For a long time, sitting by the open window and looking out upon the
starry night, we discussed the grim affair in all its details. The
piano had stopped its tinkling, a dead silence had fallen upon the
old-world square, one of the relics of bygone London, and the clock upon
the hall had struck one o'clock with that solemnity which does not fail
to impress even the most dissipated resident of Gray's. As a bachelor
abode Gray's Inn is as comfortable and convenient a spot as there is in
London, for there is always a quiet, restful air within; the grey,
smoke-stained houses open on airy squares, and until a couple of years
ago, quite a large colony of rooks made their home in the great old
trees. It is an oasis of peace and repose in the very centre of that
gigantic fevered city, where the whirl of daily life is unceasing, where
in the east and south toiling millions struggle fiercely for their
bread, while in the west is greater wealth and extravagance than in all
the world besides.
"I think," said Dick at last, after he had put forth one or two
theories, "that if we manage to get to the bottom of this affair we
shall discover some very startling facts."
"That's absolutely certain," I answered. "The disappearance of the fair
girl, and the substitution of the other, is in itself a fact absolutely
unique in the annals of crime. Whoever effected that change must have
been indeed a bold person."
"Didn't the people next door see any taxi drive up, or notice anything
being brought up to the house?"
"No. That's the strangest part of it," I responded. "Nothing was seen
of any cab or conveyance, although, of course, there must have been
one."
"And that inquiry by telephone was a remarkable incident," Dick went on.
"You say that the inquirer was popping about to various call-rooms
ringing up his confederates. That shows that there were two or three in
the secret. It hardly seems feasible that the man who rang up from the
Minories was the same as the one with whom you spoke at Putney."
"No; but the arrangement to meet in St. James's Park to-morrow is
extraordinary, to say the least."
"Ah, my dear fellow," observed my friend, with a smile, "I very much
fear that that appointment won't be kept. Men such as they evidently
are will hardly risk a meeting. On reflection, the individual, whoever
he is, will see that he has given himself away, and his natural caution
will prevent him from going near St. James's Park."
"Well, I only hope he does meet me," I observed.
"So do I. But to my mind such a circumstance is entirely out of the
question. You see he went to call-boxes in order to avoid detection."
"The curious thing is, that if it were the same man who rang up each
time he must have travelled from one place to another in an amazingly
rapid manner."
"There might be two persons," he suggested.
"Of course there might," I answered. "But I think not. The girl at the
exchange evidently recognised the voice of the persistent inquirer."
"I'm glad I came down--very glad," he said. "I went over to see Lily,
but she's gone to Ipswich with her aunt, an old lady who feared to
travel alone. It appears she wrote to me this morning, but the letter
has missed the post, I suppose. It will come to-morrow morning."
"You had your journey to Peckham for nothing, then?"
"Yes," he answered. "She ought to have sent me a wire. Just like a
woman."
I knew Lily Lowry, the pretty friend of Dick Cleugh, very well indeed.
I did not know that he actually loved her. There was undoubtedly a
mutual friendship between them, but nevertheless he often would go for a
month and see nothing of her. The daughter of a struggling shopkeeper
near the _Elephant and Castle_, she had been compelled to seek her own
living, and was at present assistant at a large cheap draper's in Rye
Lane, Peckham. Setting the _convenances_ at naught, as became a London
girl of the present decade, she had many times visited our dingy abode.
I had always suspected that the love was on her side, for she was always
giving him various little things--embroidered pouches, handkerchiefs and
those semi-useful articles with which girls delight the men they love.
But Dick did not seem in the least concerned at not having seen her. He
was annoyed that he had had a journey on the Chatham and Dover for
nothing, and thought a great deed more of the mystery of Phillimore
Place than of Lily's well-being. He was a pessimist in every sense of
the word. Once he had told me the story of his first love, a strange
tragedy of his life that had occurred in his days at Jesus. It was
this, I always suspected, that had evoked from him the real ardent
affection which a man should have for a woman who is to be his companion
through life. Man loves but once, it is true, but the love of youth is
in the generality of cases a mere heart-beating caused by a fantasy
begotten of inexperience. The woman we love at sixteen--too often some
kind-hearted housewife, whose soft speech we mistake for affection--we
flout when we are twenty. The woman who was angelic in our eyes when in
our teens, is old, fat and ugly when, four years later, the glamour has
fallen from our eyes and we begin to find a foothold in the world.
Wisdom comes with the moustache.
So it was with Dick. He had lost the woman he had loved in his college
days, yet, as far as I could judge, none other had ever taken her place
in his heart.
Two o'clock had struck ere we turned in, and both of us were up at
seven, our usual hour, for evening papers, issued as they are at noon,
are prepared early in the morning. We were always at our respective
offices at half-past seven.
My first thought was of the meeting I had arranged in St. James's Park,
and of my friend's misgivings regarding it. Full of anxiety, I worked
on till eleven o'clock, when Boyd was shown into my room, greeting me
merrily. His appearance was in no way that of a police-officer, for he
wore a shabby suit of tweed, a soiled collar, and an old silk hat much
frayed at the brim, presenting the appearance of the typical beery Fleet
Street lounger.
"I've come to see you, Mr. Urwin, regarding this meeting in the park,"
he said. "Do you intend going?"
"Of course," I answered, surprised that he should ask such a question.
"Why?"
"Well, because I think it would be best to leave it entirely to us. You
might be indiscreet and queer the whole thing."
"I don't think you'll find me guilty of any indiscretion," I said,
somewhat piqued.
"I don't apprehend that," he said. "But on seeing you at the spot
appointed, the mysterious person who made the inquiry last night will at
once get away, for he will know that the secret is out. We must, as you
know, act with greatest caution in this affair, so as not to arouse the
slightest suspicion that the keeping of this appointment is in the hands
of the police."
"Then what, in your opinion, is the best course to pursue?" I inquired.
"First, your friend Mr. Cleugh must not go near the park. I've already
written him a note to that effect. Secondly, you must act exactly as I
direct. A single slip will mean that the individual will escape, and in
this we must not court failure by any indiscreet move."
"And how do you intend that I should act?" I asked, sitting back in my
writing-chair and looking at the shrewd detective who was known
throughout London as one of the cleverest unravellers of crime, and who
had been successful in so many cases wherein human life had been
involved.
"Well," he said, hesitating, "truth to tell, I would rather that you
didn't go to the park at all."
"Why?"
"Because you could not wait about in the vicinity of the spot indicated
without betraying a sign that you were in expectation of some one," he
answered. "Remember, you are not a detective."
"No," I answered, "I'm not a detective, but I've had a few years'
training in investigations. I think I could disguise my anxiety
sufficiently."
I was extremely anxious to keep the appointment, and his suggestion that
I should not go caused me disappointment and annoyance.
"But if you were seen waiting about, the man we want would certainly not
make his appearance. He'd scent danger at once. We've evidently got to
deal with a very cunning scoundrel."
"I could conceal myself," I declared. "I promise you I will act with
greatest discretion."
"Well," he said at length, after some further demur, "I suppose, then,
you must have your own way. Personally, I don't think the man will be
such a fool as to run his neck into a noose. There's been some clever
work in connexion with this matter, and men capable of such ingenuity
must be veritable artists in crime and not given to the committal of any
indiscretion. The voice in the telephone was a squeaky one, I think you
said?"
"Yes, weak and thin, like an old man's."
Boyd glanced at his watch--a gold hunter with an inscription. It had
been given him by public subscription in Hampstead in recognition of his
bravery in capturing two armed burglars in Fitzjohn's Avenue.
"It's time we went," he exclaimed; but as we rose Dick entered in hot
haste. He had just received Boyd's note and had run round to my office.
"I've been out making an inquiry," he said, having greeted us and
expressed disappointment at Boyd's decision. "I thought, in order to
satisfy myself, and so that I could use the information later on, I
would go round to Professor Braithwaite at the Royal Institution and ask
his opinion of the scientific apparatus found in the laboratory. I went
down to Patterson, got permission to remove it from the house, and took
the whole affair in a cab to the Royal Institution."
"Well, what's the result?" I inquired breathlessly.
"The result?" he answered. "Why, the old Johnnie, when he saw the
paraphernalia, stood dumbfounded, and when he put it together and
commenced experimenting seemed speechless in amazement. The discovery,
he declared, was among the greatest and most important of those made
within the last twenty years. He sent messengers for a dozen other
scientific men, who, when they saw the arrangement, examined it with
great care and were equally amazed with old Braithwaite. All were
extremely anxious as to the identity of the discoverer of this mode of
liquefying almost the last of the refractory gases, but I, of course,
held my tongue for a most excellent reason--I did not myself know. I
merely explained that the apparatus had fallen into my hands
accidentally and I wished to ascertain its use."
"Then quite a flutter has been caused among these dry-as-dust old
fossils," I observed, laughing.
"A flutter!" Dick echoed. "Why, the whole of the scientific world will
be in a state of highest excitement to-morrow when the truth becomes
known. Old Braithwaite declared that the discoverer deserves an
immediate knighthood."
"Let's be off," Boyd said. He took no interest in the discovery. Like
myself, his only object was to solve the mystery.
"Then I'm not to go?" Dick said inquiringly.
"No," the detective replied. "I'm sorry, but a crowd of us will queer
the thing. You shall have all the details later. Patterson has
promised that you shall publish first news of the affair."
Dick was sorely disappointed, I saw it in his face; nevertheless, with a
light laugh he wished us goodbye when we emerged into Fleet Street, and
hurried away back to the offices of the _Comet_, while Boyd and myself
jumped into a hansom outside St. Dunstan's Church, and drove along Pall
Mall as far as St. James's Palace, where we alighted and entered the
park. The detective explained his tactics during the drive. They were
that we should separate immediately on entering the park, and that he
should go alone to the spot indicated by the mysterious voice, while I
idled in the vicinity. I was to act just as I pleased, but we were not
to recognise one another either by look or sign.
I own, therefore, that it was with considerable trepidation that I left
the detective on entering the Mall and wandered slowly along beneath the
trees, while he crossed and entered the park himself. In that
thoroughfare, which forms a short and pleasant cut for taxis going
eastward from Victoria station, there was considerable traffic at that
hour. The sky was blue, and the June sun shone warmly through the
trees, giving the Londoner a foretaste of summer, and causing him to
think of straw hats, flannels and holiday diversions. A bright day in a
London park at once arouses thoughts of the country or the sea. With my
face set towards the long, regular facade of Buckingham Palace--a grey
picture with little artistic touches of red, the scarlet coats of the
Guards--I wondered what would be the outcome of this attempt to obtain a
clue. That thin squeaky voice sounded in my ear as distinctly at that
moment as it had done on the previous night, a weird summons from one
unknown.
At last, just as Big Ben, showing high across the trees, chimed and
boomed forth the hour of noon, I entered one of the small gates of the
park and strolled along the gravelled walk down to the edge of the
ornamental water, where, for some minutes, I stood watching a group of
children feeding the water-fowl.
Though trying to look unconcerned, my eyes were ever on the alert. I
had expected to see Boyd, but there was no sign of him, therefore I
strolled along, passing the end of the water, the exact spot indicated.
There was no one there beyond half a dozen school children feeding the
birds with portions of dinners brought with them from distant homes.
Undecided whether to halt there, I kept my attention fixed upon the
children, then, fearing to annoy Boyd by remaining at that point, I
strolled slowly along the shore in the direction of Birdcage Walk. The
detective had certainly concealed himself successfully, for although I
kept my eyes on the watch I could discover no sign of him.
The hour of the appointment had passed, but, not daring to turn back to
look, I kept straight on, until, at some distance beyond, I came to a
seat beside the path and there I rested, drawing a newspaper from my
pocket and pretending to read. Unfortunately, from where I sat, at a
point opposite the Wellington Barracks, I could obtain no view of the
meeting-place, and although Big Ben struck the quarter I was compelled
to remain there inactive, watching furtively the few passers-by.
With a diligence perhaps unworthy of a journalist I read and re-read my
newspaper for nearly half an hour, and in the course of that time the
people who went along did not number a dozen. Of none of these did I
entertain any suspicion. They included a couple of soldiers, two or
three old women, a lady with a small child, a couple of nurses with
children, a park-keeper, and a bank clerk with his wallet chained to his
belt.
Secreted somewhere in the vicinity, Boyd was watching, but where I knew
not. His surmise had unfortunately proved correct, I reflected, as the
half-hour chimed. The man, whoever he was, was no fool.
For five minutes longer I remained, when a sudden impatience seized me,
and I folded my paper and rose.
As I did so there came round the bend of the path, from the direction of
the spot the mysterious voice had indicated, a slim figure in deep
mourning, evidently a lady. She walked with an even swinging gait, not
as one who was idling there, but as though with some fixed purpose. On
her approach I saw that she was attired entirely in black, wearing a
dress of the latest mode, the wide skirt of which rustled as she walked;
a large hat with swaying feathers which at that moment struck me as
somewhat funereal, and a thick spotted veil. Her black silk sunshade
she carried on her arm, and as she came nearer I could not help being
struck by her neatness of figure, her small waist, wide hips and
well-moulded bust.
I lingered at the seat to brush the dust from my coat, so that she might
pass and allow me a glance of her face.
She went by with a loud frou-frou of silken underskirt, and at that same
instant I turned my gaze upon her and looked into her face.
Next second I drew back, startled and aghast.
Her hair was fair, her eyes large and blue, her features familiar. Even
that thick veil could not conceal her marvellous beauty.
I looked again, believing it to be some chimera of my disordered
imagination.
No. There was no mistake. It was an astounding, inexplicable truth.
She was the woman I had discovered cold and dead in that house in
Kensington on the previous night--the woman whose body had so strangely
disappeared.
For a few moments I stood rooted to the spot. The discovery held me
petrified.
Then, with sudden resolve, I moved forward and followed her.