myself, not to have suspected in what manner the crime had been
committed. Of course I had thought of Doctor Rameses. I thought
always of Doctor Rameses! But I had not seen any way of connecting him
with the murder of Helen Hartland, even if he were the man to whom she
had gone for lessons in "will power." Now, I saw the way, and I
believed that at last the police would see also. Indeed, they were
ready to see. When Rameses' name as one of the leading "crank doctors"
of New York was earnestly brought forward by me, it was arranged that
Bridges was to be given a sight of him. Unfortunately, however, on the
day when the California Birdman first woke from his long trance, and it
was prematurely announced in the papers that his delirium might be
followed by a return of normal consciousness, Doctor Rameses left town
for a holiday. His servants said that he had been suffering from
nervous strain through hard work, and had been preparing for some time
to take a rest. His favourite summer country resort was, it appeared,
the White Mountains. He was sought there, but not found. And I
believed that he never would be found--unless by me.
My only happy souvenir of these miserable weeks was a letter from
Maida, which I shall keep as long as I live.
"I knew from the first that you were innocent," she wrote, "and if I
had been called I intended to say so in the witness-box."
EPISODE VII
THE WATCHING EYE
"What shall I do?" I asked myself as I read a letter from Maida.
She begged a small and simple service, yet--I hesitated.
Roger Odell had begged me to look after her as well as I could in the
circumstances, during his long absence. Those circumstances were
difficult ones: for I was not allowed to visit her at the Sisterhood
House, and she never went out unchaperoned by her "friend" the
directress. Her wish was that I should give her the key of her
"sanctum" at Roger Odell's shut-up house in New York. A caretaker
named Winter, one of the old servants, was in charge of the place; but
I had been appointed special guardian of the "shrine," as Maida called
this sacred room.
"Shrine" was indeed rather an appropriate name; since it contained
treasures which formed the sole link between the girl and her lost
past. She had been brought, a child of four, by her dying mother to
the father of Roger Odell, and her sole possessions had been a couple
of miniatures, a curious Egyptian fetish, and an Egyptian mummy in a
fine, painted mummy-case. The miniatures had been enlarged into
life-size portraits of Maida's mother and a man in the uniform of a
British officer, whom she believed to be her father. Both portraits
hung on the wall of the "shrine," together with one of Roger Odell,
Senior. These, with the mummy-case, were the sole contents of the room.
Roger and I had cause to think that enemies of Maida's unknown father
had followed the child and her mother to America: and that the vendetta
would not end until Maida--the last of the family--had paid with her
happiness or even with her life for the sin of some ancestor. We had
cause to think also, that the mummy in its painted case was of
importance to them, and that they had tried in various ways to get hold
of it. For its protection, Roger had had a clever electrical
contrivance fitted up, by means of which anyone not in the secret and
trying to touch the mummy-case would receive a violent shock. Before
going away he had given me the plan of this mechanism, with directions
for applying the current and turning it off. At the same time he had
handed me the key of the shrine which Maida had left with him on
departing for Long Island.
Now, she wanted this key.
"I went yesterday to my dear old home," she wrote, "to visit my
treasures. But the shrine was locked; and Winter told me that Roger
had given you the key. He said also that there was some kind of patent
burglar alarm which had frightened a couple of thieves away, since I
came to stay at Sisterhood House. Is that true? And is there danger
in opening the door? I know I can depend upon you, when you send the
key, to make it safe for me to go in. I'll post the key to you
afterwards, if you like--and if Roger wants you still to be troubled
with it. Please arrange for me to pay my visit to-morrow."
It seemed that there was only one way to answer this letter: by saying
that I would arrange for the safety of the visit; and enclosing the key
in my note. Nevertheless I hesitated. I was afraid to send Maida the
key.
It was useless to explain to her the reasons for my seeming
boorishness. She trusted the Head Sister. Nothing that had happened
since she entered the Grey Sisterhood had opened the girl's eyes to the
cruel falseness of the woman, as I saw it. Nothing, not even the
affair of Helen Hartland, had made her believe that the friend she
respected was one of the agents working for her destruction and my
elimination. So I knew that if I refused the key I would seem a stupid
blunderer to Maida.
"If only she'd waited a few days!" I thought. For after many
unsuccessful attempts, we (I and Paul Teano) had contrived to get an
employee--I may as well use the word "spy"--into Sisterhood House. She
was a young but singularly intelligent girl whom Teano's wife, once
known as "Three Fingered Jenny," had lately rescued from a set of
pickpockets and "sneak thieves." We hoped great things from "Nippy
Nance," as a protegee of the Head Sister, who did not suspect the
girl's change of heart and profession. If she could get evidence that
the directress of the Grey Sisterhood was the leader of a criminal
gang, posing as a charitable reformer, I could not only say "I told you
so!" to the incredulous police, but I could convince Maida of her own
peril.
A few days more grace, and Nance might have been able to give us a
satisfactory report! But I dared not delay. I had to decide, for
Maida's letter must be answered. My desire to please her prevailed
over prudence. I persuaded myself that I had no right to refuse such a
request: that I must consent: that my vague fears were foolish. I had
only to watch, and see that no harm came to Maida or to the mummy in
its painted case.
I wrote that, in loyalty to the promise I had made Roger (made for her
sake!) I couldn't leave the shrine without its "patent burglar
protection" (as she called it) over night: but I would go to the house
early in the morning and do everything necessary to ensure her safety
if she wished to touch or open the mummy-case.
"I know if you had been willing to see me there, you would have
suggested my meeting you at the house," I went on. "As you haven't, I
daren't ask to be present: but I'll be in New York and at the Belmont
Hotel all day, expecting a word. Will you call me up, or if not, will
you send a line by messenger to say at what hour I shall go round again
to make the "shrine" burglar proof? I enclose the key: and perhaps you
will leave it for me with the caretaker."
Maida's letter had come to the Long Island hotel. I sent my answer
from there by hand to Sisterhood House, where it would be taken in by a
lay sister at the gate. The boy was ordered to wait for a reply, if
reply there were, but I thought it unlikely Maida would answer so soon.
I fancied she would consult the Head Sister, and that a response would
be delayed till the last minute. I was mistaken, however. My
messenger presently came back with a letter.
It was sweet, and full of gratitude for the "trouble" I was taking. "I
am 'willing' to see you," she quoted. "I'm more than willing! I shall
be glad to see you. I have _permission_ to do so. Will you call at
Roger's house about two o'clock? I don't know what time I shall
arrive; perhaps much earlier; but I promise not to leave until I've had
a talk with you. I'll tell Winter to show you into Roger's study to
wait. I shall have a companion. But it's just possible I may be
granted a few minutes alone with my brother's best friend!"
This made me happier than I had been since the night when I fell in
love with Maida. Nevertheless, I didn't forget the need to watch
Roger's house, from the moment that the "shrine" and the mummy-case
were released from their patent protection. Not that I distrusted
Maida. I believed in her as I believed in Heaven. But she might be
deceived: and it was my business to guard her interests.
I went to the house, as I had agreed to do, early in the morning, and
not only switched off the electric current which protected the shrine
and its contents day and night, but removed the small visible parts of
the apparatus in case someone had the intention of studying the
mechanism. I informed Winter that he might expect Miss Odell with one
of the ladies from the Grey Sisterhood, and that I would return at two
o'clock. I then went back to the hotel where I stayed when in New
York, for I could not bear to do the necessary spying myself. A man
from Teano's agency was engaged to watch the house, and 'phone
instantly if anyone other than the ladies in grey uniform entered; also
if one or both of these ladies went away.
No message came: and a little before two o'clock I arrived at the door.
My man, disguised as a member of the "white wings" brigade, was visible
in the distance. I gave the signal agreed upon to mean "You can go!"
and went, as arranged, into Roger's study at the back of the house,
Winter having told me that "the ladies were upstairs."
I waited for half an hour; for three quarters: and then, growing
anxious, sought the caretaker, who had pottered down into the basement.
He was surprised at my question. "Why, I thought the ladies was both
in the library with you!" he stammered. "I was in the hall, where you
told me to wait. They came down and said they were going to talk to
you. Miss Maida's friend, the lady with the thick veil, had a telegram
to send. She asked me to take it, and gave me something for myself. I
supposed it was all right when I got back just now, to stop in my
quarters for a bit, as the lady said they'd be staying some time."
What a fool I had been to think, because I had arrived on the scene,
that it was safe to send the watcher away! It was my trust of Maida
that had undone me. I had believed so blindly in her promise not to go
without seeing me, that I had thought all danger of a trick was over.
I hadn't reflected that the enemy was clever enough to trick her at the
last minute, as well as me!
I dashed upstairs to the "shrine" found the door open and the
mummy-case gone! This was the worst blow that could fall, because,
once the mummy-case was actually in the hands of those who had schemed
to get it, every hope of Maida's safety seemed to vanish. In the
street, I could find no one who had seen the great painted box carried
from the house or taken away in any vehicle. Next, I inquired at the
houses adjoining, and opposite, with no better luck: but in the shame
and confusion which obscured my mind, it appeared probable that the
Sisterhood car had taken ladies and mummy-case as swiftly as possible
to the Sisterhood House.
My own car was under repair, and I had been spinning round New York in
a taxi. Now, I returned for a moment to my hotel, in the desperate
hope of a message from Maida. There was nothing: but as I was hurrying
out, I met Teano.
"Hurrah, my lord!" he exclaimed. "What luck to catch you like this! I
thought perhaps you'd have got back from Mr. Odell's house by this
time, but if you hadn't I was going round to find you. Is the young
lady all right?"
"Why do you ask?" I caught him up.
"Because Nance is at our flat. She had leave for the afternoon--the
first time she's got off: a sign they trust her. She's got a report,
my lord. It's a blood-curdler!"
"Take me to your place and let me hear it," I said, reflecting that it
would be stupid to flash off to Long Island, when Nance's news might
save a wild goose chase. At worst, I should lose but a few minutes.
And taxying to Teano's, I told him in a few words what a mess I'd made
of things.
"They won't have gone back to Long Island," he said excitedly. "You'll
understand when you hear Nance and perhaps you'll have some theory."
Nance--a sharp-faced midget who would make as good a thief-catcher as
she had been a thief--was proud of her achievement. She was on the way
to get proof of the Sisterhood's secret. A girl had half confided in
her, and had stopped in fright; but Nance expected to prove soon that
the Grey Sisterhood was a "regular gang," associated with "high up
ones" in New York. "There's a big boss over the whole shebang," she
said, "but he's made a bolt. I don't know where--but I'll find out. I
guess he's jumped the country; and I guess m'lady o' the mask (that's
what we calls the Head Sister behind her back: we all know she wears
somethin' under her veil to hide a beauty spot) will be joinin' him.
She's been sort o' gatherin' things together as if for a flit, these
last two days, but I couldn't make a break to get word to you."
Nance had more to tell, but nothing which directly concerned Maida. We
could only draw our own deductions that the Head Sister wouldn't "flit"
unless she could take the girl. Because Doctor Rameses had found
America too hot for him after his last plot against me, no doubt the
directress of the Grey Sisterhood had been waiting her chance to play
Ruth to his Boaz.
She had now accomplished her great coup, in securing the mummy-case
which interested Rameses; and if she'd been able to force or wheedle
Maida into breaking faith with me, she could force or wheedle her to
the ends of the world.
"Egypt!" I said aloud, as if the word had been spoken in my ear, and I
echoed it. "These devils want to get the girl to Egypt and finish the
vendetta that began there. What ships sail to-day?"
We learned that one was leaving for Bordeaux, and another for Naples.
Both had been due to sail in the morning, but had been delayed, owing
to the strict inspection of cargo. Some lively telephoning followed,
but we could get no information from the agents concerning such
passengers as we described. Nance was ordered back post-haste to
Sisterhood House in case, contrary to our theory, the pair had
returned. Teano sent a man to the ship sailing for France; and I
myself started for the one Naples-bound, the night luggage I'd brought
from Long Island on my taxi. I had a mission from my Government, which
I served during my convalescence, and I had no right to leave without
permission. But I was ready to sacrifice my whole career, rather than
see Maida sail for Egypt with a cruel and unscrupulous enemy.
I arrived at the dock just in time to see the ship moving out. In
desperation I tried to hire a tug, at no matter what price, to follow
and board her when she shed her pilot. The thing was impossible. It
was small consolation to be assured that no such ladies as I described
were on board. I felt almost certain they were there, in ordinary
dress, having changed from the uniform of the Grey Sisterhood. When
every effort had failed in this direction, however, there remained half
a hope that they might have been found by Teano's man on the ship
starting for Bordeaux. There was a chance of reaching her before she
steamed out, and that chance I took; but fate was against me again.
She had been gone twenty minutes when my taxi rushed me to the wharf.
"You've missed nothing. They weren't aboard," said the detective, who
awaited my arrival. But how could I be sure that he was right?
The next thing was to cable the police at Naples and Bordeaux: yet so
far we had no definite proof against the Head Sister, who had the luck
as well as the ingenuity of her supposed partner, Doctor Rameses. She
could merely be watched on her arrival at a foreign port, not held: and
I dared not even take it firmly for granted that she and Maida had left
America, till Teano's frantic energies should bring further particulars
of their movements. I blamed myself for the embroglio: still, I would
not say, even in the privacy of my own head, "If I hadn't trusted the
girl so blindly!"
I spent that night in New York, hoping for news from one direction or
other: and though it was not till the morning that Teano picked up
anything authentic, I had better fortune. A sudden inspiration came as
I walked up and down my room, smoking more cigarettes than were good
for me, and racking my brain for a solution of the puzzle.
"What if Maida left a note for you in the shrine, hoping you'd have the
sense to look?" a voice seemed to whisper in my ear.
Instantly I became certain that she had done so. It was past ten
o'clock, but I jumped into a taxi and flashed back to Roger's house.
After pressing the electric bell a dozen times at least, Winter
appeared in deshabille, inclined to grumble. I went straight to the
violated shrine, and switched on the electric light in its curious
globes of golden glass. The portrait of Maida's beautiful mother faced
the door and gazed into my eyes. Never had I quite realised its
likeness to the girl. It was as if Maida looked at me.
"If there's anything, it will be behind that portrait," I thought.
Going straight to it, I lifted the heavy gold frame, and a folded piece
of paper fell to the floor. No writing was visible, but I knew I had
found what I sought.
Opening the note, I had a shock of surprise. The paper had the name
and crest of my New York hotel upon it; and the few lines scrawled in
pencil were signed "John Hasle." So well was the writing imitated,
that my best friend would have sworn it was mine.
The letter began abruptly (perhaps the forger didn't know how I was
accustomed to address Maida): "Something has happened. I am sending a
closed automobile to take you away and your friend also. Get her to
consent. It is necessary for the safety of your future. The chauffeur
and an assistant will carry down the mummy-case if you ask them. They
have my instructions already, and will bring a packing-box in which it
can be placed in the hall downstairs, in order not to be conspicuous.
The mummy will no longer be safe where it is. I'll explain when we
meet. I am called away from America at once, on official business, and
the man with the chauffeur knows the ship on which I sail this
afternoon. I beg you will do what he asks, as you may depend on him as
my mouthpiece, and I have time now for no more. Yours ever and in
haste, John Hasle."
Underneath, Maida had scribbled, also in pencil, "Your letter has been
handed me just outside the door of this house. I don't understand it.
Though I suppose it's genuine, so many strange things have happened, I
am a little afraid. If there's any trick, and you come to look for me,
I earnestly pray you may find this in time. I shall leave a tiny end
of paper showing behind my mother's portrait, where I'll hide it."
Rameses I believed to be far away, out of reach: but the assistant he
had left behind was worthy of him. She had reason to know the New York
hotel I frequented: the note-paper was easy to get: only the forgery
business needed an expert. And what a clever idea that the summons
should come from me! The Head Sister had known how hard, perhaps
impossible, it would have been to make the girl break her promise. Now
I saw why consent had been given to my calling on Maida at her
brother's house. Unconsciously I had been but a catspaw: and had not
my darling girl felt vaguely suspicious, I might never have guessed how
she had been enticed away.
The message told little: but at least it confirmed my theory that the
two had gone on board ship. How Maida had been induced actually to
sail, was another question, but even that might be answered some day.
In the morning, Teano was surprised, instead of receiving word from
Nance, to see her in person. She had been sent on an errand from
Sisterhood House to the nearest village, and rather than return had
simply--as she expressed it--"taken French leave." The Head Sister had
gone, leaving everything in charge of a woman next in authority. The
inmates, sisters, lay sisters, and protegees (women and children) were
told that the directress had news of a near relative's illness; she was
obliged to be absent for a few days, perhaps longer. Unless later
instructions arrived, all was to go on as if she were at home. Nance
knew that the grey automobile used by the Sisters had come back from
New York with a bundle in it; a bundle composed of two grey uniform
cloaks and bonnets with veils. Somehow the two ladies had changed
their outer garments, probably in that "closed motor" mentioned in the
forged letter: and the bundle had been transferred from one car to the
other, by the man with the chauffeur, doubtless a servant of the Head
Sister.
Nance, prying for other details, had found and pieced together a few
torn scraps of paper--the remains of a letter--stuck between the
braided wicker-work and ribbon of a waste-paper basket in the
directress's study. There were three of these bits, the largest no
larger than a child's thumb nail, the smallest not half that size; but
patching them together Teano was able to show me the mutilated words
"meet--possible--Cair----"
This strengthened my conviction that the Head Sister, with Maida and
Maida's mysterious mummy-case, was on the way to Egypt, where she would
meet Rameses in Cairo. The two must have been on board the ship
sailing for Naples, in some disguise not easy to penetrate. I
determined to act on this supposition, explain the circumstances as
best I could to our Ambassador, trying with his aid and, that of the
cable, to get leave for Europe. If leave were refused, rather than
abandon Maida to the mercy of her enemies, I would "chuck" the army.
Eventually I could volunteer again, when strong enough to serve. But
leave was not refused. My affairs were settled with lightning speed,
and I sailed a few days later.
At Naples I got no definite news; but it appeared that, on board the
suspected ship, there had been a number of nurses wearing a navy-blue
uniform, with long veils attached to their small bonnets. Most of the
nurses wore their veils thrown back, but a few covered their faces on
leaving the ship. This gave me a clue--and a hope. The costume of a
nurse afforded the necessary concealment. I guessed that the Head
Sister had adopted it for herself and Maida, and that, through Rameses'
influence, she had obtained passports.
No nurses in uniform had, so far as I could learn, lately left Naples
for Egypt; but with the aid of the police I learned that three days
before my arrival a tall, elderly woman, heavily cloaked and veiled,
accompanied by a beautiful blonde girl, had sailed for Alexandria.
Their papers described them as the wife and daughter of a French doctor
in Cairo, and though permission for women to enter Egypt was difficult
to obtain from British authorities at that time, they had it.
Whether or no this "Madame and Mademoiselle Rameau" were the Head
Sister and Maida Odell, I could not be sure: but in any case my
destination must be Cairo. On arriving there I could hear of no such
person as Doctor Rameau: but I found army friends: help from "high up"
was forthcoming. I learned what non-military persons had travelled
during the last week, and what direction they had taken. Among the few
women on the list there were only two who might be those for whom I
searched; and _they were Egyptian ladies_. The sister and aunt of an
official in Government employ had left Cairo by rail for Asiut, whence
they were to do some days' desert travel, to reach the country house
belonging to their relative.
I determined to follow; and at Asiut I engaged a small caravan. The
little oasis-town near which I had been told to find the house was two
days' journey from "The City of Sacred Cats"; and when we reached the
place, the servants of Ahmed Ali Bey were surprised by the questions of
my interpreter. Their master was in Cairo with his family, and they
had not been warned of the arrival of visitors. They were discreet and
guarded in their answers, after the first moment of blank astonishment:
but I realised instantly that the women I had followed from Cairo were
not bound for this place. I had come up against a blank wall, and had
only my own deductions to go upon. Were the supposed aunt and sister
of Ahmed Ali Bey, Maida and her companion, or had I taken a false
trail? Something within myself said that I was right as to their
identity, but that the two (protected by the name of some friend of
Doctor Rameses) had never intended to come to his house. Where, then,
should I look for them?
They must, I thought, have come as far as Asiut, otherwise their passes
would not have availed them in these days of military supervision. But
beyond Asiut the desert stretched wide and mysterious. My only hope
lay in the fact that caravans could be tracked, and that there were
only certain directions in which stopping-places could be found. My
camel-leader, who spoke a little English, described to me the three or
four routes, one of which all travellers must choose in order to reach
a desert inn or "borg" on the way to distant oasis villages or towns.
But which should I choose?