would-be patient, whose face as seen under a wide-brimmed,
old-fashioned felt hat, and between linen wrappings, consisted of
deep-set black eyes, wide nostrils, and a long-lipped mouth.
"Why, yes, he is," admitted the young woman, to whom I had given my
name. "Do you know him?"
"Not at all," replied Mr. Genardius, who appeared to her a rather
unusual figure in his quaint hat and an equally quaint overcoat. "But
as I got out of my automobile I saw him at the gate. I recognised him
from portraits in newspapers. He was an army aviator, I believe, who
got leave on account of wounds, and came over to see a play produced."
"Oh, yes, _The Key_--a _lovely_ detective play," was the flattering
reply, as reported to me later.
As she spoke, the young woman (Miss Murphy) gave the letters to the
boy, who went out, needing no directions. Hardly had the door shut,
when Mr. Genardius rose. "Oh, that reminds me!" he exclaimed, "I
should have wired to a friend! The doctor is sure to be engaged for
some moments. I'll step out and send my chauffeur with the telegram."
For an invalid, he walked briskly. The boy hadn't disposed of his
letters and parcels, or mounted the bicycle which leaned against the
fence, when Mr. Genardius reached the gate. Miss Murphy glanced from
the window, interested in the queer personage. She was unable to see
the motor from where she sat; but it must have been near, for the black
felt hat and the black caped coat came flapping up the garden path
again in less than five minutes. The thought flitted through Miss
Murphy's head that the bandages worn by the invalid wouldn't make a bad
disguise. Mr. Genardius returned to his chair, and selected a
newspaper.
About this time came a telephone call, which Miss Murphy answered. And
though two days had passed before I realised the need of questioning
the young woman, she was able to recall a rustle as of tearing paper at
this moment. Her attention was occupied at the 'phone; but when
Genardius had departed, and she wished to glance at the theatrical
advertisements, she noticed that a page was gone from _The World_. Had
she not remembered the name of the paper, a link would have been
missing from the chain of evidence. As it was, I was able to deduce
that the torn page contained a news item "exclusive to _The World_."
Mr. Genardius had doubtless read some other newspaper at home, and it
had interested him that "Millionaire Roger Odell's Egyptian Present for
His Bride" was likely to reach New York that night on an Italian liner.
How _The World_ had got hold of this story remains a mystery. It had
leaked out that Roger had bought for a great sum an opal "Eye of
Horus," supposed to be the mate of a curious ornament possessed by his
adopted sister, and the only other jewel resembling it, in existence.
Grace Odell (nee Grace Callender) had admired Maida's fetish. That was
enough for Roger. He made inquiries, and learned from a firm of
jewellers that a duplicate of Miss Odell's opal had been sold years ago
by a certain Sir Anthony Annesley to the Museum of Cairo.
How it had come into Annesley's hands was not known; and he had long
ago died. Maida had been satisfied with her fetish, and did not covet
its fellow, but Grace's chance word caused Roger to cable an agent in
Egypt, and, after bargaining, the Museum authorities had consented to
part with the treasure. This information the newspapers had obtained,
but the time and the way of the opal's arrival in America had, Roger
thought, been kept a dead secret.
In order that jewel-thieves, ever on the alert for a prize, should not
stalk the messenger, Roger's agent had engaged the services of a
private person. A relative of his, an American girl who had acted as
stenographer in Naples, was giving up her position to return to New
York. Taking advantage of this fact, and his confidence in her, the
agent had given Miss Mary Gibson charge of the Eye of Horus. Having no
connection with any jewel firm it was believed that she might pass
unsuspected. The curio being thousands of years old, was not subject
to duty, and could, it was hoped, be placed by Miss Gibson directly in
the hands of its owner, before anyone discovered that it had been in
hers. Roger Odell had intended to meet the young woman; but his
suddenly arranged journey upset that plan, and the day before my visit
to Dr. Thorne I had received the following cable:
"Stenographer will go straight from ship to Priscilla Alden. If ship
late, meet her there early morning after. Will be expecting you."
Had I not come to an understanding with Roger before he sailed for Rio
Janeiro, this message would have been gibberish. But he had asked me
to take over the jewel because he hoped thus to bring me into touch
with Maida. If I could bestow the opal in Roger's bank, Miss Odell
(whose vows did not bind her to absolute seclusion) might run up to New
York and compare it with her own curio. I had caught eagerly at the
plan. Gladly would I have waited hours on the dock for Miss Gibson,
but fearing I might be suspected as his agent, if thieves were on the
watch, Roger had thought it best for the young woman not to be met. In
order to avoid attention, she was to proceed as if she had been the
insignificant stranger she was supposed to be. She was to inquire on
shipboard for an hotel in New York, taking lady guests only. The
Priscilla Alden would be mentioned, and she would send a wireless,
engaging a room. As clients of the Priscilla Alden were allowed no
male visitors after ten p.m., my call would have to depend upon the
time the ship docked. Even before Roger's cable, I had ascertained
that the _Reina Elenora_ was likely to get in late, and I made up my
mind to spend the night at my own old hotel in New York. That would
enable me to present myself early next day at the Priscilla Alden.
While I described my nightmare dreams to the doctor (keeping Maida's
name to myself), Miss Murphy left Mr. Genardius for a few moments. A
rich old lady patient drew up at the gate in an automobile and sent her
chauffeur to fetch the young woman. There was a verbal message to be
delivered, and while Miss Murphy committed it to heart, doubtless the
bandaged man listened at the keyhole. He heard enough to realise that
John Hasle was close upon the trail of Miss Odell's enemies.
Thorne was sympathetic. He talked of nerve-shock in various forms,
from which most returning soldiers suffered.
As he fumbled among medicine bottles he went on: "I'll prescribe you a
tonic; I keep a few things at hand here, and I can fix you up from my
stock. Some of the ingredients are rare. You couldn't get a
prescription made up nearer than New York. No, by George! there's one
thing missing from my lot! Luckily it's not one of the rare ones. Did
you come in a car? What, you walked? Well, I'll get the boy to sprint
into the village on his bike, to the pharmacy. He can be back inside
fifteen minutes. I'll write to the druggist."
Thorne touched an electric button. No one came in response.
Impatiently the doctor flung the door open to glare at Miss Murphy.
Miss Murphy was not visible, however, and away dashed the master of the
house, leaving me in his private office to wonder at his absence. This
office being behind the outer room gave no view of the front gate,
therefore I could not see what Thorne saw. It wasn't until he appeared
that I learned why he had bolted. The boy whom he had intended to send
for the missing ingredients had been run down by a motor-car, while
bicycling to the post-office. The chauffeur had, through coincidence,
been despatched by a patient waiting for Thorne. He had taken a corner
too sharply, and knocked the boy off his bicycle, but Joey was more
frightened than hurt. He had been picked up by the chauffeur, a
foreigner, and when Thorne had looked from the window, it had been to
see the lad lifted half conscious from the returning car. At the gate
stood not only Miss Murphy, but the owner of the automobile, who had
hurried out on hearing the young woman's cry. So it was that the
waiting-room had been left empty.
"Joey's as right as rain now, or will be when he's pulled himself
together," Thorne explained. "My new patient, whoever he is--a
stranger to me--seemed to feel worse than Joey. He gave the kid ten
dollars! It may have been as much the boy's fault as the chauffeur's.
Anyhow, I bet Joey won't complain. Your medicine will be ready as soon
as if nothing had happened, for the owner of the auto (Genardius, his
name is) offered to drive to the druggist's and back."
It was Miss Murphy who presently handed the doctor a small, neatly
wrapped bottle. "That chauffeur brought me this," she announced. "It
seems that Joey's accident upset the invalid gentleman more than he
realised at first. He was taken faint at the pharmacy, and decided not
to consult you this morning. He'll 'phone, and ask for an appointment."
Dr. Thorne tore the wrapper off the phial, and began pouring its
colourless contents into a bottle already two-thirds full, which he had
prepared. Suddenly he stopped. "I guess I'll let that do for this
time! Take a tablespoonful when you get home, and twice more during
the day; once just before bed."
Dr. Thorne inspired me with confidence; and, as I was anxious to keep
my wits for Maida's sake, I intended to follow directions. Arriving at
my hotel, however, I found a cablegram in answer to one I'd sent
Haslemere, in London. I had demanded whence came the scandal which
darkened the life of Maida Odell. Replying, he refused details, but
deigned to admit that his informant was an American, the widow of a
naval officer, of "unimpeachable respectability." That word
"unimpeachable" was so characteristic of Haslemere that I laughed, but
the description answered closely enough to Mrs. Granville to excite me,
and I forgot the medicine.
Later, I had remembered it once more when Teano called, bringing the
dumb child Nicky, now his adopted son. I set down the bottle and
thought no more about it, for I hoped to learn something of the man who
had frightened Maida. My hope that Nicky might turn informant seemed,
however, doomed to disappointment. It was difficult to elicit facts,
because of his dumbness; but Teano and I agreed that the imp took
advantage of his infirmity to bottle up secrets. "He's in fear of some
threat," pronounced the detective. "It's the same with his mother.
Jenny and I were married the day after you found her. She says she's
happy, and she ought to know I'm able to protect her. But she's afraid
to speak against the Sisterhood. I shouldn't wonder if they've made
her swear some oath."
We talked long on the subject, and Teano produced a list of Egyptians
living in New York, obtained at my request. Some were rich. The
greater number appeared to be engaged in the import of tobacco and
curios, or Eastern carpets. A few were doctors; more were
fortune-tellers; while one extraordinary creature whose description
caught my fancy was a mixture of both: an exponent of ancient cults and
religions, and a qualified physician who treated nervous ailments with
hypnotism. This man gave weekly lectures on "Egyptian Wisdom applied
to Modern Civilisation," and was known as "Doctor" or "Professor"
Rameses. The name was, of course, assumed; but Teano had learned that
Dr. Rameses was more than respectable; he was estimable. Following his
religion, which claimed that each soul was a spark from the one Living
Fire, he aimed to help all mankind, and was apparently a true
philanthropist.
When Teano spoke of returning to New York it was time for me to start.
I invited him into my car, and preparing to depart, I came upon the
forgotten medicine. Thorne had prophesied that I would prove a bad
patient; but I tried to atone by swallowing an extra large dose. The
bottle I slipped into my overcoat pocket, intending to take the stuff
again at bedtime.
"Stop at the Priscilla Alden Hotel," I directed my chauffeur; and it
was only when Teano spoke of "Nella" that I recalled the sister
employed there. I had seen Nella's photograph at Paul's rooms, taken
with her fiance, Maurice Morosini, and had pleased Teano with praise of
the girl's beauty. Morosini, too, was of an interesting type. I was
sorry to hear from the detective that he had been ordered to join the
colours, and would sail at dawn for Naples.
"The worst thing is," Teano went on, as we sped toward New York, "that
those two can't even bid each other good-bye. Anywhere but at the
Priscilla Alden, Morosini might walk into the hotel, take the elevator
and go to her floor for a word."
As Teano talked a pain behind my eyes began to run through my temples,
and into the back of my neck to the spine.
Something queer was the matter. I was conscious that Teano was asking
alarmed questions, and that Nickey was staring. I was thankful that we
had got to New York before the attack overwhelmed me, for I must leave
the letter at the Priscilla Alden. As the motor slowed down in front
of the hotel I remember pushing Teano aside and stumbling out of the
car, the letter in my hand. I wasn't even aware of dropping the
envelope addressed to Miss Gibson. Only Nickey, peering from the
depths of the car, saw the fall, and would have darted to retrieve it,
had not a man grabbed the letter as it touched the pavement. Teano was
occupied with me, and so it seems was Maurice Morosini, who had been
wandering up and down before the hotel, in the hope that Nella might
come out. He sprang to help Paul, and there was no one for Nickey to
tell, in his queer way, by gestures and rough sketches on a slate, what
had happened. Afterward the detective did learn in this fashion that
the man who picked up the letter was a chauffeur from a car following
us, which had stopped when we stopped. But then it was too late for
the knowledge to be useful.
Despite protests from the doorman, Teano and Morosini half carried,
half dragged me into the hotel. Once inside, they suggested that it
would be inhuman not to give me shelter; they made great play with my
name and title, and threatened reprisals if I should be turned out.
"I suppose under the circumstances we'll have to give his lordship a
room and get a doctor in," groaned the manager. "But it's against
rules. However, we'll smuggle Lord John up to the thirteenth floor,
where there's a small room vacant."
It's an ill wind that blows nobody good, and Morosini must have praised
the saints for my illness when he found it giving him the chance he
would have bought with half a year of life. He was going to the
thirteenth floor of the sacred Priscilla Alden; and on that floor was
Nella Teano!
One glance he threw at Paul across my head, as the two helped me out of
the lift, and then his heart bounded with great joy, for close by was
the telephone window.
"The only room disengaged to-night is farther down the corridor," the
manager explained. "I wish we could spare this one just opposite, but
there's a lady coming into it later," and he threw a regretful glance
at a door barred by a chambermaid, her arms full of linen and towels.
She had been getting ready Number 1313 for its next occupant, but in
her surprise dropped a wad of sheets and pillow-cases. Stooping to
pick them up, a sharp word from the manager sent her flying; and
Morosini noticed that she had forgotten to take her pass-key from the
lock.
I had revived enough to walk mechanically, like a man in a dream,
without support, so Morosini left me to the guidance of Teano and the
manager, and ran back to the lighted window which framed his adored
one. She sprang to her feet as Morosini held out his arms.
"Oh, Maurice!" she gasped.
"Give me a kiss to take with me--perhaps to my death," he implored.
The girl gave it, leaning over the narrow edge of her window. Nella
Teano would have dared anything rather than refuse what might be a last
request; yet the danger was great, and she started at sound of the
lift. "What _shall_ we do?" she gasped. "You mustn't be seen----"
But Morosini did not await the end of her sentence. For the girl's
sake he must hide. Besides, he hoped to snatch another moment when the
coast should be clear. With a bound he crossed the corridor, opened
the door of 1313, and shut himself in. Meanwhile the manager,
telephoning to the office from my room, had learned that the doctor he
wished to get was in the hotel, just leaving a patient. Out hurried
the manager to meet the doctor at the lift and discuss the case before
returning to my room. That room, as fate would have it, happened to be
on the other side of a narrow court, opposite 1313, the windows facing
each other.
Poor Morosini had thought himself blessed by Heaven in his unhoped-for
chance to see Nella. He still thought the same, as he stood inside the
room across from the telephone bureau; but luck had turned. Hardly had
the door closed upon Morosini, when the chambermaid crept back to lock
number 1313, and regained the forgotten pass-key. Nella would
desperately have called the girl, making some excuse, or, if worst came
to worst, even telling her the truth. At that instant, however, the
doctor came from the lift, to station himself in front of the telephone
window. He could see the manager advancing, and so also could the
maid. In fear of meeting this awe-inspiring personage again, she
snatched the key with frenzy and fled, while Nella sat doomed to
silence.
Morosini's first hint of trouble came with the grating of the key in
the lock. He dared not try the door at the moment, for he could hear
the voice of the manager. What could he do if Nella were unable to
open the door? If there were a ledge or cornice running under the
window, he might attempt to creep along it and find a way of descent by
a fire escape. He had switched on a light, and had seen the window,
covered with a dark blind, when a faint rattle of paper attracted his
eyes to the door. A white envelope was being slipped underneath.
Morosini seized it, and read in Nella's handwriting, "I'll try to get a
pass-key and let you out, but can't tell how or when. Turn off the
electricity. It can be seen through the transom."
Meanwhile, in my room, while I lay in a half-doze on the bed, the
doctor listened to Teano's story of my sudden seizure. The medicine
bottle was found and produced, and as I had mentioned my visit to
Thorne, the detective could supply some information. The New York
doctor got into communication with the Long Island man over the 'phone,
and thus started the train which enabled us later to make valuable
deductions. The bandaged patient had doubtless tampered with the
bottle in the shelter of his automobile, and remained at the pharmacy
until the return of his chauffeur. The nature of the added ingredient
was discovered eventually by analysis; and had I taken one more of the
doses directed by Dr. Thorne, nothing could have saved my life. As it
was, the effects were temporary; and when some nauseous stuff had been
poured down my throat, increasing the heart action, consciousness of
surroundings came like the waking from a dream. Teano it was who had
run out with the hotel doctor's prescription and returned with it made
up. So great had been his haste that Nella's appeal detained him at
her window only for an instant. He had no time to give help, for my
life might depend on promptness, but he promised aid later.
As it was, the effect of his treatment satisfied the doctor. He
stopped by my bedside till I crudely invited him to go, and let me
sleep. All I needed to restore me was a night's rest. My presence in
the hotel was not to be talked about, but the manager would look in
from time to time, and call the doctor if needed. I slept fitfully,
glad of the cool air blowing through the open window. Suddenly light
struck my eyelids. I was roused with a start, and sat up in bed. My
impression was that someone had come in and switched on the
electricity. But the room was dark, save for a radiant circle on the
wall at the foot of my bed. From a bright surface of crystal framed in
gold, a woman's face looked out.
For a dazed second, I thought I had to do with a ghost. I realised
that what I saw was the reflection of a reflection. My narrow bed
stood with its back to the wall beside the window. Opposite the
window, and therefore facing the foot of the bed, was a round mirror in
a gilt frame. A dark blind had suddenly been thrown up, across the
narrow court, and a woman, pausing before the glass in her room, sent
into the dusk of mine her image. She was taking off her hat, looking
at herself; and there she was fantastically, at the foot of my bed, for
me to look at too. The effect was so extraordinary that it held me
fascinated, until another woman came into the room.
When Maurice Morosini heard the sound of a key in the lock, it was
music to his ears. He believed that at last (hours had gone) Nella
found herself able to open his prison. But another second undeceived
him. A voice was saying, "One moment, madam. Let me find the electric
switch before you go in."
All the young man's blood seemed to flow back upon his heart. The
thought in his mind was, that Nella would suffer disgrace. While a
hand groped for the switch he flung himself on the floor, and crept
under the bed.
"My moment will come," he reflected, "when the woman falls asleep.
Then I can let myself out."
But the occupant for whom 1313 had been reserved was in no hurry for
sleep. Morosini heard her moving about, and ventured to peep. He saw
a small woman, young and rather pretty, of what might be classified as
the "governess type." She did not undress, but seemed restless.
Fussing round the room, she shot up the green blind and opened the
window. Then she flew to the door. There had been a faint knock.
Maurice peered from his hiding-place, and saw another woman come in.
She, too, was plainly dressed, but older and with a harder, more
experienced face.
"What _can_ Nella be doing?" the trapped prisoner wondered. If she
were still at the telephone bureau she must know that 1313 now had an
occupant. Poor girl! Her misery must be equal to his.
Nella did know. She had seen the young woman go in. When no alarm
followed, however, the girl's stopped heart beat again. But the
situation had become impossible. She seized the first chance to call
Teano. "It's too late for you to help, even if you could get in
again," she whispered into the telephone, fearing to be overheard by
some one passing. "A lady has gone into 1313 for the night. And I'm
supposed to shut my window and go off duty in half an hour. Here comes
Shannon, the night watchman, now."
As she spoke, a woman knocked at the door of 1313. Nella listened;
soon she could hear voices speaking earnestly. Then they grew loud and
shrill. "The women are quarrelling!" she thought. "Can it have
anything to do with Maurice?" The transom snapped shut as she asked
herself the question. The speakers were afraid of being overheard.
That, at least, proved they believed themselves alone together!
"Well, here I am. I've given you time enough to make up your mind,
haven't I, Miss Gibson?" began the new-comer.
"Yes, and I have made it up," answered the younger. "I don't say
you're not acting in good faith. The note you brought to the dock
looks like Mr. Odell's handwriting. And it's just as you said it would
be. I found no letter of instructions waiting here. All the same,
Miss Parsons, I won't give up the jewel till morning, when I've made
sure the person I expected is not going to call."
"You _are_ silly!" cried the other. "Now, how _could_ I have known
there _was_ a jewel coming with a Miss Gibson on this ship, if I wasn't
all right?"
"That's true," the younger woman admitted. "I don't see how you could
have known except from Mr. Odell. But I'm not taking chances! If
nobody else shows up before nine to-morrow morning, why then----"
"I have to go west to-morrow morning," explained Miss Parsons, her
voice quivering with impatience. "I can't wait. I told you so on the
dock. You _must_ give me the thing now."
"I won't--so there!" shrilled Miss Gibson.
The older woman stared at the obstinate young face in desperate
silence. Then she broke out fiercely, all effort at suppression over.
"I believe you want me to _bribe_ you!" And she pulled from a velvet
handbag a roll of bank-notes.
Mary Gibson drew in her breath with a gasp. "_Why_--you've got
hundreds and hundreds of dollars! I believe you're a _fraud_! You're
after me to steal the jewel. Get out of this room, you thief, or I'll
call----"