +relatives." + +"He began a letter to me," Francis interposed, "and then +mysteriously disappeared." + +"The mystery is easily explained," Sir Timothy continued. "My +trainer, Roger Hagon, a Varsity blue, and the best heavyweight of +his year, occupies the chambers above yours. He saw from the +window the arrival of Reginald Wilmore--which was according to +instructions, as they were to come down to Hatch End together +--went down the stairs to meet him, and, to cut a long story short, +fetched him out of your office, Ledsam, without allowing him to +finish his letter. This absolute isolation seems a curious +condition, perhaps, but Hagon insists upon it, and I can assure +you that he knows his business. The mystery, as you have termed +it, of his disappearance that morning, is that he went upstairs +with Hagon for several hours to undergo a medical examination, +instead of leaving the building forthwith." + +"Queer thing I never thought of Hagon," Francis remarked. "As a +matter of fact, I never see him in the Temple, and I thought that +he had left." + +"May I ask," Wilmore intervened, "when my brother will be free to +return to his home?" + +"To-night, directly the fight is over," Sir Timothy replied. +"Should he be successful, he will take with him a sum of money +sufficient to start him in any business he chooses to enter." + +Wilmore frowned slightly. + +"But surely," he protested, "that would make him a professional +pugilist?" + +"Not at all," Sir Timothy replied. "For one thing, the match is +a private one in a private house, and for another the money is a +gift. There is no purse. If your brother loses, he gets +nothing. Will you see the fight, Mr. Wilmore?" + +"Yes, I will see it," was the somewhat reluctant assent. + +"You will give me your word not to interfere in any way?" + +"I shall not interfere," Wilmore promised. "If they are wearing +regulation gloves, and the weights are about equal, and the +conditions are what you say, it is the last thing I should wish +to do." + +"Capital!" Sir Timothy exclaimed. "Now to pass on. There is one +other feature of my entertainments concerning which I have +something to say--a series of performances which takes place on +my launch at odd times. There is one fixed for tonight. I can +say little about it except that it is unusual. I am going to ask +you, Lady Cynthia, and you, Ledsam, to witness it. When you have +seen that, you know everything. Then you and I, Ledsam, can call +one another's hands. I shall have something else to say to you, +but that is outside the doings here." + +"Are we to see the fight in the gymnasium?" Lady Cynthia +enquired. + +Sir Timothy shook his head. + +"I do not allow women there under any conditions," he said. "You +and Margaret had better stay here whilst that takes place. It +will probably be over in twenty minutes. It will be time then +for us to find our way to the launch. After that, if you have +any appetite, supper. I will order some caviare sandwiches for +you," Sir Timothy went on, ringing the bell, "and some wine." + +Lady Cynthia smiled. + +"It is really a very wonderful party," she murmured. + +Their host ushered the two men across the hall, now comparatively +deserted, for every one had settled down to his or her chosen +amusement--down a long passage, through a private door which he +unlocked with a Yale key, and into the gymnasium. There were +less than fifty spectators seated around the ring, and Francis, +glancing at them hastily, fancied that he recognised nearly every +one of them. There was Baker, a judge, a couple of actors, Lord +Meadowson, the most renowned of sporting peers, and a dozen who +followed in his footsteps; a little man who had once been amateur +champion in the bantam class, and who was now considered the +finest judge of boxing in the world; a theatrical manager, the +present amateur boxing champion, and a sprinkling of others. Sir +Timothy and his companions took their chairs amidst a buzz of +welcome. Almost immediately, the man who was in charge of the +proceedings, and whose name was Harrison, rose from his place. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "this is a sporting contest, but one under +usual rules and usual conditions. An amateur, who tips the +scales at twelve stone seven, who has never engaged in a boxing +contest in his life, is matched against a young man from a +different sphere of life, who intends to adopt the ring as his +profession, but who has never as yet fought in public. Names, +gentlemen, as you know, are seldom mentioned here. I will only +say that the first in the ring is the nominee of our friend and +host, Sir Timothy Brast; second comes the nominee of Lord +Meadowson." + +Wilmore, notwithstanding his pre-knowledge, gave a little gasp. +The young man who stood now within a few yards of him, carelessly +swinging his gloves in his hand, was without a doubt his missing +brother. He looked well and in the pink of condition; not only +well but entirely confident and at his ease. His opponent, on +the other hand, a sturdier man, a few inches shorter, was nervous +and awkward, though none the less determined-looking. Sir +Timothy rose and whispered in Harrison's ear. The latter nodded. +In a very few moments the preliminaries were concluded, the fight +begun. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +Francis, glad of a moment or two's solitude in which to rearrange +his somewhat distorted sensations, found an empty space in the +stern of the launch and stood leaning over the rail. His pulses +were still tingling with the indubitable excitement of the last +half-hour. It was all there, even now, before his eyes like a +cinematograph picture--the duel between those two men, a duel of +knowledge, of strength, of science, of courage. From beginning +to end, there had been no moment when Francis had felt that he +was looking on at what was in any way a degrading or immoral +spectacle. Each man had fought in his way to win. Young +Wilmore, graceful as a panther, with a keen, joyous desire of +youth for supremacy written in his face and in the dogged lines +of his mouth; the budding champion from the East End less +graceful, perhaps, but with even more strength and at least as +much determination, had certainly done his best to justify his +selection. There were no points to be scored. There had been no +undue feinting, no holding, few of the tricks of the professional +ring. It was a fight to a finish, or until Harrison gave the +word. And the better man had won. But even that knock-out blow +which Reggie Wilmore had delivered after a wonderful feint, had +had little that was cruel in it. There was something beautiful +almost in the strength and grace with which it had been +delivered--the breathless eagerness, the waiting, the end. + +Francis felt a touch upon his arm and looked around. A tall, +sad-faced looking woman, whom he had noticed with a vague sense +of familiarity in the dancing-room, was standing by his side. + +"You have forgotten me, Mr. Ledsam," she said. + +"For the moment," he admitted. + +"I am Isabel Culbridge," she told him, watching his face. + +"Lady Isabel?" Francis repeated incredulously. "But surely--" + +"Better not contradict me," she interrupted. "Look again." + +Francis looked again. + +"I am very sorry," he said. "It is some time, is it not, since +we met?" + +She stood by his side, and for a few moments neither of them +spoke. The little orchestra in the bows had commenced to play +softly, but there was none of the merriment amongst the handful +of men and women generally associated with a midnight river +picnic. The moon was temporarily obscured, and it seemed as +though some artist's hand had so dealt with the few electric +lights that the men, with their pale faces and white shirt-fronts, +and the three or four women, most of them, as it happened, wearing +black, were like some ghostly figures in some sombre procession. +Only the music kept up the pretence that this was in any way an +ordinary excursion. Amongst the human element there was an air +of tenseness which seemed rather to increase as they passed into +the shadowy reaches of the river. + +"You have been ill, I am afraid?" Francis said tentatively. + +"If you will," she answered, "but my illness is of the soul. I +have become one of a type," she went on, "of which you will find +many examples here. We started life thinking that it was clever +to despise the conventional and the known and to seek always for +the daring and the unknown. New experiences were what we craved +for. I married a wonderful husband. I broke his heart and still +looked for new things. I had a daughter of whom I was fond--she +ran away with my chauffeur and left me; a son whom I adored, and +he was killed in the war; a lover who told me that he worshipped +me, who spent every penny I had and made me the laughing-stock of +town. I am still looking for new things." + +"Sir Timothy's parties are generally supposed to provide them," +Francis observed. + +The woman shrugged her shoulders. + +"So far they seem very much like anybody's else," she said. "The +fight might have been amusing, but no women were allowed. The +rest was very wonderful in its way, but that is all. I am still +hoping for what we are to see downstairs." + +They heard Sir Timothy's voice a few yards away, and turned to +look at him. He had just come from below, and had paused +opposite a man who had been standing a little apart from the +others, one of the few who was wearing an overcoat, as though he +felt the cold. In the background were the two servants who had +guarded the gangway. + +"Mr. Manuel Loito," Sir Timothy said--"or shall I say Mr. +Shopland?--my invited guests are welcome. I have only one method +of dealing with uninvited ones." + +The two men suddenly stepped forward. Shopland made no protest, +attempted no struggle. They lifted him off his feet as though he +were a baby, and a moment later there was a splash in the water. +They threw a life-belt after him. + +"Always humane, you see," Sir Timothy remarked, as he leaned over +the side. "Ah! I see that even in his overcoat our friend is +swimmer enough to reach the bank. You find our methods harsh, +Ledsam?" he asked, turning a challenging gaze towards the latter. + +Francis, who had been watching Shopland come to the surface, +shrugged his shoulders. He delayed answering for a moment while +he watched the detective, disdaining the life-belt, swim to the +opposite shore. + +"I suppose that under the circumstances," Francis said, "he was +prepared to take his risk." + +"You should know best about that," Sir Timothy rejoined. "I +wonder whether you would mind looking after Lady Cynthia? I +shall be busy for a few moments." + +Francis stepped across the deck towards where Lady Cynthia had +been sitting by her host's side. They had passed into the mouth +of a tree-hung strip of the river. The engine was suddenly shut +off. A gong was sounded. There was a murmur, almost a sob of +relief, as the little sprinkling of men and women rose hastily to +their feet and made their way towards the companion-way. +Downstairs, in the saloon, with its white satinwood panels and +rows of swing chairs, heavy curtains were drawn across the +portholes, all outside light was shut out from the place. At the +further end, raised slightly from the floor, was a sanded circle. +Sir Timothy made his way to one of the pillars by its side and +turned around to face the little company of his guests. His +voice, though it seemed scarcely raised above a whisper, was +extraordinarily clear and distinct. Even Francis, who, with Lady +Cynthia, had found seats only just inside the door, could hear +every word he said. + +"My friends," he began, "you have often before been my guests at +such small fights as we have been able to arrange in as +unorthodox a manner as possible between professional boxers. +There has been some novelty about them, but on the last occasion +I think it was generally observed that they had become a little +too professional, a little ultra-scientific. There was something +which they lacked. With that something I am hoping to provide +you to-night. Thank you, Sir Edgar," he murmured, leaning down +towards his neighbour. + +He held his cigarette in the flame of a match which the other had +kindled. Francis, who was watching intently, was puzzled at the +expression with which for a moment, as he straightened himself, +Sir Timothy glanced down the room, seeking for Lady Cynthia's +eyes. In a sense it was as though he were seeking for something +he needed--approbation, sympathy, understanding. + +"Our hobby, as you know, has been reality," he continued. "That +is what we have not always been able to achieve. Tonight I offer +you reality. There are two men here, one an East End coster, the +other an Italian until lately associated with an itinerant +vehicle of musical production. These two men have not outlived +sensation as I fancy so many of us have. They hate one another +to the death. I forget their surnames, but Guiseppe has stolen +Jim's girl, is living with her at the present moment, and +proposes to keep her. Jim has sworn to have the lives of both of +them. Jim's career, in its way, is interesting to us. He has +spent already six years in prison for manslaughter, and a year +for a brutal assault upon a constable. Guiseppe was tried in his +native country for a particularly fiendish murder, and escaped, +owing, I believe, to some legal technicality. That, however, has +nothing to do with the matter. These men have sworn to fight to +the death, and the girl, I understand, is willing to return to +Jim if he should be successful, or to remain with Guiseppe if he +should show himself able to retain her. The fight between these +men, my friends, has been transferred from Seven Dials for your +entertainment. It will take place before you here and now." + +There was a little shiver amongst the audience. Francis, almost +to his horror, was unable to resist the feeling of queer +excitement which stole through his veins. A few yards away, Lady +Isabel seemed to have become transformed. She was leaning +forward in her chair, her eyes glowing, her lips parted, +rejuvenated, dehumanised. Francis' immediate companion, however, +rather surprised him. Her eyes were fixed intently upon Sir +Timothy's. She seemed to have been weighing every word he had +spoken. There was none of that hungry pleasure in her face +which shone from the other woman's and was reflected in the faces +of many of the others. She seemed to be bracing herself for a +shock. Sir Timothy looked over his shoulder towards the door +which opened upon the sanded space. + +"You can bring your men along," he directed. + +One of the attendants promptly made his appearance. He was +holding tightly by the arm a man of apparently thirty years of +age, shabbily dressed, barefooted, without collar or necktie, +with a mass of black hair which looked as though it had escaped +the care of any barber for many weeks. His complexion was +sallow; he had high cheekbones and a receding chin, which gave +him rather the appearance of a fox. He shrank a little from the +lights as though they hurt his eyes, and all the time he looked +furtively back to the door, through which in a moment or two his +rival was presently escorted. The latter was a young man of +stockier build, ill-conditioned, and with the brutal face of the +lowest of his class. Two of his front teeth were missing, and +there was a livid mark on the side of his cheek. He looked +neither to the right nor to the left. His eyes were fixed upon +the other man, and they looked death. + +"The gentleman who first appeared," Sir Timothy observed, +stepping up into the sanded space but still half facing the +audience, "is Guiseppe, the Lothario of this little act. The +other is Jim, the wronged husband. You know their story. Now, +Jim," he added, turning towards the Englishman, "I put in your +trousers pocket these notes, two hundred pounds, you will +perceive. I place in the trousers pocket of Guiseppe here notes +to the same amount. I understand you have a little quarrel to +fight out. The one who wins will naturally help himself to the +other's money, together with that other little reward which I +imagine was the first cause of your quarrel. Now ... let them +go." + +Sir Timothy resumed his seat and leaned back in leisurely +fashion. The two attendants solemnly released their captives. +There was a moment's intense silence. The two men seemed fencing +for position. There was something stealthy and horrible about +their movements as they crept around one another. Francis +realised what it was almost as the little sobbing breath from +those of the audience who still retained any emotion, showed him +that they, too, foresaw what was going to happen. Both men had +drawn knives from their belts. It was murder which had been let +loose. + +Francis found himself almost immediately upon his feet. His +whole being seemed crying out for interference. Lady Cynthia's +death-white face and pleading eyes seemed like the echo of his +own passionate aversion to what was taking place. Then he met +Sir Timothy's gaze across the room and he remembered his promise. +Under no conditions was he to protest or interfere. He set his +teeth and resumed his seat. The fight went on. There were +little sobs and tremors of excitement, strange banks of silence. +Both men seemed out of condition. The sound of their hoarse +breathing was easily heard against the curtain of spellbound +silence. For a time their knives stabbed the empty air, but from +the first the end seemed certain. The Englishman attacked +wildly. His adversary waited his time, content with avoiding the +murderous blows struck at him, striving all the time to steal +underneath the other's guard. And then, almost without warning, +it was all over. Jim was on his back in a crumpled heap. There +was a horrid stain upon his coat. The other man was kneeling by +his side, hate, glaring out of his eyes, guiding all the time the +rising and falling of his knife. There was one more shriek--then +silence only the sound of the victor's breathing as he rose +slowly from his ghastly task. Sir Timothy rose to his feet and +waved his hand. The curtain went down. + +"On deck, if you please, ladies and gentlemen," he said calmly. + +No one stirred. A woman began to sob. A fat, unhealthy-looking +man in front of Francis reeled over in a dead faint. Two other +of the guests near had risen from their seats and were shouting +aimlessly like lunatics. Even Francis was conscious of that +temporary imprisonment of the body due to his lacerated nerves. +Only the clinging of Lady Cynthia to his arm kept him from +rushing from the spot. + +"You are faint?" he whispered hoarsely. + +"Upstairs--air," she faltered. + +They rose to their feet. The sound of Sir Timothy's voice +reached them as they ascended the stairs. + +"On deck, every one, if you please," he insisted. "Refreshments +are being served there. There are inquisitive people who watch +my launch, and it is inadvisable to remain here long." + +People hurried out then as though their one desire was to escape +from the scene of the tragedy. Lady Cynthia, still clinging to +Francis' arm, led him to the furthermost corner of the launch. +There were real tears in her eyes, her breath was coming in +little sobs. + +"Oh, it was horrible!" she cried. "Horrible! Mr. Ledsam--I +can't help it--I never want to speak to Sir Timothy again!" + +One final horror arrested for a moment the sound of voices. +There was a dull splash in the river. Something had been thrown +overboard. The orchestra began to play dance music. +Conversation suddenly burst out. Every one was hysterical. A +Peer of the Realm, red-eyed and shaking like an aspen leaf, was +drinking champagne out of the bottle. Every one seemed to be +trying to outvie the other in loud conversation, in outrageous +mirth. Lady Isabel, with a glass of champagne in her hand, +leaned back towards Francis. + +"Well," she asked, "how are you feeling, Mr. Ledsam?" + +"As though I had spent half-an-hour in Hell," he answered. + +She screamed with laughter. + +"Hear this man," she called out, "who will send any poor +ragamuffin to the gallows if his fee is large enough! Of +course," she added, turning back to him, "I ought to remember you +are a normal person and to-night's entertainment was not for +normal persons. For myself I am grateful to Sir Timothy. For a +few moments of this aching aftermath of life, I forgot." + +Suddenly all the lights around the launch flamed out, the music +stopped. Sir Timothy came up on deck. On either side of him was +a man in ordinary dinner clothes. The babel of voices ceased. +Everyone was oppressed by some vague likeness. A breathless +silence ensued. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," Sir Timothy said, and once more the smile +upon his lips assumed its most mocking curve, "let me introduce +you to the two artists who have given us to-night such a +realistic performance, Signor Guiseppe Elito and Signor Carlos +Marlini. I had the good fortune," he went on, "to witness this +very marvellous performance in a small music-hall at Palermo, and +I was able to induce the two actors to pay us a visit over here. +Steward, these gentlemen will take a glass of champagne." + +The two Sicilians raised their glasses and bowed expectantly to +the little company. They received, however, a much greater +tribute to their performance than the applause which they had +been expecting. There reigned everywhere a deadly, stupefied +silence. Only a half-stifled sob broke from Lady Cynthia's lips +as she leaned over the rail, her face buried in her hands, her +whole frame shaking. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +Francis and Margaret sat in the rose garden on the following +morning. Their conversation was a little disjointed, as the +conversation of lovers in a secluded and beautiful spot should +be, but they came back often to the subject of Sir Timothy. + +"If I have misunderstood your father," Francis, declared, "and I +admit that I have, it has been to some extent his own fault. To +me he was always the deliberate scoffer against any code of +morals, a rebel against the law even if not a criminal in actual +deeds. I honestly believed that The Walled House was the scene +of disreputable orgies, that your father was behind Fairfax in +that cold-blooded murder, and that he was responsible in some +sinister way for the disappearance of Reggie Wilmore. Most of +these things seem to have been shams, like the fight last night." + +She moved uneasily in her place. + +"I am glad I did not see that," she said, with a shiver. + +"I think," he went on, "that the reason why your father insisted +upon Lady Cynthia's and my presence there was that he meant it as +a sort of allegory. Half the vices in life he claims are +unreal." + +Margaret passed her arm through his and leaned a little towards +him. + +"If you knew just one thing I have never told you," she confided, +"I think that you would feel sorry for him. I do, more and more +every day, because in a way that one thing is my fault." + +Notwithstanding the warm sunshine, she suddenly shivered. +Francis took her hands in his. They were cold and lifeless. + +"I know that one thing, dear," he told her quietly. + +She looked at him stonily. There was a questioning fear in her +eyes. + +"You know--" + +"I know that your fattier killed Oliver Hilditch." + +She suddenly broke out into a stream of words. There was passion +in her tone and in her eyes. She was almost the accuser. + +"My father was right, then!" she exclaimed. "He told me this +morning that he believed that it was to you or to your friend at +Scotland Yard that Walter had told his story. But you don't know +you don't know how terrible the temptation was how--you see I say +it quite coolly--how Oliver Hilditch deserved to die. He was +trusted by my father in South America and he deceived him, he +forged the letters which induced me to marry him. It was part of +his scheme of revenge. This was the first time we had any of us +met since. I told my father the truth that afternoon. He knew +for the first time how my marriage came about. My husband had +prayed me to keep silent. I refused. Then he became like a +devil. We were there, we three, that night after you left, and +Francis, as I live, if my father had not killed him, I should +have!" + +"There was a time when I believed that you had," he reminded her. +"I didn't behave like a pedagogic upholder of the letter of the +law then, did I?" + +She drew closer to him. + +"You were wonderful," she whispered. + +"Dearest, your father has nothing to fear from me," he assured +her tenderly. "On the contrary, I think that I can show him the +way to safety." + +She rose impulsively to her feet. + +"He will be here directly," she said. "He promised to come +across at half-past twelve. Let us go and meet him. But, +Francis--" + +For a single moment she crept into his arms. Their lips met, her +eyes shone into his. He held her away from him a moment later. +The change was amazing. She was no longer a tired woman. She +had become a girl again. Her eyes were soft with happiness, the +little lines had gone from about her mouth, she walked with all +the spring of youth and happiness. + +"It is marvellous," she whispered. "I never dreamed that I +should ever be happy again." + +They crossed the rustic bridge which led on to the lawn. Lady +Cynthia came out of the house to meet them. She showed no signs +of fatigue, but her eyes and her tone were full of anxiety. + +"Margaret," she cried, "do you know that the hall is filled with +your father's luggage, and that the car is ordered to take him to +Southampton directly after lunch?" + +Margaret and Francis exchanged glances. + +"Sir Timothy may change his mind," the latter observed. "I have +news for him directly he arrives." + +On the other side of the wall they heard the whinnying of the old +mare, the sound of galloping feet from all directions. + +"Here he comes!" Lady Cynthia exclaimed. "I shall go and meet +him." + +Francis laid his hand upon her arm. + +"Let me have a word with him first," he begged. + +She hesitated. + +"You are not going to say anything--that will make him want to go +away?" + +"I am going to tell him something which I think will keep him at +home." + +Sir Timothy came through the postern-gate, a moment or two later. +He waved his hat and crossed the lawn in their direction. +Francis went alone to meet him and, as he drew near, was +conscious of a little shock. His host, although he held himself +bravely, seemed to have aged in the night. + +"I want one word with you, sir, in your study, please," Francis +said. + +Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders and led the way. He turned to +wave his hand once more to Margaret and Lady Cynthia, however, +and he looked with approval at the luncheon-table which a couple +of servants were laying under the cedar tree. + +"Wonderful thing, these alfresco meals," he declared. "I hope +Hedges won't forget the maraschino with the melons. Come into my +den, Ledsam." + +He led the way in courtly fashion. He was the ideal host leading +a valued guest to his sanctum for a few moments' pleasant +conversation. But when they arrived in the little beamed room +and the door was closed, his manner changed. He looked +searchingly, almost challengingly at Francis. + +"You have news for me?" he asked. + +"Yes!" Francis answered. + +Sir Timothy shrugged his shoulders. He threw himself a little +wearily into an easy-chair. His hands strayed out towards a +cigarette box. He selected one and lit it. + +"I expected your friend, Mr. Shopland," he murmured. "I hope he +is none the worse for his ducking." + +"Shopland is a fool," Francis replied. "He has nothing to do +with this affair, anyway. I have something to give you, Sir +Timothy." + +He took the two papers from his pocket and handed them over. + +"I bought these from John Walter the day before yesterday," he +continued. "I gave him two hundred pounds for them. The money +was just in time. He caught a steamer for Australia late in the +afternoon. I had this wireless from him this morning." + +Sir Timothy studied the two documents, read the wireless. There +was little change in his face. Only for a single moment his lips +quivered. + +"What does this mean?" he asked, rising to his feet with the +documents in his hand. + +"It means that those papers are yours to do what you like with. +I drafted the second one so that you should be absolutely secure +against any further attempt at blackmail. As a matter of fact, +though, Walter is on his last legs. I doubt whether he will live +to land in Australia." + +"You know that I killed Oliver Hilditch?" Sir Timothy said, his +eyes fixed upon the other's. + +"I know that you killed Oliver Hilditch," Francis repeated. "If +I had been Margaret's father, I think that I should have done the +same." + +Sir Timothy seemed suddenly very much younger. The droop of his +lips was no longer pathetic. There was a little humourous twitch +there. + +"You, the great upholder of the law?" he murmured. + +"I have heard the story of Oliver Hilditch's life," Francis +replied. "I was partially responsible for saving him from the +gallows. I repeat what I have said. And if you will--" + +He held out his hand. Sir Timothy hesitated for one moment. +Instead of taking it, he laid his hand upon Francis' shoulder. + +"Ledsam," he said, "we have thought wrong things of one another. +I thought you a prig, moral to your finger-tips with the morality +of the law and the small places. Perhaps I was tempted for that +reason to give you a wrong impression of myself. But you must +understand this. Though I have had my standard and lived up to +it all my life, I am something of a black sheep. A man stole my +wife. I did not trouble the Law Courts. I killed him." + +"I have the blood of generations of lawyers in my veins," Francis +declared, "but I have read many a divorce case in which I think +it would have been better and finer if the two men had met as you +and that man met." + +"I was born with the love of fighting in my bones," Sir Timothy +went on. "In my younger days, I fought in every small war in the +southern hemisphere. I fought, as you know, in our own war. I +have loved to see men fight honestly and fairly." + +"It is a man's hobby," Francis pronounced. + +"I encouraged you deliberately to think," Sir Timothy went on, +"what half the world thinks that--my parties at The Walled House +were mysterious orgies of vice. They have, as a matter of fact, +never been anything of the sort. The tragedies which are +supposed to have taken place on my launch have been just as much +mock tragedies as last night's, only I have not previously chosen +to take the audiences into my confidence. The greatest pugilists +in the world have fought in my gymnasium, often, if you will, +under illegal conditions, but there has never been a fight that +was not fair." + +"I believe that," Francis said. + +"And there is another matter for which I take some blame," Sir +Timothy went on, "the matter of Fairfax and Victor Bidlake. They +were neither of them young men for whose loss the world is any +the worse. Fairfax to some extent imposed upon me. He was +brought to The Walled House by a friend who should have known +better. He sought my confidence. The story he told was exactly +that of the mock drama upon the launch. Bidlake had taken his +wife. He had no wish to appeal to the Courts. He wished to +fight, a point of view with which I entirely sympathised. I +arranged a fight between the two. Bidlake funked it and never +turned up. My advice to Fairfax was, whenever he met Bidlake, to +give him the soundest thrashing he could. That night at Soto's I +caught sight of Fairfax some time before dinner. He was talking +to the woman who had been his wife, and he had evidently been +drinking. He drew me on one side. 'To-night,' he told me, 'I am +going to settle accounts with Bidlake.' 'Where?' I asked. +'Here,' he answered. He went out to the theatre, I upstairs to +dine. That was the extent of the knowledge I possessed which +enabled me to predict some unwonted happening that night. +Fairfax was a bedrugged and bedrunken decadent who had not the +courage afterwards to face what he had done. That is all." + +The hand slipped from Francis' shoulder. Francis, with a smile, +held out his own. They stood there for a moment with clasped +hands--a queer, detached moment, as it seemed to Francis, in a +life which during the last few months had been full of vivid +sensations. From outside came the lazy sounds of the drowsy +summer morning--the distant humming of a mowing machine, the +drone of a reaper in the field beyond, the twittering of birds in +the trees, even the soft lapping of the stream against the stone +steps. The man whose hand he was holding seemed to Francis to +have become somehow transformed. It was as though he had dropped +a mask and were showing a more human, a more kindly self. +Francis wondered no longer at the halting gallop of the horses in +the field. + +"You'll be good to Margaret?" Sir Timothy begged. "She's had a +wretched time." + +Francis smiled confidently. + +"I'm going to make up for it, sir," he promised. "And this South +American trip," he continued, as they turned towards the French +windows, "you'll call that off?" + +Sir Timothy hesitated. + +"I am not quite sure." + +When they reached the garden, Lady Cynthia was alone. She +scarcely glanced at Francis. Her eyes were anxiously fixed upon +his companion. + +"Margaret has gone in to make the cocktails herself," she +explained. "We have both sworn off absinthe for the rest of our +lives, and we know Hedges can't be trusted to make one without." + +"I'll go and help her," Francis declared. + +Lady Cynthia passed her arm through Sir Timothy's. + +"I want to know about South America," she begged. "The sight of +those trunks worries me." + +Sir Timothy's casual reply was obviously a subterfuge. They +crossed the lawn and the rustic bridge, almost in silence, +passing underneath the pergola of roses to the sheltered garden +at the further end. Then Lady Cynthia paused. + +"You are not going to South America," she pleaded, "alone?" + +Sir Timothy took her hands. + +"My dear," he said, "listen, please, to my confession. I am a +fraud. I am not a purveyor of new sensations for a decadent +troop of weary, fashionable people. I am a fraud sometimes even +to myself. I have had good luck in material things. I have had +bad luck in the precious, the sentimental side of life. It has +made something of an artificial character of me, on the surface +at any rate. I am really a simple, elderly man who loves fresh +air, clean, honest things, games, and a healthy life. I have no +ambitions except those connected with sport. I don't even want +to climb to the topmost niches in the world of finance. I think +you have looked at me through the wrong-coloured spectacles. You +have had a whimsical fancy for a character which does not exist." + +"What I have seen," Lady Cynthia answered, "I have seen through +no spectacles at all--with my own eyes. But what I have seen, +even, does not count. There is something else." + +"I am within a few weeks of my fiftieth birthday," Sir Timothy +reminded her, "and you, I believe, are twenty-nine." + +"My dear man," Lady Cynthia assured him fervently, "you are the +only person in the world who can keep me from feeling forty-nine." + +"And your people--" + +"Heavens! My people, for the first time in their lives, will +count me a brilliant success," Lady Cynthia declared. "You'll +probably have to lend dad money, and I shall be looked upon as +the fairy child who has restored the family fortunes." + +Sir Timothy leaned a little towards her. + +"Last of all," he said, and this time his voice was not quite so +steady, "are you really sure that you care for me, dear, because +I have loved you so long, and I have wanted love so badly, and it +is so hard to believe--" + +It was the moment, it seemed to her, for which she had prayed. +She was in his arms, tired no longer, with all the splendid fire +of life in her love-lit eyes and throbbing pulses. Around them +the bees were humming, and a soft summer breeze shook the roses +and brought little wafts of perfume from the carnation bed. + +"There is nothing in life," Lady Cynthia murmured brokenly, "so +wonderful as this." + +Francis and Margaret came out from the house, the former carrying +a silver tray. They had spent a considerable time over their +task, but Lady Cynthia and Sir Timothy were still absent. Hedges +followed them, a little worried. + +"Shall I ring the gong, madam?" he asked Margaret. "Cook has +taken such pains with her omelette." + +"I think you had better, Hedges," Margaret assented. + +The gong rang out--and rang again. Presently Lady Cynthia and +Sir Timothy appeared upon the bridge and crossed the lawn. They +were walking a little apart. Lady Cynthia was looking down at +some roses which she had gathered. Sir Timothy's unconcern +seemed a trifle overdone. Margaret laughed very softly. + +"A stepmother, Francis!" she whispered. "Just fancy Cynthia as a +stepmother!" + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Evil Shepherd, by E. 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