“I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Lee. Can we do anything to help you
down? Where are you?”
“I’m in the Restaurant Napolitain, in Greek Street, which I believe
belongs to a man named Alessandro.”
“We know the gentleman very well. What on earth are you doing there?”
“There’s been murder done--in a street near Leicester Square.”
“How do you know that? The report has only just come in.”
“A young man named Emilio has been murdered by a man named Gaspare, at
the instigation of the Alessandro who owns this restaurant; I believe
he paid Gaspare fifty pounds for doing it. I can’t stop to tell you
how I know it; but perhaps you can guess. Instead of like a wise
person communicating at once with you, I was so wild with rage at the
cruelty of the thing that I was idiot enough to think I could tackle
Alessandro single-handed. He has locked me in a room on the first
floor of his restaurant, which seems to have no window, and which I
can’t get out of.”
A cheery voice came back.
“That’s all right.” It did not seem to be all right to me. “We’ve had
an eye on Signor Alessandro and his Restaurant Napolitain for a good
long time. I’m obliged to you for putting the game into our hands. We
shall probably be with you inside ten minutes.”
“Mind you are.”
Whether he heard or not I could not determine; there came no answer. I
asked twice if anyone was there, but as no voice came back I took it
that I had been disconnected. All I could do was to wait for
deliverance to come. Ten minutes was not a very long time, even placed
as I was, but I earnestly trusted that that period of time might not
be very much exceeded.
They seemed to me to be a pretty long ten minutes. I had no means of
knowing how the time was passing. There was a clock on the
sitting-room mantelpiece, but it had stopped, and apparently wanted
winding up, because it declined to go even when I set the pendulum
swinging. There were no signs of any key with which to wind it--so I
actually started to count six hundred slowly; at least that might give
me some idea of how the minutes were going. I had got as far as three
hundred--half the allotted period--when I caught the sound of a
footstep in the passage without. It was not a very audible footstep,
but my ears were wide open. Then I heard some one turning the key in
the lock.
I had still that poker in my hand, and something in the feel of it not
only set my courage up but gave me an idea. I thought of taking refuge
in the bedroom; a moment’s reflection told me that I should gain
nothing by doing that; I should be just as accessible to whoever might
want me. I would try another way. First of all I switched the light
off, then I stood by the side of the door at which it opened, and I
held that poker tight; and the moment the door began to open, and I
dimly saw the figure of a man without, I raised that poker above my
head, and I brought it down with all my might.
Something had happened to some one--some one who went down on to the
floor with quite a thud. I leaped right over him. There, in the
passage beyond, was Signor Alessandro; I knew him--and that time I was
on to him before he knew that I was coming. I struck him with the
point of that poker in the chest, and I think I hurt him, because he
made a curious sound, staggering back without making any effort to
seize me as I passed.
He stood at the turn in the passage which led to the restaurant below,
so that his huge figure blocked the way. There was a staircase beyond,
so I made for that. I went up it three steps at a time. There was a
light on the landing at the top--a passage to the left; one to the
right. I chose the one to the right. There was a door at the end. I
did not stop to consider what might be beyond, but I caught hold of
the handle, and turned it. The door yielded--I found myself in a room
with the fair-haired girl whom I had seen dancing with the youngster
who was dead.
That did startle me. I had been occupied with so many other things
that, at least for the time being, I had forgotten her existence. It
was a bedroom--not by any means a large one, nor over furnished, nor
over tidy. A ball-dress was thrown over a chair--the dress in which
she had been dancing. Her hair was hanging loose over her
shoulders--even then I thought what beautiful hair it was. She was
standing in a stooping position, with her arms held out as if to ward
off a blow. Apparently she had taken me for quite another person from
whom she had reason to fear the worst. When she saw me I am inclined
to think she was more frightened even than before; and really it was
not surprising if she took me to be some sort of apparition.
Having realized on whom I had intruded, I paid attention first not to
the occupant of the room, but to the door. I tried to lock it. There
was no key.
“Where’s the key to this door?” I asked.
She replied to my question with one of her own.
“Who are you?--What do you want?--What do you mean by coming in here?”