Jack nodded significantly to his companion, as much as to signify that Seymour must be allowed to have his own way. The latter had taken the matter into his own hands from the first. It was quite evident that he was working out some deep and subtle scheme, and the others were disposed to give him a free hand.
"Would you like to see Bates now?" Jack asked.
"Most emphatically not," Seymour laughed. "It is no cue of mine to come in contact with the police until I have seen my way quite clear. Besides, you are by no means certain yet that Bates will be put on to this case, and be given the opportunity of investigating the startling burglary at the City and Provincial Bank. Again, it may be too much for Bates's nerves if I burst upon him suddenly, and he recognizes me as the dead Nostalgo who was so mysteriously spirited from Shannon Street police station. No; on the whole, I should prefer that you should go and see Bates alone. Tell him exactly what happened and what you saw to-night, leaving me out of the question. Then come and see me some time to-morrow afternoon, and I will tell you what to do next."
"One moment," Rigby exclaimed, as Seymour was turning away. "What was that idea of yours about the cotton waste?"
Seymour winked significantly, and remarked that it was time he was in bed. With a cheery nod to his companions, he turned his face in an easterly direction and strolled off down the street.
"Now there's a clever man for you," Rigby cried. "Quite as clever a man as Anstruther, and I should say a great deal more subtle. But let us go as far as Shannon Street police station, and tell Bates our story."
Bates had been detained rather late. He had only just come in, and was preparing to go home when the two friends entered. He had no need to ask if they had anything of importance to communicate to him--he could glean that from the expression of the friends' faces. He led the way to his private room, and passed the cigarettes across the table.
"It's about Carrington," Rigby explained. "But perhaps I had better go back a bit, and tell you one or two little things you don't know."
It was a fairly long story, and it thoroughly aroused Bates to a sense of action. His questions were clear and intelligent; he followed the narrative, punctuating it here and there with shrewd suggestions.
"Mind you," he said. "I have been expecting something like this for a long time. All the same, I can see that you gentlemen have only told me half the story. Still, I can't complain, especially as I see my way to make a good thing out of this. When I tell the people at Scotland Yard all I know they are pretty sure to put me on the case--indeed, I will make a special favor of it. You say that you saw Anstruther blowing up all those locks, and you are pretty sure that the great bulk of the plunder is in Carrington's private safe. You don't suggest that Anstruther carried that service of plate home with him?"
"Anstruther wouldn't be such a fool," Rigby said curtly. "He is much too cool a hand for that. He will feel quite sure that the stuff is perfectly safe where it is, and fetch it away from the City a bit at a time. Of course, he won't do this till the affair has blown over and he is quite safe in so doing."
Bates was inclined to share the speaker's opinion. There was no more to be said for the present, and he intimated his intention to go up to Scotland Yard and ask the authorities to put him on the case. Jack and Rigby went their respective ways, a clock somewhere striking two when they parted at length.
Precisely as Bates had prophesied, the mysterious burglary at the City and Provincial Bank caused the greatest sensation the following morning. The later editions of the evening papers were full of it. Carrington had been interviewed by more than one bright reporter; indeed, he had been dragged out of bed for the purpose, and he had been understood to say that the bank's loss could not fall far short of a million unless the thieves could be promptly arrested. The story was vividly told, Carrington's distress and agitation being expressly accentuated.
But this was not the worst part of the distracted bank manager's story. There had been in the possession of the bank a tremendous lot of valuable personal property belonging to various esteemed clients. All this had disappeared, and more than one great lady in London was mourning the loss of her family jewels. The greatest sympathy was felt with the bank; it was only one or two carping critics who were asking questions.
They were pertinent questions, too; a desire, for instance, to know what Carrington could possibly be doing on the bank premises at so late an hour. But these were merely pin pricks, and the great bulk of the population felt nothing but sympathy for Carrington. The only people who had a fairly good grip of the real state of the case besides Rigby and his companions were the Barmouths and Claire Helmsley. Jack saw Claire in Lady Barmouth's drawing-room late the following morning, and explained to her and Lady Barmouth what had happened the night previous.
"It is most mysterious," Claire said, "and almost impossible to believe that my guardian had anything to do with the matter. I dined very quietly at home last night, and sat up till long past one finishing a novel in which I was deeply interested. I can assure you of this--that from half-past nine till the time I went to bed Mr. Anstruther's violin practically did not cease. If I were brought into the case as a witness, I should be bound to swear that my guardian was in his study during the whole time that the burglary was taking place."
"That is another phase of the mystery that we have to solve," Jack said. "It is all very clever and very ingenious and very useful, but seeing is believing. After all, Anstruther was there last night, as three of us are prepared to testify."
"Then in that case I shall never see my jewels again," Lady Barmouth said. "But what are the police going to do about it, Mr. Masefield? The thing cannot be possibly allowed to remain here. If they were to arrest Mr. Carrington at once and search his safe----"
"But the police don't work quite in that way," Jack interrupted. "Besides, Carrington is not the only one. The chief villain in the play is Spencer Anstruther; and at the present moment he is in a position to prove a perfect alibi. It is not the slightest use laying Carrington by the heels till we are in a position to prove Anstruther's alibi to be nothing but an ingenious mechanical fraud. Don't you recollect the case of the Phœnix Park murders? In that case the police could have laid their hands upon half the culprits within a few days. They preferred to wait months, until every one of the gang were swept up in the meshes of the law. I will go and see Bates presently, and ascertain if he has anything fresh to tell us."
It was quite late in the afternoon before Jack managed to get a few words with the inspector. He seemed to be very cheerful and sanguine, and dropped a hint to the effect that his morning had not been altogether wasted.
"Oh, we are going on, right enough," he exclaimed in answer to Jack's question. "In the circumstances, they can do nothing else. Most of my morning has been spent in calling on the various unfortunate people whose valuables were deposited at Carrington's bank, and getting a full description of the same. After that I made the rounds of the principal pawnbrokers and such people as advance money on real property."
"Did you find anything of the missing stuff?" Jack asked eagerly. "I mean, did you see any of it?"
Bates explained that up to now he had been successful in three instances. He knew where to lay his hands upon the tiara of diamonds that had only been deposited with Carrington four days ago.
"It belongs to one of our fashionable society leaders," he explained, "and really is a most magnificent piece of work. Mind you, Carrington must have been a great fool, or he must have been desperately pressed for money, to pledge these things in London. He could have sent them to Amsterdam or Paris, where they could have been broken up and disposed of in such a manner that it would have been impossible to trace them. This might have entailed a financial sacrifice, but see how safe it would have been. I feel pretty sure that within the next two days I shall trace every atom of the lost property."
"But it is usual to pledge such valuable jewels in this casual way?" Jack asked.
"Certainly it is. The thing has been done over and over again. In a great many instances the lady does not go through the ordeal herself, but sends a maid or some confidential servant with a note addressed to the pawnbroker, and asks for ten thousand pounds, or whatever it may be. That is how this business has been worked."
"But the pawnbrokers?" Jack protested. "When they come to see a list of the missing jewels a full story must be told."
Bates admitted the ingenuity of the suggestion. It was just possible that there was danger in that direction. Still, as he pointed out, no one could blame the pawnbrokers for not recognizing from a bald printed description certain gems pledged at their establishments.
"But I think you can leave that safely to me," he said. "There is nothing to prevent me from applying for a warrant for the arrest of Carrington, and producing all that damning evidence from his private safe; but by doing this we are practically allowing a greater ruffian to escape."
Jack cordially agreed with this view of the case. He proceeded to speak at some length as to what he had seen and heard the night before last in Carrington's smoking-room.
"You must not forget," he said, "that the man who was with me on that occasion is in possession of the duplicate plans of the bank cellars."
"Oh, no," Bates cried. "I have not overlooked those plans; in fact, I particularly wish to have a glance at them. And, by the way, sir, you appear to be very reticent over the name of the companion who was with you on that important occasion."
"We will merely call him Seymour," Jack said, cautiously.
Bates smiled in a queer, significant kind of way.
"I will be more candid with you than you are with me," he said, "though you have told me more than you intended. Now, tell me if my suspicions are correct--is not this 'Seymour' and our missing Nostalgo one and the same person? It is a mere deduction on my part, but----"
"I suppose I had better admit it at once," Jack said. "Besides, you are bound to know sooner or later. Why not come with me and see Mr. Seymour now?"
Bates replied that he would be only too delighted. They set off together without delay, and presently found themselves at Seymour's residence. The latter was doing something mysterious with a file and a pair of handcuffs, both of which he threw aside as his visitors entered. He extended his hand cordially to Bates.
"I am not in the least surprised to see you, inspector," he said. "In fact, I rather wanted to do so. Now, frankly speaking, are you not a little puzzled to know how to lay Anstruther by the heels?"
"We will come to that presently, sir," Bates said quietly. "I shall be glad in the first place to know what hold Anstruther has on you gentlemen who have so suffered at his hands. Anstruther is a blackmailer, I know. But you are a man of pluck and courage--why can'tyoufight him in the open? I can quite understand that there are others broken in health and spirit, who dare not have their story told and dragged before the diabolical curiosity of the cheap press. But in your case, why, it seems to me----"
"Yes, yes," Seymour interrupted. "But suppose you have a dear friend in whom you are interested? And that friend had done somebody a great wrong? And supposing that Anstruther knew all this? My friend is poor, but I am not. Let us go farther and grant my friend a daughter--a beautiful girl who is just coming to the front in the world of art. She is passionately attached to her father; any disgrace to him would break her heart. And it is in my power to save this dear child by letting Anstruther believe that both myself and others who have suffered are afraid of him. Surely you have heard of many such cases, Mr. Bates?"
Bates nodded. The field was clearing wonderfully. "You will pardon me," he said. "It was stupid of me not to think of that before. The blackmailer generally strikes through the innocent. But another question. Why did Anstruther publish those Nostalgo posters at all?"
"There, to a certain extent, you have me," Seymour confessed. "You see, it is only recently that we Nostalgos have drifted together in London. We must give Anstruther credit for having discovered this. Mind you, there may be many others who have suffered, and are now hiding in silence. They would be nerveless wrecks for the most part. Anstruther probably wanted to let them know that the terror was not dead. You see, it is like the sign of some secret society, reminding members of the long arm. But who can say what was uppermost in the mind of Anstruther? Suppose that the whole dramatic thing had failed in its purpose? What then? Why, Anstruther would have probably turned the posters to some business purpose--a new soap, a novel kind of pill--why, many business houses would gladly buy the reversion of the Nostalgo posters, and make a good thing out of them. I may be wrong, but that is my view. Besides, how are we to know how many other Nostalgos have not dropped into Anstruther's net through those diabolical posters?"
"It is possible you are right," Bates admitted. "Nothing seems to be impossible in the way of crime. But as to Anstruther?"
"I have a heavy debt to pay to him," Seymour said, with a ring in his voice. "And I am in a position to show you how you can lay him by the heels. I presume my friend Masefield has told you everything. That being so, all you have to do is to open Carrington's private safe, and carefully remove a service of Cellini plate which you will find there. When I say carefully, I mean carefully--the thing is not to be fingered. Take it away to the police station, and place it in your glass case. Then, if you follow my advice, within eight and forty hours I pledge you that you shall have evidence against Anstruther as clear and convincing as if it had come from heaven itself."
A silence followed, so impressive was Seymour's speech. Then Bates, who appeared to be utterly puzzled, promised that the thing should be done. At the same moment, there was the sound of an altercation on the outer landing, and a hoarse voice was heard asking some imperative question. The voice struck familiarly on Jack's ears. He glanced significantly at Bates.
"The very man himself," he cried.
"Yes, Anstruther," Seymour said, in his deep, ringing voice. "Friend Anstruther. Shall we ask him in?"
There was no mistaking the fact that it was Anstruther who was standing outside and speaking in tones which denoted that he was not altogether pleased with himself. It might have been a coincidence, or, at the same time, it might have been intentional; though the latter suggestion did not appear probable.
"Surely he can't have found us out yet," Jack cried. "If he had done so it would hardly be policy to make so much noise about it. What do you think, Mr. Bates?"
Bates responded cautiously that he did not know what to think. The real solution came from Seymour.
"There is no coincidence about it at all," he said. "We know perfectly well that Anstruther is a clever criminal, but even clever criminals cannot bring off important campaigns without the aid of subordinates. I have not taken up my quarters here entirely by accident, though, of course, it was necessary for me to be as far off the beaten track as possible. I have seen Anstruther here on more than one occasion, and I think you will find he has come to consult one of his satellites."
"There must be a good few shady people here," Bates observed, "though I don't know much about the locality."
Seymour explained that there were plenty of doubtful characters living in the tenement. He suspected at least three burglars who had rooms on the same floor. Probably Anstruther was looking for one of these, and for some reason or other the fellow had denied himself. The loud tones had ceased now, and it was evident that Anstruther had either left the house or found the man of whom he was in search. The discovery, however, was too important to be allowed to rest like that, and Bates had a proposition to make. He suggested the advisability of putting one of his own spies on to watch Anstruther and keep an eye upon him for the rest of the day. There would not be the slightest uncertainty about this, seeing that Anstruther was so well known to the police generally.
Bates crept carefully away, and returned presently with the information that Anstruther was still on the premises.
"I met one of my men in the street," he explained. "He was just back from a job this way, and spotted Anstruther coming in here. Our friend is not likely to shake off the fellow that I have put upon his track. Meanwhile, we are wasting time here."
Seymour was decidedly of the same opinion. A minute or two later the trio made their way into the street, leaving Seymour alone. He had been informed by Bates that he would be kept posted of Anstruther's movements by means of special messenger, and that his services would be called upon if necessary. Thus assured, Seymour went back to his mysterious business with the handcuffs and file, quite content to wait till his time came.
It was quite dark before the first message arrived. Anstruther had stayed where he was till seven o'clock, after which he had gone out and called at a neighboring shop, which was kept by a man engaged in the occupation of making brass plates. This, so the message said, was merely a blind for the manufacture of the finest specimens of burglars' tools. Anstruther had entered the shop with nothing in his hand, but had emerged presently carrying a small square parcel which might have been a picture frame. Thus encumbered, he had returned to the tenement, and was now closeted in the set of rooms below Seymour's with a man called Gillmore, otherwise "Simple Charlie," a cracksman who stood quite at the head of his profession.
Seymour's eyes gleamed as he glanced over the letter. He felt that he must be up and doing something. It occurred to him as a good idea to make an attempt to be present at the interview between Anstruther and his confederate. It was absolutely dark now, so that Seymour had no hesitation in raising his sitting-room window, which faced the back of the house, and seeking to find some means for entering the set of rooms below.
So far as he could see at first, the thing appeared to be impossible. His quick eye noted the fact that a powerful light burned in the room below, for the shadow of it was thrown strongly upon the blank wall opposite. To the left of Seymour's window was a large drain pipe used for conveying the rain water from the roof to the sewer below. It was an easy matter for Seymour to lash a rope firmly to the floor with the aid of a handspike, and to gently lower himself to the floor below by means of the pipe. The business was no easy one when it came to climbing proper, and only a strong man like Seymour could have possibly done it. He dangled thus perilously in mid air, working his way down inch by inch, till at length his feet rested on the sill of the window below.
As he had half expected, the window was without a catch, which was quite in accordance with most of the fittings in the tenement. Leaving his rope to dangle harmlessly within reach until it would be required again, Seymour passed coolly into the room. He rubbed a match cautiously, and by the aid of it saw that he was in a small bedroom evidently devoted to the uses of some bachelor, for the bed had been made in a most perfunctory way, and the floor was liberally strewn with tobacco ash. Lying on the table was a plan of some large mansion, with footnotes here and there plainly denoting the fact that the house had been marked down for some ingenious burglary. Seymour smiled to himself.
He had evidently found his way into the quarters of which he was in search. Listening intently, with his ear closely glued against the wall, he could detect the sound of voices on the other side. He was not personally acquainted with the voice of "Simple Charlie," but the round, full tones of Anstruther were quite familiar to him.
Seymour was, however, not content merely to listen to what was going on. Very softly he made his way from the bedroom into the passage beyond. The door of the next room was not closed; indeed, there was no reason for the precaution, seeing that the door at the end of the passage was locked. There was a pungent smell of tobacco, mingled with the odor of a good cigar, and presently the loud pop of a cork and the fizzing gurgle of what Seymour rightly guessed to be champagne. By creeping close and twisting a little sideways, Seymour got a fairly good view of the room.
He could see Anstruther lounging in a comfortable armchair, a cigar in his mouth, apparently quite at home in his humble surroundings. The other man was sucking moodily at a short pipe, and glanced uneasily at his companion. He was not much like the commonly accepted type of burglar, being slight and dark, and somewhat timid-looking in appearance. But every now and again the glance he turned upon Anstruther was positively murderous in its hateful intensity.
"Now, what on earth are you driving at, guv'nor?" he growled. "No getting at the bottom of you. I never feel like a fool except when I am working for you."
"That, my good Charles," Anstruther said smoothly, "is where education comes in. If you had had my advantages you might have stood very high indeed. As it is, you are an exceedingly good workman, and I, though I say it that should not, am a very good master. I suppose you know perfectly well that I am in a position to give you away at any moment. I could hand you over to the police, who would take very good care of you for the next fourteen years, and you could not give me a simple scratch in return. For instance, we will suppose it is my whim to identify you with that bank burglary last night. Of course, you were not there, but I could prove that you were, all the same. And no cleverness of yours could save you from a conviction."
Gillmore wriggled uneasily on his chair. His eyes followed Anstruther's every movement like those of a dog severely punished; there was a suggestion of the hound that would have bitten his master if he dared.
"I know all about that," he grunted. "And you know I've got to do everything you ask me. It only seems the other day that poor Brown defied you to do your worst and lost his life over it. That was a lesson to me. Not but what I wouldn't be ready and willing to knife you if I thought it was safe. I am pretty bad, and so are some of the others; but outside of hell itself there is no black-hearted scoundrel as bad as you."
The man's voice fairly vibrated with passion; but Anstruther lounged back in his chair with the air of a man who has just received a high compliment. He was a man who loved power. He liked to feel that he could pull the strings and move the actions of other men even when they fought desperately against his iron determination.
"All this is so much waste of time," he said. "I came here to-night to get you to do something for me, and you will have to do it, whether you want to or not. You know what disobedience means--three hours' freedom, and fourteen years in jail. No more of your confounded nonsense; listen to what I have to say."
"Oh, I'll do it right enough," Gillmore growled. "Mind you, it's a pretty big risk. The police have got an idea that I was engaged in that Maidenhead business. I know they've been watching me so close that I can't get rid of a bit of stuff, and I have come down to my last half-sov."
"I'll see to that," Anstruther replied. "What you have to do now is to make your way into the Great Metropolitan Hotel. You shall come with me presently, and I will show you the room I want you to enter. To a man of your ability the thing is ridiculously simple--quiet side entrance, iron fire-escape ladder, and all the rest of it. All you want is a few tools."
"But I haven't got any," Gillmore protested. "I was glad enough to get away from that Maidenhead business with a whole skin."
Anstruther pointed significantly to the flat brown paper parcel which he had brought in with him. "You will find everything you want there," he said. "All you have to remember is this. You are to go up the ladder and make your way to the door at the head of the second corridor. A row of bedrooms runs along the corridor, and the room you have to enter is No. 16. That is a sitting-room attached to one of the bedrooms. I don't want you to do anything neat in the way of a burglary; you have simply to take a letter which I will give you and leave it on the table in the sitting-room. I want the whole thing to be absolutely mysterious, and here is a five-pound note for your trouble. And now I am going out, and you are to follow me. I will lead you directly to the quiet spot at the rear of the hotel, and the rest you must do for yourself. I don't think there is anything more for me to say."
Gillmore nodded in a surly sort of fashion. He was terribly afraid of Anstruther, who used all his creatures like puppets, and never afforded them the slightest information. His power was all the greater for this; he knew that he was hated as much as he was feared. He put on his hat and coat now, and Gillmore rose also. Seymour darted away back through the bedroom and on to the window ledge again. It struck him as just possible that Gillmore might want to use his bedroom, in which case the chances of being discovered were great. But Seymour made his way back again to his own sitting-room. Once there he lighted a cigarette and sat down to think over the situation.
It was not long before he had made up his mind what to do.
Evidently there was no great hurry over the little scheme which Anstruther had planned in connection with the Great Metropolitan Hotel, and doubtless an hour or two would elapse before Gillmore found his way into the corridor. It would not be prudent to carry out the plan until the hotel was getting fairly quiet, so that Seymour had plenty of scope for a counter stroke.
He spent the next hour or so in his bedroom intent upon some sort of disguise. Something in the way of a mask, accompanied with side whiskers and a pair of spectacles, changed him beyond recognition. A little while later, and he found himself engaging a room at the Great Metropolitan. He appeared to be rather particular about his choice, and finally decided that No. 18 would suit his requirements. As he had expected, No. 18 was exactly opposite the room chosen by Anstruther for Gillmore's little plot. Once this was settled, it seemed to Seymour that there was no occasion for hurry. It was eleven o'clock before he made his way up to his bedroom. He did not close the door, nor did he turn the light on. He sat down grimly and patiently in the darkness to await developments.
The corridor was perfectly silent now, and either the occupants of the hotel had retired to rest, or had not yet returned from the theatre. This was the time, Seymour felt pretty certain, that Gillmore would set to work. With his room door ajar, Seymour had a perfect view of the room on the other side of the corridor. It seemed to him that he could hear somebody now coming stealthily down the passage. Then another sound grated on his ear--it was an unmistakable cry of pain and fear from the room opposite.
Seymour crossed the corridor and coolly entered the room opposite.
There was a man in the room surely enough. He was but half dressed; he had fallen forward over a table, apparently in a state of collapse. He seemed to be seeking something; and then Seymour saw that he was clutching at a bottle of brandy, of which he appeared to be in evident need. There was no suggestion of intoxication about him, so that Seymour had no hesitation in forcing a few drops of the potent fluid between the man's pallid lips.
Strange as the situation was, Seymour did not fail to notice the extraordinary way in which his companion's face was cut and scarred and bound with sticking plaster. Then he suddenly realized to whose assistance he had come. This was surely the man Jack Masefield had told him about--the man who had sent him the ring, and who knew the whole history of the Nostalgo business. The invalid opened his eyes presently, and gazed in a dull kind of way at Seymour.
"I have been ill," he said. "Since my operation I have been accustomed to these kind of fainting fits. It was very good of you to come to my assistance."
"Not at all," Seymour said. "I was in my room on the other side of the corridor, and I heard you cry out. Is there anything more I can do for you?"
"Yes," the stranger said. There was a strange thrill in his voice. "Take off that mask of yours, and let me see my old friend Seymour once more. I should have recognized your tones anywhere."
"I am glad that my old chum Ferris should recognize me," Seymour said, in a voice that trembled a little. "But I dare say that you will wonder why I am here. I can assure you it is no coincidence. But what have you been doing to your face? The last time I saw you you were what I am now."
With a bitter laugh Seymour swept his disguise away, and the hideous likeness to Nostalgo stood confessed.
"There is a picture for you," Seymour laughed; "and upon my word you are not much better. Are you attempting to get rid of those damning marks that you and I are meant to carry to the grave--those marks of a scoundrel's vengeance?"
"But I shall not carry them to the grave," Ferris said. "My dear friend, if I had the pluck and courage you yourself possess, I should not have cared so much. But that scoundrel Anstruther haunts me like my own shadow. I managed to elude his search; I hid myself in London. He knew I was here somewhere, and he hit upon that devilish scheme for preying on my imagination. I am alluding to those Nostalgo posters. Most people regard them as no better than an ingenious advertisement, but the scalding truth is known to me. They meet my eye whenever I take my secret walks abroad; they deface the hoardings to remind me that I am still Anstruther's slave."
The speaker wiped his heated face. He made a more or less successful attempt to hide his deep feelings.
"I had almost lost hope," he continued. "I had made up my mind to be blackmailed to my last farthing by Anstruther, when fortune brought me in contact with a clever French doctor who had heard something of the vengeance of the Nostalgos. He assured me that he had treated one of us with absolute success. I found out that my young friend was a brilliantly clever surgeon, and after a little natural hesitation I decided to place myself in his hands. He operated upon the muscles of my face with a view to removing the hideous mask which disfigures what was once a passably good-looking face. The shock to my system was great, and I am but slowly recovering. But when I do recover, I feel quite certain that I shall be as I was before I fell into the hands of Anstruther's creatures in Mexico. I am a pretty sight now, I admit; but if you look at me you will see that the repulsive hideousness has gone."
Seymour gazed long and thoughtfully into the white face of his companion. There was a sudden uplifting of his heart, and the tears rushed to his eyes. It was no ordinary weakness that moved him like this.
"I see, I see," he murmured. "Once you are yourself again, you can defy Anstruther; indeed, he would not know you at all. I have had to fight him at a terrible disadvantage. If only I could remove this terrible scourge from my face--then I could stand up to him, and his reign would not be for long. But events are pressing so fast that I could not possibly spare the time at present to follow out the treatment to which you have been subjected. But afterwards I shall be only too glad to place myself in the same hands that you have been through. The mere thought that some day or other I shall be able to walk the streets like any other man that God has made, fills me with such a joy that I could sit down and cry like a child.
"But why be so fearfully afraid of Anstruther?" Seymour asked.
"Because I am in his power," Ferris whispered. "I have done a great wrong in my time, and Anstruther knows it. That fiend seems to discover everything. Fortune has enabled me to redress the wrong, but Anstruther holds the proofs of my guilt. I really ought to have gone to my relatives and confessed everything, and defied him. But with a face like mine!"
"I understand," Seymour said grimly. "But, unless I am greatly mistaken----"
Seymour broke off suddenly, and snapped out the electric light. He took the astonished Ferris by the arm, and fairly bundled him into his bedroom. There was no time to explain. A fresh idea had suddenly come to Seymour, and he decided to put it through. His quick ear had told him that somebody was fumbling at the door of the sitting-room, and that somebody could be none other than Gillmore. The burglar had evidently not yet arrived, or Seymour would have heard something of the mysterious note. His idea now was to gain possession of the note and Gillmore at the same time.
"What on earth is the matter?" Ferris whispered.
Seymour clicked his lips for silence. He could hear Gillmore in the sitting-room by now. He slipped from the bedroom into the corridor, and approached his foe by the other door. But apparently Gillmore's ears were as quick as those of his antagonist. He pitched the letter on the table, and, seeing that escape by way of the door had been cut off, coolly flung up the window and fell headlong out. Seymour repressed a shuddering cry. Gillmore evidently cruelly miscalculated the distance to the ground, for as Seymour looked out of the window he could hear a series of heavy groans below. It was obviously his duty to give the alarm and send for a doctor without delay, but this he hesitated to do.
He called Ferris in, and explained rapidly to him what had happened. The distance from the window to the ground was some twenty feet.
"I am going to fetch him up," Seymour explained. "I suppose you have got one of our old lassos amongst your baggage? You have? Good! Let me have it at once, and I will drag our friend up in here, and then we can send for that doctor of yours. This unfortunate rascal is a mere tool of Anstruther's, and I want to make use of him."
The lasso was procured at length, and one end twisted round the leg of Ferris's bed. It was not an easy job that Seymour had set for himself, but he managed it at length, and, quite overcome with his exertions, laid the body of Gillmore on the couch. The latter was quite conscious, and apparently not nearly so much damaged as might have been expected. Seymour went over him with the practiced hand of one who has dealt with many accidents by flood and field. He smiled more cheerfully.
"Not so bad as I expected," he said. "A broken collar bone and a dislocated ankle. You have had a very narrow escape, Mr. Gillmore. It will be just as well, perhaps, if you moisten your lips with a drop of this excellent brandy."
Gillmore started at the mention of his name, but he did not refuse the proffered stimulant. He saw that he had been caught like a rat in a trap, and, like most of his tribe, was prepared to make the best terms he could for himself, regardless of his confederates.
"You might just as well make a clean breast of it," Seymour said. "You came here at the instigation of Mr. Anstruther. Your task was an easy one for a man of your abilities, but you see I happened to know that you were coming, and that made all the difference. Is that the letter on the table?"
Gillmore growled out something to the effect that it was. Ferris took up the letter, and read it carefully.
"Just as I expected," he murmured to Seymour. "A mysterious communication from Anstruther, only Anstruther's name does not appear upon it. I am threatened with all kinds of pains and penalties if I do not immediately part with the sum of five thousand pounds. And you might tell me what you propose to do with this man."
"Leave him here for the present," Seymour explained. "We can take your doctor into our confidence, and nobody will be any the wiser. It is a very odd thing to me if we don't get some valuable information out of this Gillmore. You may be certain of one thing--he could tell us a great deal about Anstruther if he chose to speak. If you will give me the address of your doctor, I will go off and fetch him at once. Of course, I shall bring him here as if he came to see you. I think you are quite safe with the fellow."
Seymour went off presently, having donned his disguise again, feeling that he had done a good night's work. His first act was to telephone to Bates at Shannon Street police station, and ask if the latter was still keeping an eye on Anstruther. Bates replied in person to the effect that everything possible had been done in that direction. Anstruther returned home about ten o'clock, and at present was amusing himself with his violin in his own study. Bates, moreover, had ascertained that Anstruther had no intention of leaving the house again that night; in fact, he had told one of his servants that he had caught a chill, from all of which it might be gathered that Bates's spy had been very successful in his shadowing of Anstruther.
So far, everything was quite satisfactory. It only remained now to call at Masefield's rooms, and acquaint him with what had happened. But Jack was not in, his landlady informed Seymour; as a matter of fact, she had no idea when he was coming back; indeed, he had gone off somewhere to a fancy dress ball. It was then that Seymour recollected that this was the night of Lady Barmouth's great dance. A little at a loss to know what to do next, Seymour went slowly off in the direction of Panton Square. He hung about Anstruther's house for some little time, still feeling dubious in his mind as to whether the latter was really going out or not. He waited long enough to see a carriage drive up to the door, and in the brilliantly-lighted hall he could see a graceful figure in fancy dress being carefully wrapped up by Anstruther himself, who came down the steps, and saw Claire into the carriage. He appeared to be carefully muffled, and spoke with a strained voice of one who suffers from a bad cold.
"I hope you will enjoy yourself, my dear," he said. "Pray convey to Lady Barmouth my sincere regrets and apologies. In the circumstances I am sure she will excuse me."
The carriage drove off, but still Seymour lingered there, feeling quite sure that this was part of some scheme of Anstruther's. He decided to wait, at any rate, for the present, and for the best part of an hour he paced up and down, till at length his search was rewarded. The light in the study suddenly went out, though Seymour could hear the music still going on, and then another figure emerged from a porch. It was the figure of a man assuredly decked out in some fancy dress; but Seymour was not in the least deceived, and knew perfectly well that he was following Anstruther.
The latter walked right away until he came at length to Belgrave Square, where he stopped for an instant before a house in front of which a scarlet cloth crossed the pavement. Into this hall of dazzling light the form of Anstruther vanished. Just as Seymour had expected, his quarry was going to the masked dance after all. He made up his mind instantly what to do. He accosted one of the footmen standing inside the hall, and, pressing a coin in his hand, said he must see Mr. Masefield at once. Would the footman go up-stairs and announce that Mr. Masefield was wanted, in a loud voice? The coin had the desired effect, and a moment later Jack was in the hall. He strolled up to Seymour in a casual way, and demanded haughtily the reason for this intrusion.
"You did that very well," Seymour whispered. "I came to tell you that Anstruther is here after all; in fact, he has just come in. Now I have a little scheme of my own. Go and tell Lord Barmouth that I am here, but that I should like to appear as a guest. I don't think that he would mind, at any rate----"
"Not he," Jack whispered, excitedly. "Really, there is no reason for me to do anything of the sort. I can easily tell Barmouth afterwards, and if you have any scheme for getting the best of Anstruther, you will be a welcome guest in this house."
"Good!" Seymour replied. "I will go off to a costumier's at once, get fitted with a dress, and be back here in half-an-hour. Then I shall pretend that I have left my card behind, and ask for Mr. Rigby. Just as well not to ask for you again."
Jack nodded his emphatic approval. Seymour moved towards the door with a deferential air of one who apologizes for an unwarrantable intrusion. Once in the road he hailed a passing cab, and gave him the costumier's address.
"Wellington Street," he said curtly; "and drive as quick as you can."
Seymour was not away longer than he had anticipated. Only thirty-five minutes had elapsed before a cab drove up to the house in Belgrave Square, from which descended a tall man guised as a magician. It was not a particularly original dress, but it thoroughly served the purpose which Seymour had in hand. He wore a long red cloak, coming down to his heels, the hem of which was embroidered with queer signs and symbols. On his head was a black velvet skull cap, and a long white beard and moustache completed the illusion.
Seymour stood still for a moment, and fumbled about as if to find his card. Then Rigby, effectively disguised as an executioner, came forward and proffered his services.
"It's all right," he whispered. "I have been talking it over with Masefield, and he did not think it would be prudent to meet you here a second time. Besides, we have to be very careful; we are not aware how much Anstruther knows. He might have got to the back of our plot for all we know to the contrary."
"I did not quite catch how he was dressed," Seymour said. "Would you mind telling me what he is wearing?"
Rigby proceeded to explain that Anstruther was rigged out in a costume of some Indian tribe. He could be especially noticed by the exceedingly high plume of eagle's feathers which he was wearing in his headdress. Seymour chuckled aloud.
"I thought it all out as I came along," he said. "When I saw Masefield a little time ago I only wanted to come here more or less out of idle curiosity; but a little idea occurred to me as I called my cab. I am going to thoroughly enjoy myself this evening; in fact, this is the first time I have had an opportunity of mingling with my fellow creatures for three years. But that is not the point. If you keep fairly close to me you will have the chance of seeing how I shall get on Anstruther's nerves presently."
"Do you mean to say you are going to begin at once?" Rigby asked, "or would you not like to see Barmouth first?"
Seymour intimated that there was no hurry, and that the little drama he had in his mind would be best played out at supper time. That meal was intended to be a rather fast and furious affair, where all the guests were supposed to always act up to the characters which they personified.
"Therefore I should very much like to see Barmouth," Seymour said. "If you can arrange a meeting for us in some quiet spot I shall be exceedingly obliged to you."
Rigby went off, with an intimation that he would not be long. He came back presently, and signified that Seymour should follow him. The two proceeded as far as the head of the staircase, and there, in a small room at the end of the corridor, Barmouth stood awaiting Seymour's entrance. No sooner was the latter inside, than his host closed and locked the door. He turned up the light, and snatched his mask from his face. On the impulse of the moment Seymour did the same.
Save for the difference of their coloring, the two men were almost identically alike. Perhaps in the whole world it would have been impossible to find two refined and educated men so hideously and atrociously ugly. One man's eyes were blue, the other one's dark-brown; but this made no difference. All amiability of expression, all frankness and sincerity, seemed to have been literally cut out of their features. Most men would have turned from them with loathing and disgust. They stood there looking at one another, the very image of the Nostalgo posters that London was still discussing so eagerly. As Seymour dropped Barmouth's proffered hand, the latter burst into a bitter laugh.
"No reason to try and flatter ourselves," he said. "When I look at you or you look at me, we both know that we are forever outside the pale of civilized society. We can make the most of an occasion like this, but these happy hours are few and far between."
"Well, do you know, I am not so sure of that," Seymour said. "Let me have a cigarette, and we will discuss the matter together. Do you happen to remember Ferris?"
Barmouth indicated that he remembered Ferris perfectly well.
"In fact, we were all victims of the same ceremony," he said. "What a ghastly business it was! And that fiend of an Anstruther looking on without a drop of pity in his heart for his fellow countrymen, whose sole crime was that they were in the hunt for gold like himself. But I want to try and forget all that. Do you mean to say you have met Ferris?"
"Ferris is at the Great Metropolitan Hotel at the present moment," Seymour explained. "More or less accidentally he ran against Masefield. Jack Masefield happened to mention that he knew me, and there you are. However, I dare say you can get Masefield to tell you the story another time. The point is, that Ferris has discovered a brilliant French surgeon who has operated upon him--he says, quite successfully. He is a mass of plaster and knife marks now, but he says that in the course of a few weeks he will have resumed his normal expression."
A great cry broke from Barmouth. His agitation was something dreadful to witness.
"Cured," he whispered. "Absolutely cured and like other men again. Oh, it seems like a dream; like something too good to be true. To think that you and I, old friend, are going to stand out once more in the broad light of day with no mask needed to conceal our hideousness! You will undergo the operation?"
"Ay, as soon as ever I have done with the Anstruther business," Seymour said in his deep voice. "Once let me see that rascal beyond the power of further mischief, and I place myself in that man's hands at once, if it cost me half my fortune. There is a girl waiting for me, Barmouth--a girl who mourns me as dead. You can see how impossible it was for me to let her know the truth."
"And yet my wife knows the truth," Barmouth said thoughtfully. "Hideous as I am, she refused to give me back my freedom."
"She is a woman of a million," Seymour said, not without emotion; "but then Lady Barmouth discovered the truth. I don't think you ever would have told her on your own initiative."
This was so true that Barmouth had nothing to say in reply. He appeared to be deeply immersed in thought. The settled melancholy of his face had given way to an eager, restless expression. He was like a man in the desert who, past all hope, had found aid at the last moment. He paused in his stride and sat down.
"I dare not dwell upon the possibilities that you have opened up before me," he said. "I had long abandoned all kinds of hope. Still, there are plenty of useful years before me. This is the first moment that I have felt what happiness means since we fell into the hands of that gang of Anstruther's. You will recollect, of course, the wild stories that our tribesmen used to bring in to us about what happened to anybody who dared to cross the gold belt."
"The legend was very common out there," Seymour said. "If you will recollect, it was popularly supposed that some heathen god presided over the gold mines, and that it was a sacrilege for any stranger to make an attempt on the treasure. The natives there firmly believed that the outraged god imposed upon the adventurers a disease that rendered them so hideous that no man could ever bear to look upon their faces again."
"They were not far wrong there," Barmouth said grimly. "Or, where did those medicine men derive their knowledge of surgery? I recollect very little that happened after I found myself gagged and bound in that wonderful old temple, but I do know that one of those priests operated upon me with a lancet. When I came to myself, I was as you see me now. But you, too, went through it in your turn."
Seymour shuddered with the horror of the recollection of it.
"I don't think we need go into that," he said. "The extreme punishment would never have been inflicted upon us had it not been for Anstruther. With his wonderful ascendancy over the tribe--and goodness knows how he got it--he seemed to be able to persuade them to do anything. The terror of it all, the hideous mystery, only served to keep others away."
"And yet Anstruther must have lost his ascendancy," Barmouth said, "or he would never have returned home without bringing a huge fortune with him. We have absolute proof of the fact that he is a poor man. But the truth of that will never be known."
"I am not so sure about that," Seymour said. "I hope before long to be able to hold the whip over his shoulder and force him to speak. I have my little scheme arranged, and I fancy you will derive some little amusement if you will watch the working of it. Of course, you know how Anstruther is dressed?"
Barmouth was perfectly cognizant of Anstruther's disguise.
"The dress of the old tribe," he said; "with the painted feathers, and all the rest of it. When he was pointed out to me just now by Masefield I could hardly restrain my feelings. Mind you, he is not here with a mere view to social enjoyment. He declined my wife's invitation. He told Miss Helmsley that he did not feel well enough to turn up, and yet he is here like any other invited guest. Now, what is he up to?"
"It would be hard to say what Anstruther is up to," Seymour replied. "Doubtless he has some deep scheme afoot; but he is not the only one, and we shall see who gets the best of it in the long run."
Barmouth was quite content to await developments. Knowing Seymour so well, he felt quite sure that the latter was not without a scheme likely to defeat Anstruther's intentions. He did not care to come out as yet and mingle with the other guests, he said; at the same time he had no desire to stand in the way of Seymour's amusement.
"Oh, I am going to amuse myself all right," Seymour said. "Don't forget that it is nearly three years since I last sat by the side of a woman, and listened to the music of her voice. For three years I have lacked the refining influence of woman's society, and I always preferred the other sex to my own. I can move about here and pick out my partner as I choose. I care nothing for her face, for the simple reason that I cannot see it; which, very fortunately for me, is mutual. I am going to pick out all those with lovely voices. I dare say you will laugh at me."
"Not a bit of it," Barmouth exclaimed. "My dear fellow, I know the feeling exactly. But when is this little comedy of yours coming off? I must be present at that."
"Just after supper," Seymour explained. "When your excellent champagne will set all the tongues wagging. And now, if you don't mind, I will just have a walk round and see that my confederates are carrying out their instructions."
It was a brilliant scene, indeed, that Seymour viewed through his mask on reaching the great ballroom. A dance was in progress. There were very few people sitting out, and the dazzling waves of color weaved in and out like the spray of the sea against a huge rock in the sunshine. A limelight had been arranged high up in the gallery, and from time to time threw quick flashes of different colored views upon the dancers. The effect was most brilliant; just a little dazzling to the eyes. But it was full of a sheer delight for Seymour, who had so long been denied the pleasures of life.
"Very effective, is it not?" said Jack, as he came up. "Quite a novel idea in a private ballroom. Come and have a glass of champagne with Rigby and myself. He is waiting for us in the buffet. I hope you had an enjoyable chat with Barmouth."
"I was exceedingly pleased to see him again," Seymour said. "All the same, I am glad that there was no one else present. An Englishman does not care to display his feelings to an outsider."
Rigby was waiting as Jack had explained, and for some little time the three sipped their champagne whilst they talked over the situation.
"I want you two to be as near as possible to me at supper time," Seymour went on to explain. "And I want you to take your cue from me when I give it you. Mind, you must not look for any sensational developments--this is merely a comedy for our private amusement. I am going to give Anstruther a bit of a fright, and at the same time force his hand, so that when he is prepared to move he will play right up to us. As to the rest, keep your eye on the magician!"
"I wish you would be a little more explicit," Jack said.
"My dear fellow, there is nothing to be explicit about. Perhaps Anstruther will smell a rat, and decline to be drawn into the thing at all. Still, I'm not much afraid of that."
A clock somewhere struck the hour of midnight, and a moment later the strains of the band died away. The old family butler threw open the double doors leading to the dining hall, and announced supper in a loud voice.
"Come along," Seymour said. "The play has commenced."