"We thought you were lost," said Bob, and Barbara looked up with a smile, a sign that she regarded me as a friend.
They had waited dinner for me, and I was surprised to see on the table quite an imposing array of crockery.
"Where does all this come from?" I asked.
"We have made discoveries," replied Bob, giving me a significant look. "Barbara here had no idea what was in the house, which proves that she is not one of the prying kind. All sorts of things have been bundled out of sight in odd nooks and corners, crockery, cutlery, table linen, and goodness only knows what. We have made another room ready for Barbara to sleep in to-night; it is on the same floor as this, and she says she is not afraid."
"Not a bit," said Barbara, "now I aint in the 'ouse alone."
"And she's going to bed early," added Bob.
"As soon as ever you tell me," said Barbara.
The dinner they had prepared was not at all a bad one, and I was hungry enough to enjoy a much worse fare. To Barbara it was a veritable feast, and she did as much justice to it as she had done to the breakfast. The moment we finished she jumped up, and took the plates and dishes to her own room where she washed them up.
"You have something to tell me, Bob," I said, taking advantage of her absence.
"I have. You have something in your budget, too."
"Yes."
"We will wait till Barbara has gone to bed; we can talk more freely then."
"I have a question to ask her first," I said.
"I also want a little information from her, the meaning of which you will understand when we are alone for the night." The little girl entering at this moment, Bob turned his attention to her. "Barbara, was your sister fond of dress?"
"Lor', sir," answered Barbara. "Aint all gals fond of it? She used to say if she was a lady she'd allus dress in silk."
"Do you recollect what frock she wore when you saw her last?"
"It was a cotton frock, sir--pink, with little flowers on it. Miss Beatrice give it to 'er."
"You would know it again, I suppose, if you saw it?"
"In course I should know it, sir, 'cause Molly'd be in it."
"But it would be worn out by this time, Barbara."
"Yes, sir, it would. I didn't think of that."
"Do you recollect the dress that Miss Beatrice wore when you saw her last?"
"I should think I do, sir; itwasa beauty. A gray silk, it wos, with steel trimmin's. She looked lovely in it, she did."
Bob conveyed in a glance at me that he had no further questions to ask, and I took up the cue.
"You have a good memory, Barbara, and I dare say you can give me a description of Mr. Nisbet. You told us he was not a nice looking gentleman."
"Not at all, sir, though he did 'ave a 'igh fore'ead. 'E 'ad a look like ice in his eyes."
"What color were they?"
"A kind of cold blue; and 'e 'ad a red beard and mustache."
"A tall gentleman, Barbara?"
"Yes, sir. 'E didn't have no 'at on when 'e came into the kitching, and I sor that 'is 'ead wos bald in the middle, and was flattish at the top. As 'e looked round the kitching 'e put a pair of gold spectacles on, and when they wosn't on 'is eye 'e was allus a-dangling 'em with 'is fingers, twiddling 'em about like."
"You don't seem to have liked his looks?"
"I didn't, sir; there was something about 'im that made my 'eart's blood run cold. I pitied Miss Beatrice, I did."
"For any particular reason, Barbara?"
"Not as I knows on, sir, but I thought to myself, 'I shouldn't like to 'ave a father like that; I'd rather 'ave none at all.'"
"What did your sister Molly think of him?"
"She didn't care for 'im no more than I did, but she didn't say much about 'im. It's my belief she wos frightened of 'im. She told me a funny thing once."
"Yes?"
"She sed that sometimes when he looked at 'er she felt as if she couldn't move or speak of her own accord. 'Barbara,' she sed to me, 'it's my opinion that if 'e ordered me to go up to the roof and stand on the top of one of the chimbley pots I should go and do it without a single word.' But he allus spoke soft to 'er, she sed."
"Thank you, Barbara; and now it will be best for you to get to bed. Last night was a broken night, and you must be tired."
Wishing us good-night the girl went to her room, and when I opened her door a few minutes afterward she was fast asleep.
Then, before asking Bob to speak of what was on his mind, I related my own adventures. He was greatly excited at my description of Dr. Cooper and the supposititious case he had put to me, and also at the news of Mr. Oliver Nisbet being in London.
"There's never smoke without a fire," he said. "Dr. Cooper was not drawing upon his imagination when he spoke about poisons and sleeping draughts, and of a poor doctor being called in to testify to a death of which he knew less than nothing. It happened, Ned! it happened; it fits in with what occurred in this house. He supplied the proof in the last words he spoke to you--'there's such a thing as cremation.' It is as clear as the noonday sun. Mr. Nisbet wanted a doctor's certificate of death; he calls in Dr. Cooper and obtains what he requires, in the exact shape he desires, for the payment of a few guineas and the promise of a further reward which has never been fulfilled. What is the consequence? This wretched pettifogger bears an animosity against his employer, which may perhaps be turned to good account--though whether he babbles when sober as he does when he is in his cups remains to be seen. He must not be lost sight of."
"He shall not be. I am thinking whether it will be advisable to put the inquiry agent on his track."
"We can decide nothing as yet, but the thing is moving, that's one comfort. Every day, almost every hour, some new feature seems to come to light. What are you doing?"
"Writing the description of Mr. Nisbet's personal appearance with which Barbara supplied us. I promised to let Mr. Dickson have it as soon as possible, and I shall post it to him to-night. Now for your news, Bob."
"Almost as important as yours. When you left us I commenced to make a thorough examination of the house, as I said I would. Barbara assisted me. I examined every room, every cupboard, and found a lot of things which had apparently been thrown away in haste. These discoveries gave point to an observation I have already made to you--that it is strange the last tenant did not call in a broker and dispose of articles for which he had no use, as he evidently had no intention of occupying the house. Barbara was much surprised at our discoveries, and I shouldn't wonder, honest as I believe the child to be, if the idea occurred to her that she might have made use of the property from time to time to relieve her poverty. However, that is neither here nor there, and I may be doing Barbara an injustice. We had occupied some time in our search, when it became necessary to devote attention to the preparation of dinner, so I sent the girl away, and continued to poke about alone. It was well I did so, for I made what I conceive to be a startling discovery. On the floor above this there are two attics, presumably intended for servants' bedrooms. There is a rather large landing, and in the wall of this landing I observed two low doors. Opening them, I found that they were cupboards for the receptacle of lumber; they extend far into the outer wall of the house. It was in one of these cupboards, at the extreme end, that I made my startling discovery. What kind of dress did Barbara say that Miss Beatrice wore when she last saw her?"
"A gray silk, with steel trimmings."
Bob went to a corner of the room and brought forward a large bundle.
"Here it is."
There it was, sure enough--a very beautiful dress, perfectly made, of expensive material.
"Observe," said Bob, "this is not a dress which has served its day, and which it is at all probable the wearer voluntarily discarded. It is almost new, and could have been worn but a few times. I put this aside, and I produce every other article of a lady's attire--silk stockings, shoes, petticoats, mantle, hat. I produce also a lady's nightdress, and every other requisite--the outfit is complete. All these articles are in good condition; the stockings show no signs of wear, the shoes are nearly new, the mantle must have cost a fair sum of money. To whom did these clothes belong?"
"To Miss Beatrice."
"Yes, to Miss Beatrice. What did Barbara say was her sister's favorite dress?"
"A pink cotton, with little flowers on it."
"Here it is." He produced it. "And also every other article worn by a young woman in Molly's station in life. Nightdress as well. The two outfits, complete in every particular. Now, a singular feature in this discovery is that these things were not thrust hurriedly and hastily into the cupboard. Each article that could be folded was carefully folded, and each costume was carefully packed and wrapped in thick brown paper. Time and attention has been devoted to the task, and there must have been an underlying motive in the care that was exercised in its accomplishment. What was this motive, and how are we to act? My firm opinion is that Mr. Nisbet's hands are responsible for the packing of these clothes. Ordinarily a man could be careless of such things, and would not waste his time upon them. The conjectures that present themselves are so extraordinary that I cannot reduce them to order or reason, but I have an odd conviction--for which I can give you no explanation--that we are on the threshold of further disclosures. What is the next step, Ned?"
"There are several," I replied, "and we will speak of them. First, let me tell you that it is my intention to keep watch on this house."
"To reside here?"
"For a time. To eat, and drink, and sleep here, and to be absent from the house as little as possible."
Bob interrupted me by asking if the apparition of the cat was in the room.
"It is on the hearthrug," I replied, "seemingly waiting, as we are waiting, for developments." Then I continued speaking of the realities of the position. "I suppose it would be too much to ask you to keep me company here this week, after your office work is over?"
"It is not too much to expect; I should have proposed it myself if you had not suggested it. Every evening, directly my work is done, I will come and join you."
"You are a good fellow. I intend to be very careful in my movements, and, so far as possible, not to let it be known that the house is occupied. I do not wish Barbara to remain. We must find a home for her somewhere, and we must pledge her to secrecy. I would take her to my own house, but at present I do not consider it prudent to do so. My wife is an inquisitive woman, and something might leak out; besides, in order that my time may be perfectly free, I intend to send her into the country for a fortnight; she shall go to-morrow. I can easily find an excuse for not accompanying her. You lodge in a quiet part of London, and you have spoken in praise of your landlady. Would she, for a consideration, give Barbara board and lodging for a little while?"
"No doubt she would. In fact, I think she is looking for a girl to assist her in the house."
"Very well. At what hour in the morning are you due at your office?"
"Half-past nine."
"Then you will be able, if you leave here at about seven or half-past, to take Barbara to Canonbury, and get to the office in time."
"Yes, I can do that, and in the evening I will join you."
"Thanks. The next thing is about your nephew, Ronald. It appears to me to be almost an act of treachery to conceal from him what has occurred."
"What good purpose would be served," asked Bob, "by disclosing it to him? He is blind, and could not assist us. By and by, perhaps, he may be of use, though I do not see in what way; at present it would only distress him to let him into the secret."
"We will wait, then; but I shall call upon him to-morrow and have a little chat with him about Mr. Nisbet. It will be a busy day for all of us, and I shall be absent from the house till evening, but you will find me here when you come. Another thing that is in my mind is whether there is any special motive for Mr. Nisbet's return to London--any special motive, I mean, in relation to this mystery."
"Impossible to say, Ned."
"That is so. Well, we must wait. Now I think we have threshed matters out, and we will get to bed. I will just run out and post my letter to Mr. Dickson, and this exciting day's work will be over."
We were all up next morning before seven o'clock, and after a hasty breakfast I told Barbara of our plans with respect to her. She was quite willing, and expressed her gratitude; her only trouble was about her sister Molly, who, she said, might come to the house in search for her when she was absent. It was not difficult to set her mind at ease upon this point, and she departed with Bob in perfect contentment.
The first call I made--at ten o'clock--was upon Mr. Dickson. He had received my letter, and he informed me that the description I had given of Mr. Oliver Nisbet tallied exactly with that gentleman's appearance. He had not ascertained from what part of the Continent Mr. Nisbet had come, but he had learned that he had been abroad for some time past. Our relations with each other being now on a more confidential footing, I spoke to him about Dr. Cooper, and instructed him to keep his eye on the pettifogger. From his office I proceeded to the residence of Ronald Elsdale, and opened up a conversation with him, leading artfully to the subject upon which I desired information.
"From certain events that have transpired lately," I said, "I am curious to learn something more of his character. Were you aware at the time of your intimacy with him that his stepdaughter was heiress to a large fortune?"
No, he answered, he was not aware of it. From the manner in which they traveled he judged Mr. Nisbet to be a man of means, but he knew nothing further.
"Respecting his acquirements," I said. "Was he of a scientific turn of mind?"
"He was fond of chemistry, I believe," said Ronald, "and of experimentalizing. Your question brings to my mind a conversation which took place attable d'hôtewhen we were in Chamounix. It was on the subject of anæsthetics, and the effect of certain poisonous chemicals upon different temperaments. I fancy that Mr. Nisbet was at first disinclined to take part in the discussion, but a remark escaped him which was disputed by a person at the table, and he grew warm, and spoke with authority upon the subject, with which he was evidently familiar. It was the only occasion upon which I heard him speak freely, and I think he was not pleased at having been drawn into the conversation, for he stopped suddenly in the middle of a sentence, and left the room. Beatrice told me afterward that he was very clever in those matters, and that on occasions when she had passed a sleepless night from toothache or some other ailment, he had given her a draught which produced a good night's rest. I recollect now that she related an incident which strangely interested me. She had been restless and in pain for two or three days, and her stepfather prescribed for her. When she awoke in the morning her pain had passed away, and she was quite well physically, but a singular thing happened to her. She had lost her memory. She could not recall what happened yesterday or the day before, and she said with a smile that it was with difficulty she remembered her name. Gradually her power of memory came back to her, and she recollected everything perfectly."
"Did this occur to her again, Mr. Elsdale?"
"So far as I know it occurred only once. I suppose you will not tell me why you are asking these questions, Mr. Emery?"
"Not yet; and I am going to ask you two more. Do you believe that you will ever see the young lady again?"
"See her? No. How can I? You forget that I am blind. But I have the firmest belief that I shall come into association with her again."
"In life?"
"In life," he replied gravely.
"My other question is this. On former occasions, when we were in each other's company, your uncle being present, you have had an impression that there was a dog, or some other living creature, in the room. Have you such an impression now?"
"No." (I may mention that the apparition of the cat was not visible to me.) "I know, Mr. Emery, that you must think I am laboring under some hallucination, but I cannot help that. You must take me as you find me, and make the best, and not the worst, of me. I have an engagement with a pupil, and you will excuse me now."
I had studied the time-tables, and, it being twelve o'clock, it was safe for me to present myself to my poor deluded wife. On my way home I met with another adventure. There was a block of vehicles in the road, and cabs, omnibuses, and carts were waiting for the policeman's instruction to proceed. In one of these cabs, a hansom, a gentleman was sitting whom I immediately recognized as Mr. Oliver Nisbet. He had a red beard and mustache, he had a high forehead, his eyes were of a cold blue, and he was impatiently dangling a pair of gold-rimmed eyeglasses between his fingers. The faithfulness of Barbara's description rather startled me, and I should scarcely have been surprised if he had accosted me. But I was a stranger to him, and he took no notice of me; this gave me the opportunity of observing him closely, and I was confident that I was not mistaken. What particularly struck me was the steely blue of his eyes; there seemed to be a compelling power in them which strangely affected me, and I could not help thinking that I should not relish coming under their influence. The policeman stood aside, and the vehicles passed on. In a moment or two he was out of sight.
My wife opened the door for me, and kissed me affectionately.
"Have you enjoyed yourself?" she asked.
"Immensely," I replied, with a guilty feeling.
"I am glad to hear it," was her response, "though I must say, Edward, you don't look much the better for the trip."
"That is only your fancy, Maria. It has done me so much good that I want you to spend a couple of weeks in Brighton."
"I shall be very glad of the change. When shall we start?"
"I cannot go with you," I said, "as I have business to attend to in London. You can easily get a lady friend to accompany you, and I will be responsible for all the expenses. Maria, I insist upon it. You are pale, you are out of sorts, and the change will set you up. I intend to exercise my authority, and to insist upon it."
"You are very kind; but----"
"I will have no 'buts.' It has to be done, and done it shall be."
And I was so determined that done it was. I did not leave home till I had seen Maria and a lady friend off; then, and then only, did I look upon myself as free. If the necessity arose I could easily keep her away for a longer time than two weeks.
Once more I set my face toward Lamb's Terrace, riding in a cab, and furnished with provisions, in the shape of a cooked ham, a supply of chops, bread, butter, tea, and everything that was necessary to victual the garrison. I took the things with me in a hamper, and at the corner of the desolate thoroughfare I discharged the cab, and carried the hamper to the house.
It is necessary here to mention what I did before I left the house in the morning. I can give no reason for my proceedings, and therefore I must content myself with relating what it was I did. The two dresses found in the attic cupboard I repacked carefully in their wrapping of brown paper, and replaced them in the cupboard. I locked the two rooms which had been occupied by Bob and me and Barbara, and I removed all traces of any persons having been in the house. Again, I say, I do not know why I adopted these apparently unnecessary precautions; I must have been mysteriously prompted, as I had been on other occasions in the course of my strange adventures.
I did not expect Bob for an hour, and I busied myself with arranging the supply of food I had brought with me. Then I went to the attic cupboard, with the intention of bringing down the women's garments I had discovered there. To my astonishment they were gone. Some person had been in the house during my absence, and had taken them away.
I had no doubt whatever that this person was Mr. Oliver Nisbet, who must have in his possession the means of access to the house. This being the case, the question of motive arose. It could not have been the value of the garments, which, to a man of fortune, was of small importance. The care which in the first instance had been taken to conceal them became now in my judgment of extreme significance; still more so the stealthy manner in which they had been removed. Mr. Nisbet had been in London comparatively but a few hours before he carried out a design the probable intention of which was to remove and destroy evidence which might in some way place him in peril. Likely enough he had come to London for this special purpose, fearing, as he was no longer the tenant, that the house would be let to strangers, into whose hands the clothing would naturally fall. Surely he would not have paid his stealthy visit to Lamb's Terrace if he had not cause to dread exposure!
Bob, who presented himself punctually at the time he named, agreed with me in this view, and when I told him of my coming by chance upon Mr. Nisbet, and spoke of the impression he produced upon me, he looked disturbed. I asked the reason, and he answered:
"Well, Ned, I don't mind confessing to you that I have a secret horror of Mr. Nisbet, and an unreasonable dread of him. I hardly think we two would be a match for him."
I could not help smiling as I remarked, "There is not much chance of a personal encounter, Bob."
"I am not so sure of that," he said. "I am not so sure that he is not at this moment concealed in the house, the ins and outs of which he must be much better acquainted with than we are."
"Concealed for the purpose of doing us an injury?" I inquired.
"Concealed," he replied, "first to ascertain if any persons were in occupation and had any suspicions of the last tenant--in which case he would in all probability endeavor to get rid of those persons as he got rid of his unfortunate stepdaughter."
"You forget, Bob, the gas is cut off."
"Ned," said Bob impressively, "my firm belief is that the young lady did not meet her death by asphyxiation caused by an escape of gas. True, we have no evidence of a crime having been committed; our suspicions go for nothing; your apparition of the cat goes for nothing; a third-rate lawyer would laugh them to scorn; but none the less do I believe that the lady my nephew loved was murdered by her stepfather. Your interview with Dr. Cooper strengthens these suspicions, the removal of the women's clothing confirms them in my mind. And still, legally, we are no further advanced. Everything in this house belongs to the last tenant. He paid the rent regularly while he held the lease, and if he chose to leave his property here unprotected, it was his affair; and if, after a long absence from England, he returns and pays an early visit to the house, which is still practically without a tenant, for the purpose of taking possession of part of his property, he is still fairly within his right. Even supposing that there were a law to touch him--which there is not--he could easily explain the matter, and his explanation would be accepted without question."
"Unless," I interposed, "we stepped forward with what we know."
"We know nothing, Ned, absolutely nothing. We should only bring ourselves into trouble, lay ourselves open to a criminal action for defamation, which the most skillful lawyer in the land could not successfully defend. What do you think I have done to-day?"
"I have not the least idea."
"I asked my employer for a holiday, and I have got it. I have been slaving in his office for years without a single week's vacation. He gave me the holiday, three or four weeks, at my option, and I intend to employ the time in remaining with you and assisting in the elucidation of this mystery, if it is ever to be arrived at."
"You are a real friend; but, Bob, that is a nice idea of a holiday, after years of hard work."
"Never mind. The mystery has got tight hold of me, and I don't mean to leave it unless I am compelled by circumstances to do so. You have no objection to company and assistance, I suppose?"
"I am truly grateful for it."
"You see," said Bob earnestly, "I happen to be more closely connected with it than you are. You have no human relation with the parties in the affair, who, until quite lately, were complete strangers to you. I have some sort of connection with them through my nephew Ronald, whom I have seen to-day, and who, I may tell you, is troubled by the inquiries you have made of him. He has no notion of their tendency, but he felt that something is being concealed from him which he has a right to know. It is in his interests, and for his satisfaction, that I enter into a direct partnership with you. Have you succeeded in persuading your good wife to go to the seaside?"
"I have, and she will be away for at least for a fortnight; if necessary I shall insist upon her remaining at Brighton for a longer time."
"So that we are free to set actively to work without interruption."
"Yes, Bob. How about Barbara?"
"My landlady takes her upon trial. There will be no charge for board and lodging, and if she gives satisfaction she will get a shilling a week to commence with."
"I am glad to hear it. And now to get back to your suspicions that Mr. Nisbet may be concealed in the house even while we are talking. He might endeavor to get rid of us, you said. When, and how?"
"When? In the dead of night, when we are sound asleep. How? Well, I put together these facts: Mr. Nisbet's knowledge of dangerous chemicals, the narcotic which Ronald informed you he gave to his stepdaughter, and the significant conclusions which can be drawn from your conversation with Dr. Cooper. I propose, not this evening, to-morrow morning, that you, or we together, pay a visit to Dr. Cooper, and have an interview with him. He has a grievance against Mr. Nisbet; it might be turned to effect."
"You suspect him of being an accomplice?"
"In a certain sense. What do they call it in law? Accessory after the fact. He might have known nothing at the time; the belief that his knowledge of poisonous narcotics--bear in mind his boast--had been used to a bad end may have come afterward."
"But if he makes any admission it could be used against himself."
"It could, but he may be able to prove his innocence of a guilty intention. However, that is a point for future consideration. A visit can do no harm. He is desperately poor, and a little bribe may tempt him; if we cannot worm anything out of him, we may out of his wife. Now, Ned, before I consent to sleep in this house I intend to search it thoroughly from roof to cellar."
We carried out this proposal; we thoroughly examined every room, we made fast every door when we closed it behind us; and we discovered nothing. Our search over, we were quite convinced that we were the only persons in the house.
The following two hours were devoted to preparing supper, and while we were thus employed we discussed our movements for to-morrow. Bob insisted that Ronald Elsdale should be made acquainted with all that had transpired, and I consented. Our first visit in the morning was to be paid to the inquiry agent, our second to Dr. Cooper, our third to Ronald. Bob was thoroughly in earnest, and I perceived that his interest in the matter was now no less than my own.
I have already stated that the room we had selected was on the second floor, and that its windows faced the back garden. There were Venetian blinds to the window, and some of the slats were awry and loose from long neglect. For a reason which he did not explain Bob shaded the one candle which we had lighted, so that the fact of the apartment being occupied could not be quite clearly established from without. Several times Bob went to the window and cautiously peeped through the crooked slats.
"What for, Bob?" I asked.
"Just a fancy of mine," he replied. "Is your apparition present?"
"It is not."
The weather had suddenly changed, in fit accordance with the extraordinary vagaries of our beautiful climate. A fine night had set in, and there was a full bright moon. In the middle of a game of cribbage Bob rose once more, and stepped to the window and remained there.
"Don't touch the candle, Ned," he said, "and move cautiously. Come here quietly, so as not to give an observer outside any indication that human beings are in the room."
I obeyed him, and presently was standing motionless by his side, peeping through the slats.
The garden was bathed in light. Standing in full view I saw a man facing our window, his eyes intently fixed in our direction in the endeavor to discover whether the apartment was inhabited.
"Can you see him plainly?'
"Quite plainly, Bob."
"Who is it?"
"Mr. Oliver Nisbet."
"Ah!"
And now a strange incident occurred, visible to me, but not to Bob. In the clear moonlight I saw the skeleton cat creeping toward the man who was watching. Slowly it advanced and fastened itself upon him, and climbed upward till it reached his shoulder. And there it squatted, its yellow eyes resting ominously on Mr. Nisbet's face. He seemed to be perfectly unconscious of the presence of the apparition, but to me it was an unmistakable sign, more powerful than the strongest human proof, that the man had been guilty of a horrible crime. In silence we stood at the window for several minutes, and then Mr. Nisbet slunk away to the rear of the garden. He climbed the crumbling wall which encompassed it, and was gone.
"What do you say to that, Ned?" asked Bob.
I could not answer, so enthralled was I by the spiritual evidence of guilt of which I had been a witness. Bob looked at me inquiringly.
"Your face is as white as death," he said. "Are you ill?"
"A moment, Bob," I replied; and when I was sufficiently recovered I explained to him what I had seen. It stirred him as deeply as it had stirred me.
"If a shadow of doubt was in my mind," he said, "it is dispelled. The villain must be brought to justice."
"He shall be, if human effort can accomplish it. I will not rest till his guilt is brought home to him."
We slept but little that night, and did not take our rest together. Fearful of consequences to which we could give no name, we slept and watched in turn, Bob's pistol being handy for any emergency. Nothing further, however, occurred to disturb us. Early in the morning we breakfasted, and took our way to Mr. Dickson's office.
"You received my message, then?" were his first words to me.
"What message?" I inquired.
"The one I sent to your house an hour ago. I knew it was safe to leave it, because your wife was in the country. Oh, we find out things without being told. It belongs to our business."
"I did not sleep at home last night; I received no message."
"It does not matter, now you are here. I have news for you. Yesterday Mr. Oliver Nisbet paid two visits to the house in Lamb's Terrace."
"You discovered that, did you?"
"I should be a bungler if I had not. We have never left him, and I will stake all I am worth that he had not the slightest suspicion that he was being watched. His first visit was made at two o'clock. He let himself into the house with a key, and remained there about an hour. He went in with his hands empty; he came out with his hands full. He carried a large parcel with him wrapped in brown paper, and this evidently was the motive for his first visit. We do not know what was in the parcel; he took it to his room in the Métropole, and left it there. His second visit was paid in the night, at half-past nine. He did not enter by the front door; indeed, he did not enter at all. He climbed over the back wall of the garden, and stood there, watching the back windows, for half an hour or so. Then he returned the same way as he came. From Lamb's Terrace he went to Theobald's Row, South Lambeth, and had an interview with a disreputable apothecary there of the name of Cooper. He calls himself a doctor, but I doubt whether he has a diploma. From Theobald's Row, Mr. Nisbet returned to the Métropole, and left instructions to be called early. If you went to the hotel now you would not find him there."
"He has fled!" I exclaimed.
"I do not know about that," said Mr. Dickson, with a smile. "We will call it a departure. He has taken his departure."
"Gone to another hotel?"
"Not in this country. He left for the Continent this morning by the early train."
I stamped my foot impatiently. "Then he has escaped us!" I cried.
"He has not gone alone," said Mr. Dickson calmly. "One of my officers went by the same train. I am right in my understanding that you do not mind a little extra expense?"
"Quite right."
"The question of expense is frequently a puzzling matter with us, movements requiring an unauthorized expenditure of money sometimes occurring suddenly, when there is not time to consult our clients. If I had allowed Mr. Nisbet to leave the country unaccompanied he might have slipped through your fingers; in any event it would have been a great trouble, and have necessitated the expenditure of much more money, to pick up the broken threads. Many a good case has been spoiled by parsimony."
"I understand that. Where has Mr. Nisbet gone to?"
"I cannot inform you yet. As far as Paris, certainly; but my impression is he goes farther. My officer will telegraph me from Paris, and will not leave him till he has reached his destination."
I considered a moment, and then took Bob aside. "Will you accompany me to Paris?" I asked.
"With pleasure."
I turned to Mr. Dickson. "Your officer will telegraph to you from Paris?"
"Yes."
"If I wait here for information I shall lose a day. You could telegraph to me in Paris the address you receive from your officer?"
"There is no difficulty. You intend to follow?"
"I do. Give me the name of some central hotel in Paris where I can put up till I receive your telegram."
"Hôtel de Bade, Boulevard des Italiens."
"That will do. I have something to do here in London before I can start. I can get through my business in about an hour, perhaps a few minutes more. Bob, run out and bring two hansoms with smart horses." Bob vanished. "Now, the best train, Mr. Dickson?"
"Let me see. It is not yet nine. Your business say an hour and twenty minutes. A train from Victoria, another from Charing Cross, at eleven. Could you catch one of these, whichever is the nearest for you?"
"Yes."
"You arrive in Paris at seven this evening. Our man will reach there two hours and a half earlier. You may get a telegram from me at the Hôtel de Bade within an hour or so of your arrival."
"Capital. Good-morning."
The cabs were at the door, and I told Bob to drive with speed to my house, to pack up a bag for both of us expeditiously, and to meet me at Ronald Elsdale's house at a little after ten. The cab was to remain there, and he was to detain his nephew till I joined him there. Pending my arrival he was to tell Ronald everything. I gave him a line to my servant, authorizing him to take what clothes were necessary for the journey.
"Double fare," I said to both the cabmen, "if you drive at your fullest speed."
The next moment Bob was driving to my house and I was on my way to Dr. Cooper.
Theobald's Row was as depressing in the morning as it had been in the evening, and looked as if a bath would do it good. The workingmen's lodging houses bore even a more striking resemblance to prisons, and the men and women I passed looked as if they had been up all night, and had hurried out to their depressing occupations without having had recourse to soap and water. On the doorstep of Dr. Cooper's shop the same half dozen children were playing the same games with pieces of broken crockery and dry mud, and bore no appearance of having been washed since I last set eyes on them. One of the children, catching sight of me, jumped up and ran into the shop, screaming:
"Here's the gentleman, mother!" At which summons the slatternly woman immediately presented herself. It struck me that there was something aggressive in her aspect.
"Oh," she said, in no amiable tone, "it's you!"
"Yes," I replied, "it is I."
"And you call yourself a workingman," she exclaimed.
"I am not aware that I have done so."
"So my husband told me last night; you are the man who called last night, and went to seek my husband at the Britannia. Don't deny it."
"I have not the least intention of doing so. You gave me the information where to see him."
"So I did, and he said you pretended to be a workingman. Now, a workingman wouldn't say, 'it is I'; he'd say 'it's me.' I have been brought pretty low, but I had fair schooling when I was young, and I know a workingman from a gentleman."
"Well," I observed, "say that I am a gentleman; is that anything against me?"
"It is everything against you. I heard from my husband all that passed between you--as nearly as he could remember, in the state he was. When he's in his cups his tongue runs too free, and you gave him rope enough. Perhaps you're not a gentleman, after all. What do you say to detective?"
"I am not a detective," I answered, with, I confess, a rather guilty feeling, for if I was not doing the work of a detective, what else was I doing? "For what reason on earth should a detective be running after your husband?"
"An admission!" she cried, and I saw that I had to do with a sharp woman. "Then youarerunning after him." She folded her arms defiantly. "Now, what for?"
I smiled rather feebly as I said, "You would not believe me if I told you I have come to put something in his way."
"You are right there. I should not believe you."
"But it is the truth, nevertheless, and it will not serve me to talk it over with you. Can I see your husband?"
"You cannot see him."
"Is he not at home?"
"He is not at home."
"Will he be in soon?"
"He will not be in soon."
There was no mistaking her meaning; she regarded me as an enemy, and it was her intention to be personally offensive.
"You do not wish me and your husband to meet?"
"You shan't meet if I can help it."
"Then you must have something to fear."
This thrust, which I gave involuntarily--for I had no desire to hurt the poor woman's feelings--drove the color from her face. She retreated a step, and stumbled over a child that was playing on the floor. The slight accident seemed to infuriate her; she angrily pushed the child away with her foot, and turned upon me like a tigress.
"What are you hunting us down for?" she cried. "Do you think I have not had trouble enough in my life? Driven here and there, with a pack of hungry children in rags, and tied to a man who expects me to keep a home and a family upon ten shillings a week! But he's my husband for all that, and I'm not going to help you bring a deeper disgrace upon us. You came here yesterday to set a trap for him, with a lying story that you owed him a few pence which you were anxious to pay. God knows what you wormed out of him, for, clever as he is, he's a fool when he pours the drink down his throat. I've warned him over and over again to be careful what he says; but I might as well have talked to a stone. He's out of your reach now, at all events, and you'll have a job to find him. I wish you joy of your task, you cowardly sneak!"
The passion of her defiance of me was wonderful to witness; but underlying this defiance was a terror which did not escape my observation.
"I came here," I said gently, for her despair and her poverty inspired me with genuine pity, "in the hope that he would assist me in the discovery of a crime which has not been brought to light. If he is not implicated in it he would have earned a few pounds; if in any way he is involved in it, all I can say is, Heaven pity him--and you!"
My time was too precious to waste further words upon her, and I left the shop, and entered the cab which was waiting for me. Before I could close the door a man accosted me.
"I heard what passed inside the shop," he said. "Make it worth my while, and I'll tell you something about Dr. Cooper."
"Jump in," I answered; "I have no time to stop talking here." I gave the driver Ronald Elsdale's address, and we sped thitherward. "Now, what have you to say?"
"You want to know where the doctor is?" he commenced.
"I do."
"Well, I can't tell you that exactly, but I can put you on his track. It's worth, I should say,"--he deliberated, and looked at me covertly to decide what he would be likely to screw out of me--"not less than half a crown."
"I will give you that if you keep nothing back."
"All right. Where's the coin?"
"No, my friend," I said, "I'll have the goods before I pay for them."
"You're a sharp old file, but I'm out of work; It's capital and labor, and we know who's the grinder. Here was I, at six this morning, looking for work and not getting it. The doctor's shop shut, it's not the likes of him that catches worms. Back I come home at a quarter past seven, and there's a telegraph boy banging at the doctor's door. I help him bang, and out comes the doctor, doing up his buttons; takes the telegram, reads it, turns red and white, rushes into the house, rushes out in a brace of shakes, and scuds off. 'What's up?' thinks I, and off I scuds after him; he's too excited to notice. At St. George's Hospital, walking up and down in a fume, and looking as if he'd knock everything and everybody into a cocked hat if he had his way, there's a gentleman waiting for him, and a four-wheeler, with trunks atop, waiting for both of 'em. They have a hurried talk; I'm not near enough to hear what passes, but I get up to the cab as they step in. 'Charing Cross Station,' cries the gentleman to cabby. 'Break your horse's neck if you like; if I don't catch the Continental train I'll break yours.' Off goes the cab, and then, what do you think? off goes another cab that I hadn't noticed, after the first. I've got no money to pay for cabs, but having nothing better to do, and looking upon the move as a rum sort of move, I foots it to the station, and gets there at five minutes to eight. There they are, Dr. Cooper and his gentleman friend, as busy as bees, and there's the bell ringing and porters shouting, and everything hurry scurry. Away they go through the gate, and off goes the train; and if all that aint worth half a dollar I'd like to know what is."
"You shall have the money," I said; "are you sure they both went away in the train?"
"I'm sure they didn't comeback. I asked one of the porters what train that was. 'Train for Paris,' he said."
"Did you see the man who went after them in the second cab?"
"Never caught sight of him in the cab or out of it."
"But you saw the gentleman who met Dr. Cooper at the hospital."
"Of course I did."
"Was there anything peculiar in his appearance that you noticed particularly?"
"I noticed he had a red beard and mustache."
"Did he wear spectacles?"
"He had a pair of gold eyeglasses that he was continually putting on and off."
"You have earned the money. Here it is."
He took the half crown, bawled to the driver to stop, jumped out of the cab, and was off.
At five minutes past ten my cab drew up at Ronald Elsdale's house. Bob had been expeditious, and was there before me; he had even found time to tell Ronald everything. He informed me of this as he himself admitted me into the house.
"How did he take it?" I inquired.
"Very quietly," Bob answered. "He did not interrupt me once, nor did he ask a single question. When I finished he said, 'I must write letters to my pupils, telling them that there must be an unavoidable interruption in their lessons for a short time----'"
I did not follow Ronald's excellent example of listening quietly, but interrupted Bob excitedly. "For what reason?" I asked.
"He intends to accompany us. I did not argue with him. When my nephew makes up his mind to a thing he is not to be turned from it. His mother is packing his bag now. I had no difficulty at your house. The maid showed me where your clothes were, and I bundled a lot of them into the Gladstone. Here is Ronald. Don't oppose him; it will be quite useless."
"Good-morning, Mr. Emery," said the young man. "My uncle has related to me all the particulars of this strange affair, which we have not time to talk over now. You have heard of my intention to accompany you."
"Yes."
"I have taken it upon myself to send to my uncle's house for the poor child, Barbara, and she will go with us, too. She has no clothes for such a trip, I understand, but my mother has found a few things that will do for her, and when we are in Paris we can buy whatever else she requires. She will not be an additional expense to you; I will pay for her."
"We can arrange that when we are on the road," I said, somewhat amazed at this unexpected addition to our party. "Do you really consider it necessary that she should accompany us?"
"Otherwise," he replied, "I should not have ventured to send for her. Mr. Emery, we must not allow a chance to escape us; we must take advantage of everything that suggests or presents itself that is likely to assist us. I am blind; if Mr. Nisbet stood before me I should not know it. My uncle has not seen him; you are under the impression that you would be certain to recognize him, but there are thousands of men with red hair and gold eyeglasses. The only one of us who can be positive is Barbara."
I saw that he was resolved, and that it would be useless to remonstrate. What struck me, also, was that he seemed already to have assumed the command of the expedition, and to have placed himself at the head of it. Undoubtedly he had the right to take the initiative, for if a foul deed had been committed it was the lady he loved who had been the victim.
"Mr. Elsdale," I said, "I am satisfied with what you have done."
"Thank you, Mr. Emery," was his response. "There is here a mystery to be solved, a horrible wrong to be righted, a criminal to be brought to the bar of justice. I do not pretend to say that in so short a time I have reduced to order the terrible suggestions and possibilities that have presented themselves to my mind, but a man's duty is before me, and I will perform it faithfully and inexorably. Mere worldly considerations do not weigh in the scale. Though I lived to be an old man with this mystery still unsolved, I would not relinquish it. I will pursue it unflinchingly to the end, if I walk the earth barefoot. To you has come a spiritual sign and a spiritual mandate, and, through you, it has come to me." He drew me aside. "Is the apparition that first appeared to you in that ill-fated house visible to you? Is it here with us in the room?"