I supposeI must have lost more blood than I had reckoned upon, or else the excitement of the pursuit had been sufficient to keep me going; but whichever it was, no sooner had we pulled up than I collapsed. I was never nearer fainting in my life. In fact I had to take another stiff dose of whisky, and even then I was only too glad to relinquish the steering-wheel to Forrest, and let him drive me the rest of the way home. He never left me until I was safely in bed, and the surgeon he had summoned had stitched me up.
Fortunately my wounds proved, as Forrest had foretold, more painful than dangerous. The bullet had carried with it some shreds of cloth; and the removal of these from my arm was the only really painful bit of work the surgeon had to perform. However, the medical man insisted upon my remaining in bed, and I obeyed his orders for a couple of days; but on the third I felt so well that I rebelled against any further confinement, and though still considerably sore, I managed to get out and about.
I found I was a little bit shaky, yet I managed toget as far as Colonel Mainland's house, and there I found my adventure had been a blessing in disguise, for I could see from the manner in which she greeted me, that my last encounter with the Pirate had wiped from Miss Maitland's memory all remembrance of the previous occasion. There was only one thing to mar my enjoyment of the situation thus created. Mannering had unfortunately been successful in making himself a candidate for similar solicitude. His injury, however, was even more trivial than mine, the bullet having merely scored his shoulder. I wished devoutly it had missed him altogether, or been a few inches higher and more to the right; for in such case I should have had Miss Maitland's undivided sympathies and attention, whereas I had perforce to share them with my rival. I knew I had done nothing heroic; but if Mannering had not been hit I might at least have posed as half a hero, instead of which I had to be content with being a quarter of one.
However, I made the most of what glory I had earned, and I am bound to confess that I traded upon my sore arm in the most shameless fashion.
Fortunately the Motor Pirate at this time entered upon a long period of quiescence, so that I was free to make the most of my opportunity, and to devote the whole of my time to Miss Maitland's society. The detective was firmly of the opinion that this prolonged rest was due to one of our shots having found its billet, and declared that we should hear nothing more of him until he had repaired damages. The inaction, however, soonbecame very wearisome to him; and when a fortnight had elapsed without a single appearance having been chronicled, he became quite morose. By that time he had searched over the whole district, but not a trace of any other injured person could he discover; and he was as much at a loss for a clue to the identity of the Pirate as he had been when he first entered upon the job of running him to earth.
The Press by this time had nothing but jeers for the police and for the detective force generally. Meantime the most extraordinary steps were taken to secure the Pirate's arrest when he should renew his career. The Automobile Club had officially lent their assistance to the police, and night by night the principal roads of the county were patrolled by the members of the club, thirsting for the opportunity of distinguishing themselves by the capture of the marauder. The Pirate must have been vastly amused in his retirement as he read of the sensation he had created. I rather think that the man in the street looked upon the whole matter as the great sporting event of the century, and his sympathies were undoubtedly with the man who could so easily snap his fingers at the army of police, amateur and professional, who were engaged in the task of seeking him. In fact, if he had not committed the murder at Towcester, I am convinced that the public would have elevated him to the position of a great popular hero. Even as it was, he had no lack of apologists; and an eminent ballad-monger celebrated his exploits in some verses, which were immensely applauded when recited by long-hairedenthusiasts at smoking concerts and similar gatherings. All this was gall to Forrest; and at last one day, three weeks after our encounter with the Pirate, he told me he could stand it no longer.
"I must try another line of country," he remarked.
"What line do you propose?" I asked.
"The only thing I can think of," he replied, "is to make inquiries in Amsterdam, to see if the diamonds which were taken from the mail, have been offered for sale. I am quite certain they have not been put upon the market this side of the water."
I was very loth to let him go alone; but he would not hear of my accompanying him.
"What! run away now, and let your friend Mannering have a clear field? I wouldn't if I were you," he remarked. "Besides, I can manage this sort of work better by myself."
His final argument was conclusive, and he went away promising to look me up immediately he returned, and expressing the hope that nothing more would be heard of the Pirate until his return.
On the very same day it happened that Mannering also took his departure from St. Stephens. I had mentioned in his hearing that Forrest had been called away, and he had then informed us—Miss Maitland and myself—that he had some business in Paris in connection with the patent tyre with which he was still experimenting, which would entail his absence for two or three days.
I sincerely trusted that his business would require amuch longer period to transact; and as he was leaving by an early train the next morning, I took particular care he should obtain no opportunity for a private leave-taking with Miss Maitland.
It was not a sporting thing to do, perhaps, but I was so much in earnest about my love-making, that I had no scruples about spoiling as many of my rival's chances as I could. However, as it happened, I found somewhat to my surprise that my tactics were not unwelcome to Miss Maitland. She confessed as much to me the next day. She—— But perhaps it will be better for me to give in some detail the conversation we had upon this occasion, since it had a considerable bearing upon after events.
The morning after Mannering had departed was as brilliant a one as June ever bestowed upon mortal. Now that my rival was out of the way, I thought I might dispense with the sling which I had worn hitherto, and directly after breakfast I strolled across to the Maitlands', with the intention of persuading Miss Maitland to come for a ride on the Mercédès. I found her on the point of starting for a stroll, with the object of giving her favourite Irish setter a run, and I was easily persuaded to abandon my projected ride and accompany her instead. Wechosethe footpath between St. Stephen's church and the village of Park Street, and, stepping out briskly, we soon reached our destination; and as my companion would not hear of turning back, we continued our walk to Bricket Wood. There I insisted upon resting.
I had never seen her in higher spirits than she wasthat morning. She bubbled over with gaiety. So much so that I could not help commenting upon the fact.
"Yes," she replied frankly, in answer to my remarks on the subject, "I do feel gay this morning. I feel as if a load had been removed from my shoulders."
"Surely you can have no troubles," I remarked, half-banteringly.
A shadow alighted for a moment upon her face and was gone again.
"Nothing which ought to be a trouble. Nothing tangible and yet—— Oh, Mr. Sutgrove, do you—have you ever experienced a presentiment of something dreadful happening? No; that is not exactly what I mean. I don't know how to explain myself without——"
Then she paused, and I discreetly kept silence. Presently she resumed.
"Men are so stupid, or I would tell you all about it. You would never understand."
I saw my opening and made use of it. "We men may be stupid both individually and collectively," I said. "But I can answer for one man being sympathetic to anything you like to say to him."
She laughed. "I am so afraid you will think me silly."
"Miss Maitland—Evie——" I began.
"Hush!" She stopped me with an adorable smile. "You know you haven't caught the Motor Pirate, yet."
I summoned up the most injured expression permitted by my contentment with my surroundings and fell silent again.
"Poor boy!" she said mockingly. "It is unkind of me to remind you of your vow, when you have already done your best to fulfil it."
"Not quite my best, yet," I muttered sullenly.
"Anyhow I think you have done quite enough to warrant my taking you into my confidence."
She said this quite seriously, and glancing up at her, I saw she was looking into a glade of the wood with a preoccupied expression on her pretty face, which showed me that it was in reality no petty trouble which worried her.
"This scene is so delightfully restful. I love the cool green lights and the cool grey shadows of the woodlands in early summer," she remarked absently.
I had no eyes for aught but the face of the speaker, though I was indirectly conscious that there was a good deal of beauty in the wood. To me it seemed an appropriate background, that was all.
"Yes," I said. "But about this presentiment of yours——"
"It is hardly a presentiment; in fact, I don't know what to call it," she replied. Then she turned and faced me. "Now listen. There's an acquaintance of mine, whom I know very well and used to like a great deal. Yes, I think I am right in saying used to like. Well, for some undefined reason, my liking has change to something very like fear."
"For what reason?" I asked.
"None," she replied. "Absolutely there is no reason whatever."
"A case of Dr. Fell," I said. "Well, avoid your Dr. Fell."
"That is exactly what I am unable to do," she answered, and I could see she was speaking truly. "This fear has grown up in some degree, I think, from a subtle sort of consciousness that the person in question has it in his power to exert a curious influence over me. I seem to be drawn against my will into an attitude towards him which is not only against my judgment, but also against my inclination."
"Him?" I asked. "Him? Is it Mannering?"
"Why, what made you think of him? Does he affect you in the same way?" she said eagerly.
"Far from it," I replied. My first feeling was one of delight at discovering that my rival was more feared than loved. But as I thought over the matter, my astonishment grew. I had looked upon Mannering as a rival, and as a favoured rival, but I was not prepared to hear that Evie Maitland was afraid of him, or of any other man for the matter of that, and I said so.
"A month ago, I should have laughed at the idea myself," she replied, "but to-day——" She shuddered slightly. "Now you know why I feel so gay this morning. The fact is, when on awakening this morning I realized that I should be absolutely free from his presence for two whole days, I hardly knew how to contain myself for joy."
"Surely you must have some grounds for fearing him, something in his manner——"
"No. Yet I have thought—but it is nothing. When we have been alone together he has sat once or twice staring at me. I try to speak to him, but he sits and stares and stares, with his eyes so bright and all the time so sombre—so penetrating that I feel that he sees quite through me. Just like one does in those unpleasant dreams where one's clothes have somehow disappeared. To-day, and now, it seems very silly, yet I am certain I shall feel exactly the same the next time I meet him. Then when he sees how confused I am he gives a sort of a laugh, an unpleasant kind of a chuckle without any merriment in it."
"He's a d——d cad!" I cried hotly.
"I—I don't know," she answered. "I don't seem to mind at the time. It is just as if I were in a dream, for I am so fascinated in watching him that I have no thoughts left for myself. It is when he has gone that the thought seems unpleasant. Then I always think I will never see him again, but the next time he calls I feel bound to do so. There, now I have confided in you, don't tell me I am a weak hysterical girl or I really don't know what will happen to me."
She laid one of her little hands on my arm and looked imploringly into my eyes.
"I know you are neither weak nor hysterical," I replied.
"You will help me, won't you?" she asked.
I took both hands in mine and looked straight into her eyes.
"The only way I see of helping you," I said deliberately, "is for you to give me the right to do so."
She did not take her hands from my grasp.
"Do you know, Jim," she said an hour later, when we came out of the wood into the meadow, "that I told you not to speak to me until you had captured the Motor Pirate."
"You could not answer for me, darling," I replied. "But I should not have done so if I——"
"Had not found the temptation to do so irresistible," she said, taking the words out of my mouth with so bewitching an air, that again I found an irresistible temptation confronting me.
We did not revert again to the curious influence which Evie had declared Mannering exercised. She would not allow of it. She wanted to think that he had gone completely out of her life, and that no more shadows were ever to fall across her path. And I was too happy myself to wish to refer to anything which should bring an unpleasant memory to her mind.
I shall never forget our walk home. The silver thread of the Ver, the old monastery gate-house and the ruins of Sopwell Priory in the foreground, the churches of St. Stephens and St Michaels on either hand, and in the centre of the picture the Abbey of St. Albans brooding over all. We decided to be married in the abbey. I trod on air.
Manneringremained absent for a week, and during that time I learned from Evie a good deal about the curious dread which he had inspired in her mind. Had inspired, I say, for she assured me it had passed away, and that she felt quite safe now she was promised to be my wife. Our betrothal had been announced the day after the never-to-be-forgotten walk to Bricket wood, and I had hastened to make it known as widely as I could, for I could think of no likelier method of ensuring her against any further annoyance on the part of Mannering. When he saw that he had lost, I could not think that he would do otherwise than retire gracefully from the scene. If, however, he failed to take his failure kindly, I should not have the slightest hesitation about sending him about his business. I should have been tempted to do so without further delay, if there had in reality been anything in Mannering's conduct to which open exception could have been taken. Evie recognized there was nothing of the sort as strongly as myself, and she was even averse to do as I suggested,and ask her father to hint to him that he should, for a while at least, cease his visits to the house.
"You see," she remarked, "if he had made himself offensive in any other way, I should have welcomed the opportunity of speaking to papa about it. But he has not. His attitude has been outwardly perfectly courteous, and papa would only laugh at me if I were to tell him what I have told you. He would not believe me if I told him I was afraid of Mr. Mannering."
"Besides, you are now no longer afraid?" I said.
"No; I am no longer afraid of him. I am quite sure of that," she repeated.
The manner in which she made the assertion ought to have warned me that she was not quite so certain on the point as she was willing to believe, but no such thought crossed my mind at the time.
"Anyhow," I continued, "if when you see Mannering again, you feel any recurrence of your dread, it will be easy for me to pick a quarrel with him, and so compel him to absent himself from the house. You see, he will be unable to come here without meeting me."
Evie pouted a dissent. "You must not do that," she remarked. "A quarrel with him would make both of us look ridiculous. Everybody would conclude that you were jealous; and I—I should not like to imagine any one thinking that I gave you cause."
"My own darling!" I cried.
When once more we resumed our conversation, Ibethought me of another plan, and I suggested to Evie that she could always find a retreat at my home in Norfolk, if she wanted to get away from Mannering's presence. My aunt, I knew, would be delighted to entertain her. She agreed at once to adopt this course if the occasion should arise. Thus I thought I had provided against every contingency for the short period which was to elapse before our wedding-day.
When Mannering did return, however, it seemed as if we had been making preparations to meet a contingency which was never likely to arise. He learned of Evie's engagement from the Colonel, the morning after his return to St. Albans. He took the news very well. Much more coolly than I should have done had I been the disappointed one. In fact, a few minutes after he had been made acquainted with Evie's engagement, he came to us where we were in the garden, and congratulated us forthwith.
"You are a lucky fellow, Sutgrove," he said. "I had cherished a faint hope that your luck might be mine, and now the only consolation I have is that the best man always wins."
Spoken in a different tone than that which he employed, his words would have made a very pretty compliment, but from his lips the words seemed to be very like a sarcasm. However, I could pardon the expression of a little bitterness under the circumstances, so I made no reply; and, turning to Evie, he continued—
"I trust your new tie will not put an end to the old friendships, Miss Maitland?"
"Why should it?" she asked.
"They often do," he replied.
"Not if the old friendships are the real thing," I interjected.
"No; not if they are the real thing," he repeated slowly. "I hope you will find mine to be the real thing."
A faint smile fluttered across his face as he spoke, and was gone in an instant. Neither Evie nor myself knew what to reply, and an awkward pause ensued. He seemed to feel the awkwardness of it just as much as either of us, and he changed the subject with an inquiry as to whether anything further had been heard or seen of the Motor Pirate during his own absence in Paris.
"I have been far too busy to even look at the papers," he explained, "and he might have been captured for all I know."
"No such luck," I replied. "This time he seems to have disappeared for good."
"I see I shall have to take up your job, and devote my energies to the task of his capture," he said laughingly. And, turning to Evie, he said, "I presume you will not allow Sutgrove to take any risks of that sort now, Miss Maitland?"
Again there was something sarcastic in his tone, and I could see by the flush in Evie's cheek that the question had angered her. She answered almost hotly—
"I am quite sure if any one can capture the Pirate, Jim can."
"I have no intention of giving up the pursuit just at present," I added quietly, with a glance of thanks to my dear one for her ready championship.
"I don't think I should trouble myself about any Motor Pirate if I were in your position," he replied. "I fancy if I were engaged to be married to the best girl in the world, the first thing I should do would be to eliminate every risk from my life, instead of looking about for fresh ones. Besides, it seems scarcely fair on the girl, does it?"
"Surely that depends on what the girl thinks, doesn't it?" asked Evie. "A good many girls haven't much admiration for the man who would act as you suggest."
"Ah, well!" returned Mannering. "I see now where Sutgrove has succeeded. The prize always goes to the adventurous."
Again there was a subtle provocation in his tone—something very like a sneer. An angry retort was on the tip of my tongue, but a glance from Evie checked it, and soon after he left us together.
"You must not be angry with him," she said, as soon as we were alone. "He does not know you as I do; and besides I think he—he must be disappointed."
"There's not the slightest doubt about that," I answered emphatically. "He is badly hit, and he takes it pretty well considering. I know I shouldn't havetaken my gruel so coolly. In fact, that is just what I don't like about him. One never knows what is going on behind that handsome mask of his."
"Handsome," she said. "Do you call him handsome?"
"Yes. I should say he was one of the handsomest men of my acquaintance. How could you ever bestow a single glance or thought upon me when——"
Evie placed her hand upon my lips. "You dear, foolish old boy," she said. "There is only one face in the whole wide world which I think is really handsome, and I have thought so from the first time I caught sight of it."
There was another interlude in our conversation—they were pretty frequent in those days—and the subject dropped for a time. It recurred frequently, however, and gradually I perceived that whatever subject we discussed, sooner or later, Mannering's name was bound to crop up. At first I rather encouraged Evie to talk about him; but, after a while, I discovered that I was ministering to the feeling which I thought had been destroyed. I could not help but notice that, soon after Mannering's return, Evie's high spirits became subdued—her gaiety less spontaneous. Yet when I asked her whether Mannering's presence produced any effect upon her, she assured me to the contrary.
Nor did I see how Mannering could possibly exert any influence over her. I took particular care that he should never have atête-à-têtewith her. Sometimes she would not even see him for a couple of days at a time,and when she did, it would be merely for a few minutes, and nearly always in the presence of Colonel Maitland as well as myself.
It appeared to me, indeed, as if Mannering even took pains to avoid seeing much of her; and, though I watched him closely, his bearing was always studiously correct. He was the sameinsouciantperson who had impressed me so favourably upon my first introduction to him. But whether it was owing to the distrust which Evie's fear of him had impressed upon me, or because I could really see things which had before been hidden from my sight, I certainly did observe about him certain singularities which I had never before remarked. I saw, for instance, that, in speaking of his face as a handsome mask, I had been nearer the truth than I had known. On more than one occasion, while his lips were parted in a genial smile, I observed in his eyes an expression strangely at variance therewith. It was the expression of a cat when it crouches to spring upon a mouse. I have seen that look bent upon my betrothed. I have caught it directed at myself. There was a restlessness, too, which gave the lie to his nonchalant manner. I could see that he forced himself to remain still. His fingers were always busy with something or other.
These were trifles, and equally trivial seemed the sarcasms which he directed at me now and again. These I attributed to the ebullitions of temper, natural enough in a defeated suitor. In my heart I pitied him, for I fancied I knew what a struggle it must havecost him to stand aside and watch a successful rival's happiness.
As the days passed, a certain constraint appeared to have arisen between Evie and myself. I told myself that the idea was foolish, and yet I knew that it was not so. Mind, I had not the slightest doubt as to the strength of Evie's love for me. She expressed it clearly, yet there was something drawing us apart, and I began to be afraid.
Towards the middle of June the tension became so great, that I could see the time had arrived when it would be necessary to do something; and, one night, I determined to mention the matter. Accordingly, after dinner, I persuaded Evie to come into the garden, with the intention to speak firmly in my mind. There, however, in the faint light of the summer night, with the sweet scent of the early roses filling the air, I forgot everything in the blissfulness of my lot. We had paced our favourite walk once in silence—my heart was too full of delight for speech—when, as we retraced our steps, to my surprise, Evie burst suddenly into passionate tears. Some minutes elapsed before I could calm her, and when I managed at last to do so, it needed all my powers of persuasion to get her to confide in me the cause of her outburst. At first she said it was nothing but the hysteria of happiness. Then she asked me, with a fierce clutch on my arm, if I should think her unmaidenly if she asked that our wedding-day should be hastened. We had fixed it for September, so I at once suggested July.
Her mood changed at once. She said she was not feeling well, and that I must not listen to her. But being now thoroughly alarmed at her obviously nervous condition, I questioned her until I elicited from her that all her old dread of Mannering had returned, and with double intensity, in that it was accompanied by a presentiment of disaster to myself.
"Jim," she said, looking up into my face with eyes which glowed in the faint light like stars, "I shall not feel sure of you until I am with you always. I want to be near you to look after you. Every moment you are absent from my side, I am imagining all sorts of horrible things happening to you. And it is worse to bear, because, it seems to me, that I am the cause of it all."
I strove to laugh away her fears, but, say what I would, I could not dispel the thought in her mind that some disaster threatened our love. Probing her mind for the foundation of her belief, I was not surprised to find that Mannering had something to do with it.
I did my best to make her mind easy, while determining that I would at once take steps to secure change of air and scene for her at some spot where my late rival should not come. She became tolerably composed at last, and I took her back to the drawing-room, where I was glad to find Mrs. Winter, in whom I recognized a most useful sedative for over-excited nerves.
We had a little music, and with that and the commonplaces of conversation, the evening passed until elevenhad struck, and the Colonel's yawns warned me that the time had arrived for taking my departure.
The Winters and myself had just risen to leave when we heard a hasty step on the gravel outside, and, turning, we saw a man's figure at one of the French windows opening on to the garden.
"Hullo!" said the Colonel. "Who's that?"
The new-comer stepped into the room, and, as the light fell upon his face, I recognized Forrest. He nodded to me and turned to the Colonel.
"I trust you will excuse this unceremonious call of mine, Colonel Maitland," he said. "But I was desirous of seeing Mr. Sutgrove immediately, and I guessed I should find him here."
"I'll excuse you, if you will come to the smoking-room and drink Mr. Sutgrove's health in a whisky-and-seltzer," replied the Colonel, heartily.
"I don't think I can spare the time," said the detective, quietly.
"Nonsense, man! You must drink the health of my future son-in-law!" he declared.
"Most certainly," remarked Forrest. "I can find time for that, even though——" He paused, and then said, with quiet incisiveness, "Even though the Motor Pirate is upon the road again!"
ImmediatelyForrest had made his dramatic announcement, I glanced at Evie, for in view of the apprehension she had exhibited earlier in the evening, I was just a little doubtful as to whether she would take kindly to the renewal of my attempts to catch the Pirate. To my satisfaction, she exhibited no signs of trepidation, if she did not appear altogether delighted that I was to have another opportunity of distinguishing myself. In fact as soon as the detective had followed Colonel Maitland from the room, she told me that she was glad.
"I don't fear for you a scrap, Jim. At least not much," she said. "I know you won't do anything foolish, for my sake."
I interrupted with, "Nor for my own."
"And do you know," she continued, "I have a queer sort of impression that when the Pirate is captured, this horrible depression which has been hanging over me will disappear altogether."
"Then captured he must be without delay," I said.
"Though I don't see how Mannering will be affected thereby."
"I am not so sure about that," said Evie.
"You surely cannot think that Mannering is in any way connected with the Motor Pirate?" I inquired in surprise, for any such idea had long passed from my mind.
"I don't know," she remarked dreamily; "I don't know. But I should not be surprised. I really could believe anything about him."
I reminded her of the steps Forrest had taken to assure himself that there were no grounds for such a suspicion, but she was not convinced; so I forbore to continue the discussion, changing the conversation to the arrangements to be made for her proposed visit to Norfolk. It was decided that I should write at once to my aunt, and that she should be ready to start the moment I received a reply. We had settled all the preliminaries by the time the Colonel and Forrest returned, and I bade her good night, feeling quite easy in my mind.
"I am delighted to be able to congratulate you," said Forrest, the moment we were outside.
"I am the luckiest man in the world," I replied.
"You are," returned the detective, emphatically. "All the same, I should not have been sorry if Miss Maitland had stuck to her intention of refusing to listen to you until after the capture of the Pirate."
"Why?" I demanded.
"For purely selfish reasons," he replied. "I take it you will not be so keen on the chase. Men in your position don't take risks."
I held out my hand to him. "Put your fist in that," I said. "What I have promised, I stick to; and, to tell the truth, I was never keener on anything in my life."
"That's good news for me," he answered, and I could tell from his tone that he meant it. Besides, he was not a man given to the paying of idle compliments.
We were walking quietly towards my cottage as we talked, and the impulse came upon me to confide to him the presentiment which Evie had in regard to the capture of the Pirate relieving her from her burden of fear. That necessitated my explaining as well as I could the curious influence which Mannering exercised over her. Forrest listened attentively.
"Curious," he muttered, when I had finished. "It is very curious that the fellow should have produced such an impression on Miss Maitland. By the way, he was not at the Colonel's to-night."
"No," I replied.
"I wonder——" he began. He never finished the sentence, nor did he speak again until he reached my door. There he paused, and said lightly, "I think I should like to discover whether the disappointed lover is at home to-night. Are you prepared for a little amateur burglary, Sutgrove?"
"Ready for anything," I assured him.
"It seems a little absurd to suspect Mannering," he remarked meditatively. "Yet there are times when a woman's intuition is a better guide than a man's ratiocination."
"You didn't get any clue in Amsterdam, then?" I asked tentatively, for I was curious to hear the results of his journey.
"No, no. Nothing at all in Holland."
"If Mannering were the Pirate, and had tried to dispose of his plunder there, you would in all probability have caught him; but he would scarcely have chosen to go abroad at the same time as yourself," I remarked.
Forrest emitted a long, low whistle. "By Jove!" he said. "Then it was indeed he whom I saw in Vienna."
"In Vienna?" I queried.
"When did he leave England?" asked the detective, ignoring my question.
"The very day you left," I replied promptly.
"Come, this is getting interesting," he said. "Tonight we will most certainly let the Pirate do his worst on the roads. We will look for a clue to the mystery of his identity nearer home." He looked at his watch. "It's a little too early to pay our call, so if you don't mind, I will come in and we can discuss the matter at leisure."
To say that Forrest's enigmatic utterances filled me with excitement, very inadequately expresses the state of my mind. He followed me indoors, and, while Imixed a drink for each of us, he saw that the windows and doors were closed. Then seating himself in an easy chair, he selected a cigar and remarked—
"Now we can talk."
"I thought you only intended to go to Amsterdam," I began.
"That was my intention," he replied. "But before giving you the results of my inquiries—it won't take long, by the way—I should like to ask you one or two questions, if I may?"
"Fire away," I said.
"Did you mention to any one where I had gone?"
"Not to a soul. At least certainly not at the time, though I have probably mentioned the matter to Miss Maitland since."
"Oh, you young lovers!" he interjected.
"She would not speak of the matter, I know. I gave out to every one else that you had been recalled to London."
"Anyway, it would not have mattered if she had, as Mannering left on the same day as myself. Where did he say he was going?"
"He said he was bound for Paris on business connected with some patents he was applying for. He told us he would be absent for two or three days; and as a matter of fact, he was away for ten."
"That would about fit in," remarked the detective, after a moment's thought. "But of that you shall judge for yourself." He moistened his lips and pulled at hiscigar until it was well alight, and then he commenced his story.
"I carried out my original intention, and the night after I left you I caught the 8.30 at Liverpool Street. The next morning I was in Amsterdam. I stayed there three days, until I was quite convinced that no such parcel of diamonds as had been stolen had been offered for sale to any of the Dutch dealers. I could not have failed to hear of it if any such attempt had been made. While there I had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of a Russian agent, whose work I fancy must have been largely political. Ivan Stroviloff his name was, and he had acquaintances in most European capitals. I discussed the matter with him. He thought that an attempt to dispose of the stones was much more likely to be made in Vienna or St. Petersburg than anywhere else except Paris. I was aware of our agents in Paris having been fully informed, and I knew it was not worth my while to go there; but beyond notifying the Austrian police, I doubted whether any steps had been taken in regard to Vienna, so I determined to proceed to the Austrian capital. Stroviloff proved a very decent fellow, rather an exception to the general run, for I don't take to those Russian agents as a rule; and as I was able to give him a few hints and some introductions over here—he was going on to London—he gave me in return letters to some of his colleagues in Vienna and Petersburg, thinking they would probably be of more use to me than application through the usualofficial channels. Well, I went on to Vienna. I won't weary you with a history of my fruitless inquiries, it would take far too much time. Anyhow, I did find eventually that a parcel of diamonds had been disposed of there, and, as Stroviloff had predicted, I obtained the information through one of the Russian agents and not through the Viennese police. I will say that I do not see how the latter could have helped me, for the purchaser was the representative of a Petersburg house who happened to be in Vienna for the purpose of attending the sale of the Princess Novikoff's jewels—you probably saw all about it in the papers."
It was a remarkable sale, and the extraordinary prices realized are probably fresh in most people's memories. I told Forrest I had seen accounts of it, and he continued.
"Unfortunately I did not get the information until after the representative in question had returned to Petersburg. There was nothing left for me to do but to follow him there if I wanted to satisfy myself as to whether the stones of which I had heard were really the ones stolen from the mail. It was rather like a wild goose chase, but I went. It was the day before I started that I saw the man who reminded me so forcibly of your friend Mannering. It was a very fleeting glimpse of a face which looked in at the door of a restaurant where I happened to be dining, and I should not like to swear that it was he whom I saw. At the time, I put my fancy down to one of those casual likenesses whichsometimes lead even keen observers to accost total strangers in the streets as acquaintances. The likeness was, however, undeniable, in spite of something strange about his appearance. However, I paid no attention to the incident, and the next morning I was on my way to Petersburg. There I found no difficulty in obtaining full particulars from the dealer. I have no doubt but that he has purchased the stones which were stolen from the Brighton mail. In size, weight, and quality they answered to the description perfectly. I learned from him that the man from whom he had bought the stones had been introduced to him by a well-known Viennese jeweller. The price asked, though not very greatly below market value, was low enough to tempt him to purchase. The man who offered them suggested that payment should be made, not to himself, but to his firm in Amsterdam. The transaction seemed in every waybonâ fide, the explanation as to the low price being that the Amsterdam firm was rather pressed for cash, and so compelled to realize some of its stock, but was unable to do so in Amsterdam for fear of jeopardizing its credit. The man who sold the stones gave the name of Josef Hoffman, and the merchant produced his card which bore the name of Jacob Meyer and Meyer, and an address in the De Jordaan, Amsterdam. He was described to me as a tall, powerful, fresh-coloured, fair-haired German, of pleasant manners and address. The Petersburg merchant's representative had given him a draft on an Amsterdam bank and, on reaching theRussian capital, after examining the stones, his employer had authorized the payment of the draft by telegraph.
"As soon as I obtained these particulars, I started once more for the Dutch city without wasting much time. Needless to say, I was too late to catch my man. The office in the De Jordaan I found to be a room which had been taken for a week or two, and then vacated, by a person whom I easily identified as the fair-haired German. The draft had been exchanged for a draft on the banker's London agents by the same man. I came on to London immediately, but Hoffman, or whatever his name may be, was a week ahead of me. I traced him to the London bank where he had cashed his draft. He did it in the coolest manner imaginable. He left it one day saying that he required gold, and that if they would get the amount ready—it was over £4000—he would call for it the next day. He actually allowed two days to elapse before doing so. Then he came in a cab with a handbag and took away the gold. That at present is as far as I have got. I only learned the last of these particulars this afternoon, and of course I went at once to the Yard to make my report and to arrange for the circulation of the description of the fair-haired German throughout the country. Then I came on to you."
Forrest finished his drink and stood up. "Now you know as much about the case as I do," he remarked, "and I fancy it is about time for us to pay our proposed visit to our friend Mannering."
"I don't see how you can connect him in any way with Hoffman," I said, as I rose from my seat.
Forrest smiled. "I omitted to tell you one thing," he observed. "I could not see the hair of the man in Vienna whose face seemed familiar to me. But one thing I did remark. The man with Mannering's face wore a fair moustache."
"But Mannering's is dark," I argued. "It was dark when he went away and dark when he returned."
Forrest held up his hand mockingly. "In these days of scientific progress nothing is easier than for the intelligent leopard to change his spots. Ask the brunette when fashion decrees that fair hair is to be worn, and ask again of the blonde how she manages when the exigencies demand raven tresses."
That settled me. "There's only one thing more," I said. "When did you hear that the Motor Pirate was at work again?"
"At St. Albans. I called at the police office on my way here. He was seen about ten o'clock this side of Peterborough and going north."
"It will be rather a sell if Mannering is at home," I remarked.
"He will not be at home," replied Forrest with conviction.