THE CAGE IS OPENED.
There was the sound of a faint scratching as if a mouse was working
somewhere. The warder in the courtyard pronounced it to be a mouse and
passed on. Then a figure, almost invisible in the gloom, crept along
the top of the wall and dropped feet foremost into the street. It was
nothing but luck that stood René Lalage in such good stead all along.
A crumbling bit of plaster, some repairs going on in the gallery
overhead, a ladder and a couple of gimlets left about by one of the
carpenters engaged on the job.
Well, he was free. He did not hesitate for a moment. He darted swiftly
down the road with the air of a man who knows exactly what he is doing
and where he wants to go. The man had not been convicted yet,
therefore he had the advantage of wearing his own clothes.
Using the tramline was a bit of a risk, but Lalage took it. He wanted
to be on familiar ground before his escape had been discovered. He had
one object steadily in view, and after that was done he cared nothing.
He came at length to a dismal looking road leading off Waterloo
Bridge. Before what seemed an empty house he paused and knocked. A
feeble gleam filtered in the fanlight and the door opened.
The man behind staggered back and muttered something that sounded like
admiration. René Lalage stepped inside and shut the door.
"The others have not come yet," he said coolly. "I had arranged for
the ceremony to take place without me. I was being detained elsewhere.
But behold I am here to take my vengeance in my own hands. When the
others come they will be surprised to see their leader again, Beppo."
The man addressed as Beppo nodded and grinned. There was nothing
prepossessing about him. He looked the kind of man to avoid on a dark
night. He led the way to a back room furnished only with a long table
and a few chairs. Presently there was another knock at the door, and
four men came in.
Picturesque, cut-throat-looking ruffians that might have come straight
from the stage of the Surrey Theatre. These men were pleased to call
themselves conspirators. But no patriotic business brought them here
tonight.
Evidently René Lalage passed as leader of them. They greeted him with
shouts of approval and many strange manifestations of pleasure. One by
one they produced tobacco and cigarette papers until the room was dim
with smoke.
"You got my letter, Luigi?" Lalage asked. The man addressed as Luigi
nodded.
"Good!" Lalage went on. "That letter was written in gaol. It looked so
innocent that the people there passed it. They did not know that every
letter had a meaning. It seemed all about my defence. You acted on
that letter?"
"I did," Luigi growled, "I saw Antonio at once. It was not long before
he was on the track. Your man will be here tonight."
They smoked on for some little time idly. These men were prepared for
most things, but they preferred idleness and tobacco to anything else.
It was only Lalage who was restless and uneasy. As the time passed he
glanced impatiently at the door. Then there came another knock
without.
Beppo crept to the door. He came back presently followed by two men.
The latter one was dressed in superior fashion to the rest. With a
yell Lalage flew across the room and turned the key in the lock.
"Enter, Signor Luigo Balmayne," he cried mockingly. "Signor, I have
the honour to wish you a very good evening. You are most welcome."
Balmayne promptly collapsed into the chair that Beppo had put for him.
He glanced in a white and agitated way round the room. There was not a
friendly face to be seen anywhere. Given immunity from protection, and
not one man there would have refused to cut his throat for a handful
of coppers.
There was no avenue of escape. The man's life was in danger, and he
knew it. With mocking politeness Lalage tendered him a cigarette. He
pushed it aside; he could not have smoked for untold money. There was
a great lump in his throat now, a wild beating of his heart.
"You know me?" Lalage said. "We have met before. It was you who
betrayed me to the police at Ravenna. In the dock there I swore to be
revenged upon you. And I am a man of my word."
Balmayne tried to say something, but failed.
"I had two years for that," Lalage went on, "two weary years which is
an agony to a restless man like myself. You betrayed me, because I was
in your way, and so that you could keep the spoil to yourself. You
were poorer and less prosperous in those days than you seem to be now.
You are rich."
"I am as poor as yourself," Balmayne contrived to say.
"Ah! That is good hearing. You came here tonight expecting to see
Ghetti. But we took the liberty of using Ghetti's name. It is only by
the merest accident that I am here tonight to carry out this work. My
good friends here would have done it for me otherwise. But I was
fortunate enough to escape from the gaol yonder, and here I am."
Balmayne glanced miserably about him. He was not listening at all. He
was calculating the chances of escape, of the fate that lay before
him. Had this thing taken place in Corsica he would have been in no
doubt for a moment. All these men were joined together by blood ties
or something of that kind, and insult to one was an insult to another.
They had lured him there, and he had come with his eyes open. He
cursed his folly. But then he had been hiding, and his money was gone.
It seemed like a wonderful slice of luck to find Ghetti in London. And
behold there was no Ghetti at all, only this trap and the knowledge
that his time was come.
"Well?" Lalage burst out, furiously. "Why don't you speak; what have
you got to say before I put the knife into your heart?"