THE AUSTRIAN
Cass and Ellis examined the new-comer swiftly as they returned his
bow. It was a foreign bow, including a smart click of the heels.
Zirknitz was tall, slim, and remarkably handsome, his good looks being
set off to the fullest advantage by the quiet perfection of his
evening dress. He wore no jewellery, the whitest of linen, the neatest
of bows, and a silk hat with a wonderful lustre. As the night was
chilly he had on a fur-lined coat with sable cuffs and collar, and his
slender hands, encased in grey gloves, held a gold-topped bamboo.
Altogether Mr., or Monsieur, or Herr Zirknitz was, to all appearances,
a man who valued his looks as part of his stock-in-trade to enable him
to carry on his business of adventurer. But, in spite of his care, the
hoof betrayed the devil, for there was a rakish, fast air about him
which stamped him as dangerous. Ellis thought that such a scamp would
not draw the line at murder, so long as he could save himself from
punishment.
"I am charmed to meet your friends, madame," said Zirknitz, in good
enough English, but with a pronounced foreign accent. "And the names?"
"This is Mr. Cass; that gent is Dr. Ellis."
The smile died away on the Austrian's lips. "Ellis!" he said, in a
hesitating manner, "and a doctor--of Dukesfield?"
"Yes, M. Zirknitz," replied Ellis, grimly, "of Dukesfield."
"You saw the body of my poor friend Moxton?"
"Yes. Were you a friend of his?"
"The best friend he had, monsieur. If I knew who killed him so
cruelly, I would spend my life trying to bring him to justice.
_Helas!_"
"H'm!" repeated Cass. "So you think a man killed Moxton?"
"I go by the evidence at the inquest," said Zirknitz, with a bow. "The
doctor explained at the inquest that a man must have struck the blow."
"I said that indeed, M. Zirknitz. But a woman may be mixed up in the
matter."
"Here, all of you!" cried Polly, with impatient good humour, "I can't
have you three talking here all night. I want to dress and go home to
my chicks. Rudolph, you must come and see me on another night. Mr.
Cass, doctor, look up yours truly whenever you get a chance, and
good-night to you, my dears."
In this way the star bustled them out of her dressing-room, and the
three men repaired to the front of the house. It seemed, indeed, that
Zirknitz was inclined to leave them, but after a glance at the haggard
face of Ellis he changed his mind. Cass invited him to sit at their
table, which he did, and accepted a lemon-squash.
"I never take anything stronger," he said gracefully. "It is bad for
the nerves; it makes the hand shake."
"I can understand that as applying to a doctor like myself, M.
Zirknitz, but to you--how does it apply to you? What profession do you
follow that requires nerve?"
"I play cards, doctor. I earn my living in that way; and, let me tell
you, one who does so must have a steady hand, a clear brain, and
nerves of steel."
As he spoke, Schwartz, all alone, strolled past. He nodded to the
Austrian, but frowned slightly when he saw him with Ellis. Then
pausing by the table, he tapped Cass on the shoulder with a plump,
beringed hand.
"Mr. Cass, mine goot frend, vill you with me gome? I haf pisness with
you that gannot wait."
"Is there money in it, Schwartz?"
The German cast another look at Zirknitz, who was trifling with a
cigarette which he took out of a handsome silver case. "I dink zo," he
said pointedly.
"In that case I'll come. Wait for me here, Ellis. M. Zirknitz, I wish
you good-evening," and Cass went off in high spirits with the fat
Schwartz, so that Ellis and the Austrian were left alone.
The table at which they were seated was placed at a comparatively
secluded corner, out of the crush of people and the glare of the
light. Yet, quiet though it was, Zirknitz, after a glance round,
appeared to be annoyed by the position.
"Will you come to my box, monsieur?" he said, rising. "I fancy it is
more comfortable there."
"But my friend Cass?"
"I shall instruct the waiter to bring him to the box when he returns
here. Come, doctor," added Zirknitz, in a whisper, "I wish to speak
with you--about the murder."
A thrill ran though Ellis as he followed the Austrian up the stairs.
Was the man about to confess to his crime? That was hardly probable.
Perhaps he intended to explain the cypher. Yet that, also, was
doubtful. By this time Ellis had seated himself in a shady corner of
the box. He was thoroughly puzzled, and could conceive of no reason
why Zirknitz should seek this interview. The young man closed the
door, removed his coat and hat, and offered Ellis a cigarette. The
doctor refused on the plea that he had smoked enough, for he could not
bring himself to accept anything from the hands of M. Zirknitz. They
were those of a card-sharper, a swindler--a murderer! In this belief
Ellis decided to let the Austrian do most of the talking, hoping to
trap him--if not into confession at least into damaging admissions.
His own _rôle_ was to say nothing--to know nothing and to give M.
Zirknitz a sufficiency of rope to weave a halter. The situation was
uncomfortable, and Ellis felt as though he were dealing with a
graceful but dangerous tiger which required dexterous and diplomatic
handling.
"I am glad to meet you, doctor," said Zirknitz, in his quiet voice.
"Indeed, had I not done so here by chance I should have called on
you."
"With reference to the murder?"
"Say with reference to Mrs. Moxton and her husband's will. Also,
monsieur, with reference to her husband's cousin. Ah, _scélérat!_"
"Busham?"
"Ah, yes, that is the name. Mr. Richard Busham, the advocate."
"Do you know him?"
"_Moi, monsieur? Non!_ but I hope to know him if he does not behave
well to my sister."
Dr. Ellis leant back in his chair with a gasp of astonishment. "Your
sister!"
"Mrs. Moxton, or, rather, I should say, my half sister. Did you not
know? _Quel dommage!_"
"How should I know?" muttered Ellis, not yet recovered from his
amazement.
"Because my sister, Mrs. Moxton, told me that you were her best
friend."
"I hope I am her friend. But I confess that I am astonished to hear
that you are her brother. Are you not a foreigner?"
"Yes, to speak truly there is no blood relationship. Mrs. Gordon, the
mother of my sister, married my father, Adolph Zirknitz, who was a
widower. The marriage of our parents is the bond between us."
"I see. And you have two sisters?"
"_Oui!_ Mrs. Moxton, who is Laura, and Miss Janet Gordon. Who told
you?"
"Polly--Miss Horley."
"Ah," muttered Zirknitz, with a look of displeasure, "she talks so
much, oh, so very much."
Here was a discovery. The mythical lover of Mrs. Moxton, the murderer
of her husband, if the blood signs could be believed, turned out to be
her brother by marriage. A queer sort of relationship truly, which
Ellis had not met with before, still, one sufficiently close to put
any question of love out of the case. If so, what was Zirknitz's
motive for committing the crime? Ellis felt that he was floundering in
deep water.
"Why do you tell me all this?" he asked suspiciously.
"Because Laura says that you are her friend, and will help her through
with this matter."
"Of the murder."
"Partly, and of the will. Busham is not an easy man to deal with, and
he is annoyed that old Moxton's money should go to Laura."
"How do you know it will go to her?"
"Laura told me she thought there was a will leaving it to her."
"M. Zirknitz," said Ellis, after a few moments of reflection, "will
you answer a few questions?"
"Oh, yes, most certainly. I have much confidence in you, Dr. Ellis."
The other did not reciprocate this sentiment, but had sense enough to
keep his doubts to himself. "You knew Moxton very well, I presume?"
"_Oui da!_" Zirknitz shrugged his shoulders; "but we were not friends.
He was always drinking and quarrelling. I do not like such men."
"You disliked him?"
"No. I dislike no person. It is troublesome to do that."
"Did you visit him at Dukesfield?"
"I did not. He hated me, you understand. Sometimes at night I went to
see my sister when all was quiet."
Ellis reflected that these visits must have been conducted with
considerable secrecy, seeing that Mrs. Basket was ignorant of them;
but, to be sure, they took place after dark. "Were you at Myrtle Villa
on the night of the murder?"
"No," answered Zirknitz, coolly and promptly. "I thought of going for
my sister Janet, but I changed my mind. Moxton was drunk, so I fancied
he might make trouble."
"Then you saw Moxton on that night?"
"Oh, most certainly! He was--he was--" Zirknitz hesitated.
"He was in the secret gambling-room of Schwartz," finished Ellis,
guessing his thoughts.
The Austrian's face became as blank as a sheet of white paper. "But I
do not understand," he said with a shrug.
"Oh, well, as you please," returned the doctor, coolly. "I know
nothing about the matter myself. To continue where we left off. Where
did you see Moxton last on the night he was killed?"
"Oh, at the bar in there," Zirknitz was clever enough to take his cue;
"he was drunk--not very bad--but noisy and troublesome. He drove away
in a cab."
"Right down to Dukesfield?"
"That I do not know. I went home to bed myself."
This was a lie, as Ellis shrewdly guessed, but the Austrian carried it
off with an air which showed that he was an adept at falsehood.
"When did you hear of the murder?"
"I saw it next day in the papers."
"Then why did you not go to Dukesfield to help Mrs. Moxton?"
"Why should I?" said Zirknitz, with a charming smile. "Murder is not
pleasant. I don't like such things. And I might have got into trouble.
I do not mind saying, doctor, that mine has been a life of adventure,
and I care not for the police."
"You are afraid," said Ellis, wondering at the selfishness and brutal
candour of the confession.
"_Certainement!_ I am afraid. Oh, think badly of me if you like. I am
so bad that I can be no worse. But I shall help my sister over the
money."
"Because you hope to get some?"
"Eh! why not? I am extravagant."
Ellis felt a strong desire to kick this handsome, smiling rascal, but
he doubted if even a kick would rouse any shame in him. The man seemed
to have no moral sense; just such a soulless, brainless being who
would commit a crime. The doctor began to look upon him as a
psychological curiosity, and felt more convinced than ever that he had
killed Moxton. The want of money supplied the motive.
"Who do you think murdered Moxton?" he asked, resolved to startle the
man into a confession.
"Who do I think murdered Moxton," repeated Zirknitz, blandly. "Why, my
dear Monsieur, I think Mr. Busham did."
Ellis jumped up. "On what grounds do you make such an accusation?"
"Ah, I will not tell you that now," replied Zirknitz, coolly. "I do
not yet know you well. If Mrs. Moxton agrees I may do so."
"But if you will--"
"Oh, no, I tell nothing. See, the performance is over. We must go."
While the Austrian was reassuming coat and hat, Ellis felt sorely
tempted to tell him about the blood signs and accuse him of killing
Moxton. But as yet he had not sufficient evidence, and it was unwise
to put Zirknitz on his guard until he could get him into a corner.
Before he could decide, the Austrian nodded and, still smiling,
slipped out of the box. Ellis stooped to pick up his stick and
followed almost immediately, only to find that Zirknitz had vanished
into the crowd. What his attitude was towards himself, the doctor
could not quite determine. "I shall question Mrs. Moxton about her
brother," he reflected, as he went in search of Cass.
The journalist was in the office of Schwartz, but came out when he
heard Ellis inquiring for him.
"How did you get on with Zirknitz?" he asked, as they hailed a hansom.
"Oh, pretty well. He talked a great deal, and declared that Busham
killed Moxton."
"The deuce! How can he prove that?"
"I don't know. He refused to give any proof, and cleared out before I
could question him further. What did Schwartz want to see you about?"
"To warn you and me against cultivating Zirknitz."
"Is he a bad egg?"
"The worst in the nest, from all accounts. I believe he killed Moxton
on his own hook."
"He denies that he was at Dukesfield on that night."
"Denies it? Like his brass. Why, he left this hall to take Moxton
home."
"Who says so?"
"Schwartz."
"Do you believe Schwartz?"
Cass drew a long, long breath. "I don't know what to believe," he
said. "All these men form part of the gang of rogues. There is more
devilry in this case than we know of, Bob."