As the brougham sped on its way through the almost deserted streets, I
sat and wondered as to what it could have been that had induced
Rotherhithe to send such an urgent message to me. That something serious
had happened I had not the least doubt, for the Duke was a self-reliant
man, and at no time given to the display of emotion. Taking the letter
from my pocket again, I endeavoured to read it by the light of the lamps
we passed, but it was impossible. The fear that underlay everything was
that Count Conrad had returned to town, had met Rotherhithe, and that
there had been trouble between them.
After we had been driving for something like five minutes, a most
curious thing happened. I was trying to make out an object in the street
through which we were passing, when suddenly I found myself in total
darkness. Putting my hand up to the right-hand window to see what had
occasioned it, I found that a sheet of iron had interposed itself
between me and the glass. The same thing had happened in front and on
the opposite side, though how it had been arranged, I could not for the
life of me discover. Then I tried the doors, but the handles refused to
turn. I felt that I was trapped indeed, and to make matters worse, a
villainous smell of gas was fast taking possession of the carriage. I
shouted for assistance with all the strength of my lungs, but no help
came. I tried to force the panels of the carriage, but it was a useless
endeavour. Still the sickening smell of gas increased, until I felt
that, unless I could get into the fresh air without delay, I should be
suffocated--as a matter of fact my senses were already leaving me. Was
this how Woller and Castellan had died? I asked myself, for in my own
heart I felt that my last hour had come. Scarcely conscious of what I
was doing, I believe I stood up and struggled with the door, but with as
little success as before. Then I fell back upon the cushions and became
oblivious to everything.
How long I remained in this condition I cannot say; I only know that my
next waking thought was the realisation of a spasm of acute pain. It was
as if every muscle of my body were being drawn by red-hot pincers. My
brain whirred as though to the rattle of a thousand pieces of machinery,
while an indescribable nausea held me in its grip. I could not have
lifted my head, or have opened my eyes, had my life depended upon my
doing so. For what seemed an interminable time, I lay like this, totally
unconscious of my surroundings, and, indeed, of everything else save my
agony. After a time, however, my senses began to return to me, and I was
able to reduce my thoughts to something like order.
At first I had no recollection of what had transpired since I had left
home, but little by little it all came back to me. I recalled the letter
I had received from Rotherhithe, and the haste with which I had complied
with the summons it contained. I remembered the drive through the
lamp-lit streets, the sudden darkness that had descended upon me, the
overpowering smell of gas, and the sensation, which I could compare to
nothing, save that of approaching death, which I had experienced when I
fell back upon the street.
At last I opened my eyes and looked about me. Had I found myself in a
vault, I doubt whether I should have been more surprised. As it was, my
astonishment was the greater at finding myself in a comfortable
bed-room, not very large, it is true, but cheerful to an eminent degree.
The furniture was useful, but not luxurious; it consisted of a wash-hand
stand, a chest of drawers, a toilet table, two chairs, and the bed upon
which I was lying. There were also two pictures, I remember; one, of
German origin, in colours, represented the sale of Joseph to the
Ishmaelites, and the other, a print of Exeter Cathedral, in which the
facade of that fine building was entirely out of the drawing. There was
a fire-place, but no fender; a skylight, but no other window. A strip of
Dutch matting covered the floor on the left-hand side of the bed, and
when I have recorded that fact, I think I have given you a description
of everything in the room.
As for myself, when I had taken these things in, I closed my eyes and
tried to rest. The clang and whir still echoed in my brain, and when I
endeavoured to lift my head I discovered that I was as weak as a baby.
Though I tried hard to arrive at an understanding of the situation, the
attempt was far from being a successful one.
That I was the victim of that same mysterious power which had abducted
Woller, Castellan and the Commander-in-Chief, I had not the least doubt;
but if they had taken me off, where was I now, and what were they going
to do with me? Was I to be retained as a perpetual prisoner, or were
they only keeping me until a good opportunity presented itself for doing
away with me? Either theory, as I think you will agree, was of a nature
calculated to render me sufficiently uncomfortable.
After a time I must have fallen asleep again, for I remember opening my
eyes and feeling much stronger than when I first woke. What was more, I
was also conscious of a decided sensation of hunger. From the waning
light in my room, I gathered that the day was far advanced, and I
groaned aloud as I thought of the trouble my absence must be causing my
friends. It seemed to me I could hear the cries of the newsboys in the
streets as they shouted:--
"DISAPPEARANCE OF ANOTHER CABINET MINISTER!"
"SIR GEORGE MANDERVILLE MISSING!"
I could picture the anxiety of my own household, and Rotherhithe's anger
when he discovered, as discover he certainly would, the use that had
been made of his name. Then an overwhelming desire to find out something
concerning my whereabouts took possession of me, and I rose from the bed
upon which I had hitherto been lying. As I did so a handful of money
fell from my pocket. Instinctively, I felt for my watch; it was still in
its accustomed place. It was certain, therefore, that robbery had no
part in the business.
With tottering steps I approached the door, only to find, as I expected,
that it was locked. I looked at the skylight above my head and reflected
that by placing a chair on the chest of drawers it might be possible to
reach it; in my present weak state, however, such a feat was out of the
question. Even this brief inspection of my surroundings taxed my
strength severely, and I accordingly once more laid myself down to rest.
I had one source of comfort, however. Captive though I was, I should at
least be able to solve a problem which the great world had given up as
hopeless. In other words I should be able to fathom the mystery that
surrounded the disappearance of General Woller, of the Colonial
Secretary, and also of the Commander-in-Chief. I should know something
of the members of that power which had for so long a time past been
exercising its malignant influence upon England. The unfortunate part of
it was that when I had obtained the knowledge it would be of no use to
me.
All this time the feeling of hunger, to which I have already alluded,
was gradually growing stronger; imprisonment was bad enough in its way,
but imprisonment combined with starvation was intolerable. Unable at
last to bear it any longer, I rose from my bed, and beat upon the door
with my fists in the hope of attracting attention. Loud, however, as
was the noise I made, it elicited no response. The house might have been
deserted for all the answer I received. I beat upon the panels again and
again, continuing my efforts until I was exhausted. Still no attention
rewarded me. At last, tired out by my efforts, I returned to my bed and
sat down upon it. I had scarcely done so, before the sound of footsteps
in the corridor on the other side of the door reached my ears. A key was
placed in the lock and turned, the door opened, and a man entered the
room.
It would be difficult for me to express the surprise I felt at seeing
him. You will be in a position to realize something of my feelings, when
I say that the man before me was no less a person than the impoverished
music-master I had seen appealing to the Countess de Venetza in the
Park, and whom I had offered to help. That I was not deceived I was
quite certain. I should have known him anywhere by reason of his
extraordinary dark eyes and hair.
"Good afternoon, monsieur," he said in French, with an assurance that
showed me he was aware of my familiarity with that language. "What may
I have the pleasure of doing for you?"
His calm insolence surprised me. I had expected rough treatment,
possibly abuse; to be a prisoner and yet to be treated with such
elaborate politeness was not at all what I had pictured for my portion.
"I desire to be set at liberty at once," I replied, with as much
firmness as I could muster up. "If you have had a hand in this business,
which it seems only right to suppose, let me inform you that it is
likely to prove an expensive amusement for you. What treatment you may
afterwards receive at my hands will be estimated by the expedition you
show in releasing me."
"I sincerely trust, monsieur, that no violence has been used towards
you," he said. "The instructions were merely to bring you here with as
little inconvenience to yourself as possible. You may rest assured that
if those instructions have not been complied with, the offenders will be
punished. In the meantime, perhaps it is possible that I can be of some
service to you?"
"You can provide me with food," I answered angrily; "and, since my
watch has stopped, perhaps you will be good enough to tell me the time."
"I will do so with pleasure," he said. "If Monsieur will permit me, I
will arrange that dinner shall be served at once; at the same time I
will inform him as to the state of the clock."
Having said this he bowed and left me.
Ten minutes or so later I again caught the sound of footsteps in the
corridor, the key was turned in the lock, and the door opened. This time
he carried in his hand a tray, upon which were set out the various
necessaries for a meal. He laid the table in silence, and then again
withdrew. When next he returned he brought with him a number of covered
dishes, and, what was more, an ice-bucket, in which stood a bottle of
champagne.
"I trust Monsieur will find everything to his satisfaction," he said, as
he removed the covers. "If the cooking is not exactly what Monsieur has
a right to expect, perhaps he will remember the inconveniences under
which we are labouring. Should he need anything further, there is a
bell, which Monsieur has not noticed, beside the fire-place, and the
summons will be instantly obeyed."
"But, my good fellow," I cried, "this sort of thing is all very well in
its way, you know, but----"
"If Monsieur will take my advice, he will dine before his food gets
cold," the man replied. "The kitchen is in the basement; the viands
have, therefore, been already some time upon the road."
I saw that it was useless to argue, or to attempt to extract any
information from him. I accordingly allowed him to bow himself out
without further words. When he had gone, and the door had been locked
behind him, I approached the table and lifted the covers. On the first
dish was a pheasant roasted to a nicety; the potato chips were
exquisitely crisp, the bread-crumbs just what they should be.
"It is very evident that they do not intend to starve me," I said to
myself as I drew up my chair. "If ever I get out of this mess, what a
tale I shall have to tell! Last night the guest of the Countess de
Venetza at Wiltshire House: to-night the guest of----well, of whom? Can
it be possible that this is the head-quarters of a secret society, and
that my unfortunate friends are concealed in it?"
This should have afforded me food for reflection, but, strangely enough,
it did not interfere with my enjoyment of the meal. I could not remember
ever to have tasted so delicious a bird. Never before had I drunk
champagne with such a keen appreciation of its delicacy. When at last I
put down my knife and fork I was a different man, and was able to look
my affairs in the face with a greater amount of equanimity than I had
yet felt.
By this time night was drawing in and very soon it would be dark. I
accordingly rang my bell in order that the table might be cleared. The
summons was answered with a sufficient promptness to suggest the idea
that the man who had brought the meal to me had been waiting outside.
"I trust his dinner has been to Monsieur's satisfaction," he said, as he
placed the various articles upon the tray.
"Upon that score I have no fault to find," I replied. "And now perhaps
you will be kind enough to let me have a little talk with you?"
"It will give me the greatest pleasure to talk with Monsieur, provided
he does not touch upon forbidden subjects," he answered. "Should he do
that, my lips will be immediately sealed."
"I have yet to find out what those forbidden subjects are," I said,
affecting a coolness I was far from feeling. "I presume you mean with
regard to my detention here?"
"Exactly," he replied. "It is with regard to the reason for the
detention of Monsieur that I am unable to speak with him."
"I know how I got here," I returned. "What I want to know is, who
brought me, and what is to be done with me?"
He only shook his head.
"My lips are sealed. I must beg that Monsieur will put no further
questions to me upon this matter."
Seeing that it was useless to do so, I complied with his request,
contenting myself by asking him if it would be possible to procure me a
lamp and a book. He replied to the effect that it would give him the
greatest pleasure, and once more left the room, as usual taking care to
lock the door behind him. Presently he returned, carrying a lamp in one
hand, and in the other half a dozen books, which he placed upon the
table.
"I fear our stock of literature is not extensive," he said. "Doubtless,
however, Monsieur will find something here to interest him. Should he
require anything further, perhaps he will ring the bell. Our desire, as
I said before, is to do all that we can to ensure Monsieur's comfort."
"But not his happiness," I replied; "otherwise he would scarcely be
here."
"Once more I must remind Monsieur that we are treading upon dangerous
ground," he said.
Without another word he bade me good-night, and left me to derive what
amusement and instruction I could from the collection of books he had
placed upon the table.
They were, in truth, a motley assortment, comprising two volumes of
sermons by a Divine who had flourished at the commencement of the
century, a book of poems by a lady of whom I had never heard, "Caesar's
Commentaries" in the original, and the second volume of "Pride and
Prejudice," with the label of a seaside circulating library upon the
cover. I chose the last-named for preference, and not having read it
before, and knowing nothing of what had taken place in the previous
chapters, endeavoured to interest myself in it. The result, however,
scarcely justified the labour. Heaven forbid that I should belittle a
work that has given pleasure to so many thousands, but that night I was
not only unable to derive any satisfaction from it, but found that it
produced a feeling that might almost be described as one of prolonged
bewilderment. After a time I exchanged it for one of the volumes of
sermons, only to be equally bemused. The worthy divine's style was, if I
may so express it, of the bigoted, yet argumentative, order. Never
before had my own spiritual outlook appeared so ominous. I could plainly
see that I had nothing to hope for in my present or future state. Almost
in fear I closed the book and placed it with its fellows. Then I rose
from my seat, and crossed to the door and examined it. It was as
securely fastened as before.
Not a sound reached me from the other portions of the house; so quiet
indeed was it, that had I not had evidence to the contrary, I could
have believed myself its sole occupant. Having convinced myself that I
was not likely to be disturbed, and making as little noise as possible,
I placed one of the chairs upon the chest of drawers. By standing upon
the latter I found that I was just able to reach the skylight. I tried
to open it, but a few attempts were sufficient to show me that it had
been made secure from the outside, doubtless in preparation for my
coming. So far, therefore, as that exit was concerned, my escape was
hopeless. Bitterly disappointed, I descended from my perch, and pushed
the table back to its original position in the corner. It looked as if I
were destined to remain a prisoner. In a very dejected state of mind I
threw myself upon the bed, and it is not to be wondered at if my dreams
that night were of a disturbed and depressing condition.
Punctual to the stroke of eight o'clock my gaoler entered the room,
bringing with him the various articles necessary for my toilet.
"In case Monsieur would like to see what the world thinks of his
disappearance," said the man, with his usual politeness, "I have
brought copies of several of the morning papers. Monsieur will see that
it has caused quite a sensation in England."
He said this with such respect and civility that had a stranger who was
not aware of the real state of the case been present, he would have
found it difficult to believe that the man was in any way concerned in
the affair.
I am inclined to think that an experience such as mine has never
befallen another man. Here I was in captivity--if not in the heart of
London, at any rate in one of her Suburbs--sitting down to peruse, in
cold blood, a newspaper account of my own abduction. The first I picked
up recorded the fact that I had been present at a dinner at Wiltshire
House, on the previous evening, and that I had returned to my own abode
afterwards. My servant, Williams, had given evidence as to the receipt
of a note by me, which purported to have been written by the Duke of
Rotherhithe. In it the latter asked me to come to him at once. "His
Grace sent one of his carriages," Williams remarked in conclusion, "and
when my master got into it, that was the last I saw of him." Then came
Rotherhithe's vehement declaration that the letter was a forgery, and
his most positive assertion, corroborated by his head coachman, that not
one of his horses or carriages had left the stables after his return
from Wiltshire House. "The fact therefore remains," said the writer, at
the termination of his article, "that the disappearance of Sir George
Manderville must be relegated to that catalogue of inexplicable crimes,
to which so many of our foremost men have fallen victims of late."
The reports in the other papers were, for the most part, couched in
similar language.
As soon as I was dressed, my breakfast was brought to me, but while I
had no fault to find with the cooking, I scarcely touched it. I was
turning over in my mind a scheme for making my escape, which had
suddenly occurred to me, and which, I could not help thinking, possessed
a considerable chance of being successful. What was to prevent my
springing upon my gaoler when he next entered the room, overpowering
him, and then rushing out? Even if I did not succeed in getting away
from the house, I might at least be able to attract the attention of
people in the street, and thus be able to induce them to communicate
with the Authorities. The idea seemed feasible enough, but I had not
only to remember that my keeper was a muscular fellow, but that he would
be fighting for what he knew to be a desperate cause. So far as strength
went, however, I felt convinced I was his equal. Besides, I should have
the advantage of taking him off his guard, which would be many points in
my favour. At any rate I was prepared to try. This settled, the next
thing to be decided was when would be the best time to put the plan into
execution. Should I make the attempt when he returned to take away my
breakfast things, or at mid-day when he brought my lunch? To do so at
night would, I knew, be useless, since there would not be so many
passers-by, and if the windows were dark--and I had every reason to
suppose they would be--I should stand but little chance of being seen,
and the _raison d'etre_ of the whole affair would be gone. At last, on
the principle that there is no time like the present, I determined to
strike while the iron was hot, and to tackle him when he next entered
the room. I made my plans accordingly.
In order to reach the table at the further end of the room, it would be
necessary for him to go round at the foot of the bed. It was while he
was there that the attempt must be made. Having got him down, I would
endeavour to take the key from him and reach the door before he could
sound the alarm or get upon his feet again. After that I must act as
circumstances dictated. On this occasion he was somewhat more dilatory
than usual. At last, however, I heard his footsteps in the corridor
outside, then the key was inserted in the lock, and a moment later he
had entered the room.
Having closed the door behind him, he passed round the bed on his way to
the table. My heart by this time was beating so furiously that it seemed
impossible that he could fail to hear it. I had been careful to observe
in which pocket he placed his key, for I knew that upon my finding that
all my hopes depended. An hour seemed to have elapsed before he was
bending over the table, engaged in collecting the various articles upon
it. On this particular occasion he was in a somewhat more taciturn mood
than usual, a fact for which I was not altogether sorry, for had he
addressed me, my nervousness must surely have aroused his suspicions.
At last the moment for action arrived, and I rose from my seat upon the
bed. I had scarcely taken a step forward, however, before he turned,
and, divining my intentions, prepared to receive me. This was more than
I had bargained for, but I had gone too far to turn back. He muttered
something in Italian which I did not catch, then I was upon him, had
caught him by the throat, and the struggle had commenced.
As a youngster I had won some little notoriety among my companions as a
wrestler. The tricks I had learnt then stood me in good stead now. The
man, as I have said, was muscular and heavy, but I soon found that I was
quite his match. We rocked to and fro, turned over a chair, and on
several occasions came perilously near the table. So tight was my grip
upon his throat that, though he made two or three attempts, it was
impossible for him to give the alarm. How it was that the noise we made
did not attract the attention of the other inmates of the house, I am
at a loss to understand. Little by little I began to get the upper hand
of him. Then putting forth all my strength, and bringing into play a
certain trick that had been an especial favourite in younger days, I
threw him heavily backwards. The ruse was a complete success, and so
violent was the fall, and with such force did his head strike the floor,
that he lay insensible.
As soon as I had recovered my own equilibrium, I knelt beside him and
searched his pocket for the key. Having obtained it, I went to the door,
unlocked it, and got into the passage outside. One glance was sufficient
to show me that the house was of the typical suburban pattern:
reception-rooms on the ground floor, bed-rooms on the next, and
servants' quarters under the roof. My room was at the top of the house,
and probably had once been a housemaid's apartment.
Once in the corridor I paused, to lock the door, thus making my captor
doubly secure, after which I made my way towards a door at the further
end of the passage, to find it locked. I tried another with the same
result, after which only one remained. Turning the handle of this I
entered, to discover that the window of the room looked over the back,
upon a long strip of garden, at the end of which were some high
trees--limes if I remember correctly. Escape from the house by this room
was plainly impossible. There was nothing for it, therefore, but for me
to descend the stairs and try my fortune elsewhere. If the rest of my
gaolers were not aware that the man who waited upon me was prisoner in
my room, it was within the bounds of possibility, I argued, that they
might mistake my step for his.
Accordingly, I wasted no time, but descended the stairs, keeping a sharp
look-out over the banisters as I did so. I had reached the next floor in
safety and was preparing to descend to that below, when the sound of a
door being closed in the basement caused me to hesitate. It was followed
by a man's laugh, and a moment later, some one, who I could not see,
began to ascend the stairs. In another second he would have turned the
corner and have seen me. I can assure you it was one of the most anxious
moments of my life. To go on was impossible; to go back more dangerous
still. I had only two seconds' grace in which to act, but which door
should I choose? Having selected that immediately opposite me, I softly
turned the handle and entered the room--to make a discovery which for a
moment deprived me not only of the power of locomotion, but even of
thought. My readers will appreciate this when I say that, standing
beside the fireplace, with one elbow resting on the mantel-piece, and a
cigarette between his lips, _was no less a person than Conrad
Reiffenburg_; while seated in a comfortable chair, her dainty feet
resting on the brass fender before her, was his cousin, _the Countess de
Venetza_!
"So you have managed to escape from your room, have you?" said Conrad
with the utmost coolness, and without any apparent surprise. "I wonder
how you did that?"
"You here?" I said, addressing the Countess, and disregarding him
altogether. "What on earth does this mean? Have I gone mad?"
She was quite equal to the emergency. There was not a tremor in her
voice when she replied.
"Not at all mad, my dear Sir George. It simply means that you have to
thank me for saving you from a terrible death. Quite by chance I became
aware that there was an anarchist plot in preparation against yourself
and certain other members of your Government. To have revealed my
knowledge to the Authorities would have been to implicate several of my
dear, but misguided, friends, while to have appealed to them for mercy
would have been as useless as it would have been dangerous. I therefore
took what I deemed the next best course, and removed you out of the
reach of harm."
"Can this be true?" I asked, for the whole thing seemed too wildly
improbable.
"You surely would not doubt the Countess's word," Conrad put in.
I paid no attention to him, however.
"But if there was a plot against me, why did you not warn me?" I
continued. "I could then have taken steps to insure my own safety."
"Impossible," she replied. "You would have communicated with the Police
at once. No, the only thing was to act as we did, and I think, since you
are still alive, that you have every reason to be thankful that we
adopted such prompt measures."
I remembered the precautions that had been taken to prevent my leaving
the brougham, and the peculiar smell of gas which had caused me to lose
consciousness. No; I felt convinced in my own mind that the story the
Countess had told me was pure fiction--that is to say, so far as any
desire went to save me from harm. However, I was wise enough to control
myself, and to appear to credit her assertion.
"And now that the danger is over, when shall I be at liberty to go into
the world again?" I asked.
"To-night your freedom shall be restored to you," she answered. "I have
every reason to suppose that you will be quite safe now."
This was agreeable news indeed, if only I might credit it. But by this
time my suspicions were so thoroughly aroused, that I did not feel
inclined to trust anybody.
What was I to do? I had no desire to return to my prison, yet if I ran
to the window, there was still a long strip of garden between the house
and the street, and it was likely that my cries, even supposing I were
permitted to get so far, would not be heard by the passers-by. I had
already noticed that Conrad's hand was in his coat-pocket, and my
imagination told me what that pocket contained. Then the sound of some
one descending the stairs reached my ears, and next moment my gaoler
burst furiously into the room. His relief at seeing me was evident, but
he seemed unable to understand how it was that he found us conversing so
quietly together. He looked from one to the other of us as if for an
explanation.
"I have put the situation before Sir George," said the Countess, "and I
have also told him that the danger is over now, and that to-night he
will be at liberty to go where he pleases."
"And for the present what is to become of me?" I enquired, before the
man could say anything.
"We shall be delighted if you will give us the pleasure of your
company," said the Countess. "Forgive me for not having asked you to sit
down before."
Having by this time made up my mind as to how I should play my part, I
did as she suggested, and for the rest of the morning remained in the
room, conversing with her on a hundred different subjects, and acting
for all the world as if our meeting had been of the most casual
description. At one o'clock luncheon was served, and we sat down to it,
still on as friendly terms as ever. As I had noticed with regard to the
previous meals of which I had partaken in the house, the cooking was
perfect, the wines excellent, and the waiting all that could be desired.
On one point, by this time, my mind was quite made up. As soon as I
escaped from captivity, I would open Rotherhithe's eyes as to the true
character of his _fiancee_. One thing, I must confess, puzzled me
considerably. I could not understand why, if they had been at such pains
to secure me, they should be willing to liberate me so soon. I was
destined to be better informed on this point, however, before very long.
During the progress of the meal the Countess chatted with me as
pleasantly as if we were sitting in her dining-room at Wiltshire House.
It was significant, however, that Rotherhithe's name was never once
mentioned. When the meal was at an end she gave us permission to smoke,
and accordingly, after our coffee had been handed to us, Conrad
proffered me his cigarette case. How was I to know that the coffee had
been drugged, and that within a quarter of an hour of my drinking it, I
should be lying fast asleep in my chair, beyond all knowledge of my
surroundings. The Countess had scored another trick.