WHAT DID SHE KNOW?
Nothing was said for a full minute. Serena stood there, gazing from
one to the other as a child might do who finds herself in the presence
of two harsh taskmasters. There was something pitiable about her
hopelessness; the fighting glint had left her eyes; she stood there
downcast and shaking as a slave might do.
"I am afraid I do not understand what you mean," the woman said.
In a way Jack was feeling very sorry for Serena. Ever since he had
known Anstruther and been a friend of the household the woman had held
a certain subtle fascination for him. Though Jack had not made as yet
much progress in the paths of literature, he had all the quick
dramatic feeling which is essential to the making of a successful
novelist.
It had often occurred to him that so mysterious a figure as Serena
would have made a splendid character for a strong novel. He watched
the woman carefully now; he saw how her breast was heaving, and what a
great fight she was making to keep her emotions under control.
"I am afraid I must press you for an answer," Jack said. "Signor
Padini can be nothing to you, and yet you start and cry out when his
name is mentioned as if I had struck you a blow. Now, tell me, was the
man I speak of a visitor to this house last night? What time did he
come?"
"My master's business is my master's business," Serena said sullenly.
"He tells me nothing--he tells nobody anything. And who am I, a humble
servant like me, to ask questions of my master?"
Rigby shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. He began to see that there
was nothing to gain here. He nodded to Jack and half turned away. But
Jack was not to be so easily suppressed.
"But, surely," he urged, "you would be doing no harm in telling us if
a foreign gentleman called here last night?"
"I will tell you nothing," Serena cried. "Why do you come and bully a
poor woman like this?"
And yet, at the same time, though Jack knew how faithful she was to
her master, he could not but feel that she was not antagonistic to
Claire and himself. With a sudden impulse he pushed his way into the
hall, followed by Rigby.
"We all make mistakes sometimes," he said. "Now, are you quite sure
you have made no mistake about your master? Mr. Anstruther is a law
unto himself; he comes and goes as he likes, and it is just possible
that he might have returned without you being aware of the fact. There
is nothing to be frightened about; we are not here to murder him for
the sake of his Apostle spoons."
As Jack ceased to speak he made a swift sign to Rigby behind the
woman's back, and the latter understood. He would go off to the
library and see for himself if Anstruther had returned. As the hall
door closed behind him, Serena rushed impulsively forward and threw
herself headlong at Jack's feet. Her attitude had entirely changed;
she was no longer the half-dumb slave of circumstance, no longer a
mere machine answering to the call of her master, but a living,
palpitating woman. The change was so quick, so dramatic and
unexpected, that Jack had no voice of protest left to him.
"For heaven's sake, do not do it!" Serena whispered hoarsely; "and, if
not that, for your own sake I implore you to stay your hand. Oh, I am
not so blind and foolish as you think--I am not the dull, stupid
creature that my master takes me to be. You can deceive him where love
and honor are concerned, but you cannot blind my eyes, because I have
loved, alas! too well myself. Do not think that I pry and watch, for
such is not my nature. And yet I know as well as if you had told me in
so many words that Miss Claire and yourself are something more than
friends. I cannot speak more plainly because I dare not; but if you
would save the girl you love from the terrible danger that hangs over
her, you will be blind to all that goes on in this dreadful house."
The words which had begun so hoarsely and quietly came at the finish
with the torrential force of a mountain stream. Surprised as he had
been, Jack's self-possession had not quite deserted him. Hitherto he
had regarded the silent Serena as an old woman, but now that her face
was transformed and glowing with emotions he could see that she was
still comparatively young. He could see also, and the fact gave him a
vague sense of satisfaction, that this woman's sympathies were
entirely with Claire and himself.
"Will you get up, please?" he said, and his own voice was just a
little shaky. "It is not right for a woman to kneel to a man like
that. Serena, you are not what you seem. You are not a servant in the
ordinary acceptation of the word; you spoke just now like a refined
and educated woman. You may say that is no business of mine, and,
indeed, I do not wish to pry into your past, but you must see that
this matter cannot possibly stop here. You denied just now that Signor
Padini had been here at all. You denied the presence of your master,
and yet I can hear his voice on the other side of the study door at
this moment. You will perhaps also deny that you heard of No. 4,
Montrose Place."
It was merely a bow drawn at a venture, but the shaft seemed to strike
home to the feather. Serena had risen painfully and slowly to her
knees; she staggered back against the table and contemplated Jack with
dilated eyes.
"Oh, you have gone further than I dreamed." she moaned. "You are a
strong, masterful man, and I see now that nothing I can say will turn
you from your purpose."
"Since you have made up your mind to that," Jack said grimly, "perhaps
you had better be candid with me and tell me all you know. For some
time past I have felt a strong conviction that Anstruther is no better
than a consummate scoundrel. Discreet as he is, I have come to the
conclusion that this is no house for Miss Helmsley. I am quite certain
that you would find both of us more sincere friends than the man you
call your master. Why not, therefore, leave him and throw in your lot
with us?"
The woman wrung her hands piteously; Jack could see the tears rolling
down her face.
"Oh, if I only could--if I only dared." she whispered; "and yet I
cannot, even if it were only for your sakes. If you only knew what was
hanging over you--but I must say no more. When that man comes to me,
when I stand before him with his eyes looking into mine, I am
compelled to give him up the secrets of my very soul. I wish from the
bottom of my heart that----"
Serena clutched at her throat with a quivering hand, as if something
choked her, and rushed impulsively from the room. She had said
nothing, and yet she had said so much. Her very reticence, her
hesitation to speak definitely against her master, had proved
conclusively to Jack what a consummate scoundrel Anstruther was. He
was still debating the matter in his mind when Rigby came back to him.
The latter did not speak; instead of that, he took Jack by the arm and
piloted him quietly and firmly to the front door. They were in the
street before Jack could ask the meaning of this cautious conduct.
"One can't be too cautious in a case like this," Rigby explained. "It
was just as I had expected. Anstruther was at home; he, indeed, had
not been out all day, which fact was proved by his still being in
dressing-gown and slippers. Our usually self-contained friend had
either been dissipating last night or he has had disturbing news; at
any rate, he was very pale and shaky, and did not seem in the least
pleased to see me. Not that I think that he was in the least
suspicious of my visit."
"Did you happen to see anything of Padini?" Jack asked eagerly. "Well,
I did and I did not," Rigby explained. "At any rate, the Italian was
not in the study, though he had been there, from the simple fact that
a music case and a rather jaunty-looking Homburg hat rested on a side
table. Did you happen to notice if Padini was wearing a Homburg hat
this afternoon?"
Jack was able to reassure his friend on that point, whereupon Rigby
proceeded to ask if anything had happened during the time he was left
alone with Serena. Rigby listened with interest to all that Jack had
to say.
"That's a woman we ought to get hold of," he said thoughtfully.
"Unless I am greatly mistaken, she can tell us all we want to know. As
a matter of fact, she has told us a great deal, though perhaps without
knowing it. At any rate, from what you say, she is quite aware of the
fact that something uncanny is going on at 4, Montrose Place. I feel
perfectly certain that the body of Nostalgo was smuggled away _via_
that empty house; we know perfectly well that Anstruther is in the
habit of going there, and we are equally sure that the very mention of
the house filled Serena with terror. As we have plenty of time on our
side, and there seems to be no immediate hurry, you and I are going to
keep our eye on that place. You were very anxious last night to know
what I had seen there. Well, you have plenty of pluck and courage of
your own; you shall come with me presently and verify the thing for
yourself."
"Do you mean to say we are going to keep a vigil there to-night?" Jack
asked.
"That's about the size of it," Rigby answered coolly. "You had better
come round to my rooms not a moment later than half-past ten. Mind
you, we are not going there as ourselves, but you can leave a disguise
quite safely to me. Don't bring a revolver or anything noisy of that
kind; something in the way of a thick stick would be much safer. By
the way, didn't you tell me that you were going to see Miss Helmsley
to-night? Take my advice, call there and dine as if nothing had
happened, and directly Anstruther makes an excuse to return to his
study, slip away from the house without the formality of leave-taking
and come to my place at once."
It was not easy work for a straightforward fellow like Jack to sit
with Anstruther on the other side of the table, discussing trivial
topics as if there was nothing grim and terrible behind this picture
of refined home life. Jack was conscious of carrying himself off
fairly well, what time Anstruther rose from the table with an excuse
that he had work to do.
"Please don't think I am avoiding your company," Anstruther said
pleasantly, "and don't be annoyed if you hear the sound of my violin
presently. As a matter of fact, my thoughts are always clearest when
inspired by the sounds of music."
Jack muttered something suitable to the occasion, and exchanged
glances with Claire directly Anstruther left the room.
Just as that genius had prophesied, the sweet strains of the violin
stole from the study presently. Claire listened with an interest which
was vivid and thrilling beyond words.
"Now, listen to that." she cried. "Did you ever hear anything like it?
Did you ever hear Mr. Anstruther play in that style and manner before?
Note the little slurs, the half hesitation, which is at once so
dramatic and artistic. If you close your eyes, you might swear that
you are listening to Padini himself."
"It really is amazing," Jack murmured. "Padini to the life; the
Italian to a semitone. And yet we know perfectly well that it cannot
be Padini, because at this very moment he is waiting to take his turn
at the Queen's Hall concert. Claire, you must try to get to the bottom
of this. I cannot possibly believe that this infernal juggling is
conceived merely to satisfy the vanity of Anstruther, for, in the
first place, we form so small an audience. There is something behind
this much more serious than the soothing of a clever man's vanity. And
now I must be off."
Claire pleaded with her lover to stay a little longer, but, mindful of
Rigby's strict injunctions, he was fain to refuse. In the light of
recent knowledge he had no occasion to feel sure that Anstruther was
still on the premises, despite the fact of those exquisite strains of
music emanating from the library. He had not forgotten the strange
experience in that direction two nights before. Still, the sweet,
melancholy melody could be distinctly heard by Jack as he crossed the
road.
Rigby was impatiently awaiting his friend, and he had all the
disguises sent up to his bedroom. He listened eagerly to all Jack had
to say whilst artistically making himself up as a news-vender. A
glance at himself in the glass reassured Jack; he felt pretty sure in
his mind that no one could possibly recognize him attired as he was
now.
"What's the programme?" he asked, completing the illusion with a short
clap pipe. "Are we going straight away to Montrose Place?"
Rigby replied that that was the intention. It was getting near to
eleven o'clock before the friends reached Montrose Place; so far as
they could see they had the terrace entirely to themselves. A
policeman strode majestically down the road, flashing his lantern here
and there, and finally disappeared from sight.
"Now's our time," Rigby said eagerly; "no chance of being interrupted
for the next ten minutes. You stand at the top of the steps whilst I
sneak down and open the window. We 'shall have to fumble our way
up-stairs, because it is by no means safe to use matches. Still, I
have the geography of the house quite clear in my mind. Come along."
They were in the grim, dusty house at last. Jack was conscious only of
the intense darkness and musty smell of the place. Carefully piloted
by Rigby, he reached the second floor landing at length, and there
Rigby grasped his arm significantly. There was no sound at first save
the scratching of mice behind the panel or the flutter of some ragged
blind swayed in the piercing draught. Then suddenly it seemed to Jack
that a solemn footfall sounded in a room close by, a door opened with
a pop like a pistol crack, and a long slit of light, dazzling in its
brilliancy, fell like a lance upon the dusty floor. Somebody laughed
somewhere, a laugh that sounded so near and yet so far away; then the
door opened wider, and a partial view of the interior of the room
could be seen.
Utterly taken by surprise, moved and horrified to the depths of his
soul, Jack could have cried out, but for the hand clapped upon his
mouth like a steel trap.
"Not a sound," Rigby whispered sternly. "For heaven's sake, restrain
yourself, and look, look!"