The dining hall presented an appearance quite as striking and imposing as the ballroom. It was magnificently paneled with Elizabethan oak; the grand old buffets and furniture dated from the same period. The supper was laid out on a series of small tables forming a horseshoe, so that it was possible to move from one to the other without interruption. Each table had its separate electric light stand, round which were trailed sprays of red roses. With its shaded lights, its dim, carved walls, with its glitter of crystal and glass, the room presented a picture that was not easily forgotten. But there were other things quite as important to think of as the artistic side of the scene. A few moments later, and Anstruther came in with a tall woman, whom Rigby instantly recognized as a great society leader, on his arm. It was evident enough that while Anstruther knew his supper partner perfectly well, she was utterly puzzled as to his identity.
"So much the better for us," Seymour said, as Jack pointed this out to him. "But I must get back to my partner. I want you to try and keep me a place at the same table that Anstruther sits at. I hope you will manage to secure Lady Barmouth for me. You will recollect that was to have been part of the programme."
The matter was arranged easily enough, and presently Seymour and Lady Barmouth were seated opposite Anstruther and his companion. They had all at once plunged gaily into an animated conversation. By this time the guests had found their level, and had thoroughly settled themselves down to enjoyment. It was just possible that a great many people recognized numbers of their friends there, but for the most part the recognition was ignored and the illusion maintained.
"Really this is a most charming picture," Seymour said, addressing Anstruther in the friendliest fashion, though he had taken great care to modulate his voice. "With all my skill in the art of magic I could not have evolved a fairer scene than this. And my experience dates back a thousand years."
"Quite the most respectable type of family magician," Anstruther laughed, as he helped himself liberally to champagne. "We are all so dreadfully modern nowadays. I suppose you have nothing to do with up-to-date methods. No palmistry, I presume?"
Seymour was delighted to find Anstruther ready to take up the spirit of the game. "Nothing comes amiss to me," he said. "To conjure up a scene like this would, perhaps, tax my efforts pretty severely, but I should get there all the same. If anybody requires a little something in the way of perpetual life or untold gold, they have only to drop me a postcard and the thing is as good as done."
"Delightful," Anstruther's partner cried. "I was just wondering how I was going to settle my racing debts, and now you come forward in the kindest way, and relieve me of all further anxiety. It is really more than kind of you."
"As for me," Anstruther said, "I am concerned more with the future than the past. I have a little scheme on hand which is troubling me a good deal. Without going into details, shall I be successful? Now, can you tell me that?"
Seymour gravely consulted a crystal ball, which he had taken from the pocket of his flowing robe. Others were listening by this time, for the conversation at Seymour's table was both amusing and interesting. He looked up from the ball in the same grave fashion. "You are giving me a hard task," he said. "I do not know you; I have not even seen your face. And yet your soul is reflected in my faithful crystal, and your heart's desire lies bare before me."
"But you have not told me if I shall be successful," Anstruther said. "That is the point, after all."
"You will not be successful," Seymour said in a loud voice, which had the desired effect of attracting much attention to the speaker. "There is something dark that stands between you and the thing you so much desire. The crystal is not so clear as usual, but I can see in it a face. It is a strange face--dark and repulsive, and yet absolutely familiar. Yes, it is the face of the poster, the features of which have puzzled London for the last three months. It is this face which comes between you and your heart's desire. Do I interest you?"
Quite a score of guests were listening by now. They were thrilled and puzzled, and not a little interested. Seymour was playing his part splendidly; even Jack and Rigby, who were in the plot, had to admit that. Nothing could be seen as to the way in which Anstruther took this shot, for his features were hidden behind his mask; but Rigby noticed that his hands were clutched upon the edge of the table-cloth, is if they were about the throat of some hateful foe. Anstruther sat quite quietly, almost rigidly, for a few moments, then burst into a hoarse, strident laugh.
"This is ridiculous," he said. "Surely you must be aware of the fact that those Nostalgo posters are nothing more or less than a clever advertisement."
"Nevertheless, they have more to do with you than you imagine," Seymour went on in the same grave way. "They stand between you like a sheet and the execution of your plans. Let me look into my crystal again. Ah, the scene grows clearer. I see a ruined temple; I see some weird religious ceremony, and the unconscious form of a man laid out for a sacrifice. He rises at length; he is no longer good to look upon, his face has become the face of Nostalgo. Call it foolish if you like----"
With a cry of something like anger, Anstruther rose to his feet. He seemed to suppress himself almost immediately, then sat down again.
"Capital!" he exclaimed. "I dare say it is exceedingly clever, but, at the same time, so much Greek to me. What I want is information about the future."
"I should say you are a traveled man," Seymour said calmly. "You have spent a great deal of your time in adventure abroad. Now, let me hazard a guess. You have been in Mexico?"
Anstruther curtly admitted that such was the fact. In spite of the gravity of the whole thing, and Seymour's admirable acting, he was getting nervous and excited. He would have given much to have removed the mask of his tormentor and studied the face behind.
"It is the little trifles of life that interest you, then," Seymour said. "I am afraid you are very material, sir. Well, we will be prosaic if you like. For instance, my crystal tells me that you are fond of works of art; in fact, you are a collector of such things. What would you say if I were to prophesy that you are going to add largely to your treasures in the course of the next few days? To be precise, one of your hobbies is old silver. Like most collectors, you will do pretty well everything to gain your end."
"I am afraid that is about true," Anstruther admitted.
"Spoken like a man of the world," Seymour went on. "For a long time you have coveted a fine specimen of Cellini silver work. A whole set of it will pass into your possession, if it has not already done so, and the unique service will not cost you a farthing."
Seymour delivered this shot calmly enough, pretending to be gazing at the crystal all the time. But the way in which Anstruther writhed about in his chair was not lost upon Jack and Rigby, who were watching the drama with breathless interest. Anstruther had half risen from his seat again, and then had forced himself down once more, as if struggling with his hidden emotions.
"I should like to see that precious crystal of yours," he sneered. "It seems nothing but a piece of glass to me."
By way of reply, Seymour gravely polished the crystal on his serviette, and passed it across to Anstruther with instructions to hold it firmly in his palms long enough for the imprint of his fingers to fix themselves. Anstruther laughed as he complied with these instructions. Then the crystal was laid upon the table very carefully, and was rolled into a small cardboard box, and there swathed in cotton wool. With the same grave demeanor, Seymour called for wax and something unique in the way of a seal. A servant came presently with a piece of violet sealing wax, and one of the guests proffered his intaglio ring as a seal.
"I am going to ask a favor," Seymour said. "I should like the gentleman to seal the box, and hand it over to another guest, who will take care of the whole thing for the next three days. You will all see what I mean--I want to prevent the possibility of the box being tampered with. Will the gentleman kindly seal the packet, and will another gentleman kindly offer to take care of it?"
The box was sealed at length with the intaglio ring, then another guest came forward and volunteered to keep it in his charge. "That is exceedingly good of you," Seymour went on; "only you will quite see that we cannot carry this through properly unless the gentleman who has taken charge of the box volunteers his name."
"No trouble about that," the second guest cried. "I am Sir Frederick Ormond, Under-Secretary of Foreign Affairs. I hope that my name will be sufficient guarantee."
Seymour nodded, and the statesman dropped the packet into the pocket of his cloak. Anstruther laughed unpleasantly.
"And what is the upshot of all this to be?" he asked. "It is on the knees of the gods," Seymour said gravely. "Your individuality will become impressed upon the crystal through the grips of your hands, and at the end of the period suggested you will be able to see your whole future there. I dare say Sir Frederick will produce the crystal when the proper time comes."
Anstruther turned away with a little laugh of contempt, and, as if nothing out of the common had happened, Seymour turned and began to discuss ordinary topics with his hostess. Supper was practically over by this time, and most of the guests were streaming back once more in the direction of the ballroom. Amongst the few who still remained were Jack and Claire, the latter, of course, being Jack's supper partner.
"That was very cleverly done," Claire said. "I suppose there is some hidden meaning behind it?"
"Of course," Jack said. "Only I have not the remotest idea what it was. Don't let us go back to the ballroom yet--I have discovered one of the jolliest little places leading off the hall, where we can sit and have a cozy chat without the least fear of interruption."
It was precisely as Jack had said--a little alcove, dimly lighted and filled with ferns, from which they could see much that was going on without being seen in their turn. It was very quiet down there, and Jack made the most of his opportunities. A silence fell upon the pair presently, one of those long, delicious silences, only possible where there is a perfect understanding. Jack came out of his reverie presently, conscious that Claire was gripping him tightly by the arm. With the point of her fan she indicated the figure of Anstruther, who had come down evidently in search of the telephone. The instrument was almost immediately opposite the alcove, and Anstruther, little dreaming that he was being watched, plied the handle vigorously. He gave a number presently which was his own in Panton Square.
"Are you there?" he whispered; "are you there? Confound the girl! why doesn't she speak? Oh, so you are there at last. What? Oh, yes, yes. I am speaking to you. You know who I am. Yes, there is danger--danger that is urgent and immediate. I have no time to explain now; you are to come here masked at once. Do not come to the front door, but to the lane behind. You will find a small, green gate there, with Number Five upon it in white letters. I will see that the gate is unlocked. Then make your way straight up the garden, and into the summer-house which is at the top of the marble steps by the fountain. You are not to be more than half-an-hour."
Anstruther rang off, and replaced the receiver on the hooks. He strolled away without the slightest idea that every word he said was audible to the pair of lovers in the alcove. Jack turned to Claire with eager eyes.
"This must be seen to immediately," he said. "Go back to the ballroom as if nothing had happened and wait for me there. As for myself, I am going to smoke a cigar in the garden, and wait to see who the mysterious individual is who has been so peremptorily summoned here. You see how important it is."
Claire saw that there was much in what Jack said. Obediently enough she went off to the ballroom, and waited eagerly for the return of her lover. He seemed a long time coming, and nearly an hour had passed before he came back and strolled up to Claire in as casual a way as possible. But she could see that his eyes were gleaming behind his mask. He was breathing fast, too.
"Have you discovered who it was?" Claire asked eagerly.
"Yes," Jack replied. "They are both together. As I more than half expected, the fresh arrival is Serena."
Meanwhile, it is necessary to go back for a few moments to the garden and summer-house where Jack had been waiting, to see who was going to keep the assignation with Anstruther. On the whole, it was not unpleasant work, seeing that the night was very fine and warm, and at the same time dark and velvety. There were not many gardens in London as finely proportioned as those behind Barmouth's residence. It was wonderful, in the midst of that atmosphere, that flowers and shrubs could flourish so kindly. There were not many paths, most of the ground being given over to turf, so that Jack's feet made no noise as he walked along in the direction of the green gate which gave upon the lane beyond.
The gate turned out to be a door in the wall hidden from view inside by a deep belt of shrubs. It was here that Jack hid himself, and stood smoking his cigar with a determination to stay there all night if necessary. The best part of an hour had elapsed before there was a noise outside, and a hand turned the latch. Jack dropped his cigar, and ground it into the soft earth with the heel of his slipper. By this time his eyes had got accustomed to the darkness, so that it was not a difficult matter to make out the outlines of the approaching figure. The figure was that of a woman, evidently dressed for the evening, and wearing a mask.
Jack was not to be deceived; he knew that form perfectly well, even if he had not recognized the dress, which the wearer had used the night of his visit to Carrington's.
"Serena," he whispered to himself. "Well, I might have expected that. Now to see what will happen next."
Jack made his way hurriedly across the lawn, and took up a position behind a belt of pampas grass, where he could not only see into the summer-house, but also hear what was going on there. He was only just in time, for almost immediately the towering headdress of Anstruther appeared, and its owner made his way directly to the summer-house. Jack could see Serena as she hurried along. On the still night air every word could be distinctly heard. There came to Jack's ears a whispered apology from Serena that she was sorry for the delay.
"You might have ruined everything," Anstruther said savagely. "I told you to be here within half-an-hour at the latest."
Serena replied humbly that she could not get there before. She had to dress, and she had had to get the other servant out of the way. Anstruther muttered impatiently.
"I suppose it is impossible for a woman to keep to time," he said. "And now listen to me. There is something going on here which even I cannot fathom. I feel as if I were being laughed at; as if an unseen net was about my shoulders, and that a hidden hand was ready to close it at any time."
Jack listened eagerly to what followed. It was quite evident from what Anstruther said that Seymour's performance had made a deep impression upon him. For once in a way Anstruther was puzzled and frightened. He told Serena at considerable length all that had taken place during supper.
"There is more than meets the eye here," he said, "and that fellow said either too little or too much. One thing is quite certain--he is pretty intimately acquainted with my inner life in Mexico. Now who is he, and how does he know all this?"
"If you don't know, I can't tell you," Serena replied.
"No; but you are going to find out," Anstruther responded. "You are going to mingle with the other guests as if you were a friend of Lady Barmouth's, and I will sign to you presently what I want you to do. You have plenty of nerve and resource, and you must find some way of removing the mask from the face of my friend the magician. But that is not all. I have a very shrewd suspicion that this mysterious Lord Barmouth is no other than the man James Smith, who has been so useful to me from a pecuniary point of view."
"You think Lord Barmouth and James Smith are the same person?" Serena cried. "Oh, that is quite impossible."
"That remains to be seen," said Anstruther. "You know all about Lord Barmouth's reputation as a recluse as well as I do. Therefore, it will be part of your duty to get a sight of Lord Barmouth also. Mind you, I may be mistaken, but I have a strong impression that when you come to look at Barmouth you will see the features of James Smith. What the certainty of this means to me you can pretty well guess. Hitherto I have treated Smith as a comparatively poor man, never guessing for a moment that he was the enormously wealthy Barmouth, but in future----"
Anstruther paused significantly. The listener thrilled as he realized the danger in which Barmouth stood. But his whole attention now was concentrated upon Serena. He could see that she had drawn herself up to her full height; from the motion of her hands, she was evidently moved by some strong feeling. It flashed upon Jack all at once that Anstruther was asking Serena to plot against the happiness of her own sister--Lady Barmouth. That that was the chord that Anstruther had touched, Serena's first words proved.
"You are asking too much," she said . "I will not do it. There are times when I feel that this life of mine can endure no longer. I have worked hard for you; I have been the slave of all your schemes; I have forgotten that I possess a conscience."
"Yes; and you forget what you owe to me," Anstruther responded. "But for me you would long since have stood in a felon's dock. If you will think of the time when you and your boy----"
"No, no!" Serena cried. "I will not have it. What do I care if I alarm the people inside. For the sake of that black past I have consented to be your tool and slave. And yet I feel sometimes that you are playing with me; that the whole thing is nothing more or less than a cruel and deliberate lie on your part, and that my boy still lives. If I thought so; if I only thought so----"
Serena plunged forward, and Jack could see that something glittered in her hand. There was the confused suggestion of a struggle, the sound of an oath from Anstruther's lips, and the tinkle of metal upon the floor of the summer-house.
"So you have got one of your mad moods on to-night," Anstruther panted. "Do not push me to extremes, because you know what that means. Will you obey me or not?"
Jack could see Serena pass her hands across her eyes; he could hear the quick sobbing of her breath. "I was wrong," she said presently. It was marvelous how quickly she had recovered herself. "I will do your bidding. Let us go inside, and you can show me the man whose face you desire to see."
The two moved off together, and entered the house, where they were quickly lost in the throng of guests. It was at this point that Jack joined Claire again, and told her rapidly what had happened.
"I will go to her at once," Claire said. "It is quite evident, from what you say, that this poor woman acts entirely under the sinister influence of Anstruther. It would be a good thing, I fancy, to appeal to her better nature." Possibly it had been better for him to go off and warn Seymour, but the strong curiosity of the moment prevailed. He was just a little anxious about Claire, too. And Seymour was so full of cleverness and resource if anything untoward happened.
The scheme commended itself to Jack. He would leave everything to Claire for the present. Then, when she was ready, she could come to him again. Apparently Anstruther had given Serena all her instructions, for Claire found her seated by herself in a corner of the ballroom watching the dazzling scene. Claire crept quietly to her side, and touched her on the shoulder.
"Serena," she said gently. "Serena, I want you."
There was a violent agitation, that shook the listener's frame; but she rose very gently, and passed along the corridor by Claire's side without the slightest protest. They came to a little alcove at length, and Claire bade her companion sit down.
"I know why you are here to-night," she explained. "I even know what your appointed task is. But, what is still more important, I am acquainted with the hold that Anstruther has upon you. Believe me, you have no firmer friend in the world than myself. Tell me your sad story, and let me see if I can help you."
The gently spoken words were not without their effect. Heedless of consequences, Serena removed her mask, and proceeded to wipe the streaming tears from her eyes.
"Iwilltell you everything," she murmured. "You know already that Lady Barmouth is my sister, and you are acquainted with the fact that Padini is my husband; but nobody knows besides Anstruther that I was once the mother of a little boy. I was always wilful and headstrong. I was always ready to throw away my happiness for the whim of the moment. That is why I married Padini, who basely deserted me when he found that I had no money. A month after our marriage I was alone in the world, almost starving. I was too proud to send to my friends; I had meant to wait till my money was exhausted, and then throw myself into the river. But I dared not do that, because of the fresh young life which I knew was coming to me. I managed to make a little money, and when my child was born I was comparatively happy. When the boy was about eighteen months old, Anstruther found me out, and professed a desire to become my friend. It was about that time that Padini turned up again, and began to blackmail me. I cannot tell you exactly what happened; they say I tried to kill him because he would have taken my child from me. At any rate, I have always been informed that I might have suffered a long term of imprisonment if Anstruther had not stood my friend."
"But this does not give him so great a power over you," Claire said. "A mere act of charity like that----"
"But I have not told you everything," Serena whispered. "For a short time I was a mad woman. And when I came to myself again, they told me that I had killed my boy. Oh, I have no wish to dwell upon that dreadful time--I hardly dare to think of it without a wild desire to lay hands upon myself. And yet there are times when I believe the whole thing to have been a wicked lie, a pure invention on the part of Anstruther. At these times I believe that my boy is still safe and sound, and that some day we shall meet again. This is the whole secret of the reason why I have clung to Anstruther, and why I have been the slave of his base designs. But this story must be told to no one, not even to Lady Barmouth."
Serena might have said more, only the sound of approaching footsteps warned Claire of the necessity for caution. She whispered to Serena to replace her mask--a precaution that was none too soon, for Anstruther was impatiently coming down the corridor side by side with another man, whom Claire recognized as Lord Barmouth.
"I have been looking for you everywhere," Anstruther said. "What do you mean by hiding yourself here?
"It was quite clear that Anstruther had lost his head for the moment. Lord Barmouth paused, and looked at the other sternly and coldly. Yet he hesitated, as if half afraid to speak. He had the advantage over Anstruther in knowing who the latter was, while still preserving the secret of his own identity.
"I presume this lady is your wife," he said. "You would hardly speak even to a sister in that tone of voice."
"You are candid, sir," Anstruther said bitterly. "If you knew who I am I have not the slightest doubt----"
"I know perfectly well who you are," Barmouth said quietly. He had quite made up his mind what to do now. "Will you be good enough to step this way for a moment?"
Anstruther followed, until Barmouth reached his own private room. Then he locked the door, and put up the light. "Now that we are face to face and free from interruption," he said, "I am going to speak still more candidly to you. But first let me ask you a question. Why did you decline the invitation of Lady Barmouth on the plea of a severe chill, and then come here afterwards, as if you wanted your presence in the house kept a secret?"
"Really," Anstruther stammered--"really, I cannot recognize your right to cross-examine me like this. In the very unlikely event of your being my host----"
"We will discuss that presently," Barmouth replied. "Permit me to remind you that you have not yet answered my question, Mr. Anstruther. You will not deny your identity?"
Anstruther laughed awkwardly, and, seeing that the game was up, removed his mask and pitched it on the table.
"What I have done is not exactly a crime," he said. "I changed my mind, and came at the last moment."
"At the last moment," Barmouth echoed significantly. "You have been here for the past two hours."
Anstruther moved towards the door. He declared, with some heat, that he would have no more of this, unless the other could prove his right to ask these questions. Barmouth turned away for a moment, and when he faced round again his face was bare of the mask.
"Now you recognize my right," he said. "You black-hearted scoundrel, I am Lord Barmouth."
In other circumstances, Anstruther would have been pleased with the turn of events. He knew now that Smith, whom for so long he had been persecuting, was the rich Lord Barmouth. This, too, saved a deal of trouble; for instance, Serena need not have been brought here at all. Now Anstruther would be able to blackmail Barmouth for thousands, whereas he had been content with hundreds from the more humble Smith. Barmouth smiled, as he followed Anstruther's train of thought. He was reading the other's mind like an open book.
"I know exactly what you are thinking about," he said. "You are not sighing for lost opportunities; you are going to make it all up in the future. Still, I have puzzled you and, perhaps, frightened you a little. You are perfectly well aware why I have concealed my identity for so long. And you would give a great deal to know why I have so suddenly come out and met you in the open. On that point I have no intention of gratifying your curiosity. You may put your mask on again, and I will resume mine; but of one thing you may be certain. Either as Lord Barmouth or as James Smith, not one farthing more will you ever receive from me."
Barmouth turned contemptuously away, and unlocked the door.
"Now you can go your way, and I will go mine," he said. "I shall say nothing of this to Lady Barmouth; at least, not for the present. Make the best of your evening's pleasure. It will be the last time you will ever be under my roof.
"With an irritated feeling of defeat Anstruther stalked from the room, followed by Lord Barmouth, who lost no chance of hunting up Jack and Rigby. He told his interested listeners what had happened.
"I think you have acted wisely, Lord Barmouth," Rigby said. "We are so hot upon the track of Anstruther now that a day or two makes little difference. At the same time, I cannot quite see why Anstruther should have come here in this mysterious way, when he might have accompanied Claire quite openly."
Jack was inspired with a sudden idea.
"It's all a question of alibi," he said. "We know perfectly well what an ingenious scheme Anstruther has put up so that he may be what an Irishman would call in two places at the same time. Here is a magnificent opportunity of getting to the bottom of that mysterious music business."
"Right you are," Rigby cried. "It would be like flying in the face of Providence to throw away such a chance. Anstruther is here, and likely to remain, and so is Serena. You may depend upon it that the other maid has gone to bed, so that we should have the house in Panton Square all to ourselves. You know the ropes better than I do, Jack. Can you tell us a good way of getting into the house without playing the burglar?"
Jack thought a moment, then an inspiration came to him again; the thing was quite simple.
"We can walk into the place as if it belonged to us," he said. "When Claire came away, Anstruther told her that he should retire early. Claire did not wish to keep the servants up unduly, so she took a latch-key with her."
"Absolutely made for us," Rigby exclaimed. "You go off to Miss Helmsley and borrow her latch-key, and we will get to the bottom of the whole mystery whilst Anstruther is enjoying himself here."
Jack came back presently with the latch-key in his possession. It was an easy matter to get out of the house without being observed; then a cab was called, and the two proceeded to Jack's chambers, where they stripped off their fancy dresses hastily and assumed more civilized attire.
"I vote we take Bates into this business," Rigby suggested. "I've got a little idea of my own, which I will tell you about after we have been to Panton Square."
Unfortunately the services of Inspector Bates were not available, for he had been called out on some business of importance, and was not expected back till the following morning.
"We shall have to go through it ourselves," Jack said. "You will have a fine lot of copy for thePlaneta bit later on. I declare I am getting quite fascinated by my present occupation. Shall we take a cab, or would it not be more safe for us to walk?"
Panton Square was reached at length, and No. 5 appeared to be in total darkness. As the friends had anticipated, Serena's fellow servant had gone to bed, for neither at the front or back of the house was there so much as a glimmer of light to be seen. An application of the latch-key to the door proved quite successful, and a minute later the two friends were inside. They had not the slightest hesitation in putting up the lights, so that the passing police might infer that the occupants of the place had returned. Not that he wanted to trouble much about anything but the study, seeing that it was there that the mysterious music always emanated.
It was an ordinary-looking room enough, the walls being entirely lined with books. There were books everywhere, not an inch of space being available for more. The ceiling was quite plain, and the closest search failed to disclose anything in the way of an apparatus by which the sounds of music could be conveyed from a distance into the study. Jack looked round with a puzzled frown.
"All the same, it must come that way," he said. "I know perfectly well that one of Padini's recitals came into this room as if it had been carried by some electrical means."
"A sort of telephone, I suppose," Rigby said. "Of course, we have all heard of the theatre-phone, but that theory would not work out in this case. With the dodge in question you have to plug both ears with a kind of receiver, and even then the music is only audible to those using the little receivers. In the present instance I understand that the whole room is flooded with melody, just as if the player were actually here."
"You've got it exactly," Jack explained. "I have heard it myself, and so has Claire; and both of us spotted the music as being in precisely the style of Padini. Hang me if I can see the slightest sign of how the thing is worked."
Rigby said nothing; indeed, he was hardly listening. He was pacing round the room pulling armfuls of books out here and there, as if expecting to find some cunning device hidden behind the volumes. He stooped to pick up Anstruther's violin case, which lay upon the floor. The case had been recently dropped, or some weight had fallen upon it, for the lid was cracked all across, and the hinges were broken. Rigby gave a little cry as he threw back the lid.
"Here's a discovery for you," he exclaimed. "Anstruther's violin with the neck broken off. If you will look at it closely, you will see that it is covered with dust, and evidently has not been used for days. Of course, it is just possible that Anstruther possesses two violins----"
"I know as a matter of fact that he doesn't," Jack said. "This is his Cremona right enough. I have had it in my hands a hundred times."
"We are getting on," Rigby laughed. "This room has been flooded with melody night after night, and yet we know for a fact that Anstruther's violin has been absolutely useless."
"That does not help us to a solution of the problem," Jack said. "But I have an idea. We shall never get to the truth through Anstruther, but Padini may help us. Now it is very improbable that Anstruther will be back under an hour. I'll stay here whilst you go off to the Great Metropolitan Hotel and see Padini. If you flatter him a bit, he will probably play to you. He will certainly do this in his own room, because professionals of mark never practice in public. What I am driving at is this: I feel quite certain that whatever Padini plays to you, I shall hear in this room."
"Excellent," Rigby cried. "I will go at once."
Late as it was, Padini had not gone to bed; indeed, one of the corridor servants informed Rigby that the violinist had been practicing on his violin for the past hour. Without the slightest hesitation, Rigby made his way into Padini's room. The latter looked up with a puzzled air of surprise; evidently he had been taking a little more champagne than was good for him.
"I seem to know your face," he said. "Of course you do," Rigby said smoothly. "Don't you remember me interviewing you for thePlanet?I happened to be in the hotel, and I thought I would look you up. I suppose it would be too much to ask you to play something to me? I am passionately fond of music, to say nothing of being a great admirer of yours. Besides, I have a particular desire to hear you to-night."
Padini looked up with just a shade of suspicion in his eyes. Rigby felt that perhaps he was going a bit too far. He proceeded to flatter the artist to such an extent, that Padini's suspicions were quickly lulled to rest. There was a half-empty bottle of champagne on the table, but Rigby refused the proffered hospitality.
"No, thank you," he said. "I came to hear you play. I know it was a great liberty on my part and, if you like, you can turn me out at once; but I wish you would play something."
Padini rose rather unsteadily, and reached for his violin. Once his fingers grasped the neck of his instrument, he seemed to be himself again. Rascal as the fellow was, there was no doubt of his great artistic qualities. He handled his bow with the air and grip of a master. He started some slow movement from one of Beethoven's sonatas, and Rigby lay back in his chair, giving himself up entirely to the delight of the moment.
It seemed, if Padini once started, he would not know when to stop, for he played one piece after another, entirely forgetting that he had an audience. Across Rigby's brain there came floating the germ of a great idea. Padini finished a brilliant passage, and the bow fell from his hands.
"There, my friend," he said breathlessly. "Never have I played better than I have done to-night."
"You are indeed a master," Rigby said, and he meant every word that he uttered. "An artist so great as yourself should be a composer also. Have you published anything at all?"
The flattered artist replied that he had not published anything so far, but there were one or two little things which he had written in his spare time, and these he intended offering to some publisher who was prepared to pay a price for them.
"Would you mind playing me one?" Rigby asked. "I should prefer a piece that nobody has ever heard."
Padini swept his bow across the strings, and proceeded to play a perfect little gem in a minor key. To a certain extent it reminded Rigby of Gounod's "Ave Maria," though its originality and breadth deprived it of any suggestion of plagiarism.
"Perfect in its way," Rigby said. "Would you mind giving me the score? If you will, I can get a good price for it from thePlanetpeople. We are going to publish music at reasonable rates, and there is no reason why you should not have fifty guineas for yours."
Padini declared that he quite shared Rigby's opinion. He took a sheet of manuscript music from a drawer, and threw it carelessly across to his companion.
"There you are," he said. "Make the best bargain you can for me. What? You are not going already?"
Rigby muttered something to the effect that he had not yet finished his work at the office, and that he must tear himself away, much as he would like to have stayed to hear more of that beautiful music. A few minutes later Rigby left the room. As he glanced back he saw that Padini had fallen into his armchair again, and was already half asleep. Rigby smiled to himself, wondering what Padini would say if he knew the purpose to which the sheet of manuscript music would be devoted. He called a cab and hastened away in the direction of Panton Square, where he expected that Jack would be still awaiting him. The lights were up at No. 5 just as they were when Rigby had started for the Great Metropolitan Hotel; but, all the same, he took the precaution of whistling softly, in case anything had gone wrong. The front door opened cautiously, and Jack's head peeped out. A moment later, and Rigby was inside.
"Well?" he demanded impatiently. "Anything happened?"
"A great deal," Jack replied. "For half-an-hour everything was quiet, then that wonderful music started again. Mind you, I haven't the remotest idea where it came from; I am just as much in the fog as ever. But it filled the room as if some great artist was invisible to me. I could recognize Padini's touch. Of course, I am assuming that you found him at home, and persuaded him to play to you. Can I take that for granted?"
"It is exactly as you say," Rigby explained. "Please go on."
"Then I will tell you what Padini played. He started with the first part of 'The Moonlight Sonata.'"
Rigby nodded and smiled. His smile broadened as Jack proceeded to tick off the pieces of music just as they were played. "There was one, however, that I could not follow," he said. "It was that lovely little thing at the end. I am absolutely certain that it was an original piece of music."
Rigby laughed as he produced the scrap of manuscript from his pocket. There was an expression of triumph on his face.
"Original, and in my possession," he cried. "This scrap of paper contains the key of the whole situation."
Jack looked inquiringly at his friend. He had not yet fully grasped the significance of Rigby's remark. He asked for an explanation. Rigby went on to speak rapidly.
"It's like this, you see," he remarked. "When I saw that fellow just now and got him to play to me, a rather good idea came into my mind. So long as Anstruther can manage to delude us into believing that he spends most of his evenings in playing classical music, we can't get much further. Classical music is open to everybody; and if we allege that on a certain evening Anstruther performed one of Beethoven's sonatas--or, rather, that Padini performed it--we should have great difficulty in proving our point."
"I think I can catch your idea," Jack said.
"I thought you would. My idea was to get something original; something, if possible, that Anstruther has never even heard. He couldn't very well play a piece he had never heard, now could he? I asked Padini if he had anything of the kind in hand, and he played the piece which you so much liked. As I said just now, I have the thing in my pocket; and by means of that simple sheet of paper we are going to trap Anstruther."
"I don't quite see it," Jack said.
"What I mean is that we are going to manage it between us. Unless I am greatly mistaken, events will move very rapidly to-morrow night. Anstruther must of necessity be out most of the time after dinner, but the music in the study will go on all the same. You must manage to dine in Panton Square to-morrow night, and I will work the thing from the Great Metropolitan Hotel with Padini. In the course of the evening Padini will play the melody which we are now talking about, and you will hear it. Now, I know Miss Helmsley is a very capable pianist, and I want her to follow the air carefully, so that she will be able to play it by ear. Then we shall be in a position to ask Anstruther the name of the piece that attracted her so much. Miss Helmsley can pick it out on the piano for him, and ask him to play it again. You can imagine his difficulty, but you can hardly imagine a way out of it. This is only a side issue, I know; but it will all tell when we bring Anstruther to book and expose the whole conspiracy."
Jack appreciated the point, and promised to do his best to bring the comedy to a successful issue. There was nothing for it now but to reassume their fancy dresses and return to Belgrave Square.
By this time a considerable number of the guests were moving on elsewhere, though the majority of those present meant to see the thing through. As the cab bearing Jack and Rigby drove up they saw the tall figure of Anstruther coming down the steps. He stood there as if hesitating for a moment, then called a passing cab and gave some directions to Piccadilly.
"Any money I know where he is going to," Rigby said. "My dear fellow, you go inside and see Miss Helmsley, whilst I take this cab back to our rooms and change again into civilized attire."
"What are you going to do now?" Jack asked.
"I am going to follow Anstruther," Rigby explained. "I feel so restless to-night that I can't settle down to anything. So I am just going to follow that fellow, who is most assuredly going to see Carrington."
It was half-an-hour later before Rigby found himself, minus his fancy dress, in Piccadilly opposite the rooms occupied by Carrington. It was very late now, and Piccadilly was absolutely deserted, save for a passing policeman and a stray night cab whose driver appeared to be asleep upon the box. Rigby hesitated for a moment, a little uncertain as to what to do.
There was no difficulty in ascertaining as to whether Carrington had or had not gone to bed, for the lights were up in his sitting-room, and presently a shadow appeared upon the blind. Doubtless this was Carrington, and all speculation was set at rest an instant later by a second shadow on one of the blinds. The gigantic headdress of Anstruther loomed large against the light. There was nothing for it now but to wait patiently upon the course of events. Rigby pulled at the leg of the slumbering cabman, and brought him to a sense of his responsibilities.
"I don't want to take your cab anywhere," he explained. "All I want is to hire it for an hour or so and sit inside. You can go to sleep again if you like, and I'll wake you when I am ready to go. It will be an easy way of earning half-a-sovereign."
The cabman grinned and nodded as Rigby disappeared into the recesses of the cab. It was, perhaps, an hour later before the door leading to Carrington's flat opened and Anstruther came out. Evidently he had left his fancy dress behind him, for he was attired in a rough coat and deerstalker hat. Carrington appeared to be dissuading his friend from something, and Rigby could hear the latter laugh in reply.
"I tell you it must be done," Anstruther said, "and it will have to be done to-morrow night. I shall see friend Charlie without delay. If he is not in, I shall leave a settled note for him."
Anstruther strode off down the street, and presently hailed another night cab which was crawling down the road. Rigby sat up and aroused his own driver.
"Here's another five shillings for you," he said. "Keep that cab in front of you in sight, and follow it till it stops. Then you shall have fifteen shillings. Unless I am greatly mistaken, you will not have very far to go."
As a matter of fact, Rigby had summed up the situation quite correctly. The mention of the name of Charlie had given him the clue he required, this same Charlie being none other than the professional cracksman who had been engaged by Anstruther to deliver the letter at the Great Metropolitan Hotel to Ferris. This deduction proved to be absolutely correct, for a little time later the first cab pulled up in front of the tenement house where Seymour had taken up his temporary quarters. Rigby dismissed the cab, and followed cautiously. He was in time to see Anstruther take a key from his pocket, and let himself quietly into the rooms occupied by the individual who was known to his friends and admirers as "Simple Charlie." Then Rigby turned and knocked for admission at the outer door of Seymour's apartments. The latter did not appear in the least surprised to see Rigby.
"I came here quite by chance," the latter explained. "I quite expected to be told that you had not returned home yet. Lady Barmouth's dance might have kept on till daylight."
"I had to come away," Seymour explained. "In fact, I lost sight of Anstruther, and it rather put me out. Can you tell me anything about him? But of course you can, or you would not be here."
Rigby explained at length what had taken place during the past hour. Seymour chuckled as he listened.
"Rather a good joke," he said. "Here is Anstruther looking for his friend 'Simple Charlie,' whilst all the time we have that desirable individual tight by the leg at the Great Metropolitan Hotel. I suppose you can pretty well guess what's going to happen? Anstruther was desperately frightened to-night by my allusion to that set of Cellini plate. He will know no peace of mind until that stuff is removed from Carrington's private safe. There will be another burglary, of a sort, and 'Simple Charlie' has been selected to open the safe. You see, as the safe is not in the vaults, but in Carrington's private office, it would never do to use dynamite there."
"That is all very well," Rigby objected. "But how is Anstruther going to make use of 'Simple Charlie' so long as the latter is in our hands? That seems to be rather an objection."
"Oh, I have thought all that out," Seymour laughed. "From what you told me just now, it is evident that Anstruther means to leave a note for his pal if the latter is away. In the event of 'Simple Charlie' being professionally engaged elsewhere to-morrow night, he will be asked to find a substitute. As we are perfectly well aware of the fact that there is no chance of Anstruther finding his friend at home, it is only logical to assume that he will leave the note behind. In a few moments that note will be in our possession, and we shall be in a position to read it at leisure. Then I will take it the first thing in the morning round to the Great Metropolitan Hotel, and force 'Simple Charlie' to write a suitable reply. Do you follow me?"
"Oh, quite," Rigby said. "You are going to choose your own substitute. Have you fixed upon him yet?"
Seymour chuckled in reply, but declined to afford any information for the present. He suggested that Rigby should go outside and see if Anstruther had gone yet. Rigby came back presently with information to the effect that the burglar's outer door was locked, thus fairly assuming that Anstruther had executed his task and had gone. Seymour produced the simple apparatus by means of which he had entered the burglar's rooms on the last occasion.
"I am going to get that letter," he explained simply. "You need not have any fear about me. Open the window, please."
In less than five minutes Seymour was back again with the letter in his hand. He laid it on the table, and then proceeded to steam the envelope open with the aid of a kettle of hot water which he procured from the kitchen.
There was very little in the letter, but that little was to the point. The writer curtly commanded the recipient to meet him to-morrow night at a quarter to twelve outside the Mansion House Station of the Underground Railway. The recipient was enjoined to come prepared for business, and the last three words had been underlined. In the event of this being impossible, "Simple Charlie" was asked to procure a substitute, and let the writer of the letter know this not later than ten o'clock the next morning at the old address and in the old way. It was perfectly plain.
"You see exactly what this means," Seymour said. "I take it that the old address means Panton Square. But 'Simple Charlie' will have to tell me all about that in the morning. He shall write to Anstruther and put everything in order first. I have prepared a very pretty little surprise for Anstruther."
Seymour chuckled again, but refused to gratify Rigby's curiosity. He was taking no risks, he said; he even went so far as to seal down the letter again and return it to the burglar's rooms.
"We cannot afford to make a single mistake," he said. "Any little slip might ruin the whole delicate business."
There was nothing further to do, at least, so far as the night was concerned. It was getting very late now, and Rigby declined Seymour's offer of a whiskey and soda and cigar. He turned as though to go, and held out his hand to Seymour. Then he paused, as a sudden thought struck him.
"There is one thing we have forgotten," he said. "Don't you think it would be as well to take Bates into our confidence. We had arranged to do so really, but when we called an hour or two ago at Shannon Street police station he was not in. I don't know whether you agree with me or not, but I think he would be extremely useful to us just now."
Seymour nodded and chuckled. He seemed to be in the enjoyment of some good joke which he desired to keep to himself.
"Oh, we must have Bates in this, by all means. Perhaps you would not mind leaving a message as you go along, and ask him to be good enough to call here not later than nine to-morrow morning. I think I can promise Inspector Bates that his time with me will not be wasted. And now, if you must go----"
Rigby took the hint and departed. He left the message for Bates, who, he was informed, might not be at the office the whole of the next day. This being so, Rigby rose early, and made his way to Shannon Street police station directly after breakfast. He was fortunate enough to catch Bates, who appeared to be in a tremendous hurry. He had five minutes to spare, he explained, but a quarter of an hour had elapsed before Bates rose and rang his bell.
"The other business must wait," he said. "Important as it is, I will go and call on Seymour at once."