Inspector Field swore a good round oath under his breath. He had not
looked for an insane folly like this from a well-trained officer who
might have been expected to keep his feelings in check. But, as Field
sadly reflected, it was useless to anticipate anything rational when a
woman came into the case.
Everything had been going beautifully and smoothly a few minutes ago,
and now the plot was ruined. Field was anything but a timid man, he had
been in too many tight places in his life to know the meaning of the
word timidity, but then he had to exercise a certain discretion.
At the same time he was not blind to the fact that his military ally was
in considerable danger. The only thing now would be to bluff the whole
thing through, to pretend that the game was up and that the house was
surrounded with police.
With this intention in his mind, Field crossed the hall and tried the
dining-room door. He was not altogether surprised to find the door
locked. He listened at the keyhole, but he could not hear anything
whatever. Furthermore, the application of an eye to the keyhole
disclosed the fact that the room was in darkness. Despite his courage a
thrill ran down the spine of the inspector. There was some more than
usually devilish work going on here.
"Well, it can't be helped," Field muttered. "It's the fortune of war.
One of us has come to grief, and if I stay here I may share the same
fate, and I the only one left who knows anything of the secrets of the
prison house. I'll run over and get assistance and we'll search the
house. After all, my friend the Colonel has only himself to blame."
Without waiting for anything further, Field slipped out by the way he
had come. Once in the road, he glanced back at the house, but the whole
place seemed to be in pitchy darkness. There was nothing for it now but
to make his way to the nearest police station, and get all the
assistance possible. There was no trouble at the station across the
Common, the mere mention of Field's name being sufficient. A few minutes
later half a dozen constables in silent shoes were on their way to the
scene of action. There was to be no fuss and bother; they decided to
enter quietly and unostentatiously by the larder window, which was done
without any noise whatever.
Once the exits were guarded, there was no necessity for further
concealment. But though the lights were turned up all over the house and
the most careful search made, not a sign of human life could be seen.
Everybody had vanished, as if the whole thing had been a dream. Field,
standing in the hall and biting his nails, was fain to admit that he was
beaten.
How on earth had those people managed to efface themselves in that
amazing manner? They had all apparently vanished off the face of the
earth. And there was that bulky package too, that Field believed
contained the body of Sir Charles. It was long past midnight before
Field left the house, having taken precautions not to disturb anything,
but even those precautions might have been in vain. For all he knew to
the contrary, the place might be watched by its late occupants who were
laughing in their sleeves.
"No use staying here any longer, Macklin," he said disgustedly. "I shall
have to go back on my tracks once more. Never do I take an amateur into
my business plans again. But it looks as if he has paid for his
indiscretion. Good night."
It was late into the following afternoon before Field saw Beatrice
Darryll again. When he did so, he had nothing to report save failure.
Beatrice listened with the greatest interest to what had taken place the
night before, but her interest gave place to grave anxiety when she
heard what had been the result of Colonel Berrington's daring action.
"Do you suppose that he is in real danger?" Beatrice asked.
"Well, I'm afraid he is," Field admitted. "You see we are dealing with
the most daring and clever and unscrupulous gang of scoundrels that I
ever encountered. They would not stick at murder or anything else if
anybody crossed them. Mind you, it was a most foolish thing for the
Colonel to do. Still, he is a soldier and a very resourceful man and he
may pull through. Again these people may not have designs on his life;
it is just possible that they might keep him a prisoner until their
plans had been successfully carried out. Of course when the Colonel was
talking to the grey lady to-night I was not supposed to listen. But I
have very good ears, and they spoke loudly at times. I gathered that the
scoundrel Sartoris was once engaged to a young lady who threw him over.
Now it occurred to me that the young lady might give me an idea or two,
provided that she is in England at the present moment."
"Why should you think that she is not here?" Beatrice asked.
"Because the engagement took place at Simla. This young lady was staying
with her brother and his wife; unfortunately I did not catch the name.
The curious part of the affair is that she is a ward of your late
father."
Beatrice looked puzzled for a moment. She did not quite understand.
"You mean that my father was guardian under a will or something of that
kind?" she asked.
"That's it, miss," Field exclaimed. "We ought to be able to identify the
young lady between us, especially as the affair only took place three
years ago or so, as I understand. If you will pardon me for saying so,
Sir Charles was a very careless gentleman, and hardly the man that a
careful parent would choose as a guardian. The young lady's father must
have known yours very intimately indeed, or very little, it does not
matter which. Still, I don't suppose that Sir Charles had many of these
affairs on hand. Now, see if you can recollect anything of the kind
happening during the last three or four years, Miss Darryll."
Beatrice thought the matter over carefully for a moment. Her face
lighted up presently.
"I fancy that I have it," she said. "Lord Edward Decie, who was a great
friend of my father, died about three years ago. The two men did a lot
of speculating together, and indeed Lord Edward passed for a shrewd and
successful man. When he died I know my father was executor under the
will and that he had some control over the Hon. Violet Decie. I never
saw the girl, because she went to India with a married brother, and,
for all I know she is there still. I understood that she was rather an
impulsive kind of girl who did wild things on the spur of the moment.
But you can easily inquire."
Field's face expressed a guarded satisfaction. So far he was not very
much out.
"That is the young lady, miss," he cried. "I'll put the inquiries on
foot at once. And I don't think that I need detain you any longer."
"One minute," Beatrice said. "What about Colonel Berrington? What steps
have you taken to find him? Are you going to have that house at
Wandsworth watched?"
Field intimated that he was, though in his opinion it was time wasted.
"They will expect something of the kind, you see," he said. "Of course
it is a help to me that my presence in the house was not suspected. They
may conclude that Berrington was alone in the business, and on the other
hand they may not conclude anything of the kind. But, all the same, I am
going to have the house carefully watched."
Before the day was out the disappearance of Sir Charles's body was
obscured by the strange absence of Colonel Berrington. Field would have
kept this latter fact concealed as far as possible, but then
Berrington's landlady had been his old nurse, and she was not rational
in the matter at all. The authorities had promised to do all they could,
though the press accused them of being exceedingly lax in the business.
As a matter of fact, Field had given his chiefs an inkling of the
situation, so that they were really doing their best all the time. A
carefully planned watch on the Wandsworth Common house had come to
nothing, but the people there had not yet returned; indeed very little
could have been done if they had.
And Field was turning in another direction. He had to trace the young
lady who at one time had been engaged to Carl Sartoris, and he had found
it a more difficult business than he had anticipated. It was a delicate
business, too, calling for tactful manipulation. A somewhat talkative
aunt of the young lady was found at length. She took Field for a lawyer
who was seeking the Honorable Violet for her own advantage.
"Oh, yes. She has been back from India a long time," Lady Parkstone
said. "Violet is a very strange and clever girl. Yes, she has been
engaged more than once. But the engagements are always broken off.
Violet was always in love with herself. But very clever, as I said
before. At one time she bade fair to become quite a famous artist, and
she has had stories in the magazines. Her last fad was the stage and
that has lasted quite a long time. In fact she is on the stage now."
"In London, my lady?" Field asked. "She is not acting under her own
name, of course?"
"No," Lady Parkstone explained. "She is Miss Adela Vane; at present she
is playing at the Comedy Opera House. It is just possible that you know
the name."
Field knew the name very well. He departed presently well satisfied with
the progress that he had made. It was getting quite late by the time he
had found out where Miss Vane lodged, but he had time to go back to
Scotland Yard again. There, a note from the superintendent of the
Wandsworth Police was awaiting him, asking him to go down as soon as
possible. The note was vague but it suggested possibilities.
The Wandsworth authorities had not much to say, but they had one detail.
Last night one of the men who was told to watch No. 100 had seen
something. The windows were all shuttered from top to bottom, each
shutter having a little ventilator in it. Field nodded, for he had
noticed this himself.
"Very well, then," the superintendent went on. "So far as we know the
house is empty. But is it? If so why should a light have been seen last
night, behind the little round ventilator? The light came and went, and
in a great flashing, dazzling kind of way for half an hour, and then
stopped. It was as if a child was playing with the switch of the
electric light."
Field nodded and smiled. He looked exceedingly pleased with himself.
"Guess I understand," he said. "Especially as we are seeking for a
military gentleman. We'll go as far as Audley Place at once, and
investigate. Only we shall have to call at the Post Office and borrow a
clerk out of the telegraph department. Come along."
Field volunteered no explanation, and his puzzled colleague followed him
out of the office. The telegraph operator and the others stood opposite
the house in Audley Place till the patience of all was pretty well
exhausted. Then suddenly the light began to flicker in the upper part of
the house.
"Isn't that a message of some kind?" Field asked of the telegraph clerk.
"Right," the other said promptly. "That's a kind of telegraph dash and
dot system. Whistle a bar from 'when we are married.' Thank you, sir.
That's what the gentleman who is sending out those flash signals is
asking somebody to do who happens to understand. That last lot of
flashes means 'Thank the Lord!' Now he's getting to business. He wants
to know who we are before he goes on."
"Can't you give it back again in any way?" Field asked. "Say it's me."
Very loudly the telegraphic operator tapped the pavement with his stick.
It sounded quite meaningless, but the light in the house flared up and
down in a triumphant kind of way. The flickering began once more and
then stopped.
"It's Colonel Berrington," the clerk said presently. "He says you are
not to bother about him in the least, as he is quite safe, and so long
as he is in there the men are not likely to do anything rash. And here
comes the gist of the message. You are to go to Edward Street in the
Borough and keep an eye on one of the houses there,--the Colonel doesn't
know which. And you are to go at once, he says."