LOLA IS AGAIN SUSPICIOUS
The devilish cunning of Rudolph Rayne was indeed well illustrated by
the clever trap which he had set for me by the instrumentality of that
pretty woman-thief, Betty Tressider, who called herself Lady Lydbrook.
I now realized by Rayne's overbearing attitude that he had, by a ruse,
succeeded in his object in compelling me to become an active
accomplice of the gang.
When back again once more in Yorkshire, I was delighted to find that
Lola had returned from her visit to Devonshire. She was just as sweet
and charming as ever, but just a trifle too inquisitive regarding my
visits to Eastbourne and Paris. I was much ashamed of the theft I had
been forced to commit in order to preserve secrecy regarding my first
downfall, hence rather awkwardly, I fear, I evaded all her questions.
Nevertheless, we were a great deal in each other's company, and had
many confidential chats. I loved her, yet somehow I could not be frank
and open. How could I without revealing the secret of her father?
One spring afternoon we had been playing tennis and were sitting
together in the pretty arbor at the end of the well-kept lawn, both
smoking cigarettes after a strenuous game, when suddenly she turned to
me, saying:
"Do you know, Mr. Hargreave, I don't like the look of things at all!
Mr. Duperre is not playing a straight game--of that I'm sure!"
"Oh--why?" I asked with affected ignorance.
"I have again overheard something. Yesterday I was just going into the
morning-room, the door of which stood ajar, when I heard father
warning Duperre of something--I couldn't quite catch what it was. Only
he said that he didn't approve of such drastic measures, and that 'the
old man might lose his life.' To that Duperre replied: 'And if he did,
nobody would be any wiser.' What can it mean?"
"I fear I am just as ignorant as yourself," I replied, looking the
arch-crook's pretty daughter full in the face.
"Well," she said, "I know I can trust you, Mr. Hargreave. I have only
you in whom I can confide."
"Yes," I assured her, bending across to her. "You can trust me
implicitly. I, too, am just as puzzled as yourself."
"I know they have some business schemes together, Madame has often
told me so," went on the girl. "But while I was away at Keswick I
purposely got into conversation with an old gentleman named Lloyd at
Madame's suggestion, as she told me our acquaintanceship would be
useful to some business scheme of Vincent's. It appears that he wanted
to become acquainted with Mr. Lloyd."
"And you acted upon her suggestion?" I asked, horrified that she was
becoming the decoy of that circle of super-crooks.
"Yes, though it was against my will," was her reply. "I contrived to
allow him to have an opportunity to chat with me, and I afterwards
introduced Madame as my companion."
"And what followed?" I asked eagerly.
"Oh, he was very often with us, and took us for rides in his car all
through the Lakes. The hotel was full of smart people, and I think
they envied us."
I was silent for a moment.
"Have you any idea who Mr. Lloyd may be?" I asked.
"No, except that Madame told me that he is immensely rich. A few days
later father came over to Keswick and stayed a few days and met him.
But the whole affair was most mysterious. I can't make it out,"
declared the girl. "Mr. Duperre never met him after all."
"We must remain patient and watch," I urged.
This we did, and very soon there came a strange development of that
carefully planned introduction.
One day, on entering Rayne's study, I found him in conversation with a
tall, dark, fashionably dressed foreign woman--Spanish, I believed her
to be. As I went in unexpectedly she seemed to have risen and assumed
a fierce defiant attitude, while he, seated at his writing-table, was
smoking one of his favorite expensive cigars and contemplating her
with amusement.
"My dear Madame," he said, laughing, "pray sit down and let us discuss
the matter coolly. I do not wish you to act in any way to jeopardize
yourself. I have made certain plans; it is for you and your friends to
carry them out. And I know how clever is your friend Louis Larroca. So
there is no need for apprehension. Besides, if you trust me, as you
have done hitherto, you will find the whole affair works quite
easily--and without the least risk to yourselves."
Next second he realized that I had entered, and turning to me, said
quite quietly:
"I'm engaged just now, Hargreave."
So I was forced to withdraw, full of wonder as to the nature of the
latest conspiracy.
I found that a hired car from a garage at Thirsk was awaiting the
lady, who, I learned from the young footman, had given her name as
Madame Martoz.
A quarter of an hour later she drove away without, so far as I could
discern, having seen either Duperre or his wife.
Next day Rayne, whom I drove into York in the new two-seater Vauxhall,
told me as we went along that he was having a small house-party on the
following Thursday.
"Just a few personal friends," he added.
I smiled within myself, for I knew the character of the personal
friends of "The Golden Face."
Yet to my surprise, when Thursday came I found assembled half a dozen
perfectly honest and respectable men and their wives, and in some
cases their daughters. One was a London barrister, another a
well-known member of Parliament, a third a rich Leeds manufacturer,
while the others were more or less well known, and certainly all of
the highest respectability. When Rayne gave a house-party he always
did the thing well, and the days passed in a round of well-ordered
enjoyment, motoring, golf, tennis and visits to neighbors to the full
delight of everyone. In the evening there were dancing and billiards,
Duperre being the life and soul of the smart party.
On the fourth day, about twelve o'clock, Lola, who had made friends
with Enid Claverton, the barrister's daughter, who was about the same
age as herself, came to me in the garage, and said:
"Mr. Lloyd, whom we met at Keswick, has just arrived. He's come on a
visit. Father told me nothing about it. Did he tell you?"
"Not a word," I replied, wondering why the person in question had been
enticed into the spider's parlor. No doubt the highly respectable
house-party had been invited to form a suitable setting for some
secret villainy.
I met the new guest just before luncheon and found him a
white-bearded, bald-headed, fresh-complexioned and rather dapper
little man, whose merry eyes and easy-going manner marked him as a
_bon vivant_ and something after Rayne's own style.
He greeted me when in the big hall with its long armorial windows, its
old family portraits, and the many trophies of the chase that had been
secured by the noble family who were previous owners of the Hall.
Rayne introduced me as his secretary.
I looked into the smartly dressed old fellow's blue eyes and wondered
what foul plot against him had emanated from the abnormal brain of the
arch-criminal who was his host. I smiled when I reflected on the
horror of those guests did they but know who Rudolph Rayne really was.
But in their ignorance they enjoyed his unbounded hospitality and
voted him a real good sort--as outwardly he was.
My time was occupied mostly in driving the Rolls, but when at home I
watched narrowly yet was utterly unable to discern why the friendship
of Mr. Gordon Lloyd, whose profession or status I failed to discover,
had been so cleverly secured and carefully cultivated until he had now
become a welcome guest under Rayne's roof.
There was a sinister design somewhere, but in what direction? Rudolph
Rayne never lifted a finger or smiled upon a stranger without some
evil intent by which to enrich himself. Usurers in the City have
always been clever people backed by capital, but this super-crook had,
I learned, risen in a few years from a small bookmaker in Balham to
control the biggest combine of Thiefdom ever known in the annals of
our time.
One day I drove Mr. Lloyd with Lola and a Mrs. Charlesworth, one of
the guests, into Ripon to see the cathedral. We had inspected the fine
transepts, the choir and the famous Saxon crypt--of which there is
only one other in England--and had gone to the old Unicorn to tea.
We had sat down when, chancing to glance around, I saw, to my
surprise, seated in a corner alone, the handsome Madame Martoz, who
had had that confidential interview with Lola's father some days
before. Our recognition was mutual, I saw, for she lowered her dark
eyes and busied herself with the teapot before her. Yet I noticed that
with covert glances she was still regarding us with some curiosity.
Ten minutes later a tall, swarthy-faced man with well-trimmed black
mustache, a typical Spaniard, lounged in and sat at her table, while
she gave him tea. Mr. Lloyd, Lola and Mrs. Charlesworth were busily
chatting, but I noted that the Spanish woman whispered some words to
her companion which caused him to glance in our direction. Afterwards
they both rose and went out.
Later, when we had finished our tea, I went to the office in order to
pay--for on such excursions I always paid on Rayne's behalf--and when
doing so, I asked casually:
"Have you a Spanish gentleman staying here--a Mr. Larroca?"
"No, sir," replied the rather stout, pleasant bookkeeper. "We have a
Mr. Bellido, a Spanish gentleman. He's just gone out with Madame
Calleja, who is also Spanish, though they both speak English well."
I thanked her and rejoined my party. At least I had ascertained the
names under which they were known, for Larroca was no doubt the real
name of Bellido.
What mischief was intended? It was evident that we had been purposely
sent by Rayne to that hotel in Ripon in order that Madame and her
accomplice should see us, so that we could be identified again.
Certainly it was unnecessary for them to see Lola, Mrs. Charlesworth
or myself. We had, I felt convinced, made that excursion in order that
old Mr. Lloyd should be seen and known to the mysterious pair.
Two days afterwards our guests dispersed, but Mr. Lloyd, pressed by
Madame Duperre, remained behind.
To me he seemed one of those wealthy, rather faddy men whom one
encounters sometimes in the best hotels, men who move up and down the
country aimlessly during the spring and summer and in winter go abroad
for a few months; men with piles of well-battered and be-labelled
baggage whose home is always in hotels and whose chief object in life
is to dress in the fashion of the younger generation, to be seen
everywhere, to give cosy little luncheon and dinner-parties, and be
the "fairy" uncle of any pretty girl they may come across.
We have lots of such in England to-day. Ask the _chef-de-reception_ of
any of our smartest hotels, and they will reel off the names of half a
dozen or so elderly bachelors, widowers or wife-quarrelers with huge
incomes who prefer to pass along the line of least resistance in
domesticity--the private suite in an up-to-date hotel.
Mr. Gordon Lloyd was one of such, and it seemed that Rudolph Rayne,
who now treated me with the greatest intimacy because he saw that he
had drawn me so completely into his net, had become his dearest
friend.
On the night when the last guest had departed I sat with the pair over
the port, after Lola and Madame had left the dinner-table.
"Really," said the merry old gentleman with his glass of '74 poised in
his hand, "I don't know whether I shall go back to Colwyn Bay again
this winter--or go abroad. I've no ties, and I'm getting fed up. I
haven't been abroad since the war."
"Go abroad, my dear fellow," said Rayne. "The change would certainly
do you good--go somewhere in the south. The Riviera is played out. Why
not go to Sicily?"
"I've been there," replied old Mr. Lloyd as he sipped his glass of
fine wine.
"Then why not try Italy? Glorious bright weather all through our foggy
season--Rome or Florence, for instance?"
"No, I hate Italy."
"Spain, then? Good hotels in Madrid and Barcelona. In Madrid there is
a small circle of English society, good opera, and lots of interesting
places to visit by motor," Rayne suggested, for, as a rapid traveler
all over Europe, he knew every Continental city of importance.
The old man was rather struck by the latter suggestion.
"I certainly am rather tired of Bournemouth and Colwyn Bay and Hove in
winter," he admitted. "I've never been to Madrid."
"Then go, my dear fellow. Go by all means. The journey is quite easy.
Just the train by day to Paris, and then by sleeping-car on the Sud
Express right through to Madrid."
"Yes. But it's an awful trouble," replied the rich old man.
"No trouble at all!" laughed Rayne as he pulled at his cigar. "I don't
like to see you in this rut of hotels. It's bad for you! It only leads
to drinks in the bar till late and bad headaches in the morning. You
must buck up and get out of it."
"Well, I'll see," replied the old fellow, and then we all three rose
and rejoined the ladies.
Oh, what a farce the whole thing was! I longed--I yearned to yell my
disclosures against the man who like an octopus had now placed his
tentacles around me. But I saw that it was futile to kick against the
pricks. I had only to wait and to watch.
For a whole week things proceeded in good, well-ordered regularity.
Mr. Lloyd was our guest and everyone made themselves pleasant towards
him. Lola, with whom I had frequent chats in secret, had somehow
become disarmed. She no longer suspected her father of any sinister
intent, the reason being that he had taken the old man as his dearest
and most intimate confidant.
One night after I had beaten old Mr. Lloyd at billiards and he had
gone to bed, I passed by the door of the library and saw a streak of
light beneath the door.
Therefore, believing that the electric light had been inadvertently
left on, I opened the door, when I had a great surprise.
Rayne was seated in an arm-chair chatting with Madame Martoz, while on
a settee near the window sat Madame Duperre.
All three started up as I entered, but a word of apology instantly
rose to my lips, and Rayne said: "That's all right, Hargreave. Indeed,
I wanted to talk to you. Look here," he went on, "I want you to go to
Madrid after old Mr. Lloyd goes there, as no doubt he will. You'll
stay at the Ritz in the Plaza de Canovas, and ask no questions. I'll
send you instructions--or perhaps Duperre may be with you."
"When?" I asked in surprise, as it appeared that the rich old
gentleman had, after all, arranged to go to Spain.
"In ten days or so. When I tell you. Till then, don't worry, my dear
boy. When I make plans you know that you have only to act."
"To the detriment of our unsuspecting guest, eh?" I remarked in a low
bitter voice.
"That is not polite, George," he said sharply. "You are our paid
servant, and such a remark does not befit you."
"Whether it does or not, Mr. Rayne, I repeat it," I said defiantly. "I
am not blind to your subtle machinations by which I have become your
accomplice."
He laughed triumphantly in my face.
"You are paid--and well paid for it all. Why should you resent? Are
you an idiot?"
"I certainly refuse to be your tool!" I cried furiously.
"You have thrown in your lot with me as one who ventures constantly in
big things just as any man who operates on the Stock Exchange. It is
good sport. You, George, are a sportsman, as I am. And from one sport
we both derive a good deal of fun."
"And the victim of our fun, as you term it, is to be old Mr. Lloyd!" I
remarked, looking him straight in his face.
But he only laughed, and said:
"Don't be a fool. You are a most excellent fellow, Hargreave, except
when you get these little fits of squeamishness."
It was on the tip of my tongue to roundly refuse to have anything
further to do with him and leave the house, but I knew, alas! that now
I had stolen the famous ruby in Paris he would have no compunction in
giving me over to the police.
And if I, in turn, gave information against him, what could I really
prove? Practically nothing! Rayne was always clever enough to preserve
himself from any possibility of suspicion. It was that fact which
marked him as the most amazing and ingenious crook.
So I was forced to remain silent, and a few minutes later left the
room.
On the following Friday Mr. Lloyd left us. Rayne bade him a regretful
farewell, after making him promise to return to us for a fortnight
when he got back from Spain.
"Probably my secretary, Hargreave, will have to go to Madrid upon
business for me. I have some interest in a tramway company at
Salamanca. So you may possibly meet."
"I hope we do, Mr. Hargreave," said the old gentleman, turning to me
warmly. "I shall certainly take your advice and try Madrid for a few
weeks."
"Yes, do. You'll like it, I'm sure," his host assured him, and then we
drove away.
"When are you going to Spain?" Mr. Lloyd asked me as he sat at my side
on our way to Thirsk station.
"I really don't know," was my evasive reply. "Mr. Rayne has not yet
fixed the date."
"Well, here's my address," he said, handing me a card with his name
and "Reform Club" on it. "I wish you'd write me when your journey is
fixed and perhaps we might travel together. I'd be most delighted to
have you as my companion on the journey."
I took the card, thanked him, and promised that I would let him know
the date of my departure.