LADY BARMOUTH.
Quick as the whole thing had been, the action on the part of the fair
stranger had not taken Rigby by surprise. He had half expected some
development of this kind; he was ready for the dramatic moment, and
took full advantage of it. Almost before the lady was in the room he
had applied a match to the gas burner, and turned it full on. There
was a quick, flashing vision of some one magnificently attired, for
the white diaphanous drapery and the gleaming diamonds showed from
where her wrap had parted at the neck. Perhaps she dimly comprehended
the significance of Rigby's man[oe]uvre, for she turned somewhat
scornfully from the hissing gas jet.
"Oh, there is no time for that!" she cried. "It can matter little or
nothing who I am, at any rate for the present. Did you follow me just
now? I hope you understood that I was speaking to you?"
"We gathered that, madam," Rigby said politely; "but really we are
wasting time in idle compliments."
The stranger's face fairly beamed with gratitude. She turned and
pointed in the direction of the door. There was no need whatever for
further words; the friends knew exactly what she wanted.
The gesture was eloquent enough. The lady who had so strangely and
unexpectedly come to the assistance of the friends intimated to them
as plainly as words could speak that there was no time to be lost, and
that the sooner they were off the premises the better. Jack did not
wish to delay; he had no desire to be caught like a rat in a trap, nor
for a moment did he forget the fact that this woman who spoke in
parables had risked much to come to their assistance. On the other
hand, Rigby, being cooler and more collected than his friend, and,
like a journalist, more prone to go into details, was disposed to
linger for explanations. His hesitation was by no means lost on the
fair stranger. Once more she pointed to the door, this time with an
imperious gesture.
"Oh! why do you hesitate?" she murmured. "Why do you stand like a
schoolboy staring into a shop window? I know you are here for some
desperate purpose; I can more than guess the reason for your visit.
You are men of intellect and understanding, therefore you must clearly
see the danger of even an instant's delay."
The lady turned away as if she had finished. Jack might have found it
in his heart to be a little ashamed of Rigby, but, after all, the
temptation to give way to curiosity was absolutely overwhelming. Jack
pulled himself together at length, and dragged angrily at Rigby's arm.
He felt just a little inclined to flush under the contemptuous gaze of
their beautiful rescuer.
"Oh, do come along," he said. "My dear Dick, you are positively guilty
of bad taste in this matter."
"Really, I beg your pardon," Rigby said humbly. "But you can quite
understand my feelings. Good-night, madam."
Despite the wild hurry-scurry and the excitement of the moment, Jack
had not failed to notice the exquisite beauty of the strange woman's
face. She was quite young, about twenty-five or thereabouts, and yet
her fair face, without a line or wrinkle in it had a suggestion of the
Madonna, as of one who had suffered much. She flew down the stairs,
heedless of the darkness, and into the forecourt beyond.
"Pray to heaven we are not too late." she said. "It seemed to me just
now that I was barely in time, but surely----"
The woman stopped, and passed her hand across her face just as one
does who wakes from an evil dream. And in sooth she had cause enough
for her astonishment. Where two bodies had been locked in a death
struggle a minute before, only one remained now. The other had
vanished utterly. And it needed only a cursory glance to see that the
form lying there was not the misshapen outline of Nostalgo.
"This is amazing," the fair stranger said, as she bent over the body
of the unconscious man. She did not appear to be the least afraid now;
all her coolness had come back to her; she suggested a trained nurse
on the battlefield. "Surely my eyes did not deceive me, surely I saw
two men in a death struggle there as I came into the courtyard?"
"There is not the slightest doubt about that," Jack murmured. "Why, we
were actually watching the fight at the very moment you opened the
door. Do you know who this fellow is?"
The lady shook her head, but Jack noticed that she did not repudiate
all knowledge of the stricken man.
"I can tell you if you want to know." she said, "but we can discuss
that point later on. What we want to know now is how far this man has
suffered from his injuries."
Heedless of the dust and dirt, heedless of her resplendent attire, the
lady had thrown herself on her knees beside the prostrate body. She
laid her hand upon his heart, and bent her head down listening
intently.
"At all events he is not dead." she said, "neither can I see any sign
of a wound. He has evidently been stunned by some tremendous blow. Ah!
see, he stirs."
The injured man opened his eyes in a feeble, spasmodic kind of way,
and gazed languidly about him. Rigby, fully alive to the possibilities
of the situation, grasped Jack by the arm.
"My dear fellow," he exclaimed, "you say you know that man, and
naturally he knows you. Do you think it wise to remain in sight, and
thus give him a chance to recognize you?"
Redgrave lay as if lost to all consciousness once more. Despite her
dreamy, Madonna-like face, the strange lady was not blind to the
danger of the situation.
"I think you are quite right." she whispered hurriedly. "It would
never do for this man to recognize you. I feel sure that heaven has
sent you both to be my friends in the hour of my deepest despair. Who
and what I am can be explained presently. But that man is coming to
very fast, and it were far better if he did not see you."
Rigby nodded his emphatic approval. Together with Jack he withdrew
behind the shelter of a clump of bushes where it was possible to hear
everything without being seen. Meanwhile Redgrave had raised himself
to a sitting position, and, with his back to the fountain, was
stupidly contemplating the fair figure before him.
"I suppose you can understand what is said to you?" the lady asked.
"For instance, you can tell me what brings you here to-night?"
"I dare say I could if I liked," Redgrave groaned, "but I am not going
to do anything of the kind. This comes of having women mixed up in a
business like ours."
"Woman or not, that has nothing to do with your murderous assault on a
harmless stranger just now. It is absurd for you to deny any knowledge
of me. You have heard of Lady Barmouth before."
Behind the shelter of the bushes Jack nipped Rigby's arm
significantly. He had learned something now.
"Did you hear that?" he whispered. "Of course you have heard of Lady
Barmouth often enough. I have never met her myself, but I have often
heard Claire speak about her. A beautiful South American girl, I
believe, married to a sulky brute who never goes outside his house
from one year's end to another. I don't know whether he drinks or what
it is, but I fear that Lady Barmouth has a very bad time of it."
Jack would have probably volunteered more information on this point,
only the cross-examination of Redgrave had begun again, and he did not
wish to miss a word that he said.
"It is idle to prevaricate with me," Lady Barmouth was saying. "I will
ask you nothing as to your late encounter, because it is evident that
you had greatly the worst of it, and that your would-be victim has
escaped. But what is more to the point, I want to know what has become
of my brother?"
"Your brother!" Redgrave stammered, as if utterly taken aback by the
suddenness of the question. "I--I don't know in the least what you
mean."
"Oh, what is the use of wasting your time and mine like this?" Lady
Barmouth cried. "My brother came here by special appointment to meet
Mr. Spencer Anstruther, and I came on my own self-initiative to see
what my brother was doing."
Here was fresh information for Jack and his companion. It mattered
little for the present who Lady Barmouth's brother was, but evidently
she had greatly mistrusted him; hence her appearance in the courtyard
to-night. It was, therefore, by no means difficult for the friends to
guess that the aforesaid brother had been the man who had so lately
accused Lady Barmouth of being a sentimental fool. The night's work
was being by no means wasted.
"I know nothing whatever about your brother," Redgrave said sulkily,
"and I know nothing about Anstruther either. The man who was here just
now--the man who made that murderous attack on me, I mean--was a
perfect stranger. But this is no place for a lady like you; you had
better go home, and keep out of this sort of scrape for the future.
"So saying, Redgrave scrambled painfully to his feet, and lurched off
in the direction of the doorway leading to the lane beyond. It was
only when they were satisfied that he had absolutely departed, that
Rigby and Masefield emerged from their hiding place and joined Lady
Barmouth. There was a sad, wistful expression on her face.
"You heard all that." she said. "Mind you, I am assuming that you are
no parties to the vile conspiracy of which Anstruther is the head. I
should like to have your assurance on that point before I proceed any
further."
"If there is one man in the world whom we desire to expose and render
harmless for the future, it is Spencer Anstruther," Jack said
vehemently. "But how did you know we were here at all?"
"Because I happened to be in the house when you came," Lady Barmouth
explained. "I caught sight of your faces as you moved in front of the
light proceeding from that room up-stairs, and I divined by a sort of
instinct that you did not belong to Anstruther's gang. Then it came to
me that I had seen one of you gentlemen before in the company of Miss
Helmsley. I think, sir, I may be pardoned if I assume that Miss
Helmsley is something more than a friend of yours."
"To be perfectly candid with you, we are engaged to be married, only
it is a profound secret at present," Jack explained. "After telling
you so much, I think you might be equally candid with us."
"Indeed I will!" Lady Barmouth exclaimed. "Any one to whom Claire
Helmsley has given her heart must be a good and true man. As I told
you just now, I saw you on the stairs; I also heard what that strange
man said about there being spies in the house; I saw you creep into
the room, and I saw Anstruther lock the door upon you. The rest you
know for yourselves."
"But that does not explain why you are here," Rigby ventured to
suggest.
"Why I am here to-night I cannot even tell you," Lady Barmouth said,
in low, nervous tones. "The secret is not mine; it concerns one I love
more than anybody else in the world. One thing I can tell you: Claire
Helmsley is in great danger so long as she remains where she is living
now. You must get her away, Mr. Masefield; you must get her away at
any cost."
Jack nodded gravely; he had not been blind to this danger for some
time. What he wanted to know now was if Lady Barmouth had any idea of
the identity of the man who had successfully got the better of
Redgrave. But on that head Lady Barmouth could say nothing; she had
returned for the express purpose of relieving Masefield and Rigby from
their awkward situation, and in so doing she had come quite
unexpectedly upon the combatants. Even in the dim light she had seen
that a murderous struggle was taking place, and this being so, had
hastened headlong up-stairs with a view to securing assistance. More
than this she could not possibly say.
"What we want to do," Rigby suggested, "is to go away quietly
somewhere, and discuss this matter thoroughly. I need not point out to
your ladyship the manifest danger of staying here. Anstruther or any
of his tribe may be back at any time, and then we shall be caught like
rats in a trap."
"That matter is easily settled," Lady Barmouth replied. "Could you
come home with me? It is by no means late yet, and you would not be
long in getting rid of those disguises of yours. They are excellent
disguises, but they did not prevent me recognizing you, Mr.
Masefield."
"There is no deceiving a clever woman," Jack smiled. "I should like
nothing better than a chance to discuss this matter at length--but
Lord Barmouth? Would he not think it somewhat singular that two
strangers like ourselves----"
"Nothing of the sort!" Lady Barmouth cried eagerly. "My husband never
goes outside the house; he is suffering from a trouble so terrible
that I try not to think of it if I can. I may, however, tell you that
his trouble is intimately connected with the black business that
brings us here to-night. It may seem to you that I am a mere frivolous
society butterfly. Ah, if you only knew!"
The trio had worked their way into the street by this time. A private
hansom stood a little way down the road. Lady Barmouth smiled a little
as she contemplated her two companions.
"I am afraid we should be a suspicious-looking party in the eye of a
passing policeman." she said. "No, I think it would be just as well if
I walked to my hansom alone. Then you can go back to your rooms and
attire yourselves as English gentlemen should be attired at this time
of the evening. Then you can come to my house; I will tell the
servants I am expecting two friends to supper. You know the address."
Jack intimated that he knew the address perfectly well. The suggestion
was by no means a bad one; there could be no possible suspicion
aroused by the fact that Lady Barmouth was having two friends to share
her late meal. The clocks were striking twelve as Jack and his
companion walked up the steps of the big house in Belgrave Square.