"I've already explained to you that to seek to elucidate the mystery of
these adventures of yours is entirely useless. We have promised to each
other mutual faith. That is, in itself, sufficient."
Then, taking my arm, she hurriedly led me across the room, up some
steps, and along two long passages that ran at right angles to each
other, until at length we emerged into the street.
Where we were I had not the slightest idea. I only knew that we were
beside the river bank, for upon my ears there fell the shrill whistle of
a steam-tug.
With her arm linked in mine, and heedless of the water dripping from her
skirts, she led me forward through a number of narrow turnings, until by
the bustle about me I knew that we must have reached a main road.
I heard the approaching hoot of a taxi, and the vehicle, at her demand,
pulled up at the kerb.
"We must now part," she said, in a low, earnest voice. "Remember that
in this remarkable affair our interests are absolutely identical. Any
order that you receive you will obey without seeking to discover the why
or wherefore, and above all, silence to the police."
"I have promised," I answered.
"And whatever may occur in the future, recollect that I am still your
protectress, as I have been to-day. I have forced you to your promise,
but for that I ask your forgiveness, because it is essential, if the
mystery is ever to be solved."
"Are you, too, seeking the truth?"
"Yes," she responded. "But we must not talk here. The condition of our
clothes is attracting attention."
"I shall think always of the mysterious Edna who refuses all
information," I laughed.
"And I, too, shall not easily forget you--and all I owe to you.
Farewell."
Her soft hand grasped mine for an instant, that same cool hand that had
soothed my brow. Afterwards she assisted me into the cab.
"Good-bye," she cried. Then she became lost to me.
I told the driver where to go, and sat back in the vehicle, plunged in
my own thoughts. I was like a man in a dream. The mystery was most
tantalising. Feeling weak, I stopped at a public-house and had some
brandy. Indeed, I felt so unwell that I sat in the bar-parlour fully
half an hour before resuming my drive.
Suddenly I recollected that I might gather something from the driver,
and I inquired where he had taken me up.
"In Albert Road, Battersea, sir."
This surprised me, for I had no idea that I had been on the Surrey side
of the river.
I explained to the man my blindness, and asked him to describe the lady
who had put me into this cab.
"Well, sir," he said, "she was very pretty indeed, with grey eyes and
darkish hair."
"She was good-looking--eh?"
"Yes, sir. I don't think I've ever seen a much prettier young lady."
I sighed. How tantalising it was that my poor sightless eyes had been
unable to gaze upon her.
"Describe her more closely," I urged. "I'm anxious to know exactly what
she's like."
"She had lovely eyes, sir. Her hair seemed a bit untidy, but it was a
pretty shade of dark-brown. Her face seemed innocent-looking, like a
child's. I was surprised to see her like that."
"Like what?"
"Half-drowned like. She had on a black skirt that seemed soaking wet
through, and covered with mud. She looked in an awful plight, and yet
her face was merry and smiling. She took another cab as soon as she
parted from you, and drove after us across the Albert Bridge, and then
down Oakley Street. There she stopped the cab to speak to some one."
"Who was it?" I asked eagerly.
"A woman. But I couldn't see distinctly. They were too far away, and
turned down Cheyne Walk, so I didn't see 'em any more."
"You say that her clothes were very dirty?"
"Yes, worse than yours, and, great Scott! sir, they're bad enough.
You'll want to send 'em to the cleaners when you get 'ome."
What the man said was perfectly true. The slime of the river emitted a
sickening stench, but it fortunately served to conceal one thing,
namely, the blood-stains upon my coat.
I laughed at this remark of his, but I had no intention to enter upon
explanations.
"From her appearance did my companion lead you to believe that she was a
lady?"
"Oh yes, sir. By her manner you'd tell her as a lady among ten
thousand."
"There was nothing noticeable about whereby I might recognise her again?
Try and recollect."
"No, sir," answered the man. "She was a very beautiful young lady, and
that's all I noticed."
"You'd know her again if you saw her?"
"I should just say I would," laughed the man. "When a chap sees a woman
as lovely as she is it ain't likely he'll forget her, even though he may
have a wife and 'arf a dozen kids at 'ome."
"You're smitten by her beauty, it seems," I laughed. "What's your
name?"
"West, sir--Tom West. Number L.C.432. I stand on the rank at Hyde Park
Corner."
"Well, West," I said, taking a card out of my case, and handing it to
him, "if you ever see that lady again, and can find out who and what she
is, and where she lives, I'll give you a present--say twenty pounds."
"Twenty quid!" the man echoed with a whistle. "I'd like to touch the
oof, sir, and you bet I'll keep my weather eye open."
"As soon as you've found her, let me know, and the money is yours. You
understand that's a bargain."
"Right you are, sir. I'll do my very best."
"If you only knew the driver of the cab she took after we parted you
might, perhaps, learn something."
"That's just what I'm thinking," he said. "The man who drove her was, I
believe, an old fellow that we know as `Doughy' but I'm not at all sure.
However, as soon as I set you down I'll go and find him. A driver is
difficult to recognise if he wears another overcoat, you see. That's
why I'm not certain that it really was `Doughy'."
By the sharp descent of the roadway I knew that we were already in Essex
Street, and a few moments later I had paid the man West and was
ascending the stair to my own chambers.
The enlistment into my service of this man, the only person who had seen
the mysterious Edna, was, I congratulated myself, a very shrewd and
clever commencement of the investigation which I intended, at all
hazards, to carry out.
Indeed, my only means of tracing her was through the intermediary of
this one man, who had seen her and remarked upon her marvellous beauty.
He seemed a sharp, witty fellow, and I therefore entertained every
confidence in his efforts to earn the promised reward. He was now on
his way to find his colleague, the old driver "Doughy," and if Edna had
actually taken his cab I should, without doubt, soon be in possession of
some information.
Thus, with a light step and reassured feeling, I ascended the stairs,
wondering what old Mrs Parker would say to my protracted absence, and
how I should explain it to her. I took out my latch-key and opened the
door.
As I entered the tiny lobby that served the dual purpose of hall and a
place in which to hang coats, a startling sound broke upon my ears--the
sound of a woman's cry.
In an instant I drew back. Fresh mystery greeted me. I stood there
rigid, speechless, aghast.