DONE IN THE NIGHT
I heard the stranger's voice call--
"Lola! Lola! Come here. We want you."
I heard her rather impatient reply, and then, a few moments later, she
descended the stairs and entered the room where the gang had been
discussing me.
Some quick words in French were exchanged. Then I heard her cry--
"I tell you, I refuse!"
A man's voice protested.
"No, You shall not!" she declared in a loud, defiant voice. "If you do,
then the police shall know!"
"Oh!" exclaimed old Gregory, whose voice I recognized. "Then you object,
Mademoiselle, eh?"
"Yes. I do object, M'sieu'!" she cried. "If any attempt is made against
him, then I shall myself inform the police. Remember, M'sieu' Vidal is
my friend."
"Your lover, perhaps," sneered the old man.
"No," she cried in loud, angry protest. "He is not my lover! Would he
love a girl like myself--a girl who has been brought by you, and your
friends, to what I am?"
"Well, you are a very pretty girl, and sometimes uncommonly useful to
your uncle," replied old Gregory tauntingly.
"Of use to you!" she cried. "Yes, I know I am! And when you have no
further use for me, then--then--an accident will happen to me, and I
shall trouble you no further--an accident like that which you intend
shall befall Mr. Vidal!"
I crouched against the window, my ears glued to the glass. I tried to
picture to myself the scene within--how the young girl I had befriended
in such curious circumstances was standing before them, defying them to
make any attempt to put me out of action.
"You speak like a little fool, Lola," old Gregory declared. "You lead
the life of a lady of means. You travel with a maid, and all you have to
do is to be pleasant to people, and keep your eyes and ears open. For
that you receive very handsome rewards, and----"
"And you make a million francs a year, M'sieur Gregory," she
interrupted. "Ah! when the police trace these marvellous plots to their
source, they will be surprised. One day the papers will be full of you
and your wicked doings--mark me!"
"You are mad, you ungrateful little minx!" shouted the old man in
furious anger. "If you try to prevent me carrying out any of my schemes,
depend upon it you will rue it. I'm not a man to be played with!"
"Neither am I to be played with, though I am only a girl!" she retorted.
"I'm desperate now--rendered desperate by you and your blackguardly
gang."
"Because you fear for this novelist friend of yours--this prying person
who is so fond of investigating other people's affairs, and using the
material for his books, eh?"
"Yes. I fear for him, because I know what is intended."
"I tell you it's a matter which does not concern you," said the man with
the master-mind, as I listened attentively.
"It does. He is my friend," she exclaimed in French. "I know that you
intend he shall die--and I will warn him."
"You will, will you!" shouted Gregory, and I heard him spring to his
feet. "Repeat that, at your peril!"
"I do repeat it!" said the girl wildly. "He shall not be harmed!"
"Eh? So you are ready to betray us, are you!" said the old man in a
hard, hissing voice.
"Yes," she cried in defiance. "I will, if you so much as touch a hair of
his head."
"You will! Then take that!" screamed the old man, while, at the same
instant, I heard a heavy blow struck, followed by a woman's scream, and
a loud noise as she fell upon the floor.
"_Dieu!_" I heard a man's voice exclaim. "Why--master--you've killed
her!"
Then as I stood there, breathless, I heard some further conversation in
low tones. The ruffians were discussing the tragedy--for a tragedy I
felt it to be. A defenceless girl struck down by old Gregory--her lips
closed for ever because she had sought to protect me!
These men feared me! This thought, despite the horror and anger with
which I was seething, flashed through my mind like fire. They believed
that I knew more than I really did.
But it was a moment for action. Old Gregory had deliberately struck down
that unfortunate girl who had been trained until she had become an
expert thief, made a cat's paw and tool for that dangerous gang of
criminals.
Creeping along the wall of the house, I managed to find and noiselessly
place against the window a rustic garden-chair, and discovering also a
heavy piece of wood. I prepared to make a dramatic entry into the room
where this tragedy had happened, and the conspiracy against my life was
being hatched.
Again I listened. The voices were now so low that I could not catch the
words uttered.
Then standing on a level with the window-sill, I raised my arm and with
the block of wood smashed one of the huge, long panes to fragments.
The crash was startling, no doubt, but ere they could recover from it I
had dashed the holland blind aside and stepped boldly into the room, my
big Browning revolver in my hand, and my back instantly against the
wall.
The scene there was truly a strange one.
It was a dingy, old-fashioned drawing-room furnished in early Victorian
style, with ponderous walnut furniture, a brown threadbare carpet, ugly
arm-chairs, a what-not, and wax flowers under a glass dome, in the
fashion beloved by our grandmothers. By the fireplace was a cosy corner,
the upholstery of which was tattered and moth-eaten, while the stuffing
of some of the chairs appeared through the corners of the cushions. Near
where I stood was an old chintz-covered couch, and beyond, an arm-chair,
of the same inartistic description.
The place smelt damp and musty, and in places the faded grey paper was
peeling from the walls.
Three men were there. Gregory, and two others, strangers. The old man's
appearance had greatly altered from what it was when I had seen him
wandering about in Cromer. Then he had worn his white hair and beard
long, and with his broad forehead, his pointed chin, and wide-brimmed
slouch hat presented the picturesque appearance such as twenty years ago
used to be affected by literary men or artists.
But now, as he stood before me, startled by my sudden appearance, I saw
that he wore both beard and hair much shorter, and, though he could not
alter his height, his facial expression was considerably different.
In an instant I realized that I saw him now as he naturally was, while
in Cromer he had so disguised himself as to appear many years older than
was actually the case.
His two companions were rather well-dressed men of perhaps thirty, one
of whom, a foreigner, wore a small pointed brown beard, while the other,
clean-shaven, was unmistakably an Englishman. Thieves they were both,
assuredly, yet in the street one would have passed them by as
respectable and rather refined citizens.
"You! Vidal!" cried Gregory, starting back when I sprang so
unceremoniously into their midst.
"Yes, Vidal, Mr. Gregory!" I cried, striving to remain calm. Yet how
could I, when my eyes fell upon the form of Lola, who, dressed in a
dark-brown walking-costume, was lying huddled up in a heap on the floor,
a few feet from where I stood.
Blood was upon the bosom of her dress. She had been struck down brutally
with a knife!
"I may tell you, Gregory," I said, as coolly as I could, "that I have
been listening to your interesting conspiracy to kill me. Well, do so
now, if you dare! My friends are outside. They will be charmed to meet
you, I assure you, especially after the foul deed you committed only a
few minutes ago."
The three men started and exchanged glances. I saw by their faces that
they were frightened. Yet I dared not lower my pistol, or bend down to
Lola, for they would have jumped upon me instantly.
As I spoke, I pushed forth my weapon threateningly, covering them with
it determinedly. But it required all my nerve to face them.
"You are an assassin, sir!" I cried, "and I have caught you redhanded."
"You haven't caught us yet," remarked the foreigner, defiantly, speaking
English with a strong accent; and the expressions upon the faces of all
three were villainous.
My thoughts were not of myself, but to avenge that murderous blow which
had been struck at the poor defenceless girl. They were scoundrels,
without pity and without compunction, who held human life cheaply
whenever the existence of a person stood in the way of their schemes.
And I knew that they intended that I, too, should die.
But they were not quite sure whether I had the police waiting outside or
not. My bluff had worked. I saw how they hesitated. Even Gregory was
taken aback by my boldness in entering there and facing them.
"I may tell you," I said, still keeping my back to the wall and my
useful Browning ready for business, "that I have discovered much more
concerning your interesting doings and your intentions than you
imagine."
"Lola has told you!" burst forth old Gregory. "Well, she won't have
further opportunity of doing so."
"And you will not have further opportunity of engineering your
remarkable thefts, my dear sir," I replied quite coolly. "The police
desire to see you, and to question you about a certain little affair at
Cromer, remember. You are extremely clever, Mr. Gregory--or whatever
your real name may be--but I tell you that you are at last unmasked.
To-morrow the papers will be full of your interesting career, and one
diamond-broker will disappear from Hatton Garden for ever."
"Listen," cried the master-criminal to his companions, his face now
white as paper. "Hark what that little chit of a girl has been saying!
Was I not right to strike her down?"
"Quite," admitted his two companions.
"And now you will pay the penalty, my dear sir," I declared. "I intend
that you shall."
"Put that revolver down," Gregory commanded. "Let us talk. You are
clever, Mr. Vidal, and I--well, I confess you have the whip hand of us."
His companions looked at each other, dismayed at these words of the
Master. He had actually admitted defeat!
For a few seconds I did not reply. I was reflecting, and it struck me
that this pretence of being vanquished might only be a ruse. Gregory was
far too clever and defiant a criminal to be beaten single-handed by the
man he so sincerely hated and feared.
"No," I replied with a grim smile. "It is war between us, Mr.
Gregory--not peace. Therefore, I shall hold my revolver here until my
friends arrive. They will not be long, and I shall not suffer from
fatigue, I assure you."
Gregory, quick-witted and shrewd, cast a rapid glance around as he stood
before me, a smart figure in his well-cut evening clothes, with a fine
diamond glistening in his pleated shirt-front.
"Well," he exclaimed after a brief pause, "if you deliberately take on
the duties of the police, and pry into affairs which do not concern you,
then you must take the consequences."
"For that very reason I have entered here," I said, "to become witness
of your dastardly crime. You have killed that girl--killed her because
you feared she would betray you."
"She has betrayed us," he retorted. "And she deserves all she has got."
"You infernal brute!" I cried. "If it were not that it would be
deliberate murder, I'd put a bullet through you in return."
"Try it," he laughed jeeringly. "This quixotic temperament of yours will
be your undoing."
"I befriended that unfortunate girl," I said. "And she has appreciated
what I did."
"The little fool ran her head into a noose, I know," was his reply. "But
even though you befriended her, it gave her no right to betray us."
"Nor any right to you to strike her down," I said, glancing at the white
face of the prostrate form.
"Ah! You are her champion!" he laughed. "But you wouldn't be if you knew
the truth. She wasn't the innocent little person she led you to believe
she was."
"No," I cried angrily. "You shall say nothing against your victim's
honour, curse you! I only thank Heaven that I'm here to-night--that I
know the truth regarding this tragedy. Your intention was--the intention
of all three of you, no doubt, was--to get rid of the evidence of your
crime. But that will now be impossible."
As I uttered that last sentence, the bearded Frenchman made a movement
towards the door.
"Halt!" I cried in a loud, imperious voice. "Come back here. Do not
attempt to leave this room or I'll shoot you," and as he glanced at me
he found himself looking into the barrel of my weapon.
"Come," said Gregory. "Enough of this fooling! It's a drawn game between
us, Mr. Vidal. Why not let us discuss the future quietly and without any
ill-feeling on either side. I admit what I have done--killed the
traitress."
"And by Heaven! you shall pay the penalty of your crime!" I cried.
"Oh, shall I?" he laughed with a nonchalant air. "We shall see."
Next instant I heard a sharp click in the passage outside and the room
was plunged in darkness. The electric light had been switched off by one
of Gregory's confederates out in the hall.
I heard the door opened, and voices shouted wildly in French.
"Just in time," I heard the new-comer cry.
"Ah, Jules!" gasped Gregory. "You are late. Where have you been? Where
are you?"
And, by the shuffling of feet, I knew that the men were groping about in
the darkness.
Jules Jeanjean was there, in that room!
"_Dieu!_ You were nearly trapped, all of you," I heard him cry. "Where
is he?" he asked, referring to myself. "He shall not live to blab. Mind
he doesn't get out by the window."
But I still stood with my back against the wall, my pistol raised in
self-defence.
A few moments elapsed--moments that seemed like hours--when of a sudden
my eyes were blinded by the ray of an electric torch which threw a
strong light upon me from the doorway.
Ere I could realize my peril, there was a red flash, followed by a loud
explosion, and I felt a hot, stinging sensation in my throat.
Then next second the blackness of unconsciousness fell upon me, and I
knew no more.