TEN MINUTES PAST TWELVE.
Mr. Garrett Charlton sat in Lawrence's chamber the same evening
impatiently waiting for him in response to a telegram. It was already
long past eleven, and the visitor was thinking of departing, when
Lawrence came in.
He had evidently hurried fast, for he was out of breath. He signified
to his companion to sit down, and lighted a cigarette.
"I couldn't possibly come before," he said. "I've been busy all the
evening on this business, and as it was I had to leave a little matter
to chance. I fancy that you will not be sorry that I persuaded you to
stay in London."
"To me it is the gloomiest place in the world," said Charlton.
"That I can easily understand. But you are still of the same
opinion--you still value the good name of your dead wife?"
"I would give all I possess in the world to clear it, Lawrence."
"It shall be done; I pledge you my word that it shall be done. I have
the key to this mystery--I have had it from the first. That is why I
persuaded you not to go away again, and not to let anybody know you
were in London. But we have by no means done with the corner house
yet. We are going to spend an hour or so there this very night."
Charlton looked up in quick surprise.
"You and I are going there secretly?" he asked. "Do you mean now?"
"As soon as I have finished this cigarette," Lawrence said, coolly.
"We may be too late to see the beginning of the play, but I have faith
in my assistant. Now, come along. You have brought your latchkey as I
asked you?"
Charlton nodded. He was a man of few words. He said nothing when
Lawrence gave him a pair of goloshes to put over his boots, and in
silence the two set out for Raven Street. The place was practically
deserted as they came to the house, so that to enter without being
seen was a matter of no difficulty.
"We are in time," Lawrence whispered, "in good time. I felt sure I
could trust the one I picked out to assist me. If I had not been
detained I should have been here before. There is not much for us to
do."
"Are we waiting for somebody?" Charlton asked.
"That's it. For the present we have to sit here in the passage with
the kitchen door open and watch for the faint gleam of light in the
courtyard. It is safe to have a light there because there are blank
walls on either side. I think, I rather think, that I am going to
astonish you presently."
Charlton said nothing, but from the sound of his laboured breathing it
was evident that the spirit of adventure was upon him. They sat there
for some time with the two doors open, so that they might see through
the grimy windows into the courtyard beyond. It was weary work, and
the minutes passed slowly.
"I'm not a patient man," Lawrence muttered, "but I could manage with a
cigarette. Under the circumstances, perhaps I had better not."
Charlton's heavy breathing ceased for a moment.
"I have good sight," he said. "And unless I am greatly mistaken I saw
a figure cross the dim light given by yonder window. There it is
again."
It was like a shadow and quite as noiseless. Lawrence pressed the
slide of his repeater. The rapid little pulse beat twelve and then
stopped.
"Between midnight and a quarter past," he muttered. "That's about the
time. We had better creep a little closer to the window. That's one
advantage of being in a house in the dark--you can see everything that
is going on outside without being spotted by anybody. Come along and
see what you shall see."
They reached the kitchen window and looked out. There was a figure
there, and what looked like another one in the background. A lantern
stood on the flags; the first figure pitched something on the ground
that looked like a coil of rope.
"What on earth is that?" Charlton asked.
"A rope," Lawrence replied. "Can't you guess what that rope is for?"
"I am afraid I am utterly in the dark, Lawrence," said Charlton.
"Are you? There is a well in that courtyard. And if perchance anything
valuable got into that well, I should say that a rope would be the
best way of getting it out. Now do you understand."
Charlton nodded. It had been his whim and mood after the tragic death
of his wife to leave those fatal jewels where that wicked woman had
dropped them. So far as he was concerned the cause of all the trouble
might be at the bottom of the sea. They were gone, and only he and
another person knew the secret of their hiding place. That she might
come back and try to regain them he never troubled himself about. Even
if it had occurred to him, he would not have moved in the matter.
"That fiend probably told some accomplice," he said.
Lawrence chuckled. He could see further than his companion. He could
see the figure of a woman dressed in foreign fashion with a shawl over
her head. She had long fair hair. Her back was to the window all this
time.
"The Spaniard with the mantilla," Lawrence whispered, "the evil genius
of the house. We shall see something more presently. Not that we are
going to interfere. On the whole, I rather want these people to get
the jewels."
Charlton said nothing. He was deeply interested. The man outside
raised the lantern, and the dim light fell upon the ghastly outline of
Charlton's white set face as he pressed against the panes. At the same
instant the woman chanced to glance in the same direction.
Charlton gripped Lawrence's arm with convulsive force.
"Man," he said sternly, "that fiend of a woman was my dead wife's late
companion."
[Illustration: "Charlton's white set face as he pressed against the
panes."--_Page 124_]