oozing out rapidly again. She was not in the least anxious to be left
alone in that echoing house. Half-ashamed of herself, she crept to the
front door to see if the two men had gone, and flung it open. Anything
was better than that gloomy prison, where she could hear her own heart
beating, and the scratching of a mouse behind the panel sounded loud and
menacing. There were queer noises, too, here and there, as if the girl
were surrounded with unseen people who were wandering about the bare
floors. A sudden draught of air caused a door upstairs to slam with a
noise which set the whole fabric quivering. It was almost more than the
girl could stand. She felt that if she remained much longer she must
cry aloud. She tried to reproach herself with her own timidity. She
tried to imagine that it was merely fancy which caused her to believe
that someone was creeping up the stairs with stealthy steps.
But the feeling would not be fought down. The stealthy steps were far
too real. It was impossible to sit there longer; she must satisfy
herself that her nerves were playing her false. In an access of anger
she snatched a candle from the mantelpiece and rushed into the hall.
It was no fancy. Somebody was actually creeping up the stairs. She saw
the dim outline of a man. She forgot herself and her prudence in the
terror of the moment. A scream escaped her lips. The man turned and
regarded her with eyes that shone green and threatening out of the
gloom. Then the steps were retraced and Ethel was conscious that a heavy
hand was laid upon her shoulder.
"Stop that noise," the stranger said hoarsely. "Do you want to betray
me? What brings you here, Ethel?"
At the mention of her name the girl looked up. To her intense surprise
she saw Arnold Rent. He was fully dressed. He carried something that
looked like a lever in his hand. The strange, uneasy light was still in
his eyes, but there was a resolute look upon his face which spoke of
directness and determination of purpose.
"What are you doing here?" she faltered.
"Never mind," Rent whispered. "That is no business of yours. If you
make a fuss, if you call those men back, you will be sorry for it all
the rest of your life. I am not doing any harm. It isn't as if I had
come after Mrs. Charlock's jewels."
Ethel started at the suggestion. What connection could there be between
Arnold Rent and the missing jewels?
"You are not a thief?" she stammered.
"Not in that way," Rent said in the same hoarse whisper. "But there are
other things besides jewels. There is that Frenchwoman and her papers.
I did not know at the time. I did not guess that she had been cunning
enough. But what am I doing? What am I saying? If you dare betray me
I will take you by the throat----"
Rent broke off in a whisper. An expression of malignant fury convulsed
his face. Ethel could stand it no longer. With a sudden cry she burst
from Rent's detaining clasp and fled into the garden, calling for help.
As she crossed the lawn towards the sundial she could hear Rent's
footsteps behind her. She was very near to the fountain now, when Rent
closed with her and, lifting her high in the air, dragged her to the
side of the lawn.
"Not there, not there," he said in the same hissing whisper. "If you
value your life, keep away from here. I don't know what the danger is,
though I could have told you a day or two ago. If my mind was only
clear I could explain. But, as you value your future, don't come here
any more."
The words might have meant a great deal, or they might have meant
nothing. There was no time to inquire or explain, for out of the gloom
emerged the figures of Grey and his companion. No sooner did Rent see
them than his manner changed. He withdrew his hand from Ethel's arm and
darted off to the house, muttering something about papers and diaries.
Ethel would have staggered and fallen had not Charlock caught her.
"Did you see him?" she asked.
"Oh, we saw him right enough," Charlock said with unexpected tenderness.
"He has gone into the house. And now let me take you home. This is no
place for you."
*CHAPTER XXXVII*
*A DARK SUSPICION*
Ethel Hargrave did not appear to hear what Charlock was saying. Her
mind had gone back to the moment when Arnold Rent had laid violent hands
upon her and spoken so harshly. She thought there was something more
than madness here, something in the nature of overpowering fear. Rent
had cast away his peculiar vagueness of manner and appeared calm and
rational. If he had only been an acquaintance snatching her from some
unexpected peril his words could not have rung out more truly and
sensibly. Yet, on the face of it, it seemed absurd that there could be
any danger in simply walking on the lawn, though lately two tragedies
had occurred there. It was small wonder, then, that Ethel trembled from
head to foot with a sense of some great impending discovery. Charlock
repeated his remark twice before the girl appeared to heed him.
"I am frightened," she whispered. "I don't know what to make of it.
Did you see what happened?"
There was a peculiar thrill in her voice and her eyes filled with tears.
Charlock looked slightly puzzled, but if anything could be gleaned from
the expression of Grey's face, the mystery was no sealed book to him.
"I saw," he said curtly. "Everything will be explained in due time.
Meanwhile, Mr. Charlock is right in saying this is no place for you.
You must go back to your lodgings."
There was almost a command in Grey's tone, but Ethel did not offer to
move.
"But it is impossible," she persisted. "How could I leave Arnold Rent?
What would his mother say when she heard what I had done?"
"Nevertheless, you must do exactly what I tell you," Grey went on.
"There is a mystery which must be solved, even thought it breaks Mrs.
Rent's heart, and you suffer into the bargain. And if you will allow
Mr. Charlock to take you quietly home, I will pledge my word that Arnold
Rent shall come to no harm. Within an hour I will see that he is back."
Ethel would have ventured some protest, but the stern, hard expression
on the speaker's face checked her. She turned almost imploringly to
Charlock, as if seeking his protection.
"I don't understand," she murmured. "The whole thing is inexplicable.
Still, if you must have your own way, I will bow to the inevitable. Mr.
Charlock, would it be too much trouble to ask you to come as far as----"
"Not in the least," Charlock said eagerly; "it would be a pleasure. And
I hope you won't think Mr. Grey censorious. He is acting for the best."
"I pledge my word to that," Grey said, with a stern ring in his voice.
"Believe me, Miss Hargrave, I am not here on pleasure bent. But the
truth must be told, even only for the sake of innocent people. I will
do my best not to abuse the trust you have put in me. I promise you
that before long Arnold Rent shall be safe back in bed again.
Meanwhile, there is one thing I must ask you to do. As you go along the
quay you might stop and tell the boatman who is waiting to row me back
to the yacht that Dr. Tanza is wanted at once. Don't say more than
that, for Tanza will know what I mean. I don't think I need say more."
Silently Charlock offered his arm to Ethel Hargrave, and they vanished
into the darkness. No word passed between them till after they had
interviewed the sleepy boatman and sent him off on his errand. Then
Ethel turned to her companion and faced him resolutely.
"I think you are a good man," she said, in a voice that shook a little.
"At any rate, I know you to be generous and truthful. Now, Mr.
Charlock, kindly tell me what all this means. What is the object of so
much mystery? Why could not Arnold Rent have accompanied us home
instead of staying behind in that gloomy old house? It is hardly fair
to two defenceless women to make them puppets in a game like this."
"I swear I cannot tell you," Charlock said passionately. "I really
don't know. But I am sure Grey knows what he is doing and will never
rest till he gets to the bottom of the mystery."
"What is the mystery?" Ethel asked.
"Surely a superfluous question," Charlock said quietly. "Within a few
days my wife and her maid have both met with strange deaths. It may be
coincidence. On the other hand, it may be crime of a terrible, if
ingenious, character. I should not have suspected it myself, but Mr.
Grey does."
"It seems impossible," Ethel murmured.
"Oh, it does. I agree with you. But one never can tell. The whole
thing is maddening. Is there nothing mysterious, think you, in this
strange illness of Arnold Rent's? Mind you, I am trying to speak
without prejudice. I am trying to think the best of that man. But
there are moments when the most awful suspicions come into my mind, and
I have literally to expel them."
Ethel was silent for a while. She could not forget her own haunting
suspicions. They came back to her now with vivid force--Arnold Rent's
violence, the unsteady terror in his voice as he snatched her from some
unseen danger. His conduct and his manner were not consistent with
innocence and integrity.
"What do you think?" she asked timidly.
"I don't know what to think," Charlock burst out. "As I said before, I
have my suspicions. But I am prejudiced. I decline to believe that
Arnold Rent is the upright, honourable man people believe him to be.
But it is hardly fair to speak of a man in this way when he is in
trouble. I think the best thing we can do is to drop the subject."
For some time the two walked side by side in silence until they reached
Mrs. Rent's lodgings. To Ethel's surprise, the door was open and Mrs.
Rent was standing in the hall. There was a look of stern displeasure on
her face. She spoke to Ethel with a harshness which she had never used
before.
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "What has become of my son?
And why is Mr. Charlock here?"
"I am very, very sorry," Ethel faltered. "I went to sleep, and when I
woke Arnold had gone. Of course, it was exceedingly careless of me to
allow myself----"
"Careless? Is that the only word you have for it? It seems strange
there is no one whom I can trust. But where have you been? Why do you
waste your time like this----"
"I assure you she had not been wasting her time," Charlock said coldly.
"You can rest easy in your mind, Mrs. Rent, for your son is found. He
will be here by-and-bye. Meanwhile, it will be well not to make any
noise at this time of night. There is no occasion to arouse the good
people here, unless, indeed, you have already done so."
There was something so curt and incisive in Charlock's voice that Mrs.
Rent's manner grew quieter and more subdued.
"I am only just downstairs," she explained. "I went into my son's room
just now and, to my surprise, found it empty. But if my boy is all
right there is nothing more to be said. Perhaps I said too much to you,
Ethel, but I was speaking on the spur of the moment----"
"Oh, please don't apologise," Ethel said. "I feel that I am to blame.
When I discovered what had happened I went to Arnold's workshop, and Mr.
Swift told me where I might find him. He is coming later with Mr. Grey,
and I don't think you will find he is any the worse for his adventure."
A faint smile passed over Mrs. Rent's face.
"Then there is no more to be said," she murmured. "My dear child, how
white and tired you look! I insist upon your going to bed at once. Mr.
Charlock will perhaps keep me company till Arnold comes back."
Ethel was only too glad to be alone. She shook hands somewhat timidly
with John Charlock and made her way upstairs. Then Mrs. Rent turned to
Charlock and suggested that it would be better if they talked the matter
over in her sitting-room. Once inside, the lady's manner changed. She
grew agitated and distressed; her face was white and haggard.
"Now tell me what this means," she said. "I implore you to be candid
with me. I am not the first mother who has worshipped a golden idol
only to find that it has feet of clay. This is the punishment for my
pride in my son. It was my fancy to regard him as something better and
more upright than other men, and I begin to see different, now that he
has deceived me. People come to see him who fill me with dread. I know
that he is deeply in debt and that he has been deliberately deluding me.
I suppose he is afraid to tell me, lest I should stop his allowance and
perhaps leave the bulk of my money to some worthier object."
"There is nothing novel in the situation," Charlock said grimly. "You
are by no means the first parent who has been deceived in the same way.
I have known scores of such instances."
"That does not render the discovery less bitter," Mrs. Rent said sadly.
"But I am sure that is not all. There is something worse behind. And
if you will tell me what it is----"
"I cannot," Charlock said, "because I do not know. But you will need
all your courage and strength before long."
*CHAPTER XXXVIII*
*THE EMPTY ROOM*
Malcolm Grey sat himself down to wait grimly and patiently for Tanza.
From his position on the lawn he commanded a view of the front of the
house. He had the satisfaction of knowing that Rent was safe and that
he could not leave without being seen. In one of the rooms at the top
of the house the light flickered from time to time, so that Grey had a
fair idea of where Rent was and what he was doing. The better part of
half an hour elapsed before Tanza appeared on the scene. Grey hailed
him in a whisper, and he crept noiselessly across the grass. For once
he appeared to be curious.
"What is on foot now?" he demanded. "Why did you send for me in so
mysterious a fashion? Why is there a light at the top of the house? Is
the problem solved?"
"To all practical purposes it is," Grey replied. "I know what took
place, and why. But precisely how the mischief was brought about I
cannot say. Possibly before daylight the thing may be explained. But
that depends upon luck. At any rate, I am going to take you into my
confidence and tell you what I have discovered."
"I am glad to hear that," Tanza murmured.
Tanza inclined his head to listen, and for the next quarter of an hour
followed Grey with the most careful attention. He was more interested
than perhaps he had ever been before in his life. The strangely tangled
web which Grey was unfolding was the most complicated of all the affairs
in which he had ever been engaged.
"Wonderful," he murmured. "Really, a work of art. Perhaps it is rather
cold-blooded of me to regard these puzzles in the way of a recreation.
But there is a peculiar horror about this affair which has rarely been
equalled. So that's the way the thing was done, eh? Well, I suppose I
must leave the matter in your hands. What do you propose to do next?
But, by the way, you have not yet told me who is in the bedroom
overhead."
"You will be surprised when I tell you," Grey murmured. "The intruder
is no other than Arnold Rent."
An exclamation of genuine surprise broke from Tanza's lips.
"Is that really a fact?" he demanded. "But what brings him here? What
has he come after?"
"Ah, that I can only conjecture. I don't think my theory is far wrong.
Although Arnold Rent is the son of a rich woman, he has by no means the
command of unlimited money. Mrs. Rent is rather simple in her ideas and
inclined to be somewhat of a Puritan. She is quite capable of leaving
her money elsewhere if she thinks her son will waste it. Therefore, it
has been a necessity on Rent's part that his mother should be deceived
as to his mode of life. To put it plainly, he is more or less afraid of
her. And when a man lives in a smart set, and has no control over his
expenditure, he is bound sooner or later to find himself in
difficulties. That is the matter with Rent. He did not know which way
to turn for money. He did not dare to go to his mother and ask her to
set him on his feet again. Therefore he hits upon another plan. He
makes violent love to Bark's sister Hortense with a view to securing her
mistress's diamonds. At first I don't believe that Rent cared for Mrs.
Charlock at all. What he meant to do was to get hold of her jewels, but
when he came to know the woman intimately she fascinated him to such an
extent that he lost his head. He was prepared to sacrifice everything
for her sake. Witness that mad idea of his taking Mrs. Charlock to stay
with his mother. I give the fellow credit for honesty in that respect.
I believe his affection for Mrs. Charlock was absolutely pure and
good--perhaps the only disinterested impulse he ever had in his life.
Meanwhile, he had talked Hortense over and between them they laid hands
upon Mrs. Charlock's jewels. You will ask what became of the jewels.
They were hidden in a place of safety, so that they might be available
when they were wanted."
"That sounds logical," Tanza said. "Is it part of the problem to find
the jewels, or do you know where they are?"
"I know where they are," was the unexpected reply. "They are within a
stone's throw of us."
The little Italian whistled softly.
"Oh," he said, "I shall have to hand my mantle over to you, I see. But
hadn't we better secure the plunder while we have the chance? It would
be folly to miss the opportunity."
"Oh, the gems are safe enough," Grey said, with a grim chuckle. "You
can almost touch them with your hands. And yet they are as safe as the
Crown Jewels in the Tower of London. Indeed, they are safer, seeing
that an attempt on the National Regalia would only end in imprisonment,
while a determined attack upon Mrs. Charlock's gems would end in sudden
death. I won't gratify your curiosity yet. I have told you enough for
the present, and the truth, too. The first hand that rests upon that
jewel case will be the hand of a corpse in the twinkling of an eye. In
a day or two, perhaps, it may be safe to rifle the hiding-place. But not
yet, not yet."
Grey spoke with a thrill in his voice that had something of horror in
it. Tanza had seen too many mysteries in his time to express anything
in the way of incredulity. On the contrary, he nodded his head
solemnly.
"Does anybody else know?" he asked.
"Anybody besides Arnold Rent, you mean?" Grey replied. "Well, yes, one
other person knows, and that is Ephraim Bark. His information came to
him from his sister, who wrote and told him all about the affair when
she discovered that she had been made a tool of by Rent and that he did
not care two straws for her. We shall know presently how Rent managed
to silence that jealous woman's tongue and leave the field clear for
himself."
"You mean to say," Tanza began, "that Arnold Rent----"
"My dear fellow, I mean to say nothing. I shall have a repulsive enough
task later when I am compelled to speak plainly. Meanwhile, I have told
you pretty well all there is to know. We had better go up and see what
Arnold Rent is doing. You will not be surprised to hear that he is in
Hortense's bedroom, probably looking for papers. Oh, by the way, there
is one thing I forgot to mention. It is a photograph I found in the
French maid's room. It gave the clue to the greater part of my
discovery. Perhaps I had better show it you."
"I should like to see it very much," Tanza murmured.
Grey produced the torn photograph from his pocket and, with the aid of a
match, exhibited it to his companion. He would have liked to know who
was the other figure in the photograph. But that did not much matter,
and it was a point which was not likely to be elucidated. Then the two
friends crept quietly into the house. It was not easy to grope their
way upstairs in the dark, but they managed it without noise, and
presently stood outside the room, watching Rent at work. He seemed to
be wrapped up in his task to the exclusion of everything else. He was
pacing round and round the room, tapping on the panels and measuring
distances with an iron lever in his hand. He was muttering to himself,
too, but it was by no means easy to catch what he said. A quarter of an
hour passed in the seemingly futile task, and then the searcher appeared
to come to some definite conclusion. With a muttered exclamation he
drove the point of his lever into one of the panels, and with a
crackling, splintering sound the timber gave way. So far as the
watchers could see, there was a space behind the panel more or less
filled with letters. These Rent stowed away in his pockets. Beyond
question, the object of his search was satisfied, for the expression of
his face changed and a gleam of gratification sparkled in his eyes. He
turned to the door so abruptly that Tanza and his companion had barely
time to fall back into the doorway of an empty room before Rent began to
descend the stairs. They watched him carrying the candle till he
reached the basement of the house.
"What are you going to do now?" Tanza asked.
"Follow him," Grey said curtly. "In point of fact, I promised to take
him home. Practically, though behaving like a sane man, the cloud is
over his brain still, and I doubt very much if he knows what he is
doing. Of course, there is a good deal of method in his madness.
Still, we have to deal with a man who is not altogether accountable for
his actions."
"And where do I come in?" Tanza asked.
"Oh, you'll go back to the yacht and wait further developments. It
won't be very long before I am there again. And when I do come I may
bring one if not two visitors with me. It might be necessary to do a
little amateur kidnapping, but I am not sure about that yet. And now
you had better leave me."
"All right," Tanza said cheerfully. "I am content to leave matters to
you. Good luck to you!"
Grey walked after the other figure. He laid his hand upon Rent's arm
and accosted him.
*CHAPTER XXXIX*
*IN THE BAR*
Morning was beginning to struggle with night when Grey turned his
footsteps from Mrs. Rent's lodgings towards the quay. He was more than
satisfied with his work, despite the fact that the most unpleasant and
most repulsive part of it was yet to come. He was tired and weary by
this time, but there was something to be accomplished before he returned
to the yacht. One or two facts had to be verified. He turned aside for
a bit and walked along the foreshore to Rent's workshop. But it was in
absolute darkness, and no doubt Swift had gone to his lodgings. It was
Swift whom Grey wanted to see, and, rather than go to the yacht before
his task was altogether finished, Grey loitered about the streets till
daybreak. He took a short cut through a series of dingy streets and
past the fish-market, where one or two public-houses flaunted their
garish lights across the pavement. Grey wondered at this infringing of
the licensing act, until it dawned upon him that these were free houses
specially retained for the benefit of the fish-dealers and hawkers and
certain crews of yachts which landed in the early morning. It was a
survival of old times. For the most part they seemed to be doing a
certain amount of business.
There was something inviting about the lights and the open doors. It
suddenly occurred to Grey that it was six or seven hours since he had
partaken of food. He turned into one of the houses, where he saw piles
of thick but appetising sandwiches laid out in plates upon the long
table. He called for three or four of these and a small glass of
whisky-and-soda, which he proceeded to dispose of in the snug seclusion
of one of the little oak cabins which still obtain in some old-fashioned
taverns. The cabins were by no means well-lighted, so that one could sit
practically unseen in the darkness and yet see everything that was going
on in the bar. Grey had barely finished his repast and lighted a
cigarette before the swing door was thrown open and Ephraim Bark
swaggered in. There was nothing surprising in the appearance of the
little man; in fact, this was just the kind of place that such a thirsty
soul would patronise, seeing that it was possible to obtain strong drink
at any time of the day or night. All the same, it was a coincidence,
and Grey determined to make the best of it.
But Bark had not come solely with the intention of consuming drink. He
asked a question of the sleepy-looking man behind the bar, then looked
at his watch impatiently. Grey smiled grimly to see that Bark was in
possession of a watch again. Evidently he was in funds once more. For
nearly half an hour Bark stood exchanging pungent chaff with the barman,
until the door opened and Swift came in. No doubt this was the man for
whom Bark was waiting. Bark scowled at the newcomer and intimated that
a few moments later and he and the public-house bar would have been
complete strangers. Swift did not appear to heed. He swayed unsteadily
to and fro. His face was ghastly white and twitching. There was a
queer, fitful gleam in his eyes.
"Something to drink," he said hoarsely. "A large glass of brandy with
nothing in it. I'll pay the next time I come in, upon my honour I
will."