Meanwhile, Carrington had been pacing up and down the room, obviously troubled and ill at ease. Anstruther watched him with a gleam of malicious amusement in his dark eyes. This strong man liked to feel that he had everybody in his power; it was good to him to know that he could move others as the man behind the curtain moves the puppets in a marionette show. It was not particularly that Anstruther cared for crime for its own sake, but he loved to be subtle and mysterious; it was a joy to him to get the better of his fellow creatures. Had Carrington but known it, the major part of the trouble which was racking his mind now had been brought about by the very man to whom he turned most readily in the hour of his misfortunes. He poured himself out a liberal dose of whiskey, and gulped it down without the formality of adding anything to it. He flung himself angrily into a chair.
"Now that that little ape is gone we can discuss my affairs," he said. "My dear Anstruther, I am the most desperate man in England to-night."
"I think I have heard that remark somewhere before," Anstruther said cynically. "Most people talk like that when they owe twopence-ha' penny they can't manage to pay. But tell me, are your affairs in such a state as that?"
"They could not possibly be worse," Carrington said, moodily. "Since my father died, practically all the financial side of the business has been left to me. Like the fool that I am, I was not content with the handsome profit that the concern was bringing in. I started speculating for myself, and I was unlucky from the start. I lost my head and plunged desperately, but that is not the worst of it. Not only is all the property at the bank mortgaged to its full value, but I have taken and disposed of securities belonging to clients. Every morning I go down to the bank I do so with my heart in my mouth. It only needs the smallest spark to fire the whole mine. I should not be surprised to find myself in jail to-morrow night. Now, you are a clever man, quite the cleverest man I have ever met--can you show me any way out of the difficulty?"
"My dear fellow," Anstruther said presently, "clever men can do most things, but there is one thing in which they generally fail. They can't command money just when they want it. As you are perfectly well aware, I am as desperately hard up as you are yourself. If you could give me two or three days----"
"But something must be done within the next eight and forty hours!" Carrington exclaimed. "For instance, there is that confounded affair at Lady Barmouth's."
"But how does that concern you?" Anstruther asked.
"I was just coming to that. You see, we have a great many clients--ladies--who keep their jewels with us. Take the case of the Duchess of Plymouth, for instance, and Admiral Scott's widow. But those are only a few of many. Now I know perfectly well that all these ladies will be round the day after to-morrow to obtain their jewels, for the purpose of wearing them at Lady Barmouth's masked ball. Not to put too fine a point upon it, they won't get their jewels, because they are not there."
"Mortgaged or sold?" Anstruther asked, curtly.
"Mortgaged to the utmost penny. You can imagine my feelings every time the door of my private office is opened and I am told that a client wishes to see me. I cannot for the life of me see any way out of it. Nothing less than a quarter of a million of money would set me on my feet again."
Anstruther smoked thoughtfully, his brows knitted into a frown. It was some time before he spoke, Carrington watching him with sickening anxiety. There was something pathetic in his belief in Anstruther's ability to get him out of this terrible position.
"There are more ways of doing it than one," Anstruther said presently. "In this instance we can take a hint from the daily papers. Supposing that the bank was mysteriously robbed--the safes forced open and all that kind of thing?"
"Yes, and the whole thing exposed in twenty minutes," Carrington said, bitterly. "The robbing and gagging of cashiers has been slightly overdone lately. I can't call a single case to mind in which the scheme has not fallen to the ground. Take the case of those stolen banknotes, for instance. And even supposing that nothing could be proved against one, there is always a large section of the public ready to regard the trouble as nothing more than a mere swindle. An affair like that would be the finishing touch; it would ruin the bank's business utterly."
"And incidentally save your skin," said Anstruther, significantly. "Oh, no; this is going to be a much more artistic affair than that. If you could get me a plan of the bank premises, including the safes and the cellars and all that kind of thing, I believe I could hit upon a scheme ingenious enough to deceive the police and gain you the sympathy of the British public."
Carrington shook his head wearily. He had expected something much more brilliant and original from Anstruther than this.
"The plan you want would take days to prepare," he said, "to say nothing of the fact----"
Carrington jumped to his feet joyfully. His moody face cleared, and something like a smile shone on his features. "What a fool I am!" he cried. "Why, I have the very thing on the premises; in fact, I have two copies. It was only a few months ago that the bank premises were thoroughly restored and a fresh set of strong rooms added. I feel positively certain that in my safe here I have two sets of tracings of the architect's plans. I'll get them for you. Only I hope you won't make the same blunder over this business as you did at the affair of the man whom we will call Nostalgo Seymour."
Anstruther laughed unpleasantly. Jack's companion, listening intently from his hiding place amongst the ferns, gripped his companion by the arm. "That's me," he whispered, with almost a suppressed chuckle. "I am the man they speak of as Nostalgo Seymour."
Jack pressed the arm of his fellow conspirator by way of acknowledgment. He was far too interested in what was going on inside the brilliantly-lighted room to care to talk; indeed, he had forgotten the presence of his comrade altogether. He could see that Anstruther had risen to his feet and was pacing the room, evidently nettled by Carrington's remark. "If you want to be friends, don't mention that matter to me again," he said. "It is the one failure of my life. To get Seymour out of the way is imperative. I trusted the matter to Padini, and he failed me."
"I would have trusted nothing to Padini," Carrington said.
"Oh, yes, you would," Anstruther growled. "Especially if he had done so many artistic jobs in the same line for you. But I did not know, unfortunately, till too late, that the little rascal has been drinking more lately than was good for him. The fact is, he has lost his nerve. And yet he might have felt himself justified in believing that his mission had been attended with complete success--but go and get your plans. I will have a good look at them now, and I will call to see you to-morrow at the bank as if I came on business, and you shall show me all over the premises. It will be surprising, indeed, if I cannot show you some safe way out of the present difficulty."
As Carrington went off jingling a bunch of keys in his hand, Jack could feel the man whom we will now call Seymour fairly trembling with excitement. It seemed more than once as if he was bent on darting from his hiding place and confronting the two scoundrels in the inner room. But evidently he was placing great restraint upon himself, for he turned to Jack and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. At the same instant, Carrington returned with a large roll of tracing paper in his hand. There was an agitation about him scarcely warranted by the circumstances of the case. It was as if he had seen something dreadful during his brief absence. Anstruther looked at him with some scorn. "What a face!" he growled. "If you go down to the bank looking like that you will have a run on the concern in half an hour. No ghosts about here, I suppose?"
"It isn't that," Carrington said hoarsely; "but it is something I have found in the corridor. It was lying on the floor close by the dining-room door. Tell me, have you ever seen it before?"
With a shaking hand Carrington laid a small silver-mounted moleskin tobacco pouch on the table. At the same moment Jack noticed that his companion had given a great start. There was no need for Jack to be told that the tobacco pouch in question was Seymour's property, and had been dropped by him accidentally a little time before.
"Why, you don't mean to say this belongs to Seymour," Anstruther cried, and there was a real anxiety in his voice. "Yes, you are quite correct; I distinctly remember Seymour buying this peculiar pattern of filigree silver. Now you see why I wanted to get that fellow out of the way. I have tried to believe that he was dead and gone, but not only is it quite evident that he is very much alive, but also it is equally plain that he has been here to-night."
Carrington fairly shook as he hoarsely muttered his opinion that Anstruther was right. He glanced timidly about him, as if expecting to meet the face of Seymour; he stepped towards the conservatory, as if suspicious that the crimson flowers were hiding his enemy there. Then he gave a shaky half-laugh at his own fears.
"My nerves are all rags to-night," he said. "Positively I imagined that I could see that dreadful scarred face of Seymour glaring at me from behind the bank of geraniums. Call me a coward if you like, but I must really ask you to turn up the light in the conservatory. I dare not do it myself."
Something like a curse broke from the rigid figure by Jack's side. From overhead there dangled an electric light swinging on a long, pliable flex. An instant later, and there would come a brilliant blaze of light if Anstruther could have reached the switch towards which he was contemptuously strolling. An instant later, and the eavesdroppers would have been discovered; but Seymour rose grandly to the situation. With one bound he was across the floor of the conservatory, and literally tore the switch from its place. Instantly the fuses connected with the two rooms short-circuited, and the brilliant light of the inner room was swallowed up in the throat of a great velvety darkness. The thing was so swift, so clever, and so unexpected, that Jack could only gasp. He was conscious of the fact that Seymour had left his side, but only for a moment.
"Confound the light!" Carrington cried. "Give me a match, and I'll light the lamps. This is the second time lately the same thing has happened."
The feeble spurt of a vesta made a tiny blue flame, but it was sufficient to show Carrington the position of two silver lamps. He lighted one of these and then the other, and placed them on the table. As he did so his face grew white again, his tongue began to stammer.
"The plans," he gasped. "Surely I put two on the table? Where is the other?"
"The other," Jack's companion whispered, with a hoarse chuckle of triumph, "is quite safe in my breast pocket."
The wonderful coolness and audacity of his companion filled Jack with admiration. He had forgotten for the moment that there was any danger at all. It seemed to him to be a good thing to have so adroit and cunning a colleague to work with. The whole thing had been so wonderfully swift; hardly a moment seemed to have elapsed between the extinguishing of the light and the return of Seymour with the duplicate of the plan safely in his pocket.
What he proposed to do next Jack could not guess for the moment, neither did he much care. At the same time, he felt quite convinced of the fact that Seymour had some deep scheme in his mind. Jack's spirits rose in quite an unaccountable way. He warmly congratulated himself on the fact that he had found Seymour and brought him into the campaign against Anstruther. The danger was by no means over yet, as Seymour must have recognized; but that did not seem to trouble him much, for he was shaking now with suppressed mirth, and was evidently enjoying the situation as one does a screaming farce from a comfortable place in the stalls.
Jack was about to whisper something of this to his companion, when the latter checked him with a touch on the arm. Inside the room, in the comparatively moderated light of the lamps, Jack could see Carrington fussing about uneasily. "I tell you that there were two plans," he muttered. "I am absolutely certain there was a duplicate. If you have played any kind of trick upon me I hope you will confess it at once."
"Trick be hanged, suppose that I indulge in practical joking? I say you have made a mistake; the duplicate plan is somewhere else."
"And I am equally certain that it was with those papers," Carrington blustered. "They were lying side by side a minute ago. And now one of them is gone, and you want me to believe that it has been spirited away by unseen hands."
"I don't want you to believe anything of the sort," Anstruther replied. "Not a minute had elapsed between the time that the light went out and the moment I lighted the match. What a nervous, frightened fool you are. You will be saying next that Seymour is concealed somewhere in the room, and snatched this brilliant opportunity for purloining these papers. Really, we are getting on. Hadn't you better look round the house. You will have to go to bed presently, and I should advise you to lock your door."
All this brutal sarcasm was utterly lost upon Carrington. He was as frightened and nervous as a lonely woman in a lonely house, who has discovered some strange man there. He darted from the room, followed by Anstruther's contemptuous laughter, and returned presently, saying that he had made a thorough search of the flat.
"Most assuredly nobody is on the premises," he said. He was by no means convinced yet that Anstruther was not playing some cunning trick upon him. "It is most extraordinary. You may say what you like, and prove what you like; but I am ready to swear that I brought both those plans into the room with me five minutes ago."
"Oh, look up the chimney," Anstruther growled. "Take all those plants out of your conservatory, and see if the thief hasn't vanished up the water pipe. I am sick of all these nervous fears and hysterical suspicions. It has always been the curse of my existence that I can never lay hands on an accomplice who is anything but a knave or a fool."
Without heeding the savage outburst, Carrington took one of the little silver lamps from the table, and, holding it up by its crystal receiver, advanced cautiously in the direction of the conservatory. Jack held his breath, and prepared for the worst. He felt pretty sure now that he and Seymour would be discovered. Not that he much minded, except that he was extremely anxious not to be recognized by Anstruther; but that risk had to be run. It was a pity, too, seeing what a marvelous amount of information had been gleaned during the last half-hour; but that was all part of the game.
"Is it possible he has vanished through the skylight?" Anstruther sneered.
Carrington muttered that there was a drop of some thirty feet outside the conservatory. He still advanced with the lamp in his hand, and peered about him with an anxious face. The moment was a critical one indeed, and Jack wondered if Seymour's wonderful fertility of resource would be equal to the occasion. In the dim light of the lamp he saw Seymour's right arm steal out, and his sinewy fingers close upon a piece of hose pipe attached to a tap in the wall. Evidently this had been used for watering the flowers. The gardener responsible for the well-doing of the rooms doubtless understood his work, and watered each pot separately, instead of spraying the whole place indiscriminately; for attached to the hose-pipe was the small nozzle meant to convey a fine single jet for some distance.
Jack began dimly to understand what Seymour meant to do. It was going to be a dangerous experiment, but danger was quite absolutely necessary if the eavesdroppers were to escape unrecognized. If Seymour's plan was absolutely successful, there was just the chance of them getting away without their presence there being indicated at all.
Jack saw the lean, brown hand stretch forth and turn on the tap in the wall. Then the tap at the end of the hose slid round, and a tiny spray of water, fine as a needle and strong as the arrow from a bow, struck the chimney of the lamp, now nearly red hot, and a tremendous smash of cracking glass followed.
Carrington staggered back, and a kind of hysterical scream broke from his lips. With his nerves strung at high tension, the shock of the bursting explosion rendered him nearly mad with terror. Seymour turned off the tap again, feeling sure that his business was well done.
"By Jove, that was wonderfully smart, and quickly done," Jack whispered to his companion. "I rather pride myself upon the ingenuity of my stories, especially as regards the plots of them, but I never could have thought of anything quite like that."
"Not bad," the other said quite coolly. "It was all a matter of accuracy of aim and steadiness of hand. But to a man like myself, who has had vast experience of big game shooting, a little affair like that is a mere nothing."
"But you might have missed," Jack said. "The deviation of that spurt of water by even so much as a hair's breadth would have carried it full into Carrington's face, and then our presence must have inevitably been discovered. That is where the dramatic side of it appeals to me."
"It appealed to me also," Seymour whispered coolly. "But I had only to imagine that the lamp was the face of a famous old man-eating tiger who nearly did for me four years ago in Upper Burmah, to render my hand absolutely steady. If we had been discovered, we should have had to have fought our way out; but I think you will agree with me that I have managed the affair in a much more artistic way than that."
Jack agreed cordially. He was watching now with breathless eagerness to see what was the full measure of Seymour's success. Carrington had staggered back with a startled cry, though even as yet he did not know the danger that was to follow.
"By heaven, you have done it well," Jack muttered.
"I think I have," Seymour whispered complacently. "It occurs to me that I have not left much to be desired."
It was done even better than he had anticipated, for a few drops of the cold water had trickled down the receiver of the lamp and mingled with the oil there. From all parts of the brass work round the flame a blue, fiery vapor gushed out. With a cry of dismay Carrington almost threw the lamp upon the table; it tottered and fell sideways, and an instant later a stream of burning oil was flowing over the table-cloth, and dripping in long tongues of flame upon the carpet.
"For heaven's sake be careful, you clumsy coward," Anstruther cried. "You'll have the whole place on fire; those lamps are very pretty to look at, but dangerous to use."
But Carrington was not listening at all. He seemed to have lost his head entirely. But, frightened as he was, he did not fail to notice that the liquid flame was licking the other set of plans which were lying on the table. Just for an instant his mind was clear enough to see the necessity of saving the papers. He leaned forward and made a clutch at them. Something hot and stinging seemed to be gripping him by the fingers; he snatched his hand back again, and dragged the table-cloth, more than half of which was in flames, to the floor. Crash fell the second lamp, its crystal receiver smashed by the fall, and in the twinkling of an eye the whole room was in flames.
So sudden, so swift and unexpected was the whole thing, that Jack could only gasp. He was so lost in admiration of Seymour's quickness and coolness, that he quite failed to realize the danger in which he and his companion stood. Less than a minute had elapsed since Seymour put his scheme into execution, and yet already the smoking-room was one mass of lambent flame.
"Well, you have done it this time," Anstruther yelled. "Clear out at once, or there will be no occasion for me to trouble about either of us any further. Give an alarm; go out in the street, and yell for the fire engine."
Carrington needed no second bidding. Together with Anstruther he raced down the stone staircase and into the street. Jack could hear his companion chuckling with triumph and delight.
"Rather a close thing that," he said coolly. "And now we had best look to ourselves. No chance of making a dash through those flames without being badly burned; besides, I have no doubt there is some other way out of it. Push those windows to, Mr. Masefield; there is no reason why we should be suffocated here."
By closing the windows leading to the smoking-room, which was now a roaring mass of flame, it was possible to cut off the heat and smoke for a moment, and perhaps gain sufficient time to discover another means of retreat.
But this was easier said than done. With the aid of a match or two, Seymour found the window at the back of the conservatory, which opened outwards. So far as he could see there was a drop of something like thirty feet into a kind of alley at the back of the flats. "We shall have to wait our chance," Seymour said. "There are several more flats in the building, and no doubt there will be plenty to do for the firemen later on. In all probability, Anstruther and Carrington are mixed up in the crowd which you may be quite sure has collected by this time. Shall we wait on events, or shall we open the window and yell for assistance? We can pretend that we were cut off by the fire."
On the whole, Jack thought it would be better to wait. They were quite safe for the next quarter of an hour, at any rate, and in that time much might happen.
"It is worth risking," he said. "What a great thing it would be if we could get away from here without those men knowing that anybody had been on the premises. Suppose we try our hands as amateur firemen. There is plenty of water here."
But Seymour did not think it would be worth while. A hose and pipe as small as that which they had at their disposal would not be likely to be of much use in dealing with the roaring tornado of flame behind the closed glass doors. The conservatory, too, was getting intolerably hot, but that discomfort was avoided by opening the window. There was just the outline of a leaded balcony to be seen above the arch of the conservatory; then, greatly to Jack's delight, he saw the movements of some figures below, and then a ladder was slowly raised until it rested against the leads of the balcony.
"That is for the benefit of the people up-stairs," Seymour suggested. "Possibly they cannot make the inhabitants of the upper flats hear what is going on. See, the ladder is quite clear by this time--I expect those firemen have got in through a window somewhere. Push this window back, and see if you can reach the ladder."
It was a comparatively easy matter to reach the ladder, as Jack found to his great delight. A moment later he and Seymour were upon it. They slid rapidly down, and found themselves at length in the alley without anybody being a penny the wiser.
"Well, of all the lucky chances," Jack exclaimed. "We are well out of that. Let us go round to the front and see what is going on there."
A great crowd had assembled in front of the burning flat. The red outlines of a couple of engines could be seen; beyond the crowd there was a sound and regular rush of pumping water; and presently the crowd seemed to understand that all danger was over. Jack touched his companion's arm, and called his attention to the fact that Carrington and Anstruther were standing within earshot of them.
"And what are you going to do now?" asked the latter.
"Oh, I shall go off and stay at the Great Metropolitan. No, you needn't come along--I have had about enough of your company for to-night."
Carrington called a hansom, and was whirled away. Seymour smiled in a significant manner.
"Wouldn't it be as well," he suggested, "that you also found it convenient to pass the night at the Great Metropolitan? Padini is there, too, and it is possible that you may----"
"Right you are," Jack said eagerly. "Then I can call upon you in the morning and report progress. Good-night."
Jack had not waited to ask any idle questions; he had felt quite sure from Seymour's manner that the latter had some great scheme in hand. It was very pleasant and exhilarating to feel that a man of Seymour's wonderful fertility and courage should be enlisted on his side. Masefield was not without hope that the discoveries of the night were not yet complete. He strolled away in the direction of the Great Metropolitan, turning these things over in his mind.
It seemed to him that the clerk in the office of the mammoth hotel regarded him somewhat suspiciously, seeing that he had arrived without luggage of any kind; but a deposit of a sovereign soon set that matter right. It occurred to Jack as a good idea to secure a bedroom as nearly as possible next to that of Carrington. The hotel was not particularly busy, he discovered, for nobody had come in enquiring for bedroom accommodation during the last hour. This was a discovery in itself, for it testified to the fact that Carrington had not yet arrived.
It was nearly an hour before he came, and then he appeared in a desperate hurry. Discreetly Jack remained in the background, but he was close enough to hear Carrington arguing and protesting that he must have a certain room. The matter seemed to be settled amicably at length, and Carrington took his key and departed. Jack strolled across to the office again. He had decided on a bold policy.
"I am going to ask you to give me another room," he said. "I want to be as near as possible to the gentleman who has just gone up-stairs. I think if you do as I ask you it may save the hotel trouble. What was the number of his room?"
The clerk was friendly enough, and inclined to talk. Was it a police matter? he asked. Jack responded gravely that he was not in a position to say too much, but his mysterious manner had the desired effect, and the exchange was made.
"I haven't put you exactly next to that gentleman," the clerk explained. "You see our bedrooms are on a sort of cubical system--corridors down both sides, and the bedrooms back to back, if I may so express it--with a ventilating grating between them for the sake of air. That gentleman's bedroom is 28; therefore your room, exactly behind it, is No. 14. I hope I have made myself plain."
Jack replied that the thing was perfectly clear. Indeed, the system was in considerable vogue on the Continent. He lingered a little longer in the big lounge hall, where he smoked a cigarette or two, so as to give Carrington time to get to bed. It occurred to Jack, in an idle kind of way, that perhaps Carrington was deceiving Anstruther, or why had he not come straight to the hotel? Instead of that, he had evidently gone off somewhere in a desperate hurry, and had returned at length to the hotel looking very exhausted and agitated. Jack pondered this matter in his mind as he went up to his own room.
It was a comfortable enough bedroom, for the Great Metropolitan was noted for the luxury of its appointments; indeed, the room was fit for anybody. The lighting was exceedingly efficient; even over the bed was a pendant, evidently intended for those who cared to read after they retired to rest. Jack smiled as he noted the elaborate dressing-table and wash-hand-stand, to say nothing of a huge winged wardrobe, which was almost as big as a bedroom itself. Behind this wardrobe, fairly close to the ceiling, was the open grating which formed a ventilating shaft between the one room and the other one behind it.
Jack carefully closed the door, and with the aid of a chair managed to climb to the top of the wardrobe. He found that the grating was constructed on the swivel principle, very like a big cheval glass, so that by tilting it slightly it was just possible to see into the next room.
In the room aforesaid the lights had not yet been turned down, so that evidently Carrington had not gone to bed. The watcher could hear him impatiently pacing the room and muttering to himself from time to time. The muttering was exceedingly incoherent, but from the gist of it Jack seemed to make out that Carrington was expecting somebody. On the far side of the room was a wardrobe very much like the one upon which Jack was perched, except that it had large plate-glass doors which reflected practically everything that was taking place inside the room.
Jack could see Carrington now, lounging in a comfortable armchair and impatiently turning over a great mass of papers which lay on a table before him. On the table also was a box of cigars, flanked by two glasses and the necessary ingredients for the manufacture of whiskey and soda. There could be no longer any doubt about it: Carrington was expecting a friend. So far as the watcher could see, there was no hurry. He was quite prepared to sit up all night if necessary, and had no feelings of delicacy in listening to what the two scoundrels were going to say--provided always that the expected visitor was a scoundrel, of which Jack had very little doubt.
As he stood there, his whole mind strained to attention, it seemed to him that he could hear the sound of music somewhere. To his trained ear there was something familiar in the method of the player. Jack wondered where he had heard that finished execution before. Then it suddenly flashed upon him.
"How stupid," he muttered to himself. "I had quite forgotten that Padini was here. That is Padini, without a shadow of a doubt, carrying out the programme that Anstruther made out for him."
The music was not far off; it seemed to Jack that he could almost hear the scraping of the bow. It was not lost upon him, however, that the whole of the pieces were Chopin's compositions. The music ceased presently with a sudden twang, much as if the E string had violently parted. A moment later, by the aid of the friendly mirror, Jack saw Carrington's door open, and the figure of Padini come in. Carrington glared at the intruder.
"What do you mean by keeping me waiting all this time?" he growled. "Didn't you get my telephone message?"
"And hadn't I got my work to do?" Padini retorted. "I dare say you consider yourself to be an exceedingly clever fellow, but once you elect to match your wits with Anstruther, you will find yourself a lost man. It is no use you being in a hurry; as a matter of fact, I should have kept you a full hour longer, only I have broken my E string, and I don't happen to have another one on the premises."
With an angry gesture Padini threw his violin on the table. In a mechanical sort of way Carrington looked at the severed string. He was always a suspicious man, for it was an axiom of his never to trust anybody, and he was wondering now if this were not part of some dodge being worked out by his visitor. His face grew a little anxious as he held one end of the broken string between his thumb and finger.
"I suppose you call this a simple fracture," he said. "String worn out, and all that kind of thing. If you will look at it carefully, you will see that it has been half cut; you can actually see how far the knife has gone."
Padini examined the string carefully. His face also had grown a little gray and anxious.
"It is exactly as you say, my friend," he exclaimed. "But I wonder how that was done, and why. It is not as if I left my violin about--one is not so careless with a genuine Amati like mine. I brought the fiddle back with me from my afternoon recital, and I am prepared to swear that there was nothing the matter with it then. I locked it up in my box, and there it stayed till a couple of hours ago. Now what does this mean? Does anybody suspect us? Has Anstruther's clever scheme come to the knowledge of anybody? The police, perhaps, might have discovered----"
"The police have nothing whatever to do with that," Carrington said angrily. "What have any of us done to bring ourselves within the reach of the law--at present? The man that we have most to fear is Seymour. How you came to let him slip through your fingers the other night is an absolute mystery to me."
Padini shrugged his shoulders, and something like an oath escaped him. By aid of the friendly mirror Jack obtained a perfect view of his face. It was white and sinister; the dark eyes gleamed like living coals.
"But Seymour must be dead," the violinist said hoarsely. "We know he is dead; did we not read it in the papers? It may be that some friends stole his body for purposes of their own, but dead he is. If I thought he was still alive, I should have to leave London; I dare not stay here with a horror like that hanging over me."
"You are absolutely wrong," Carrington cried. "Seymour is still alive; he is still in London, thirsting for vengeance. He is rich, he has the courage of a lion, and the mind of a Machiavelli. You smile, my friend, but it is the smile of a thoroughly frightened man. Seymour is after you; he is after me. Look at this. Don't say you fail to recognize it."
"It is his tobacco pouch," Padini faltered.
"Yes; I thought you would recognize it. And where do you suppose I found that to-night? In my own room, lying on the floor. Do you want any greater proof than that, that Seymour was working in my own rooms to-night?"
Padini nodded moodily. Jack noticed how his hand trembled as he helped himself to the whiskey and soda. "I am sick of this," he muttered. "I mean to get out of it--I am as anxious as you are to get outside Anstruther's influence. That is why I am here to-night. I am going to tell you my plan--call it murderous and treacherous if you like--which is the only way of settling Anstruther's claims upon us. If you have any pluck at all--if there is anything of the man about you----"
"No, no," Carrington faltered. "I tell you I dare not."
As the speaker broke off, Jack was conscious of something like an altercation outside his door. The night porter was protesting that something or other was not his fault; the other man's voice was equally sure that it was. It did not require much intelligence to discover that the newcomer wanted that particular room. With a thrill Jack recognized the voice of Anstruther. In an instant he had made up his mind what to do. Like a flash he came down from the top of the wardrobe, switched on the light over the bed, and proceeded softly to unlock the door. There was a knock on the panel at the same moment. Jack glanced hastily round, and bundled one or two of his belongings into the wing of the wardrobe. He had barely time to conceal himself there, before the handle of the door turned and Anstruther entered.
"You can see it is exactly as I said," the latter remarked. "I engaged this room an hour ago. It is quite evident that no other guest has taken this apartment. If he were here, surely there would be a portmanteau, or a dressing-case, or something of that kind. Take this half-sovereign, and say no more about it. If there is any fuss I will take the blame."
The man departed; the door was locked behind him, and a moment later Jack could feel the heavy form of Anstruther climbing to the top of the wardrobe.
It was impossible, boxed up as he was in the stuffy atmosphere of the wardrobe, for Jack to hear anything of what was going on in the next room. But it was pretty easy to guess what was the meaning of Anstruther's strange intrusion. There was only one thing for it, and that was to possess his soul in patience and hope that Anstruther had no intention of spending the night there. It was perfectly obvious that he had come only with the intention of hearing what was taking place in the next room. It was impossible for anybody possessed of ordinary intellect not to admire Anstruther, whose brilliant qualities could not be ignored. Even now, excited as he was, Masefield could not repress his admiration for the man he both feared and disliked.
It really was a marvelous thing that Anstruther should be so soon upon the track of the man with whom he had parted on friendly terms not an hour ago. Was this the result of some perfect system of spying, or was it that Anstruther's wonderful instinct led him to believe that Carrington was ready to plot against him whilst professing to act upon his advice? Masefield had plenty of time to ponder this question, for the figure on the wardrobe above gave no signs as yet of having had enough of it. Nor was Jack's situation rendered more pleasant by the knowledge that he might have to pass the night in a perpendicular position and half stifled by the stuffy atmosphere of the wardrobe.
But there was always comfort in the knowledge that Anstruther's main object was to hear the conversation in the next room. It might possibly last not much longer; at any rate, Carrington would have to go to bed some time, and the sooner the better.
An hour passed. An hour which seemed the whole of a long night came to an end at length, and then there was some sound, as if of a body cautiously moving overhead. Jack drew a long breath of relief, or at least as long a breath as was possible, considering his stifling surroundings. The critical moment had arrived. Had the conference next door finished, or was it merely an interlude? Jack wondered. He had been bound to push the door of the wardrobe open a little, and now he saw a long slit of light, which told him that Anstruther had turned up the lamps again. He could hear the latter pacing the room in a restless kind of fashion, and muttering to himself as if he were not entirely satisfied with what he had heard.
Jack, greatly daring, ventured to push the wardrobe door open slightly further. He caught a side view of his enemy as the latter sat moodily on the bed, with apparently no intention of removing his clothing. It was quite within the bounds of possibility now that Anstruther, having satisfied himself, would leave the hotel altogether. A moment later and Jack saw that his conclusion was the right one. Anstruther turned towards the door.
"No reason to stay here any longer," he muttered. "I'm as tired as a dog. I suppose my nerves are not what they used to be, or perhaps I am growing old; at any rate, this sort of thing tells upon me more than it used to. Certainly that half-sovereign of mine was well laid out. Oh, you contemptible pair of rascals--so you think you are going to get the best of Spencer Anstruther. We shall see. And as to Padini----"
The speaker shook his fist in the direction of the next room, and walked quietly in the direction of the door. Jack could hear the key turn in the lock. He felt a suggestion of draught as if the room were now open to the corridor. The next instant the lights vanished, and Anstruther had left the room. Jack crept out into the comparatively pure atmosphere, and wiped the moisture from his forehead. He preferred to remain in the darkness till he had made up his mind what to do. Looking up in the direction of the ventilator, he could see that the lights were now extinguished in Carrington's bedroom. This was plain evidence of the fact that the conference was concluded, and that there was no occasion to stay any longer.
"I'll get out of it too," Jack muttered to himself. "It is only a matter of forfeiting my sovereign, and what I have learned is cheap at the price; but I shall have to be cautious."
It was perhaps fortunate for Jack that a somewhat large rush of late guests came into the hotel at the same moment. Most of them were racing men returning from a big meeting up north. Anyway, the servants appeared to be particularly busy, so that Jack felt that he could slip away without any suspicions as to his movements. He waited just a moment till the corridor was practically empty, then sauntered towards the head of the stairs with the air of a man who has just come in.
He had practically reached the big square landing, when a bedroom door opened cautiously, and a man's face peeped out. It occurred to Jack that possibly this man was looking for something, or that he was going to deposit his boots outside, or something of that kind. But the stranger, who was about half-dressed, did nothing of the kind. On the contrary, he raised his finger in a mysterious manner, and beckoned deliberately to Jack. He did not appear in the least agitated; on the contrary, his expression was one of caution and mistrust. Jack, thinking that it might have been a little play of fancy on his part, would have moved on, only the stranger stepped briskly outside and touched him on the arm.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Jack asked politely. "I suppose your bell's gone wrong, or something of that sort; I am quite at your service."
"Will you be good enough to step inside my room?" the stranger said. "The request will probably strike you as being somewhat out of the common, but I really have something important to say to you."
As was quite natural in the circumstances, Jack hesitated for a moment. Like most people, he had heard and read a great deal about strange hotel outrages, and it occurred to him now that he might have been chosen for the victim of one of these. Possibly the stranger was mad, or possibly he was suffering from alcoholic excess. But Jack felt more reassured as he carefully examined the features of the stranger.
He was a tall, slim man, who palpably was recovering from some dangerous illness. It was either that, or he was far gone in consumption. Jack could see that the mere act of standing there was a weariness of the flesh; he noted also the attenuated arms, which at one time or another must have been exceedingly powerful, for the sinews and muscles seemed to hang upon the bones like rags.
But it was the face of the man that attracted Jack's attention most. It was long and lean and pallid; there were thin strips of plaster skilfully bandaged about the eyes and mouth, and down the sides of the long, hawk-like nose. Still, behind it all, there was ever the suggestion that this man was a sportsman and an athlete. Jack seemed to know by instinct that his new acquaintance was a man who had passed much time in warm climates. He began to wonder if the stranger had laid violent hands upon himself. It was very strange to see all that maze of plaster, as if the face had been carved in some grotesque fashion with a knife.
"Do please come inside for a moment," the stranger pleaded. "I assure you I mean no harm, and our conversation may result in a wonderful deal of good. You evidently regard me as a kind of lunatic. Well, in some respects, perhaps, you are right; but there is a good deal of method in my madness."
Jack still hesitated. The stranger sighed bitterly.
"I see I must be candid with you," he said. "I am taking a great risk, but I am trusting you because I never make a mistake about a face. You have been closeted for some time in the same room with Spencer Anstruther, but that you are an accomplice of his I feel sure is impossible.Nowwill you come inside my room?"
Jack hesitated no longer. He strode into the room, and his new acquaintance closed the door behind him. The apartment was furnished half as a sitting, half as a bedroom. A fire burned in the grate, an invalid armchair was pulled up to one side of it. There was plenty of proof, also, of the fact that the occupant of the room was an invalid. Here were bottles with chemists' labels; here were some cotton wool and a case of surgical instruments. In one corner of the room was a small iron bedstead, which was obviously placed there for the use of a male nurse. "You are quite right," the stranger said, as if reading Jack's thoughts. "As a matter of fact, there is no reason why you should have accepted my invitation at all--one hears of so many strange things happening in these big modern hotels. As you imagine, I am just recovering from a dangerous illness, the result of a very delicate operation. But we need not go into that. What you are dying to find out is how I know all about Spencer Anstruther."
"I confess I am a little curious on the point," Jack said drily. "You are taking a great risk when you mention his name and assume that I am no friend of his."
"You couldn't be with a face like yours," the stranger replied. "A dupe, perhaps, or a man he was making use of; but never one of his infamous gang. And yet you were in that room with him a long time to-night."
Jack hesitated a moment before he spoke again.
"Look here," he said. "You have been fairly candid with me, and in return I will be as candid with you. Anstruther is a great scoundrel, and it is to my interest and to the interests of those I love that the man should be exposed and rendered harmless for the future. Now, how did you know that we were in the same bedroom together?"
"That is easily explained," said the other. "My male nurse was suddenly called away this evening on important business. I have been feeling so much better the last day or two that I decided to do without a substitute. Mind you, I knew perfectly well that Anstruther was frequently in the habit of spending an occasional night here. And I had my own reasons for keeping out of his way. But something happened to my bell to-night, and I had to go to the top of the corridor and use the bell there. It was quite by accident that I saw you enter Bedroom No. 14, and it was quite by accident, also, that I heard Anstruther demand to know why he could not have the same room. I listened with curiosity, because the thing struck me as very strange. It struck me as stranger still when I heard Anstruther say that the room was empty, and saw him close the door behind him."
"A kind of vanishing trick," Jack smiled. "Well, yes, if you like to put it in that way," the other said. "It was either one of two things--you were there as an accomplice, which I refuse for one moment to believe, or you had hidden yourself in the room for the purpose of watching Anstruther. In fact, seeing that circumstances were going for you, you laid a neat little trap for Anstruther. Have I not guessed it correctly?"
"Your deductions are perfectly sound," Jack said. "I deliberately chose that bedroom with the full intention of overhearing what was going on in the room behind. When I heard Anstruther come in, I hid myself in the wardrobe and stayed there till he left the room. Now I have told you all that has happened so far as I am concerned. It is your turn to be communicative."
"I am exceedingly sorry to appear discourteous," the stranger said; "but I am afraid I cannot tell you very much. The mere mention of Anstruther's name always throws me into a kind of terror. I may be able to help you later on, but for the present I am bound to silence. But tell me now, do you see any likeness between Anstruther and myself?"
The question was asked with an eagerness that struck Jack as being far beyond the necessity of so simple a query. The speaker seemed to fairly tremble for Jack's reply.
"There does not begin to be any resemblance," he said. "The question strikes me as being a strange one. And now let me ask you a question. From what you say, you appear to know Anstruther exceedingly well. Now, did you ever notice his likeness to anybody? You have seen him when he has been greatly moved to passion, I suppose?"
The stranger shuddered, and turned away his head.
"That is sufficient answer for me," Jack said. "I dare say you have noticed those strange Nostalgo posters. Did it ever occur to you that Anstruther is not unlike those pictures?"
The effect of the question was extraordinary. The stranger looked at Jack with eyes filled with terror.
"Strange, very strange," he muttered hoarsely. "You have hit it exactly. May I ask, have you ever been in Mexico?"
"No," Jack replied; "but I know a man who has. Did you ever meet an individual out there called Seymour?"