The woman thus observed marched swiftly away down the deserted street in the direction of the Town Hall at the corner, and Matherfield, after one more searching look at her, dropped the slat of the Venetian blind through which he had been peeping, and turned on his companion. At the same instant he reached a hand for his overcoat and hat.
"Now, Mr. Hetherwick," he said sharply, "this has got to be a one-man job! There'll be nothing extraordinary in one man going along the streets to catch an early morning train, but it would look a bit suspicious if two men went together on the same errand and the same track! I'm off after her! I'll run her down! I'm used to that sort of thing. You go to your chambers and get some sleep. I'll look in later and tell you what news I have. Sharp's the word, now!"
He was out of the room and the house within the next few seconds, and Hetherwick, half vexed with himself for having lingered there on a job which Matherfield thus unceremoniously took into his own hands, prepared to follow. Presently he went out into the shabby hall; the man of the house was just coming downstairs, stifling a big yawn. He smiled knowingly when he saw Hetherwick.
"Matherfield gone, sir?" he inquired. "I heard the door close."
"He's gone," assented Hetherwick. "The person he wanted appeared suddenly, and he's gone in pursuit."
The man, a smug-faced, easy-going sort of person, smiled again.
"Rum doings these police have!" he remarked. "Queer job, watching all night through a window. I was just coming down to make you a cup of coffee," he continued. "I'll get you one in a few minutes, if you like. Or tea now? Perhaps you'd prefer tea?"
"It's very good of you," said Hetherwick. "But to tell you the truth I'd rather get home and to bed. Many thanks, all the same."
Then, out of sheer good nature, he slipped a treasury note into the man's hand, and, bidding him good morning, went away. He, too, walked down the street in the direction taken by Lady Riversreade and her pursuer. But when he came to the bottom and emerged into Harrow Road he saw nothing of them, either to left or right. The road, however, was not deserted; there were already workmen going to early morning tasks, and close by the corner of the Town Hall a roadman was busy with his broom. Hetherwick went up to him.
"Did you see a lady, and then a gentleman, come down here, from St. Mary's Terrace, just now?" he asked. "Tall people, both of them."
The man rested on his broom, half turned, and pointed towards Paddington Bridge.
"I see 'em, guv'nor," he answered. "Tall lady, carrying a little portmantle. Gone along over the bridge yonder. Paddington station way. And, after her, Matherfield."
"Oh, you know him, do you?" exclaimed Hetherwick, in surprise.
The man jerked a thumb in the direction of the adjacent police station.
"Used to be a sergeant here, did Matherfield," he replied. "I knows him, right enough! Once run me in—me an' a mate o' mine—for bein' a bit festive like. Five bob and costs that was. But I don't bear him no grudge, not me! Thank 'ee, guv'nor."
Hetherwick left another tip behind him and walked slowly off towards Edgware Road. The Tube trains were just beginning to run, and he caught a south-bound one and went down to Charing Cross and thence to the Temple. And at six o'clock he tumbled into bed, and slept soundly until, four hours later, he heard Mapperley moving about in the adjoining room.
Mapperley, whose job at Hetherwick's was a good deal of a sinecure, was leisurely reading the news when his master entered. He laid the paper aside, and gave Hetherwick a knowing glance.
"Got some more information last night," he said. "About that chap I tracked the other day."
"How did you get it?" asked Hetherwick.
"Put in a bit of time at Vivian's," answered Mapperley. "There's a fellow there that I know. Clerk to the secretary chap, named Flowers. That man Baseverie has a share in the place—sort of director, I think."
"What time were you at Vivian's?" inquired Hetherwick. "Late or early?"
"Early—for them," answered Mapperley.
"Did you see the man there?"
"I did. He was there all the time I was. In and about all the time. But at first he was in what seemed to be serious conversation with a tall, handsome woman. They sat talking in an alcove in the lounge there some time. Then she went off—alone."
"Oh, you saw that, did you?" said Hetherwick. "Well, I may as well tell you, since you know what you do, that the woman was Lady Riversreade!"
"Oh, I guessed that!" remarked Mapperley. "I figured in that at once. But that wasn't all. I found out more. That dead man, Hannaford—from what I heard from Flowers—I've no doubt whatever that Hannaford was at Vivian's once, if not twice, during the two or three nights before his death. Anyway, Flowers recognised my description of him—which I'd got, of course, from you and the papers."
"Hannaford. There, eh?" exclaimed Hetherwick. "Alone?"
"No—came in with this Baseverie. They don't know him as Dr. Baseverie there, though. Plain Mister. I'm quite sure it was Hannaford who was with him."
"Did you get the exact dates—and times?" asked Hetherwick.
"I didn't. Flowers couldn't say that. But he remembered such a man."
"Well, that's something," said Hetherwick. He turned into another room and sat down to his breakfast, thinking. "Mapperley, come here!" he called presently. "Look here," he went on as the clerk came in. "Since you know this Vivian place, go there again to-night, and try to find out if that friend of yours knows anything of a tall man who corresponds to the description of the man whom Hannaford was seen to meet at Victoria. You read Ledbitter's account of that, given at the inquest?"
"Yes," replied Mapperley. "But of what value is it? None—for practical purposes! He couldn't even tell the shape of the man's nose, nor the colour of his eyes! All he could tell was that he saw a man muffled in such a fashion that he saw next to nothing of his face, and that he was tall and smartly dressed. There are a few tens of thousands—scores, perhaps—of tall, smartly-dressed men in London!"
"Never mind—inquire," said Hetherwick, "and particularly if such a man has ever been seen in Baseverie's company there."
He finished his breakfast, and then, instead of going down to the Central Criminal Court, after his usual habit, he hung about in his chambers, expecting Matherfield. But Matherfield did not come, and at noon Hetherwick, impelled by a new idea, left a message for him in case he called, and went out. In pursuance of the idea, he journeyed once more to the regions of Paddington and knocked at the door of the house wherein he and Matherfield had kept watch on the flats opposite.
The lodging-house keeper opened the door himself and grinned on seeing Hetherwick. Hetherwick stepped inside and nodded at the door of the room which he had left only a few hours before.
"I want a word or two with you," he said. "In private."
"Nobody in here, sir," replied the man. "Come in."
He closed the door on himself and his visitor, and offered Hetherwick a chair.
"I expected you'd be back during the day," he said, with a sly smile. "Either you or Matherfield, or both!"
"You haven't seen him again?" asked Hetherwick.
"No; he's not been here," replied the man.
"Well, I wanted to ask you a question," continued Hetherwick. "Perhaps two or three. To begin with, have you lived here long?"
"Been here since before these flats were built—and that's a good many years ago; I can't say exactly how many," said the other, glancing at the big block opposite his window. "Twenty-two or three, anyway."
"Then I dare say you know most of the people hereabouts?" suggested Hetherwick. "By sight, at any rate."
The lodging-house keeper smiled and shook his head.
"That would be a tall order, mister!" he answered. "There's a few thousand of people packed into this bit of London. Of course, I do know a good many, close at hand. But if you're a Londoner you'll know that Londoners keep themselves to themselves. May seem queer, but it's a fact that I don't know the names of my next-door neighbours on either side—though to be sure they've only been here a few years in either case."
"What I was suggesting," said Hetherwick, "was that you probably knew by sight many of the people who live in the flats opposite your house."
"Oh, I know some of 'em by sight," assented the man. "They're a mixed lot over in those flats! A few old gentlemen—retired—two or three old ladies—and a fair lot of actresses—very popular with the stage is those flats. But, of course, it is only by sight—I don't know any of 'em by name. Just see them going in and coming out, you know."
"Do you happen to know by sight a tall, handsome woman who has a flat there?" asked Hetherwick. "A woman who's likely to be very well dressed?"
The lodging-house keeper, who was without his coat and had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, scratched his elbows and looked thoughtful.
"I think I do know the lady you mean," he said at last. "Goes out with one o' those pesky little poms—a black 'un—on a lead? That her?"
"I don't know anything about a dog," replied Hetherwick. "The woman I mean is, as I said, tall, handsome, distinguished-looking, fair hair and a fresh complexion, and about forty or so."
"I dare say that's the one I'm thinking of," said the man. "I have seen such a lady now and then—not of late, though." Then he gave Hetherwick a shrewd, inquiring glance. "You and Matherfield after her?" he asked.
"Not exactly that," answered Hetherwick. "What I want to find out—now—is her name. The name she's known by here, anyway."
"I can soon settle that for you," said the lodging-house keeper with alacrity. "I know the caretaker of those flats well enough—often have a talk with him. He'll tell me anything—between ourselves. Now then, let's get it right—a tall, handsome lady, about forty, fair hair, fresh complexion, well dressed. That it, mister?"
"You've got it," said Hetherwick.
"Then you wait here a bit, and I'll slip across," said the man. "All on the strict between ourselves, you know. As I said, the caretaker and me's pals."
He left the room, and a moment later Hetherwick saw him cross the road and descend into the basement of the flats. Within a quarter of an hour he was back, and evidently primed with news.
"Soon settled that for you, mister!" he announced triumphantly. "He knew who you meant! The lady's name is Madame Listorelle. Here, I got him to write it down on a bit o' paper, not being used to foreign names. He thinks she's something to do with the stage. She's the tenant of flat twenty-six. But he says that of late she's seldom there—comes for a night or two, then away, maybe for months at a time. He saw her here yesterday, though; she hadn't been there, he says, for a good bit. But there, it don't signify to him whether she's there or away—always punctual with her money, and that's the main thing, ain't it?"
Hetherwick added to his largess of the early morning, and went away. He was now convinced that Lady Riversreade, for some purpose of her own, kept up a flat in Paddington, visited it occasionally, and was known there as Madame Listorelle. How much was there in that, and what bearing had it on the problem he was endeavouring to solve?
Late that night, when Hetherwick was thinking things over, a pounding on his stairs and a knock on his outer door heralded the entrance of Matherfield, who, with an expressive look, flung himself into the nearest easy chair.
"For heaven's sake, Mr. Hetherwick, give me a drop of that whisky!" he exclaimed. "I'm dead beat—and dead disappointed, too! Such a day as I've had after that woman! And what it all means the Lord only knows—I don't!"
Hetherwick helped his evidently far-spent visitor to a whisky and soda, and waited until he had taken a hearty pull at it. Then he resumed his own seat and took up his pipe.
"I gather that you haven't had a very successful day, Matherfield?" he suggested. "Hope it wasn't exactly a wild-goose chase?"
"That's just about what it comes to, then!" exclaimed Matherfield. "Anyway, after taking no end of trouble she got clear away, practically under my very nose! But I'll tell you all about it; that's what I dropped in for. When I went out of that house in St. Mary's Terrace, she was just turning the corner to the right, Bishop's Road way. Of course I followed. She went over the bridge—the big railway bridge—and at the end turned down to Paddington Station. I concluded then that she was going up by some early morning train. She entered the station by the first-class booking office; I was not so many yards in her rear then. But instead of stopping there and taking a ticket she went right through, crossed the station to the arrival platform and signalled to a taxi-cab. In another minute she was in it, and off. Very luckily there was another cab close by. I hailed that and told the driver to keep the first cab in sight and follow it to wherever it went. So off we went again, on another pursuit! And it ended at another terminus—Waterloo!"
"Going home, I suppose," remarked Hetherwick, as Matherfield paused to take up his glass. "You can get to Dorking from Waterloo."
"She wasn't going to any Dorking!" answered Matherfield. "I soon found that out. Early as it was, there were a lot of people at Waterloo, and when she went to the ticket office I contrived to be close behind her—close enough, at any rate, to overhear anything she said. She asked for a first single to Southampton."
"Southampton!" exclaimed Hetherwick. "Um!"
"Southampton!" repeated Matherfield. "First single for Southampton. She took the ticket and walked away, looking neither right nor left; she never glanced at me. Well, as I said yesterday, I don't believe in starting out on anything unless I go clean through with it. So after a minute's thought I booked for Southampton—third. Then I went out and looked at the notice board. Southampton, 5.40. It was then 5.25. So I went to the telephone office, rang up our head-quarters and told 'em I was after something and they needn't expect to see me all day. Then I bought a time-table and a newspaper or two at the bookstall, just opening, and went to the train. There were a lot of people travelling by it. The train hadn't come up to the platform then; when it came down a minute or two later I watched her get in; she was good to spot because of her tall figure. I got into a smoker, a bit lower down, and in due course off we went, me wondering, to tell you the truth, precisely why I was going! But I was going—wherever she went."
"Even out of the country?" asked Hetherwick, with a smile.
"Aye, I thought of that!" assented Matherfield. "She might be slinging her hook for anything I knew. That made me turn to the steamship news in the paper, and I saw then that theTartaricwas due to leave Southampton for New York about two o'clock that very afternoon. Well, there were more improbable things than that she meant to go by it, for reasons of her own, especially if she really is the Mrs. Whittingham of the Sellithwaite affair ten years ago. You see, I thought it out like this—granting she's Mrs. Whittingham, that was, she'll be astute enough to know that there's no time-limit to a criminal prosecution in this country, and that she's still liable to arrest, prosecution, and conviction; she'd probably know, too, that this Hannaford affair has somehow drawn fresh attention to her little matter, and that she's in danger. Again, I'd been working out an idea about her and this man Baseverie. How do we know that Baseverie wasn't an accomplice of hers in that Sellithwaite fraud? In most cases of that sort the woman has an accomplice somewhere in the background—Baseverie may have been mixed with her then. And now he may have information that has led him to warn her to make herself scarce, eh?"
"There's something in that, Matherfield," admitted Hetherwick. "Yes—decidedly something."
"There may be a good deal," affirmed Matherfield. "You see, we've let those newspaper chaps have a lot of information. I'm a believer in making use of the Press; it's a valuable aid sometimes, perhaps generally, but there are other times when you can do too much of it: it's a sort of giving valuable aid to the enemy. I don't know whether we haven't let those reporters know too much in this case. We've let 'em know, for instance, about the portrait found in Hannaford's pocket-book, and about the sealed packet in which, we believe, was the secret of his patent: all that's been in the papers, though, to be sure, they didn't make much copy out of it. Still, there was enough for anybody who followed the case closely. Now, supposing that Baseverie was Mrs. Whittingham's accomplice ten years ago, and that he'd read all this and seen the reproduction of the portrait, wouldn't he see that she was in some danger and warn her? I think it likely, and I wish we hadn't been quite so free with our news for those paper chaps. I'm glad, anyhow, that there's one thing I haven't told 'em of—that medicine bottle found at Granett's! There's nobody but me, you, and the medical men know of that, so far."
"You think this woman—Lady Riversreade as she is, Mrs. Whittingham as she used to be—was making off to Southampton, and possibly farther, on a hint from Baseverie?" said Hetherwick ruminatively.
"Put it this way," replied Matherfield. "Of course, you've got to assume a lot, but we can't do without assuming things in this business. Lady Riversreade was formerly Mrs. Whittingham. Mrs. Whittingham did a clever bit of fraud at Sellithwaite, and got away with the swag. Baseverie was her accomplice. Now then, ten years later Mrs. Whittingham has become my Lady Riversreade, a very wealthy woman. She's suddenly visited by Baseverie at Riversreade Court, and is obviously upset by his first visit. He comes again. Three nights later she's seen to come out of a club which he frequents. She spends most of the night in a flat in a quiet part of London, and next morning slopes off as early as five o'clock to a port—Southampton. What inference is to be drawn? That her visit to Southampton has certainly something to do with Baseverie's visits to her and her visit to Vivian's!"
"I think there's something in that, too," said Hetherwick, "But—we're on the way to Southampton. Go on!"
"Very good train, that," continued Matherfield. "We got to Southampton just before eight—a minute or two late. I was wanting something to eat and drink by that time, and I was glad to see my lady turn into the refreshment-room as soon as she left her carriage. So did I. I knew she'd never suspect a quiet, ordinary man like me; if she deigned to give me a glance—she's a very haughty-looking woman, I observed—she'd only take me for a commercial traveller. And we were not so far off each other in that room; she sat at a little table, having some tea and so on: I was at the counter. Of course, I never showed that I was taking any notice of her—but I got in two or three good, comprehensive inspections. Very good-looking, no doubt of it, Mr. Hetherwick—a woman that's worn well! But of course you've seen that for yourself."
"You must remember that I've only seen her twice," remarked Hetherwick, with a laugh. "Once at Victoria, when Miss Hannaford pointed her out; once night before last, when it was by a poorish gaslight. But I'll take your word, Matherfield. Well, and what happened next?"
"Oh, she took her time over her tea and toast," continued Matherfield. "Very leisured in all her movements, I assure you. At last she moved off—of course I followed, casually and carelessly. Now, as you may be aware, Southampton West, where the train set us down, is a bit out of the town, and I expected her to take a cab. But she didn't; she walked away from the station. So did I—twenty or thirty yards in the rear. She took her time; it seemed to me she was purposely loitering. It struck me at last why—she was waiting until the business offices were open. I was right in that: as soon as the town clocks struck nine she quickened her pace and made a beeline for her objective. And what do you think that was?"
"No idea," said Hetherwick.
"White Star offices!" answered Matherfield. "Went straight there, and walked straight in! Of course, I waited outside, where she wouldn't see me when she came out again. She was in there about twenty minutes. When she came out she turned to another part of the town. And near that old gateway, or bar, or whatever it is that stands across the street, I lost her—altogether!"
"Some exceptional reason, I should think, Matherfield," remarked Hetherwick. "How was it?"
"My own stupid fault!" growled Matherfield. "Took my eye off her in a particularly crowded part—the town was beginning to get very busy. I just happened to let my attention be diverted—and she was gone! At first I made certain she'd gone into some shop. I looked into several—risky as that was—but I couldn't find her. I hung about; no good. Then I came to the conclusion that she'd turned down one of the side streets or alleys or passages—there were several about there—and got clean away. And after hanging around a bit, and going up one street and down another—a poor job in our business at the best of times and all dependent on mere luck!—I decided to make a bold stroke and be sure of at any rate something."
"What? How?" asked Hetherwick.
"I thought I'd find out what she'd gone to the White Star offices for," replied Matherfield. "Of course, I didn't want to raise any suspicion against her under the circumstances. But I flatter myself I'm a bit of a diplomatist, and I laid my plans. I went in there, got hold of a clerk who was a likely looking chap for secret keeping, told him who I was and showed my credentials, and asked him for the information I wanted. I got it. As luck would have it, my man had attended to her himself and remembered her quite well. Of course, little more than an hour and a half had passed since she'd been in there."
"And—what had she been in for?" asked Hetherwick. "What did you hear?"
Matherfield nodded significantly.
"Just what I expected to hear," he answered. "She'd booked a second-class passage for New York in theTartaric, sailing that afternoon, in the name of H. Cunningham. As soon as I found that out, I knew I should come across her again—there'd be no need to go raking the town for her. I ascertained that passengers would be allowed to go aboard from two o'clock; the boat would sail between five and six. So, having once more admonished the clerk to secrecy and given him plausible excuses for my inquisitiveness, I went off to relax a bit, and in due time sat down to an early and comfortable lunch—a man must take his ease now and then, you know, Mr. Hetherwick."
"Exactly, Matherfield—I quite agree," said Hetherwick. "But I dare say your brain was at work, all the same, while you ate and drank?"
"It was, sir," assented Matherfield. "Yes—I made my plans. I wasn't going to New York, of course; that was out of the question. But I was going to have speech with her. I decided that I'd watch for her coming aboard theTartaric—being alone, she'd probably come early. I proposed to get her aside, accosting her, of course, as Lady Riversreade, tell her who I was and show my papers, and ask her if she would give me any information about a certain Dr. Cyprian Baseverie. I thought I'd see how she took that before asking anything further; if I saw that she was taken aback, confused, and especially if she gave me any prevaricating or elusive answer, I'd ask her straight out if before her marriage to the late Sir John Riversreade she was the Mrs. Whittingham who, some ten years ago, stayed for a time at the White Hart Hotel at Sellithwaite. And I practically made up my mind, too, that if she admitted that and I saw good cause for it, I'd detain her."
"You meant to go as far as that?" exclaimed Hetherwick.
"I did! I should have been justified," replied Matherfield. "However, that's neither here nor there, for I never saw her! I was down at the point of departure well before two, and I assured myself that nobody had gone aboard theTartaricup to that time. I kept as sharp a look out as any man with only one pair of eyes could, right away from ten minutes to two until five-and-twenty past five, when the boat sailed, but she never turned up. Of course you'll say that she must have slipped on unobserved by me, but I'm positive she didn't. No, sir! It's my opinion that she thought better of it and didn't go—forfeiting her passage money, or a part of it, would be nothing to a woman of her means—or that she was frightened at the last minute of showing herself on that stage!"
"Frightened! Why?" asked Hetherwick.
Matherfield laughed significantly.
"There were two or three of our men from Scotland Yard about," he answered. "I'm not aware of what they were after; I didn't ask 'em. But I did ask them to give me a hand in looking out for a lady whom I fully described—which is why I'm dead certain she never went aboard. Now, it may have been that she came down there, knew—you never know!—some of those chaps and—made herself scarce! Anyway—I never set eyes on her. Never, in fact, saw her again after I lost her in the morning. So—that's where I am!"
"You came back—defeated?" remarked Hetherwick.
"Well, if you like to call it so," admitted Matherfield. "Yes, I came back by the seven thirty-eight. Dog tired! But I'm not through with this yet, Mr. Hetherwick, and I want you to do something for me. This Miss Hannaford, now, is down at Riversreade Court. They'll be on the telephone there, of course. I want you to ring her up early to-morrow morning, and ask her if she can meet you on important private business in Dorking town at noon. Where shall we say?"
"'White Horse' would do," suggested Hetherwick.
"Very well—White Horse Hotel, at noon," agreed Matherfield. "We'll go down—for I'll go with you—by the 10.10 from Victoria. Now please be very careful about this, Mr. Hetherwick, when you telephone. Don't say anything of any reason for going down to Dorking. Don't on any account mention Lady Riversreade, in any way. Merely tell Miss Hannaford that you have urgent reasons for seeing her. And—fix it up!"
"Oh, I can fix it up all right," answered Hetherwick. "Miss Hannaford can easily drive down from Riversreade Court. But I don't know what you want her for."
"Wait till morning," replied Matherfield, with a knowing look. "You'll see. I'll meet you at Victoria at ten o'clock, sharp."
Hetherwick was still in ignorance of the reason of Matherfield's desire to see Rhona when, just before noon next day, Matherfield and he walked up from Dorking Station into the High Street, and made for the "White Horse." Matherfield halted a few yards away from its door.
"Let's wait outside for her," he said. "Till I've asked her a question or two. I don't want to even run the risk of being overheard."
Rhona came along in a car a few minutes later, and seeing the two men advanced to meet them. Matherfield lost no time in getting to business.
"Miss Hannaford," he said, with a cautious look round, and in a low voice, "just tell me—is Lady Riversreade up there at the Court? She is!" he continued, as Rhona nodded. "When did she come back, then?"
"Very early yesterday morning," answered Rhona promptly. "By the 7.45 from Victoria. She was up at the Court by 9.30."
Matherfield turned an utterly perplexed face on Hetherwick. Then he stared at Rhona.
"Up at Riversreade Court at 9.30 yesterday—Tuesday—morning!" he exclaimed. "Impossible! I saw her at Southampton at 9.30 yesterday morning with my own eyes."
"I'm quite sure you didn't!" replied Rhona, with a satirical laugh. "You're under some queer mistaken impression, Mr. Matherfield. Lady Riversreade was in her own house, here, with me at 9.30 yesterday morning. That's a fact that I can vouch for!"
The two men looked at each other. Each seemed to be asking the other a silent question. But Matherfield suddenly voiced his, in tones full of wonder and of chagrin.
"Then who on earth is that woman that I followed to Southampton?"
Matherfield's question went without answer. Rhona, who had no idea of what he was talking about, turned a surprised and inquiring look on Hetherwick. And Hetherwick saw that the time had come for a lot of explanation.
"Look here!" he said. "We've got to do some talking, and we can't keep Miss Hannaford standing in the street. Come into the hotel—we'll get a private room for lunch, and then we can discuss matters all to ourselves. You're a bit puzzled by all this," he continued a few minutes later, turning to Rhona when all three were safely closeted together, and lunch had been ordered. "And no wonder! But I'd better tell you what Matherfield and I were after on Monday night, and what Matherfield was doing all yesterday. You see," he concluded, after giving Rhona an epitomised account of the recent proceedings, "I was absolutely certain that the woman whom we saw coming out of Vivian's on Monday night was the woman you pointed out to me on Sunday morning at Victoria as Lady Riversreade—she was dressed in just the same things, I'm positive!—in short I'm convinced it was Lady Riversreade. Then, Matherfield and I are both equally sure that that was the same woman we saw coming out of St. Mary's Mansions shortly before five o'clock yesterday morning, and whom Matherfield followed to Southampton, Up to now, we've never had a doubt that it was Lady Riversreade—not a doubt!"
"Well," said Rhona, with an incredulous laugh, "I can't say, of course, that you didn't see Lady Riversreade come out of Vivian's on Monday night. Lady Riversreade was certainly in town from Sunday noon to yesterday morning, and she may have gone to Vivian's on Monday night for purposes of her own. I know nothing about that. But I do know that she was not in Southampton yesterday, for, as I told you, she was back home at Riversreade Court, about half-past nine in the morning, and she's never left the house since. That's plain fact!"
"It's beyond me, then!" exclaimed Matherfield. "And I say again, if that wasn't Lady Riversreade that I tracked to Southampton, who was it? I'll say more—if that really was Lady Riversreade that we saw coming out of Vivian's, and followed to Paddington, and if she wasn't the woman who came out of those flats yesterday morning, and that I went after, well, then, Lady Riversreade has a double—who lives in St. Mary's Mansions! That's about it!"
"As regards that," remarked Hetherwick. "I didn't tell you last night, Matherfield, that I went back yesterday to that house from which we watched, and made some cautious inquiries about the tall, handsome woman who has a flat opposite. I got some information. The woman whom we followed there, and whom you were running after yesterday is known there as a Madame Listorelle. She's very little at her flat, though punctual with its rent. She's sometimes away altogether for long periods—in fact, she's rarely seen there. And she's believed to be connected with the stage. The caretaker who supplied this information saw her at the flat on Monday."
Matherfield smacked one hand on the open palm of the other.
"It's an alias!" he exclaimed. "Bet your stars she's Lady Riversreade! Away from her flat for long periods? Of course—because she's down here, at her big house. Keeps that flat up for some purpose of her own, and calls herself—what is it?—sounds French."
"But supposing that's so," remarked Hetherwick, with a sly glance at Rhona. "It's utterly impossible that Lady Riversreade could be at Riversreade Court yesterday, and in Southampton at the same time! Come, now!"
"Well, I tell you it beats me!" muttered Matherfield. "I know what I saw! If there's anything gone wrong, it's your fault, Mr. Hetherwick! I don't know this Lady Riversreade! All I know is that you said the woman we saw coming out of that club was Lady Riversreade. That, sir, is the woman I followed!"
"The woman I saw coming out of Vivian's was the woman pointed out to me by Miss Hannaford as Lady Riversreade," affirmed Hetherwick quietly. "That's certain! But——"
He was interrupted at this stage by the arrival of lunch. Nothing more was said until all three were seated, and the waiter had been sent away. Then Rhona looked at her companions and smiled.
"You both seem to have arrived at a very promising stage!" she said. "At first I thought it a regular impasse, but——"
"Isn't it?" asked Hetherwick. "At present I don't see any way through or over it."
"Oh, I think you're getting towards something!" she retorted. "All these things, puzzling as they are, are better than nothing. I've got some news, too—if you're sure there are no eavesdroppers about."
"Oh, we're all right!" said Hetherwick. "Good stout old doors, these—close-fitting. What next?"
Rhona leaned across the table a little, and lowered her voice.
"There was a sort of row at the Court; at least, at the Home, yesterday," she said. "With that man Baseverie!"
"Ah!" exclaimed Hetherwick. "That's interesting! Tell about it."
"Well, I told you that Lady Riversreade arrived from London yesterday morning about nine-thirty," continued Rhona. "Major Penteney arrived with her."
"Who's Major Penteney?" demanded Matherfield.
"He's a retired Army man who's greatly interested in Lady Riversreade's Home, and looks after its affairs in London," replied Hetherwick. "And Miss Hannaford thinks he's in love with the foundress. I've seen him—saw him with Lady Riversreade on Sunday. Yes," he added, turning to Rhona, "Major Penteney came back with her? Go on."
"As soon as they arrived—I saw them come, from my office window—they came across to the Home," continued Rhona. "It struck me that they both looked unusually grave and serious. They talked to me for a few minutes on business matters: then they went into Lady Riversreade's private office. They were there for some little time; then Lady Riversreade came out and went away; I saw her cross to the Court. Presently Major Penteney came to me, and told me that he wanted to have a little private talk with me. He said—as near as I can remember—'Miss Featherstone——'"
Matherfield looked up quickly from his plate.
"Eh?" he said. "Miss—Featherstone?"
"That's the name Miss Hannaford's known by—there," said Hetherwick. "Her mother's name. I told you before, you know."
"True, true!" assented Matherfield, with a groan. "You did—I remember now. I'm muddled—with yesterday's affair."
"'Miss Featherstone,' Rhona went on—'I believe you're aware that Lady Riversreade has lately been visited—twice—by a man who called himself Dr. Cyprian Baseverie?'
"'Yes,' I answered, 'I am, Major Penteney. I saw Dr. Baseverie on both occasions.' 'Well,' he said—'I don't suppose you were at all impressed by him?' 'Not at all impressed, Major Penteney,' I replied, 'except very unfavourably.' 'Didn't like his looks, eh,' he asked with a smile. 'Do you?' I inquired. 'I've never seen the fellow,' he answered. 'But I expect to—this very morning. That's what I want to talk to you about. I believe he'll turn up about noon—as, I understand, he did before, wanting, of course, to see Lady Riversreade. I want you to tell the doorkeeper, Mitchell, to bring him straight in when he comes, and Mitchell is not to say that Lady Riversreade is not in—she won't be in—he's to admit him immediately; and you, if you please, are to show him straight into the private office. Instead of finding Lady Riversreade there, he'll find—me. Is that clear?' 'Perfectly clear, Major Penteney,' I replied. 'I'll see to it.' 'Well, there's something else,' he said. 'After I have had a little plain-spoken talk with this fellow, I shall ring the bell. I want you to come in, and to bring Mitchell with you. And—that's all, at present. You understand?' 'I understand, Major Penteney,' I answered. 'I'll see to it. But as you've never seen this man there's one thing I'd like to say to you—he's the sort of man who looks as if he might be dangerous.' He smiled at that. 'Thank you,' he said. 'I'm prepared for that, Miss Featherstone. You show him right in.'"
Rhona paused for a moment, to attend to the contents of her plate. But Hetherwick's knife and fork had become idle; so had Matherfield's; each man, it was plain, was becoming absorbed. And Matherfield suddenly brightened, and gave Hetherwick an unmistakable wink.
"Good!—good!—good!" he muttered, with something like a chuckle. "I'm beginning to see a bit of daylight! Excellent!—when you're ready, Miss Featherstone——"
"Well," continued Rhona, after a few minutes' pause, "about noon, Dr. Cyprian Baseverie drove up. I had already given Mitchell his instructions, and he brought Baseverie straight into my office. Baseverie was evidently in the very best of spirits—he bowed and grimaced at sight of me as if he expected to find me dying to see him. I made no answer to his flowery greetings; I just got up, ushered him to the door of the private room, and closed it after him as he stepped across the threshold. Then I laughed—he wouldn't see who was awaiting him until he got right into the room, and I'd already gathered from Major Penteney that his reception couldn't be exactly pleasant or agreeable."
Matherfield rubbed his hands together.
"Good!—good!" he chuckled. "Wish I'd been in that room!"
"It wasn't long before I was there, Mr. Matherfield," said Rhona. "I was, of course, tremendously curious to know what was going on there, but the door fits closely, and I heard nothing—no angry voices or anything. However, in less than ten minutes the bell rang sharply. I called Mitchell—he's a big, strapping, very determined-looking ex-Guardsman—and in we went. I took everything in at a glance, Major Penteney sat at Lady Riversreade's desk. On the blotting-pad, his right hand close to it, lay a revolver——"
"Hah!" exclaimed Matherfield. "To be sure! Just so! Fine!"
"Opposite the desk stood Baseverie, staring first at Major Penteney, then at us. It's difficult for me to describe how he looked. I think the principal expression on his face was one of intense surprise."
"Surprise?" ejaculated Hetherwick.
"Surprise! Astonishment! He looked like a man who had just heard something that he has believed it impossible to hear. But there was also such a look of anger and rage—well, if Major Penteney hadn't had that revolver close to his finger-ends, and if Mitchell hadn't been there, I should have screamed and run. However, it was not I who was to do the running. As soon as Mitchell and I entered, Major Penteney spoke—very quietly. He nodded at Baseverie. 'Miss Featherstone and you, Mitchell—you see this man? If ever he comes here again, you, Mitchell, will deny him entrance, and you, Miss Featherstone, on hearing from Mitchell that he's here, will telephone for the police and, if he hangs about, will give him in charge.' Then he turned to Baseverie. 'Now, my man!' he continued, pointing to the door. 'You get out—quick! Go!' Of course, I looked at Baseverie. He stood staring almost incredulously at Major Penteney. It seemed to me that he could scarcely believe his ears—he gave me the impression of being unable to credit that he could be so treated. But he was also livid with anger. His fingers worked; his eyes blazed; it was dreadful to see his lips. He got out some words at last——'"
"Give me the exact ones, if you can," interrupted Matherfield.
"I can—I'm not likely to forget them," said Rhona. "He said—'What—you defy me, knowing what I know—knowing what I know!'"
"'Knowing what I know!'" muttered Matherfield. "Knowing what he knew! Um!—and then?"
"Then Major Penteney just pointed to the door. 'Get out, I tell you!' he said. 'And look in the papers to-night. Be off!'"
"'Look in the papers to-night,' eh?" said Matherfield. "Um—um! And then, I suppose, he went?"
"He went without another word then," assented Rhona. "Mitchell escorted him out and saw him off. Major Penteney looked at me when he'd gone. 'There, Miss Featherstone,' he said, 'you've seen one of the biggest scoundrels in London—or in Europe. Let's hope you'll never see him again, that that's the end of him here. I think he's had his lesson!' I made no answer, but I was jolly glad to see Baseverie's car scooting away down the drive!"
Matherfield picked up the tankard of ale at his side and took a hearty pull at its contents. He set the tankard down again with an emphatic bang.
"I know what this job is!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Blackmail!"
"Just so!" agreed Hetherwick. "I've been thinking that for the last ten minutes. Baseverie has been endeavouring to blackmail Lady Riversreade. But that's not our affair, you know. What we're after is the solving of the mystery surrounding Hannaford's death. And—does this look likely to fit in anywhere?"
"I should say it decidedly does look likely!" answered Matherfield. "In my opinion it's all of a piece; at least, it's a piece out of a piece, one of many pieces, like a puzzle. The thing is to put these pieces together. And there are two things we can try to do at once. First, find out more about this man Baseverie; the other, get hold of more information about the lady in St. Mary's Mansions."
"What about approaching Lady Riversreade for information—or Major Penteney?" suggested Hetherwick.
"Yes—why don't you?" said Rhona, almost eagerly. "Do! I'm a bit tired of being there as Miss Featherstone. I want to tell Lady Riversreade the truth, and all the whys and wherefores of it."
But Matherfield shook his head. The time for that was not yet, he declared; let them wait awhile. And after more conversation he and Hetherwick returned to London.