A certain sense of elation had taken possession of Hetty. She had been tried in the fire, and she had not been found wanting. She had done her work well, and she knew it. And she was not quite satisfied. Things were going on here that she ought to know. At any moment she might come across important information that would be of the greatest use to Gordon. She no longer had the slightest doubt that the Countess was at the bottom of the business that threatened to deprive him of his good name.
As soon as the weakness was passed, she followed Leona Lalage. She heard the latter fumbling with the sash of the drawing-room window, she felt the sudden rush of air. The owner of the house had barely reached the garden before Hetty was after her. It was all for Gordon's sake, she told herself; for him she would do anything.
She crept on until the green door in the wall was reached. It was risky to peep out, but Hetty had to hazard that. The black motor car was in front of her, so that she was behind the gleaming lights. With a thrill Hetty recognized that motor. It was the same one that she had seen leaving the Corner House on the morning of the murder. She was destined to see more of it before long. But she saw other things; she saw Leona tear the skirt of her dress away; a wild cry of surprise rose to her lips, but she choked it down. Here before her was the Spanish woman of Gordon's story. The sudden flood of light set Hetty trembling from head to foot.
For the present she was not destined to obtain further information. The big gates of the courtyard of the Corner House was closed upon her. But she waited. Wit! Her little white teeth shut together; she would have waited there all night. She heard Lalage's sudden cry; she heard the muttered conversation that followed.
She was only just in time to get back behind the green gates when the Countess emerged again with something in her hand. Her head was held high, her eyes gleamed with triumph. Then the great black car shot noiselessly away, and Hetty crept back to the house.
She managed to gain her bedroom unseen, she stood with a fast-beating heart at the head of the landing listening. All the servants had gone to bed long ago, there were only one or two of the electrics burning.
A moment later Countess Lalage came out of her bedroom and swept down the stairs. All signs of her disguise had gone; she was dressed from head to foot in a new and magnificent gown, black set off with red, her diamonds flashed and streamed in the light. Evidently the adventures of the night were not over, for the Countess would not have taken all that trouble had she not expected some one.
Hetty crept back to her room and softly closed the door. She could hear the snap of the electric switches as Leona Lalage proceeded from room to room downstairs until the whole place was brilliant with light. Evidently some one was to be welcomed royally. And crime and light do not go very well together.
Or perhaps it was a crime. With all the servants in bed anybody alone with Leona Lalage and Balmayne would have a dangerous time.
"I must see further into this," Hetty told herself. "When this honoured guest comes I will creep downstairs and listen. It's not a very nice thing to do, but if ever the end justifies the means, surely this is a case in point."
She had to listen and wait a long time. Meanwhile the black motor was throbbing its way to Charing Cross. It was quite late as it passed under the archway into the station. But, strange to say, the motor was no longer black, but it gleamed with lacquer and steel and brass like the perfect beauty that it was.
There were only a few passengers by the train, one an old bent man with a grey moustache and a hooked nose coming down over it. His boots and hat and gloves were shabby enough, but his fur-lined overcoat, which he wore in spite of the warm night, was a magnificent garment of real sable. He stepped along the platform absently. As he looked round for a cab, Balmayne hailed him.
"Can I be of any service to you, Herr Maitrank?" he asked.
The little man's eyes twinkled shrewdly. He seemed to be amused about something.
"What a lucky meeting," he exclaimed. "If that is your motor you can drive me to the Metropole and sup with me. You are a clever young man, so clever that you will not pretend this meeting is an accident."
"I'm not going to try and deceive you," said Balmayne. "I'm going to play the game with all the cards on the table."
"So? Then you know why I am here?"
"Yes. You have come to look into Countess Lalage's affairs."
"With a view to saving myself the loss of many thousand pounds. The money itself would not make much difference to me, but I love my money. To make it is the whole end and aim of my life. Lie to me, deceive me, abuse me, anything you like, and I care nothing. But rob me of money, ah!"
The little beady eyes gleamed angrily, the speaker spat furiously.
"I found out by chance," he went on. "A bit of good luck showed me how I had been swindled. But I said nothing--ah, I said nothing, because in this case silence is golden! And nobody knows but myself. Thinks I, that woman is a long way from being played out yet--she has resources. Some people would have made a fuss and cried out and spoilt everything, but not so Maitrank. I come here to get my money and I shall have it, mark you. But I am not easy in my mind."
"About your money, Herr Maitrank?"
"About my money! No. I shall get that all right. What I am uneasy about is this: How did you know I was coming, and why?"
Balmayne shrugged his shoulders.
"That is my affair," he said. "Perhaps I have been prepared for this--perhaps I have had a watch kept on you. But no matter. We have had time and we are ready. Will you come and see the Countess now?"
Maitrank hesitated a moment and nodded.
"It will give me a good supper free," he said, "and a glass of wine. And if you try any tricks on me, heaven help you, for I won't!"
Hetty's patience was rewarded at last. She could hear the faint murmur of the motor in the street; there was a sudden gush of air as the front door opened, and the voice of the Countess in her most honeyed tones as she ushered somebody into the dining-room. Instantly the girl crept downstairs and hid herself behind the portière over the door. It was an audacious thing to do, but her audacity paid, as it generally does.
All the lights in the room were ablaze; at one end of the table was a dainty supper, flanked by a couple of gold-topped bottles. A little shabby man with a hooked nose was in the act of taking off a heavy fur-lined coat.
"How good of you to come," the Countess said. "Sit down and let me wait upon you--there is no need at all to ring for the servants. You can talk and eat at the same time. There! I will give you some of the cigarettes you are so fond of."
The meal was finished presently. Hetty caught the scent of cigarette smoke. The Countess lounged back in her chair, smoking too. She seemed perfectly self-possessed. She looked so easy and comfortable that Maitrank was filled with admiration.
"You are quite well and blooming?" he asked. "Ah, it is an easy conscience."
"I've no conscience at all," the Countess laughed. "If I had possessed such a thing I should not be here at this moment."
Maitrank muttered. "Perhaps not. Also you would not have robbed me of the best part of £100,000. Charming swindler, where is my money?"
"Most courteous of Shylocks, it is all spent. I am going to be frank with you, which is very virtuous on my part, seeing that you have found me out. That San Salvator property is worth exactly nothing. Also it is mortgaged in four places. But for a bit of pure bad luck I should have got more out of you for it."
"Ay, ay," Maitrank showed his yellow fangs in a grin, "that is true. Go on."
"You have found me out and I must pay you. It is no question of honour, I am bound to do so to save my face. But meanwhile I must find another victim."
"Meanwhile you will do nothing of the sort," said the usurer. "I am not going to wait. Give me half and I will hold the sword suspended for a fortnight. Give me those diamonds, and I will write a receipt for £30,000."
A little flush of colour crept into Leona Lalage's cheek.
"They are worth half as much again," she cried. "You are a coward to take advantage of your position like that, and with a woman too."
Maitrank grinned again, in no way abashed.
"I never want another woman like you to deal with," he said. "I prefer a man, however great a scoundrel he may be. But you would have robbed me; I have turned the tables on you. And I am going to squeeze you. Give me those diamonds, take a receipt for the sum I mentioned, and I wait a fortnight."
"And if I refuse your offer?" said Leona between her teeth.
Maitrank glanced meaningly round the luxurious room. He took in the works of art, the carpets and skins, the flowers, and the soft shaded light.
"This place is more comfortable than a gaol," he said coolly.
He saw nothing of the murderous look in the eyes of his companion. Nobody had seen him enter the house, nobody even knew that he was in London. All the servants had gone to bed. Lalage had by her hand an accomplice ready for anything.
She checked the words that rose to her lips. She produced pen, ink, and paper. With a passionate gesture she tore the diamonds from her throat and breast and hair.
"Take them," she said hoarsely; "take them and write me a receipt at once before I repent. Better do anything than come between a woman and her jewels. There, a glass of wine. To your speedy ruin and destruction."
She poured out the amber liquid from a fresh bottle into a fresh glass and drank it down. With a shaking hand she filled another glass for Maitrank, who accepted it gallantly. The diamonds he slipped coolly into his pocket.
"Never lose your temper," he said. "It leads to apoplexy. Ah, my fine madam, you thought to pinch me, but I have pinched you instead."
The Countess rose with her eyes blazing. She pointed to the door.
"Begone!" she cried. "Go, before I do you mischief. See, I help you on with your coat. Now go, and don't let me see that ugly yellow face of yours for a fortnight."
Maitrank chuckled as he passed down the steps. A policeman bade him goodnight, a policeman chatting to a man in evening dress. The policeman passed along the empty road, the other followed Maitrank. A second later and Maitrank staggered, and fell headlong in the roadway.
The policeman had passed out of sight now. Like a flash the man in evening dress was upon the form of the unconscious capitalist. He was picked up as if he had been a feather-weight. An instant later and he was back at No. 1, Lytton Avenue, again.
"Quick!" the Countess whispered. "You managed that very cleverly, Balmayne. We have a credible witness who saw this creature leave the house, thanks to you."
"And the idea of drugging the glass before pouring out the wine, thanks to you," said Balmayne. "I must get this chap through the garden and on the motor at once. Give me a few minutes' start, and he's not likely to trouble us again."
Hetty sped from her hiding-place through the hall into the garden. The little green gate was open, and beyond the motor, once more in its black guise. Hetty stood there just a minute, wondering what next she should do. If there was only somebody near that she could confide in and send a message by! If she could only prevent Balmayne from starting on his mysterious errand!
There was no time to be lost, for she could hear Balmayne coming down the garden. And then a happy inspiration came to her. From her head she removed the gold and ornamented dagger, with its long steel pin. She stooped down. . .
Balmayne came with his burden, which he flung in and covered with a rug. He pulled at the lever, and the great machine started, and then dragged, as if some great weight was hanging on behind.
A snarling curse came from Balmayne's lips.
"A thousand maledictions on it!" he muttered. "Both back tyres are punctured!"
Balmayne danced down the lane with impotent fury. Despite her peril and the fear that was in her heart, Hetty smiled. Here was a daring and audacious rascal engaged in some desperate and, no doubt, cunning scheme who was utterly baffled by a mere girl and a hairpin.
Hetty checked the smile, for that might have grown hysterical. She had to brace herself to the effort, an easier task seeing that Gordon Bruce was uppermost in her mind. For him she would have dared and done anything. The woman who was at the bottom of this thing was his deadly enemy. To gain her secrets must help in Gordon's final victory.
Balmayne knelt down there with one of the lamps in his hand. His face was not good to look upon. Leona Lalage watched him eagerly.
"Is it a very bad puncture?" she asked.
"It isn't a puncture at all," Balmayne snarled, "at least not an accidental one. Some mischievous fiend must have passed down the lane just now and done this for pure wickedness. There are two long slashes in the tyres."
"And the mending will be a matter of time?"
"Rather. An expert couldn't do it under an hour. Both those tyres will have to come off. Now what are we to do?"
The Countess clasped her hands together in hopeless rage.
"If I only had that ruffian here!" she said. Her voice was low, she strode backwards and forwards like an angry wolf. "Oh, if I only had him here! I should like you to hold him down so that I----"
"Drop it," Balmayne said rudely. "What's the good of that theatrical nonsense? If something is not done at once our plans are utterly ruined. Don't stand there like a tragedy actress, but suggest something."
"But what can I suggest? This thing has taken me utterly by surprise. The only thing is to carry that thing back into the street and lay him down where you found him. A policeman saw him leave the house. It will be thought that he had a fit in the street, and we shall not be suspected."
"And meanwhile the policeman on the beat has been at least twice past the spot where the body ought to be," Balmayne sneered. "People in fits don't get out of the way and then come back again."
"True," the Countess exclaimed. "I had not thought of that. Wheel your motor into the courtyard of the Corner House before a policeman comes this way, and carry him back into the house."
There was nothing else to do, and Balmayne complied, muttering. The autocar was disposed of, and Balmayne, breathless and dripping under the weight of his burden, staggered back into Lytton Avenue Gardens again. Once the little green gate was closed he could breathe more freely. But the perils and dangers of the night were not over yet.
The unconscious form of Maitrank was cast carelessly on the grass. Balmayne wiped his heated forehead. The moon came out from behind a ragged bank of cloud and fell on the face of the sleeping capitalist. It was so white and still that he might have been dead already.
The white, still face looked up, the murderous dark one looked down. Balmayne kicked the body in a sudden spurt of passion.
"You miserly old dog," he growled. "A nice dance you are leading us. I wish I knew what on earth to do with you."
The Countess gripped his arm convulsively.
"Kill him," she said in a hoarse whisper that thrilled Hetty. "That is a sure and easy way out of the peril. We can prove that he left the house, nobody can prove that he ever returned. I have my jewels back; there is nothing that we can be traced by. And the secret dies with him."
Balmayne gave a shudder. Even he recoiled.
"I have never had that on my conscience," he whispered. "And if we do----"
"Kill him," urged the Countess. "Kneel down and pin that wrap over his face. He is an old man, and the drug has affected his heart. He will go off quietly in his sleep. Then you can throw him down the well in the courtyard of the Corner House."
"Can I help you?" cried Hetty, with a voice so steady that it astonished herself. "I had a dreadful headache, so I thought I would steal down into the garden. Have you killed a burglar or something of that kind?"
Leona Lalage was the first to recover herself.
"Something of that kind," she said. "My friend Mr. Balmayne was bringing my motor back when he found this poor fellow unconscious in the lane. Mr. Balmayne called out to me for assistance and I fortunately heard."
Hetty nodded. Truly the woman was magnificent.
"Had you not best get him into the house?" Hetty suggested. "It is not cold, but any one who is ill, to lie on the damp grass----"
The Countess touched Balmayne. She had turned her face away, fearful lest the expression of it should be seen.
"Convey him into the house," the Countess ordered.
There was nothing for it now but to obey. Hetty followed slowly and crept up to her own bedroom. Once there, she dropped into a chair, and just for the moment the whole world seemed to be whirling before her sightless eyes.
But it was not for long that Hetty remained like that. There was much to be done yet and much to learn. The thought of Gordon spurred her on. If she could get this woman into her power and force her to speak, all would be well. Hetty never doubted for a moment that Leona Lalage was at the bottom of her lover's misfortunes.
If she could only communicate with Gordon! But how was that to be done? Hetty thought for a moment. Then the inspiration came to her. In her stockinged feet she crept down to the basement to the housekeeper's room and closed the door behind her. She was not more than a minute gone, and when she reached her room again it was with the knowledge that she could count on somebody now.
These two fiends would not dare to do him any harm now. All the same, Hetty made up her mind not to go to bed. She had Mamie in her own room, the door of which she left purposely open. If the worst came to the worst she could ring the electric alarm on the top landing and rouse the household. Mamie was sleeping peacefully with her head on her hand.
"You poor little soul?" Hetty murmured. "Ah, you poor little soul!"
Meanwhile the precious twain downstairs had laid their burden on a couch in the dining-room. Balmayne himself poured out a glass of wine, and carried it unsteadily to his lips. He was worn out and shaking; he did not know what to do. It was not often that he was so hopelessly beaten as this.
"A mischievous boy with a pocket knife, and a white-faced cat of a governess with a headache," she said, bitterly. "It's maddening to think of a little thing like that coming between us and our schemes. And if I thought for a moment that Hetty Lawrence really suspected anything----"
"Pshaw!" Balmayne growled. "She doesn't suspect anything. Her manner was too simple and natural for that. And the girl carries her goodness and purity in her face. Oh, you can laugh, but that girl lives in another world than ours. When I looked at her just now, she reminded me of what I might have been."
The Countess gave a low, scornful laugh. Balmayne sentimental was amusing. She had the profoundest contempt herself for girls of Hetty's type. It was always a mystery to her what men could see in them.
"Well, she saved us from murder tonight," Balmayne said, looking grimly down into the white face on the sofa. "By Jove, he's coming to!"
Maitrank stirred and stirred uneasily. Then he opened his eyes and stared round him. His quick, active mind was beginning to work. But those eyes were a little uneasy and fearsome as they saw both Leona and Balmayne there.
"What has happened?" Maitrank asked. "Have I been asleep or what? There's something that seems to burn into my brain. Have I been ill?"
"Looks like it!" said Balmayne. "You left here all right some time ago."
"I know. I remember that now. I said goodnight to the Countess--eh, eh, the Countess!--and there was a policeman outside talking to a man in evening dress. He said goodnight to me and I walked down the road. I don't recollect anything else."
He paused in some confusion. He had the profoundest respect for the cunning and audacity of the people with whom he had to deal. Was this some startling new plot that they had been working on him?
"Then how did I get back again?" he asked.
"I found you in the road," Balmayne said boldly. "I was going away from here, seeing that my services were no longer required. I happened to find you. I was just in time, for one of the street prowlers was going through your pockets. Probably your fur coat attracted his attention. It is fortunate----"
Maitrank plunged his hands into his pockets.
"I have been robbed!" he cried, "robbed of those diamonds! Ah, tell me what is this new trick you have played on me! Help! Help!"
He yelled aloud. The scream of rage and disappointment rang through the house. It caused a servant to turn over sleepily and wonder what the matter was, it roused little Mamie, and brought her up in bed with a scream of fear. Hetty heard it too, and wondered if murder was not being committed after all.
She could not stand there doing nothing. She ran downstairs and burst into the dining-room. She had a good excuse at the end of her tongue. The Countess turned upon her fiercely and demanded what she was doing there.
"Mamie," Hetty said simply. "The child has been greatly frightened. She is calling for you. Will you please go up at once?"
It was all so simple and natural that Leona Lalage could say nothing for a moment. The stranger was standing up searching his pockets wildly. His eyes gleamed with hatred and defeat and baffled avarice. He knew that he had been made the victim of some trick, but there was no name for it yet.
"I will come up," Leona said, anything to get Hetty out of the room. "It is very unfortunate that this should have happened here."
The door closed behind them. Maitrank's fingers crooked and reached for Balmayne.
"Dog," he hissed, "dog, I'll be even with you yet. How it has been managed I do not know yet, but I shall find out. My diamonds, give me my diamonds."
Balmayne took the bare throat of the speaker in his grip and shook Maitrank as a reed is shaken in the wind.
"Be silent!" he hissed; "have a care or----"
He paused. There was a loud imperious knocking at the front door.
Sergeant Paul Prout was beginning to come to the conclusion that the Corner House mystery would have to be relegated to the long list of crimes concerning which Scotland-Yard is fain to be silent. At any rate, the matter was utterly beyond him. Given a clue to work on, no man in the force could display more tenacity and skill. But there was nothing to go upon, and Prout was utterly devoid of imagination.
Of course, there was always the chance of coming on the track obliquely. None knew better than Prout how frequently one crime interlocked with another, and how often in looking for one particular criminal another had been arrested.
He came into the inspector's office in answer to a summons. Inspector Manton passed over some papers to his subordinate.
"I want you to read them and act upon them," he said. "You'll have to put that Corner House business out of your head for a day or two at any rate. It appears that a gang of cosmopolitan swindlers have established their headquarters somewhere in Soho, and by means of using several addresses they are getting a tremendous quantity of goods which they proceed to turn into money. Here is one of their advertisements cut from theStandard. You had better answer it, and get in touch with the fellows that way. But nobody can manage that sort of thing better than you."
Prout felt himself quite capable to account for this matter. He proceeded to lay the whole particulars before a friend in the wholesale silver-plate line--just the kind of article the gang of thieves affected--and so procured the genuine address of a genuine trader for the purposes of the capture.
"I expect you'll get orders from five or six addresses," said Prout. "If so, send the stuff on, not too much at a time, and ask for references. You'll get the reference, of course; in other words, Jones and Company, of Gray's Inn, will recommend Smith and Company, of Market Street. When you get all the references in let me know, because by that means I shall be in possession of every address used by these fellows."
To keep the big swindle going on and to avoid awkward mistakes it was necessary for the confederates to meet at intervals. By small purchases at one address or another Prout had pretty well got to know all the gang by sight, and by following one or another he discovered at last where the rendezvous was--a public-house of not too good repute in White Lane, leading off Oxford Street.
Next day a sallow, seedy, broken-down shop assistant sought and obtained a bedroom at theOrange Treepublic-house. He seemed to have money, and therefore he was welcome. He hinted that he was "in trouble" over some stolen goods from his late employer's shop, and theOrange Treereceived him with open arms.
It was weary work sitting there and pretending to drink, but patience has its reward at last. Gradually the shy swindlers became accustomed to the seedy shop assistant, who even went out of his way to give them hints as to credulous firms. It seemed to Prout that he knew all the gang at last save one.
And this one he particularly wanted to see, because the name was unknown to him. In all the swindlers in London it was the first time Prout had heard of one called "Frenchy." And the particular member of the gang--absent from London on business--seemed to be the leader of them all. Once Frenchy showed himself, Prout would give the sign, and within an hour the gang would be laid by the heels.
He came at length, a little dapper man, with a slight hump between the shoulders, a nose slightly crooked on one side. He appeared to take his warm welcome quite as a matter of course, he discarded a pair of grey suède gloves, and called for a bottle of champagne.
Behind his paper Prout gave a start. Here was a case where the pursuit of one crime led to another. The leader of the gang of thieves had large orange coloured freckles on his hand the same as Prout had seen on the hands of the victim of the Corner House tragedy.
Prout was calm again in an instant. In a dejected way he was looking admiringly at the newcomer. The little man's English was quite good, but all the same he spoke with an accent that had a strange French flavour about it.
Just on closing time Prout lounged out in his most dejected style, and bought a late paper.
"Now, look here," he said to the man with the papers. "Those men are to be arrested, but so far away from here as not to give any suspicion of the house being watched. The little dandy chap who just came in is to be left to me. That's all."
Apparently it was quite sufficient. As the gang separated one by one, each was picked up by an officer in plain clothes. The little man in the suede gloves went cautiously on till he came to a working-man's flat off Gray's Inn Road, and here for the first time he became conscious that he was being followed.
"And what do you want with me?" he asked. "So, you are the young man who got into trouble over a mistake as to your employer's goods."
"I want to speak to you for a moment," said Prout.
The little man pointed gaily up the stairs. Prout followed him into a room and shut the door. The next instant the small Frenchman was on his back and the handcuffs encircled his wrists.
"No use making a noise here," said Prout coolly. "It was a good idea of yours to hide yourself amongst respectable working men."
The little man struggled silently, furiously.
"Now, what's the good of that?" said Prout in his most soothing voice. "With these bracelets on you can't possibly get at the revolver in your hip pocket. I am a police officer, and by this time the whole of your lot are in custody. I've got the key of the door in my pocket, and I'm going to search the room."
The little man's language burst out furiously. Nothing less than war between France and England should wipe out this insult to the tricolour. Prout had burst open a desk and was examining the papers there as tranquilly as if he were stone deaf. He came across something presently that caused his eyes to gleam and his heart to beat with a feeling of triumph.
"Now you can come along with me," he said. "If you like to walk you can, and if you like to pay for a cab I am agreeable. What do you say?"
The little man elected to have a cab. When Bow Street was reached Prout had the satisfaction of finding that all his birds had been netted. He received the warm congratulations of his inspector modestly.
"Got your case complete?" asked the latter.
"I've done more than that, sir," said Prout. "I've stumbled on something important relating to that Corner House business. And if you don't want me any more, I'd like to go and see Mr. Gilbert Lawrence."
There was nothing more to be done for the present. Ten minutes later Prout was knocking at the door of Lawrence's chambers.
Lawrence was burning the midnight oil, and therefore impatient of interruptions. But upon hearing Prout's name he finished the chapter he was writing, and slung up his reading lamp. He was hospitable over his cigarette and whisky.
"Come to tell me you have made a discovery, eh?" he asked. "No need to tell me that, I can see it in your face. Sit down man--one o'clock in the morning is comparatively early for a novelist. Go on."
"It's a great discovery, sir," said Prout. "I have found the brother of the murdered man."
"What, the Corner House victim? Is that really a fact?"
"Indeed it is, sir. A good deal better looking than the other poor fellow, but directly I set eyes upon him I couldn't fail to see the likeness. And when he took off his gloves, and showed the big orange spots, I felt certain."
"I suppose you can lay hands upon him at any time?"
"Rather!" Prout grinned. "He's my prisoner. Arrested him tonight in connection with some long firm frauds. I arrested him in his own lodgings so that I should have a chance to search the room, and what did I come across but a few letters written by the murdered man to this brother of his."
"Surely, a curious coincidence!" Lawrence cried.
"Not at all, sir. There's a marvellous freemasonry amongst criminals. I've started a hunt for a watch and chain, and found a bank robbery. Once in looking for a missing man I dropped upon a sensational bankruptcy. One never knows. But touching these letters. They are undoubtedly the same handwriting as the letter we found on the Corner House victim. I've put them together, and I am certain."
"Do they contain anything likely to help us, Prout?"
"Well, that I can't say for the present, sir," Prout replied. "I have only looked at one. Seeing that you are so interested, I came here at once. But one thing I have discovered--if I was a creditor of a certain Countess who shall be nameless, I should go and sit on the doorstep until I had got the money."
Lawrence winked never so slightly. He had his own ideas on that head. He read the one letter that Prout handed to him and smiled. Beyond doubt the letter had been written by the queer misshapen outcast who had been found dead in the Corner House. As Lawrence returned the letter he looked at his watch.
"It wants some time of two o'clock yet," he said. "My friend, Dr. Bruce, does not go to bed early, so I shall go round and look him up. We'll go into the other letters carefully when we have time, Prout, but for the present I should like to borrow this one if you have no objection. What do you say?"
Prout had no objection to make. He had made a great discovery, but he felt pretty sure that he would need Lawrence's ingenious mind and fine imagination before he had succeeded in solving the problem.
"Take it, and welcome, sir," he said. "I shall have my hands full for the next day or two, and anyway there is no hurry."
With the feeling that great events were in the air, Lawrence hurried round to Bruce's rooms. There was a light in the front window that disclosed the fact that Bruce had not gone to bed. He came to the door himself, looking fagged and worn out.
"I have had a trying day," he said. "My dear fellow, I am losing my connection almost as fast as I made it. I shall have to give it up."
"Rot!" Lawrence cried. "I've got some news for you. Prout has been with me and has left a letter in my possession. What do you think of that?"
Bruce read the letter slowly and carefully. Beyond establishing the fact that the murdered man had a brother he could see very little in it.
"Unless there are other letters," he concluded.
"There are five more which I have not read yet. I understand there are allusions to a certain Countess who, as Prout politely put it, shall be nameless. My boy, I feel quite certain that this will lead to--what's up?"
The shrill clatter of the telephone bell tinkled in the next room. The ring was repeated in a few seconds imperiously.
"The telephone for me," said Bruce. "I hope I shan't have to go out tonight. I'll get you to excuse me for a moment. . . . Are you there?"
A whispered voice came back; it was Hetty's voice:
"For heaven's sake come here at once. Don't wait, but----"
The voice ceased; nothing more could be heard but the humming of the wire. Bruce swished into the dining-room and huddled on his coat.
Balmayne relaxed his grip of the old man's throat as the knocking was repeated. Some accident might have happened, but on the other hand it was possible that there was some real and tangible danger here.
"I didn't mean to go quite so far," he muttered. "Only this time you have made the grand mistake of your life. Be silent now and you shall get your jewels back. It is the only way."
Maitrank nodded breathlessly. He did not lack pluck, but he was an old man and the rapidity of events dazed him. All the glittering electrics in the room were whirling like a wheel.
"I'm not going away till I've got them," he said doggedly.
Balmayne hastened to the door. He might want some ready lie; on the other hand, his diplomacy might be needed. But he set his teeth a trifle closer as he saw Dr. Bruce standing there. "I have been called," he said.
"In that case come this way," Balmayne replied. He dared not ask a direct question. He was racking his brains to know who had summoned the doctor, and why. "There is nothing the matter."
"I did not gather that from Miss Lawrence's message," said Bruce uneasily.
Balmayne concealed a smile. He had got it. There was only one way in which Hetty could have summoned her lover, and that was by means of the telephone. That there was such an instrument in the house he knew quite well. And why did Hetty Lawrence do this thing? Was she merely frightened, or had she learnt a great deal more than the conspirators imagined?
In the garden she might have seen a great deal. She might have heard a great deal, too, as Balmayne was bound to admit. But then when she had disclosed herself in the garden her face was quite tranquil, there had been nothing on it but a certain natural surprise.
It was impossible to suspect Hetty of being an actress. The girl was too open and natural for that. And in his queer way Balmayne admired the gentle womanliness of an innocent girl.
Still, it was just as well to be on the safe side. There must be no suspicion that there had been any foul play here.
"Miss Lawrence meant well," Balmayne said, "but really there was no occasion to send for you at all. A mere accident."
Bruce bowed. He knew that he had done a foolish thing in betraying the fact that Hetty had sent for him. And her message would not have been in the nature of a prayer had not the need been urgent.
"You shall see our friend presently," Balmayne went on. "Herr Maitrank--I mean the Countess's friend--made a late call here. I had occasion to go out after he had left and found him lying unconscious in the road. Whilst there it seemed he was robbed of certain valuables. He was so good as to suggest that it might have been here that he lost his gems--I mean his valuables."
The fellow was lying smoothly enough, but Bruce knew that he was lying. There would be awkward explanations presently, when Hetty Lawrence came to speak; for instance, how would it tally with the pretty story that Balmayne was bringing the unconscious form of Maitrank by the garden gate when he was found in the street?
But already Balmayne was prepared for that. His luminous cunning brain saw the whole way clear. To save the situation a great sacrifice would have to be made. Acoup de théâtrewas necessary.
"Perhaps it was as well that Miss Lawrence took matters in her own hands and sent for you," he said thoughtfully. "At any rate, your presence may get us out of a certain degree of responsibility. The patient, if I may so call him, is quieter now, and you will have no difficulty with him. Of course, that is if he will see you at all. If not you will acquit us of any discourtesy."
Bruce bowed again. He would have given a good deal to know what the other was driving at. Was there any real meaning in the chatter, or was it all for the purpose of delay? Bruce hinted that it was late.
"And you want to get home," Balmayne cried. "Pardon me. I will go and see if they are ready for you."
He passed out, closing the door behind him. Then he sneezed loudly twice, and instantly Leona Lalage appeared at the head of the stairs. He flew up to her silently on the thick carpet and laid his lips to her ear.
"Dr. Bruce is here," he whispered. "That little fool of a governess of yours took it in her head to call him on the telephone. Of course, she knows nothing, but if Bruce and our friend Maitrank meet, goodness knows what will happen."
"I see, I see," the Countess replied. "If we could only scheme some plan----"
"I have a plan already arranged. It requires a great sacrifice, but you will have to make it. Give me those diamonds."
"What, the diamonds that have caused all this trouble to get. Never!"
"Give me the gems," Balmayne said doggedly. "Everything depends upon you doing what I tell you now. Besides, we shall get them back again. By sheer force of circumstances the tables have been turned in Maitrank's favour. Give me the gems!"
He spoke fiercely, with his eyes gleaming. He saw the heave of Leona's magnificent white breast, the look of anger on her face. And meanwhile the precious minutes were stealing on rapidly.
"Very well," he said, "then I shall wash my hands of the whole business. Fool, do you want to stand in the dock? And there are other dupes with not a tithe of the wit and brains of Maitrank. The gems!"
The Countess turned on her heel, and disappeared. A moment later, and she was back with the glittering stream of fire in her hand.
"There," she whispered. "Take them. It is the bitterest moment of my life for----"
Balmayne stopped to hear no more, but hurried quickly down the stairs.
Leona Lalage had scarcely returned to her own room when Hetty came out of hers. She had heard the loud knocking at the door, and had instantly guessed who it was. But the strange silence that followed the answering of that summons puzzled her. The whole house was wonderfully still now, a silence that seemed to tell of dark mysteries. She looked over into the hall below. She could not remain here any longer. She would go down into the library and wait there. Those two people were quite capable of murdering her lover as well as Maitrank. She opened the library door, and to her great surprise Bruce stood before her.
As she would have cried out he laid his hand on her lips. He could feel that she was trembling from head to foot.
"My darling," he whispered, "what does it all mean?"
"I cannot tell you," Hetty said helplessly. "But I have been seeing strange things all the evening. I got frightened and sent for you."
"And I am afraid I betrayed the fact," Bruce admitted. "I might have thought of some other way of accounting for my presence here. Still, that rather piratical-looking young man seemed to think you had done right. What's this about some man picked up in the garden?"
"What did Mr. Balmayne tell you?" Hetty asked in reply.
Bruce explained shortly. Hetty came closer to him.
"Lies, lies, lies!" she whispered. "There is not a word of truth in what he said. That old man came here because the Countess had robbed him of a lot of money. There were some diamonds that he was going to take in part payment. He had the diamonds. Then he was drugged and cleverly got out of the house. They had so managed it that a policeman saw him leave. A little further on the drug took effect. Balmayne brought the body back and carried it down the garden to the motor car waiting at the back. I saw all this; then I had an inspiration. With my ornamental hairpin I slashed open two of the tyres of the car, so that it was impossible to take the old man away. It was too risky to carry him back to the roadway where they left him, so they had to bring him back to the house and trust to luck for the rest."
"And you say you saw all this?" Bruce asked.
"Every bit of it. Gordon, put your ear down close to me. They were going to murder that poor old man in the garden. It took all my courage and all my nerve to appear at that moment, because they might have done me a mischief also."
Hetty ceased to speak for a moment. The recollection of what she had gone through overcame her. Bruce kissed her tenderly.
"But I managed it," Hetty went on. "When the critical moment came I was astonished at my own calmness. They suspected nothing. I was merely out there because I had a headache and could not sleep. So I saved that man's life. It was some time after that I lost my nerve and telephoned for you."
"Are there more horrors to come, dearest?"
"No, for the time being the horrors are all over. That old man came to himself again, and swears that he has been robbed. He made an awful scene. He woke Mamie up, and I had to get her mother to come and see her. I believe Balmayne was nearly making an end of his victim when you knocked. And, oh, my dear boy, I shall be so glad to get away from this awful house."
"You shall leave it tomorrow, never to return," Bruce declared.
"No; not yet. The secret of the shadow that lies over you is bound up in this house. Till it has passed away I stay here. But it is dreadful. The silence of it frightens me. How still it all is now!"
It was very silent then. To the casual eye here was everything that the heart could desire. It seemed hard to associate vulgar crime with all this artistic beauty, with the pictures and statues and flowers.
Suddenly the silence was broken by a laugh. It was the croaking kind of laugh that could only have proceeded from the lips of an old man. But there was pleasure in it. It came strangely after the note of tragedy that had dominated the evening. A door opened somewhere, and the laugh came once more.
Then there was the voice of Balmayne in a key of mirth. The front door was opened, the call of a cab whistle thrilled down the street. It was almost as if there were two sets of people in the house, one family given over to the dark and gloomy, the other all comedy and smiles.
On the impulse of the moment Bruce opened the library door and looked out. It was hard after what Hetty had told him to believe the evidence of his senses.
There was the man who twice within the last hour had been in danger of his life chatting quietly with the man who had robbed him. The two were evidently on the best of terms, for Maitrank was laughing heartily, and Balmayne stood opposite smoking a cigarette like a host who speeds a parting guest.
Outside was the clatter of hoofs and the jingle of harness. The hall door stood open; Balmayne politely helped Maitrank on with his heavy coat. Hetty, standing in the background, began to wonder if she was dreaming.
"What can it all mean?" she whispered.
Bruce could say nothing. At every turn of this mystery it seemed to grow more tangled and knotted. He waited until the two had passed into the roadway; he heard the exchange of goodnights, and then the cab rattled away. Balmayne came back and looked quite carelessly into the library. Hetty had already stepped out of the side door and had gone up to her room. She had no desire for Balmayne to know that she had been with Bruce.
"You see our patient has gone," Balmayne said smoothly. "As a matter of fact, the whole thing was a ridiculous mistake. But you must not blame us. The blame is due to the charming young lady who sent for you. But that is one of the drawbacks of your noble profession. Goodnight."
Bruce murmured something. He was too dazed for the moment to speak coherently.
Balmayne's move had been a clever one, and quite worthy of a mind like his. He recognised at once that Bruce's presence there meant danger. If Maitrank, in the excitement of the moment, chose to speak out, all the delicately-laid plans would be ruined.
He must have the diamonds back again. The old man could never have proved that they had come back once more into Leona Lalage's possession by means of a clever plan, but he was in a position now to say and do a great deal of mischief. But for the accident to the motor, things would have been different.
But there was nothing to be gained by going back. With the diamonds stuffed in his pocket, Balmayne returned to the dining-room. Maitrank sat on the sofa with his head between his hands moaning to himself. He had slipped off his heavy sable-lined overcoat, for the atmosphere of the room was oppressive.
His keen intellect had not quite come back to him, he was still suffering from the effects of the drug. He had been robbed just at the moment when everything seemed to be going in his favour. His vanity was touched.
Balmayne picked up the coat and laid it on the table. There was just a dexterous motion and a flash of his white hands, then he smiled with the air of one who is perfectly and wholly satisfied with something.
"Are you better now?" he asked.
Maitrank looked up with a wolfish gleam in his eyes.
"I am getting to be myself again," he croaked. "You have got the better of me this time, but it will never happen again. Ah, you are keen and you are clever, but the old wolf is ever wiser than the young one. I have been robbed."
"You are pleased to say so," Balmayne said smoothly.
"I have been robbed, I tell you. What was the trick I know not yet, but I shall find out."
"You left this house all right with the diamonds in your possession," Balmayne went on; "you cannot deny that fact. We can find a policeman who will be able to testify to the fact that you went unmolested."
Maitrank groaned. He was still more or less childish over his loss.
"Where are the diamonds?" he asked. "Tell me that, rascal!"
"Taken from you by some prowling nightbird as you lay unconscious. Which pocket did you place them in?"
"In the breast pocket of my inner coat. Bah, why argue over it?"
"You would be prepared to swear that in a court of law?"
"Well, perhaps not," Maitrank admitted. "But I had them in my possession."
"Then search once more--look everywhere. You might have changed them from one pocket to the other quite unconsciously. Be quick, because I have sent for a doctor to examine you."
"Keep the doctor to yourself," Maitrank snapped. "I'm all right. See, there is nothing in any of my pockets. My overcoat could not----"
He paused with a dazed expression as he produced from his big coat a handful of what looked like streaming fire. He gave a glad cry, the cry of a mother who has found some child that she deemed to be lost. He carried the stones to his lips and kissed them.
"I must have changed them," he sobbed. "I changed them and forgot; perhaps I had them in my hands looking at the beauties."
"Bah, you grow old, you get senile," Balmayne said contemptuously. "You have had an experience tonight that should be a warning to you. Now put it to yourself. We try to rob you--you, above all men in the world, who hold us in the hollow of your hands. Surely you pay us a very poor compliment! Our cue is to conciliate you, to find other victims to pay what we owe you and keep you silent. Once you are satisfied you will never tell--you will enjoy the sport of seeing others bitten too well. But you keep a carriage in the future and have no more fits in the street."
Maitrank grinned in sinister fashion.
"You are a clever young man; without doubt you are a very clever young man," he said. "And perhaps I have been mistaken. And I am suspicious; I have good cause to be. One reads in books of honest men who are the souls of integrity. Ah! But then I have never met with such a one in business."
"And touching this doctor?" Balmayne asked.
"Go along with your doctor," said Maitrank now, in great good humour. "If you will have the goodness to call a cab I will get back to my hotel."
But Bruce knew nothing of this change of things. He was utterly puzzled. As he walked home he could make nothing of it. Hetty's story was too circumstantial to be anything but absolutely true. There must have been some strong reason for this change of part. Perhaps Lawrence could throw some light on it. He might even know the man Maitrank. At any rate he was on very friendly terms with Isaac Isidore, who would be sure to have the names of all the European capitalists at his fingers' ends.
Bruce put the whole thing resolutely out of his mind, and went to bed. It was not till after luncheon that he found time to see Lawrence, to whom he told Hetty's story and the strange scene he had witnessed the night before.
"This is a complication," Lawrence said, as he puffed at his cigarette thoughtfully. "It has no part in the original scheme for your destruction, which was founded on my lost skeleton novel. There is no doubt in my mind now that the Countess has made up her mind to get you under her thumb. So far I can follow her--indeed, I have followed her in a fashion that would startle that lady if she knew everything. But people of that kind have many irons in the fire, and what you tell me looks like one that has nearly burnt her fingers. Our game is to sift the incident, and try and turn it to advantage. I am going to show you some pretty sport presently connected with those diamonds. Also I am going to use them so that we shall get Maitrank on our side."
"I wish I was as sanguine as you are," said Bruce.
"I'm more," said Lawrence. "I'm certain I have gathered up pretty well all the cards by this time. Now you put on your hat and come with me. I'm going to have a few words with Isaac Isidore."
Isaac Isidore was lunching at his chambers in his own simple way. A hard trying life like his, to say nothing of half his nights spent in society, called for a careful regime. Plain food and a total absence from intoxicants enabled the man to get through an enormous amount of work and pleasure.
He was glad to see Lawrence as usual. Had he not preferred the atmosphere of finance, Isidore would have made a fine novelist of the sensational order. His fine imagination enabled him to bring off so many of the surprises with which he constantly terrified his brother capitalists.
"Anything to do with the mystery?" he asked.
"I should say a great deal," Lawrence chuckled. "In the first place, I should like to hear something of the history of one Maitrank."
"You don't mean to say he's in it!" Isidore cried, grimly amused. "The cunningest fox in all Europe. Truly the Lalage is a wonderful woman! But I see our friend Dr. Bruce is burning to tell me a story. Pray go on."
Bruce proceeded to relate all that had happened the previous evening. Isidore shook with suppressed laughter, though he never spoke a word. The narrator quite failed himself to see the humorous side of the matter.
"What do you think of it?" Lawrence asked at length.
"I think that but for the pluck and courage of a girl friend Maitrank would have gone to his account before now," Isidore said more seriously. "I must confess that I find the mystery of it all exceedingly fascinating. Maitrank is not the kind of man who forgets and forgives in a moment. What on earth could have induced him to grow so friendly with that fellow Balmayne all at once?"
"That I leave you to guess," Bruce replied. "It is beyond me."
"But it is not in the least beyond me," Lawrence remarked coolly, as he reached for a cigarette. "To a certain extent I hold the key to the situation. Accident strengthens my hands, as it generally does in dealing with people of this kind. And I am going to make a powerful new ally in this new business. I need not ask you if you are personally acquainted with Maitrank, Isidore?"
"Oh, I know the man well enough," Isidore replied. "I will give you an introduction to him right enough. But you won't get much from that quarter."
Lawrence begged to differ. In the first place, he anticipated considerable entertainment. He was not selfish, he said, and had no desire to keep it to himself.
"You must have your comic relief to every drama," he said. "We haven't had much humour up to now, but that is coming. By the way, I hope your Continental friend is not subject to apoplexy?"
Lawrence chuckled to himself with the air of a man who has a joke which is too good for the world in general. Isidore was puzzled and interested.
"Tell you what," he exclaimed, "I'll try and get Maitrank on the telephone. He has a sort of office at the Metropole."
It was a little before five when the trio reached the Metropole. A suite of rooms had been chartered by the Hungarian capitalist, and there he had already established a secretary and a clerk or two to look after his affairs. He was seated in his shirtsleeves, with a big black cigar in his mouth, when his visitors entered. He extended two fingers to Isidore, to the others he merely bowed.
"And what can I do for you?" he asked.
"You might be disposed to answer a few questions," said Bruce, quietly. "I was the doctor who was called in to see you last night. But for the courage of a young girl, I might today have given evidence at the inquest held on the body of a most distinguished capitalist called Maitrank."
Lawrence nodded approvingly. Bruce had struck the right note.
"I should like to hear more of this," Maitrank cried.
Bruce plunged into his story. He had a most interested listener. The small grey eyes of the listener were fixed intently on the narrator's face. The black cigar died out between his fingers.
He had no questions to ask; there was no doubt on his face. If ever a man was telling the simple truth it was Bruce at that moment. There was something like a smile on Maitrank's face when Bruce came to the part that Hetty had played in the stirring drama of the previous night.
"I never forget a favour," said Maitrank, hoarsely. "The young lady shall have a very practical evidence of my gratitude. She saved my life, and she ended up by getting my property returned to me."
"I don't want to pry into your affairs," said Lawrence. "But would you mind telling me one thing? The Countess owes you money?"
"Well, yesterday she owed me nearly £100,000. I have got part of that back in the way of the jewels, hence my change of attitude last night. By a clever trick, that woman robbed me of a fortune. When I found it out I said nothing. It was no cue of mine to make a fuss about it. If I had done so I should have lost everything. So I came to England. By way of a start I obtained possession of diamonds to the value of some £30,000."
"You are quite certain of that?" Lawrence asked, meaningly.
"My dear sir, they are in my possession. If you are still cynical on the point I will show them to you."
Lawrence desired nothing better. In a few minutes the stones lay on the table. The novelist picked them up, and took from his pocket a small file which he coolly rubbed on the facet of two of the larger stones. Maitrank smiled. Any diamond would stand that test. With a grave look, Lawrence handed the stones back--the tested diamonds were dull and flat.
"Paste!" Maitrank cried, with a yell that rang through the building. "Paste, as I am a sinner. Deluded and fooled again. Rich as I am I would sacrifice every penny to be even with that woman."
It was a day or two later before Lawrence saw Prout again. In the meantime he had not been idle. In some vague way or another he felt sure he was on the track of the Corner House mystery. A dozen theories were formed and abandoned. If Prout had only possessed Lawrence's imagination!
"But is there anything in the letters?" the latter asked after Prout had given him a precis of their contents. "Something we can go by?"
"I'm afraid not, sir," Prout admitted. "The only thing I have established so far is that my prisoner is the brother of the murdered man. Oddly enough, he has no idea that the writer of those letters is dead. And as he declines to disclose his own name, we cannot discover the identity of his murdered brother."
Lawrence read over the letters carefully, there was less here than he expected. They were all full of vague schemes of making money by various shady ways, and all bewailed the fact that the writer could not obtain the necessary capital to start. Really the letters were hardly worth reading.