THE CRY IN THE NIGHT.
There was a man in the room surely enough. He was but half dressed; he
had fallen forward over a table, apparently in a state of collapse. He
seemed to be seeking something; and then Seymour saw that he was
clutching at a bottle of brandy, of which he appeared to be in evident
need. There was no suggestion of intoxication about him, so that
Seymour had no hesitation in forcing a few drops of the potent fluid
between the man's pallid lips.
Strange as the situation was, Seymour did not fail to notice the
extraordinary way in which his companion's face was cut and scarred
and bound with sticking plaster. Then he suddenly realized to whose
assistance he had come. This was surely the man Jack Masefield had
told him about--the man who had sent him the ring, and who knew the
whole history of the Nostalgo business. The invalid opened his eyes
presently, and gazed in a dull kind of way at Seymour.
"I have been ill," he said. "Since my operation I have been accustomed
to these kind of fainting fits. It was very good of you to come to my
assistance."
"Not at all," Seymour said. "I was in my room on the other side of the
corridor, and I heard you cry out. Is there anything more I can do for
you?"
"Yes," the stranger said. There was a strange thrill in his voice.
"Take off that mask of yours, and let me see my old friend Seymour
once more. I should have recognized your tones anywhere."
"I am glad that my old chum Ferris should recognize me," Seymour said,
in a voice that trembled a little. "But I dare say that you will
wonder why I am here. I can assure you it is no coincidence. But what
have you been doing to your face? The last time I saw you you were
what I am now."
With a bitter laugh Seymour swept his disguise away, and the hideous
likeness to Nostalgo stood confessed.
"There is a picture for you," Seymour laughed; "and upon my word you
are not much better. Are you attempting to get rid of those damning
marks that you and I are meant to carry to the grave--those marks of a
scoundrel's vengeance?"
"But I shall not carry them to the grave," Ferris said. "My dear
friend, if I had the pluck and courage you yourself possess, I should
not have cared so much. But that scoundrel Anstruther haunts me like
my own shadow. I managed to elude his search; I hid myself in London.
He knew I was here somewhere, and he hit upon that devilish scheme for
preying on my imagination. I am alluding to those Nostalgo posters.
Most people regard them as no better than an ingenious advertisement,
but the scalding truth is known to me. They meet my eye whenever I
take my secret walks abroad; they deface the hoardings to remind me
that I am still Anstruther's slave."
The speaker wiped his heated face. He made a more or less successful
attempt to hide his deep feelings.
"I had almost lost hope," he continued. "I had made up my mind to be
blackmailed to my last farthing by Anstruther, when fortune brought me
in contact with a clever French doctor who had heard something of the
vengeance of the Nostalgos. He assured me that he had treated one of
us with absolute success. I found out that my young friend was a
brilliantly clever surgeon, and after a little natural hesitation I
decided to place myself in his hands. He operated upon the muscles of
my face with a view to removing the hideous mask which disfigures what
was once a passably good-looking face. The shock to my system was
great, and I am but slowly recovering. But when I do recover, I feel
quite certain that I shall be as I was before I fell into the hands of
Anstruther's creatures in Mexico. I am a pretty sight now, I admit;
but if you look at me you will see that the repulsive hideousness has
gone."
Seymour gazed long and thoughtfully into the white face of his
companion. There was a sudden uplifting of his heart, and the tears
rushed to his eyes. It was no ordinary weakness that moved him like
this.
"I see, I see," he murmured. "Once you are yourself again, you can
defy Anstruther; indeed, he would not know you at all. I have had to
fight him at a terrible disadvantage. If only I could remove this
terrible scourge from my face--then I could stand up to him, and his
reign would not be for long. But events are pressing so fast that I
could not possibly spare the time at present to follow out the
treatment to which you have been subjected. But afterwards I shall be
only too glad to place myself in the same hands that you have been
through. The mere thought that some day or other I shall be able to
walk the streets like any other man that God has made, fills me with
such a joy that I could sit down and cry like a child.
"But why be so fearfully afraid of Anstruther?" Seymour asked.
"Because I am in his power," Ferris whispered. "I have done a great
wrong in my time, and Anstruther knows it. That fiend seems to
discover everything. Fortune has enabled me to redress the wrong, but
Anstruther holds the proofs of my guilt. I really ought to have gone
to my relatives and confessed everything, and defied him. But with a
face like mine!"
"I understand," Seymour said grimly. "But, unless I am greatly
mistaken----"
Seymour broke off suddenly, and snapped out the electric light. He
took the astonished Ferris by the arm, and fairly bundled him into his
bedroom. There was no time to explain. A fresh idea had suddenly come
to Seymour, and he decided to put it through. His quick ear had told
him that somebody was fumbling at the door of the sitting-room, and
that somebody could be none other than Gillmore. The burglar had
evidently not yet arrived, or Seymour would have heard something of
the mysterious note. His idea now was to gain possession of the note
and Gillmore at the same time.
"What on earth is the matter?" Ferris whispered.
Seymour clicked his lips for silence. He could hear Gillmore in the
sitting-room by now. He slipped from the bedroom into the corridor,
and approached his foe by the other door. But apparently Gillmore's
ears were as quick as those of his antagonist. He pitched the letter
on the table, and, seeing that escape by way of the door had been cut
off, coolly flung up the window and fell headlong out. Seymour
repressed a shuddering cry. Gillmore evidently cruelly miscalculated
the distance to the ground, for as Seymour looked out of the window he
could hear a series of heavy groans below. It was obviously his duty
to give the alarm and send for a doctor without delay, but this he
hesitated to do.
He called Ferris in, and explained rapidly to him what had happened.
The distance from the window to the ground was some twenty feet.
"I am going to fetch him up," Seymour explained. "I suppose you have
got one of our old lassos amongst your baggage? You have? Good! Let me
have it at once, and I will drag our friend up in here, and then we
can send for that doctor of yours. This unfortunate rascal is a mere
tool of Anstruther's, and I want to make use of him."
The lasso was procured at length, and one end twisted round the leg of
Ferris's bed. It was not an easy job that Seymour had set for himself,
but he managed it at length, and, quite overcome with his exertions,
laid the body of Gillmore on the couch. The latter was quite
conscious, and apparently not nearly so much damaged as might have
been expected. Seymour went over him with the practiced hand of one
who has dealt with many accidents by flood and field. He smiled more
cheerfully.
"Not so bad as I expected," he said. "A broken collar bone and a
dislocated ankle. You have had a very narrow escape, Mr. Gillmore. It
will be just as well, perhaps, if you moisten your lips with a drop of
this excellent brandy."
Gillmore started at the mention of his name, but he did not refuse the
proffered stimulant. He saw that he had been caught like a rat in a
trap, and, like most of his tribe, was prepared to make the best terms
he could for himself, regardless of his confederates.
"You might just as well make a clean breast of it," Seymour said. "You
came here at the instigation of Mr. Anstruther. Your task was an easy
one for a man of your abilities, but you see I happened to know that
you were coming, and that made all the difference. Is that the letter
on the table?"
Gillmore growled out something to the effect that it was. Ferris took
up the letter, and read it carefully.
"Just as I expected," he murmured to Seymour. "A mysterious
communication from Anstruther, only Anstruther's name does not appear
upon it. I am threatened with all kinds of pains and penalties if I do
not immediately part with the sum of five thousand pounds. And you
might tell me what you propose to do with this man."
"Leave him here for the present," Seymour explained. "We can take your
doctor into our confidence, and nobody will be any the wiser. It is a
very odd thing to me if we don't get some valuable information out of
this Gillmore. You may be certain of one thing--he could tell us a
great deal about Anstruther if he chose to speak. If you will give me
the address of your doctor, I will go off and fetch him at once. Of
course, I shall bring him here as if he came to see you. I think you
are quite safe with the fellow."
Seymour went off presently, having donned his disguise again, feeling
that he had done a good night's work. His first act was to telephone
to Bates at Shannon Street police station, and ask if the latter was
still keeping an eye on Anstruther. Bates replied in person to the
effect that everything possible had been done in that direction.
Anstruther returned home about ten o'clock, and at present was amusing
himself with his violin in his own study. Bates, moreover, had
ascertained that Anstruther had no intention of leaving the house
again that night; in fact, he had told one of his servants that he had
caught a chill, from all of which it might be gathered that Bates's
spy had been very successful in his shadowing of Anstruther.
So far, everything was quite satisfactory. It only remained now to
call at Masefield's rooms, and acquaint him with what had happened.
But Jack was not in, his landlady informed Seymour; as a matter of
fact, she had no idea when he was coming back; indeed, he had gone off
somewhere to a fancy dress ball. It was then that Seymour recollected
that this was the night of Lady Barmouth's great dance. A little at a
loss to know what to do next, Seymour went slowly off in the direction
of Panton Square. He hung about Anstruther's house for some little
time, still feeling dubious in his mind as to whether the latter was
really going out or not. He waited long enough to see a carriage drive
up to the door, and in the brilliantly-lighted hall he could see a
graceful figure in fancy dress being carefully wrapped up by
Anstruther himself, who came down the steps, and saw Claire into the
carriage. He appeared to be carefully muffled, and spoke with a
strained voice of one who suffers from a bad cold.
"I hope you will enjoy yourself, my dear," he said. "Pray convey to
Lady Barmouth my sincere regrets and apologies. In the circumstances I
am sure she will excuse me."
The carriage drove off, but still Seymour lingered there, feeling
quite sure that this was part of some scheme of Anstruther's. He
decided to wait, at any rate, for the present, and for the best part
of an hour he paced up and down, till at length his search was
rewarded. The light in the study suddenly went out, though Seymour
could hear the music still going on, and then another figure emerged
from a porch. It was the figure of a man assuredly decked out in some
fancy dress; but Seymour was not in the least deceived, and knew
perfectly well that he was following Anstruther.
The latter walked right away until he came at length to Belgrave
Square, where he stopped for an instant before a house in front of
which a scarlet cloth crossed the pavement. Into this hall of dazzling
light the form of Anstruther vanished. Just as Seymour had expected,
his quarry was going to the masked dance after all. He made up his
mind instantly what to do. He accosted one of the footmen standing
inside the hall, and, pressing a coin in his hand, said he must see
Mr. Masefield at once. Would the footman go up-stairs and announce
that Mr. Masefield was wanted, in a loud voice? The coin had the
desired effect, and a moment later Jack was in the hall. He strolled
up to Seymour in a casual way, and demanded haughtily the reason for
this intrusion.
"You did that very well," Seymour whispered. "I came to tell you that
Anstruther is here after all; in fact, he has just come in. Now I have
a little scheme of my own. Go and tell Lord Barmouth that I am here,
but that I should like to appear as a guest. I don't think that he
would mind, at any rate----"
"Not he," Jack whispered, excitedly. "Really, there is no reason for
me to do anything of the sort. I can easily tell Barmouth afterwards,
and if you have any scheme for getting the best of Anstruther, you
will be a welcome guest in this house."
"Good!" Seymour replied. "I will go off to a costumier's at once, get
fitted with a dress, and be back here in half-an-hour. Then I shall
pretend that I have left my card behind, and ask for Mr. Rigby. Just
as well not to ask for you again."
Jack nodded his emphatic approval. Seymour moved towards the door with
a deferential air of one who apologizes for an unwarrantable
intrusion. Once in the road he hailed a passing cab, and gave him the
costumier's address.
"Wellington Street," he said curtly; "and drive as quick as you can."