THE CORNER HOUSE AGAIN.
There was no chance for Balmayne from the first. He was perfectly
conscious all the time; he was to have anything that he required. He
was absolutely cynical and callous as to the future. He had always
played the coward's part all his life, and now, strangely enough, when
he came to die he showed the greatest indifference.
He smiled into the face of the man whose good name he might have
cleared, but he gave no sign. So hard and callous a nature was
impervious to kindness. Anybody who did a kind action for its own sake
was a fool in Balmayne's eyes.
There was only one that he cared to see, and that was Hetty. In a
curious way the girl's goodness and purity appealed strongly to him.
As to his future he cared nothing. He wanted to know if anything had
been seen of Leona Lalage, and when Hetty replied to the contrary he
seemed to be greatly astonished.
"You are sure she has not been near Lytton Avenue?" he asked.
Hetty was quite sure of that. Only that day the magnificent
decorations of No. 1, Lytton Avenue, had been sold on the premises,
and nobody could have been there besides those who were interested in
the sale.
"Strange thing," said Balmayne to himself. "A most remarkable thing!
Miss Lawrence, will you do a favour for me. I would not trust anybody
else. But if you will give me your promise I shall be easy. There is
only one thing I have done that I really am sorry for, and you can set
it right for me."
"I will do anything I can to make your mind easy," Hetty said.
"Ah, you are a good girl. If I had seen more like you I should have
been a better man. But I was brought up in a hard school. It's about
Mamie. Did it ever strike you that the child was no relation to Leona
Lalage?"
"My uncle has always said so," Hetty replied.
"And he is perfectly right. That wonderful man always is right. Mamie
is the only child of a sister of mine who lives in Florence. I wanted
her once to impoverish herself to help me in one of my schemes, and
she refused. By way of revenge I had her child stolen. That is some
four years ago. She never knew I had a hand in it; she deems Mamie to
be dead. When I am gone I want you to write to my sister and tell her
what I am saying. Only you must get the address."
"Only tell me," Hetty exclaimed. "Poor woman! What is the address?"
"I cannot tell you from memory. But I am going to ask you to find the
address. You know the little bedroom I used to occupy at the top of
the Lytton Avenue house. There is a cupboard in the corner, and the
board next the fireplace comes up. In the recess you will find a
little box full of papers. On one paper is my sister's address. The
other papers I will ask you to burn unread."
"If I could get into the house," Hetty said, "I would cheerfully do
what you ask."
"That is quite easy. I have a latchkey in my waistcoat pocket. You
have only to go and get the papers, and nobody will be any the wiser.
I felt quite sure you would do this thing for me."
Balmayne murmured something more and closed his eyes. When the nurse
came up to him an hour later he was dead. He had passed away quietly
in his sleep. How he came by his death, and who his assailants were
nobody knew. There were many dark passages in that dark life known
only to itself and its Maker.
It was a few days later before Hetty thought of her promise to
Balmayne. It was a fine bright afternoon with a strong sunshine, so
that even the deserted house in Lytton Avenue looked almost cheerful.
With a feeling that she might have been taken for a burglar or a
house-breaker, Hetty let herself in.
Everything was gone, even to the electric fittings. The place was
dismantled and dirty, the floors grimy with the tramp of many feet. A
door closed with a sullen bang, and Hetty started.
"How dreadful it all looks!" she murmured. "I hope I shall never see
it again. Some houses seem to be given over to misery and crime. Now
to find those papers."
The little room was at the top facing the blank windows of the Corner
House. Hetty had no difficulty in finding the box, and a very brief
search showed the address she was looking for. The box she emptied in
the grate and set fire to the contents with a match she had brought
for the purpose.
She watched the flames die away, and turned to go. As she did so she
looked out for a moment at the Corner House. The sun was shining
strongly on the grimy windows. It seemed as if somebody was moving
inside. Hetty was certain that she could see a shadowy form there.
She waited just for a moment in eager expectation. There was the form
again, and then the spurt and flare of gas. What would anybody want
gas for at this time of the day? The question was answered
immediately, for a hand went over the gas flame holding something that
looked like a kettle to the flame. Then the hand disappeared and
nothing more was to be seen, despite Hetty's patience.
She pondered over this discovery as she went home. It might mean a
lot, it might mean a very little. It was more than possible that Mr.
Charlton had left a caretaker in possession of the house with a view
to avoiding further incursions upon his possessions. If so, that
casual way of boiling a kettle was quite the course a caretaker would
adopt.
All the same, Hetty decided to speak of her discovery to Lawrence. He
was busy at his desk when she returned. He looked up quickly, for
there was an expression on Hetty's face that told of some discovery.
"I have been to Lytton Avenue," she said, "to get that address I told
you of. And then I made a discovery. Uncle, how long has there been a
caretaker on those premises, who boils a kettle by the ingenious
expedient of holding it over the gas until it is hot enough?"
Lawrence threw up his pen with a cry of delight "You've made a more
wonderful discovery than you know," he said. "What a splendid scheme,
and how foolish of me not to think of it before. My dear child, you
have found the hiding place of Leona Lalage!"