Meanwhile, absolutely unconscious of the dangers that were rapidly
closing around her, Beatrice took her way to Wandsworth. Richford had
been ingenious enough to see that Beatrice would go down by rail, as she
had very little money to spare, so that if they desired it, the two
conspirators could have got there before her. But there was no occasion
for that, seeing that Beatrice had the treasure in her pocket and
Sartoris was none the wiser.
Richford would have gone far at that moment to spite Sartoris. He had
tried to play the latter false over the scheme that they had in hand
together, and Sartoris had found him out. The latter made it a rule
never to trust anybody, and he had been suspicious of Richford from the
first. He had known exactly how Richford's affairs stood, he had seen
that a sudden blow dealt at him now would pull the whole structure down
and ruin it for ever. And without the smallest feeling in the matter,
Sartoris had done this thing. But for him Richford could have pulled
around again, as Sartoris had been aware.
But Sartoris had had enough of his ally and in this way he got rid of
him altogether. Richford dared not show his face again; he would have to
leave the country and never return. Sartoris chuckled to himself as he
thought of this.
He was on extremely good terms with himself when Beatrice called. She
had not given the letter from Berrington very much consideration, though
she was a little surprised at the address. Doubtless the matter had
something to do with her father, the girl thought. The mystery of that
strange disappearance was getting on her nerves sadly.
Rather timidly the girl knocked at the door of the gloomy looking house,
which was opened after a pause by a little man in an invalid chair.
Beatrice looked at him in surprise. She gained some courage from a quick
glance at the hall with its electric lights and fine pictures and the
magnificent flowers in pots and vases everywhere. It seemed to Beatrice
that only a woman could be responsible for this good taste, and she took
heart accordingly. No desperate characters could occupy a house like
this, she told herself, and in any case a helpless little man in a chair
could not prove a formidable antagonist.
"I hope I have not made any mistake," she said. "If this is 100, Audley
Place----"
"This is 100, Audley Place, Mrs. Richford," the little man said. "Will
you be so good as to come this way and shut the door? I have been
expecting you."
"It was a letter that I received from my friend, Colonel Berrington,"
Beatrice said. "He asked me to call and see him here. I hope he is not
ill."
"I have not noticed any signs of illness," Sartoris said drily. "I have
no doubt that the Colonel had very good reasons for asking you to come
here, in fact he did so to oblige me. The Colonel is out at present. He
is staying with me, being fond of the air of the place. I dare say he
will be back before you go."
Beatrice nodded in bewildered fashion. In some vague way it seemed to
her that her host was making fun of her, there was just a faint
suggestion of mockery in his tones. Was there any plot against her on
foot, Beatrice wondered. But nobody could possibly know of the diamonds
in her pocket; besides, she had received the letter before she had
thought of removing those diamonds from the custody of the hotel people.
Again, as to the genuineness of Berrington's letter she did not
entertain the shadow of a doubt. Nobody, not even an expert, could
succeed in making a successful forgery of the dashing hand-writing of
Berrington.
"If you will come this way," Sartoris said quietly, "we shall be more
comfortable. As the evening is by no means warm you will perhaps not
object to the temperature of my room. If you are fond of flowers, you
may admire it."
A little cry of admiration broke from Beatrice at the sight of the
conservatory room. She had forgotten all her fears for the moment.
Gradually she let the atmosphere of the place steal over her. She found
that she was replying to a lot of searching questions as to her past and
the past of her father, Sir Charles. No, she had no papers, nor did she
know where to find those keys. She wondered what this man was driving
at.
"I knew your father very well at one time," he said. "I saw a great deal
of him in India. In fact he and I were in more than one expedition
together."
"What year was that?" Beatrice asked quite innocently.
To her surprise Sartoris gave signs of irritation and anger. He turned
it off a moment later by an allusion to neuralgia, but Beatrice was not
quite satisfied. Why did this man want the key of a certain desk, and
why did he require a bundle of papers in a blue envelope therefrom?
Beatrice resolved to be on her guard.
"I will do what I can for you," she said. "If you can come and see me."
"I am afraid that is impossible," said Sartoris, who had lapsed into his
bland manner once more. "I am sensitive of people's remarks and all that
kind of thing. I dare say you will think that I am morbidly
self-conscious, but then I have not always been a cripple. I was as
straight as yourself once. Fancy a little crooked figure like me in a
hansom cab!"
Beatrice started violently. The words had recalled a painful time to
her. She recollected now with vivid force that on the night of Sir
Charles's disappearance a little crooked man in a hansom cab had been
the directing party in the outrage.
The girl's instinct had led her swiftly to the truth. She felt, as sure
as if she had been told, that this man before her was at the bottom of
this business. She knew that she stood face to face with the man who had
stolen the body of Sir Charles Darryll. For a moment Beatrice fought
hard with the feeling that she was going to faint. Her eyes dilated and
she looked across at the man opposite. He was lying back in his chair
feasting his eyes upon her beauty, so that the subtle change in the
girl's face was not lost upon him.
"I seem to have alarmed you about something," he said. "What was it?
Surely the spectacle of a crooked little man like me in a hansom cab is
not so dreadful as all that. And yet those words must have touched upon
a chord somewhere."
"It--it recalled my father to me," Beatrice stammered. "The police found
certain things out. They discovered the night my father disappeared that
outside the hotel was a black hansom cab with a man inside who was a
cripple."
"You don't mean to say that!" Sartoris cried.
In his turn he had almost betrayed himself. He could have cursed himself
aloud now. As it was, he forced an unsteady smile to his lips.
"I mean to say that the police are very clever at that kind of thing,"
he went on. "But surely you would not possibly identify me or my remark
with the monster in question! There are a great many people in this big
London of ours who would answer to that description. Now tell me, did
the police find anything more out?"
The question was eager, despite the fact that Sartoris imparted a laugh
into it. But Beatrice was not to be drawn any further. She felt
absolutely certain of the fact that she was talking to the real culprit
who was picking her brain so that he could get to the bottom of what the
police had discovered, with an eye to the future.
"Really, I don't know," the girl said coldly. "That is all that I
overheard. The police I find are very close over these matters, and in
any case they do not usually choose a woman as their confidant. You had
better ask Colonel Berrington."
It was an unfortunate remark in more senses than one. Beatrice did not
quite realize how quick and clever was the man to whom she was talking.
If his instinct had told him much his cleverness told him more.
Berrington was in the confidence of the police. And Sartoris had
imagined that the soldier was working out the problem on his own behalf.
He had counted, too, on Berrington's affection for Mary to do as little
harm as possible.
"I'll ask the Colonel," he said between his teeth. "Oh, yes, I will
certainly do that. What are you looking at so closely?"
Beatrice had risen to her feet in her eagerness. She pointed to two
cabinet photographs.
"Those people," she stammered. "Why, I know them. They call themselves
Countess de la Moray and General Gastang. They were staying at the
_Royal Palace Hotel_ the night of the tragedy. They pretended to know me
and all about me. I am quite sure that they are actors in disguise. But
seeing that you know them----"
Sartoris turned away his face for a moment, so that Beatrice should not
see its evil expression. He cursed himself for his inane folly. But he
was quick to rise to the situation.
"A very strange thing," he said. "As a matter of fact, I don't know
those people. But some friends of mine in Paris were their victims some
little time ago, and they were anxious that the police here should be
warned, as the precious pair had fled to England. Perhaps they were
proud of this guise, perhaps their vanity impelled them, but they had
those photographs taken and my friends got copies and sent them to me.
They only arrived to-day or they would not be here. They will go to
Scotland Yard in the morning."
Beatrice inclined her head coldly. She knew the whole thing was a quick
and ready lie, and she could not for the life of her pretend to believe
it. She buttoned her jacket about her and stood up.
"I will not detain you any longer," she said. "If I can find what you
desire I will let you know. I can find my own way to the door."
"Wait till Berrington returns," Sartoris urged. "He will not be long. He
is not in the house yet, but he will be sorry he has missed you."
Beatrice stood before the glass putting her hat on straight. She could
see over her shoulder in the direction of the door, and there in the
gloom with his finger to his lips stood Berrington. There was just a
suggestion of surprise in his eyes, surprise and annoyance, but the look
which he passed the girl was a command to keep herself well in hand. The
mere fact that help was so near gave her a new courage. She smiled as
she turned to Sartoris.
"Well, I am afraid that I must be going," she said. "Please tell the
Colonel when he comes in that I am sorry to have missed him. He will
understand that."
There was the faint click of a key in the front door, and two people
came noisily into the room. They were a young and handsome man and an
equally young and handsome woman, well dressed, smartly groomed, and
well bred. And yet, though they were strangers to Beatrice, they were at
the same time curiously familiar. The girl was trying to recall where
she had seen them both before.
"We are rather late," the man said with a wink at Sartoris. "Business
detained us. Yes, we are also rather hungry, having had no dinner to
speak of. Hullo, I say, look here. Do you mean to say that you are fool
enough to keep our photographs in our very last disguise?"
Something like an oath broke from Sartoris as he glanced at Beatrice.
The girl could not control herself for the moment; she could not hide
from Sartoris and the others that she knew now that she was in the
presence of Countess de la Moray and General Gastang in their proper
person.
"Those are not your photographs at all," Sartoris croaked. "As a matter
of fact I only got them from Paris to-day. If you will----"
The speaker paused as Beatrice was stepping towards the door. All of
them realised that she knew everything. Sartoris made a sign and the man
Reggie stood between Beatrice and the door.