“I’m afraid you can’t come in now. Is there anything you want?”
“Yes, I forgot something,” said the agitated voice.
“Can I get it for you?” asked Lois, now at the door.
“No, I’m afraid you can’t, it’s--er----”
His voice died down into a rumble of sound. Then!
“Never mind. I don’t suppose--I say, don’t be alarmed or anything of
that sort--I mean, don’t mention to the madam anything that seems
remarkable, will you?”
The girl shook her head in bewilderment.
“I don’t know what you mean. Is there something I can get for you?”
But he had evidently gone. Lizzy, who had a practical mind, suggested
that the articles he required were false teeth.
“He’s got that kind of delicate mind that wouldn’t mention them to a
lady,” she said.
But her companion did not accept that explanation.
Lizzy, who was not affected by the stateliness of the surroundings,
was asleep almost as soon as she had finished talking. But Lois Reddle
had never been more wide awake in her life. She heard the clock strike
the quarter and the half and the hour. She turned from side to side
and counted sheep and furnished houses and followed all the
prescriptions for sleeplessness which had ever been offered. But at
half-past one she was alert and wakeful. She heard the whine of a car
as it stopped in front of the house. That was Lady Moron returning,
she guessed.
The bed she occupied was a small four-poster. Perhaps it was this
unusual factor which kept her awake. She stared up in the dark at the
silken canopy above her head, wondering whether she would sleep more
comfortably upon the big settee at the foot of the bed.
The deep breathing which came from Lizzy’s bed irritated her
unreasonably. She rose, touched the pillow, and turned over again, and
then----
“_Did she know the photograph?_”
She sat up with a jerk. It was the voice of Chesney Praye and had come
from the canopy above her!
It was as though somebody was lying on the top and speaking, for the
words were clear and distinct. It was the voice of the countess who
answered him.
“No,” came the deep tones. “I put it in the drawer just before she
arrived.”
A pause, and then presently he spoke again.
“You took a risk.”
She heard the deep laughter of Lady Moron.
“I’ve taken a greater one to-night, I think, Chesney.”
“My dear Leonora,” Chesney’s voice was pained, “surely you can trust
me?”
“I have to,” the deliberate tone of her ladyship came down from the
canopy, “and I think you will be wise not to play the fool. Selwyn is
worrying me.”
“Selwyn!” contemptuously.
“Selwyn. He knows more than I gave him credit for. How did he know
that we were to be married? He came out with it in his rage to-day.
And how did he know that I’d been lending you money----”
“Come into the dining-room.”
There came the sound of a knock and then the voice of Braime spoke
very faintly.
“I’ve set the table, my lady.”
After that Lois heard no more.
“Who was that? Was it somebody talking?” It was Lizzy who spoke. “Was
it you, Lois? I heard somebody say they’d lent money.”
Lois was out of bed now, and had switched on the little lamp that
stood on the table by the bedside. She looked up fearfully at the
canopy. It had the heavy, respectable appearance which all such
articles of furnishing have. Lois had a wild idea that a door had been
left open, but the only door in the room was that which led to the
corridor and it was locked, as she knew.
“What was it, Lois?” Lizzy was struggling into her dressing-gown.
“I don’t know. I heard somebody speaking. It seemed to be in the
room.”
“It came from the direction of your bed,” said Lizzy. “Lord! This is a
queer house. I don’t like it, Lois. I’d sooner have old Mackenzie and
his fiddle any day or any night.”
Lois Reddle jumped on to the bed, lifted the table lamp and began an
examination of the valance above. Presently she uttered an
exclamation. In one corner, suspended by two wires, was a black,
bell-shaped piece of ebonite, which at first she thought was a
telephone receiver. Behind was a flat and circular box, and this was
wired to the canopy.
“That is where the voice came from; it’s a loud-speaking telephone!”
She found the wire; it was cunningly hidden along the valance,
descending one of the bed-posts, where it ran in a red flex to a
wall-plug. The mystery was a mystery no longer, and now she understood
the agitation of Lord Moron. She appreciated, too, his skill as an
electrical engineer. He had been spying on his mother, if such a term
applied to one who heard rather than saw. Somewhere in the house,
probably in the drawing-room, was a concealed microphone, and too late
that night he had remembered that he had not disconnected the
instrument. Lady Moron was puzzled as to how her son knew so much.
Lois could have told her.
“What a bird!” said Lizzy admiringly. “Fixed it all up himself! The
boy’s got brains! What did you hear, Lois?”
But the girl was not inclined to be communicative. She pulled out the
plug from the wall, sent her companion to bed, and followed her
example.
Whose photograph was it that had been placed for her inspection? And
what risk had Lady Moron taken? She remembered the picture of the
handsome young officer who was “a boy I once knew” to her ladyship.
And what risk had the woman run in leaving that under her secretary’s
eyes. She got out of bed again and re-fixed the plug, feeling that she
was being guilty of a despicable act. But something was happening
which was so vital to her, that she could not afford to allow niceties
of conduct to weigh against her need. No sound came from the
microphone. But perhaps after supper they would return here. And, in
any event, the weariness and monotony of waiting might induce the
sleep which refused to come to her eyes.
Three o’clock struck, half-past three, four and half-past, and the
chill of dawn began to show on the white blinds. Lois was not as far
from sleep as she had been, and she was beginning to doze when a faint
sound brought up her head from the pillow.
Click, click!
It was as though somebody was turning on the lights in the
drawing-room. She waited tensely for the next sound. Presently there
was an indistinguishable whisper, and then a voice spoke. Clearly the
words came to her.
“Lois Reddle is very near to death!”
She knew the voice, in her imagination could almost see the speaker.
It was Michael Dorn.