When Michael Dorn left the police station he hurried his car to
Charlotte Street. At such an early hour of the morning there was no
sign of life in this thoroughfare. He expected to be kept waiting
before there came an answer to his knocking. But had he known
something of old Mackenzie’s habits, he would not have been surprised
at the promptitude with which his signal was answered.
The old man was in his dressing-gown and had not been half an hour in
bed when Dorn arrived. He looked with mild suspicion at the visitor--a
suspicion which was intensified when he learnt the object of his
visit.
“Yes, sir, Miss Elizabetta Smith is in the house. Are you from the
police?”
“Yes,” said Michael, without stretching the truth. “Can I speak to
Miss Smith?”
“She came in late and very distressed. I understand that the good
countess has promised to do all in her power to secure the release of
my young friend, Miss Reddle. It is indeed an awful thing to have
happened. Will you come in, sir?”
Michael followed him up the stairs to his little room and sat down
whilst the musician went up to arouse Lizzy. She also had heard the
knocking and was waiting in the doorway of her room when Mackenzie
came up.
“Dorn, is it?” she said viciously. “I’ll come down and Dorn him! He’ll
be ‘sunset’ by the time I’ve finished with him!”
She came into Michael’s presence a flaming virago.
“You’ve got a nerve!” she said. “After swearing away the life of poor
Lois----”
Michael shook his head.
“She’s not here?” he interrupted with a touch of asperity.
“Here? Of course she’s not here! She’s in the police station, and how
you could----”
“She’s not in the police station, she’s been released, and I want to
find the man who released her.”
Something in his tone silenced the girl.
“Isn’t she with Lady Moron?” she asked.
“I am going to Chester Square, but I don’t expect to find Miss Reddle
there. I locked her up to save her life--I suppose you realise that?
There have been two attempts made to kill her, and I had information
that the third would be more successful. I knew her mother was on the
point of being released from prison--she was in fact released last
night. It is vitally necessary that I should have Lois Reddle under my
eye.”
Lizzy had collapsed into a chair.
“Her mother released from prison?” she said hollowly. “What are you
talking about? Her mother’s dead. And killing? Who’s going to kill
Lois? Why! It was an accident--the balcony.”
“It was no accident,” said Michael quietly. “The balcony has been
unsafe for a year past and was condemned by the borough surveyor on
the advice of a local builder who was brought in to repair the slab.
Until Miss Reddle occupied that room in Chester Square the French
windows leading to the balcony had been kept locked up.”
Lizzy gasped.
“But the servants----”
“The servants were all new. None of them had been longer in the house
than a fortnight. Sergeant Braime came up from Newbury, and even he
knew nothing.”
“Sergeant Braime?” she repeated, wide-eyed.
“Braime is an officer of the Criminal Investigation Department, who
has been in the countess’ household for six months,” was the
staggering reply. “Nobody was allowed to go on to the balcony. A gate
was fixed to prevent the servants from forestalling the plan--it was
removed the night Lois went to her room.”
“By whom?” asked Lizzy quietly.
Michael Dorn shrugged his shoulders.
“Who knows? I shall discover later.”
“Where is Lois now?”
“That is exactly what I want to know. I’m going to Chester Square
right away. Will you come with me?”
She was out of the room in a flash.
“But, Mr. Dorn, this is a terrible thing you say; that any person
should conspire against the life of that innocent lassie!” said old
Mackenzie, horrified. “You will surely find Miss Reddle at the good
countess’ home.”
“I hope so, but I very much doubt it, Mr. Mackenzie,” said Michael.
The old man’s lips were tremulous.
“Is there anything I can do? It is not my habit to leave the house,
but I would even take that step----”
Michael shook his head.
“I am afraid you can do nothing, except in the unlikely event of Miss
Reddle returning here. You will see that she does not go out again,
and that she does not receive visitors in any circumstances. I very
much doubt,” he smiled faintly, “whether you will be called upon to
render this help. I can only wish to heaven that you will be!”
Lizzy was down in a very short time, dressed for the street, and, as
they drove towards Chester Square, she told him the part she had
played in securing Lois Reddle’s release.
“I went and found the countess; she was at a friend’s house, and told
her about Lois. She was very much upset. I’d never seen her before to
speak to, but she was quite decent to me.”
“Did she have anybody with her? Do you know Chesney Praye?”
Lizzy shook her head.
“No, I’ve heard of him from Lois, but I’ve never seen him.”
Michael described the man and again she shook her head.
“No, he was not there.”
“What did the countess do?”
“She telephoned to somebody and said she was sending a letter to the
police officer in charge. She told me to go home to Charlotte Street
and wait in patience until Lois came back.”
Michael nodded.
“You could rest in patience because she knew that Lois wasn’t going
back to Chester Square!” he said grimly. “And if she hadn’t come back
to Chester Square and you were there waiting for her, you would have
wanted to know where she had been taken.”
The car drew up before 307, and Michael got out and pressed the bell.
There was no reply. He rang again, and followed this up by knocking.
Still there was no answer. Stepping out from under the porch he looked
up at the windows, just as a sash was raised and a tousled head thrust
forth. It was Lord Moron, and apparently he was sleeping on the floor
which was usually given over to the household staff.
“Hullo! What’s the trouble, old thing?”
“Will you come down?” called Michael, and the head was withdrawn.
They waited for a longer time than it would have taken for him to
reach the ground floor, before the door opened, and then the
explanation for the delay was unnecessary, for with him the countess
stood in the hall, wrapped in her cloak, a majestic and imposing
figure.