The neighbouring houses were mostly closed, their owners being out of
town for the summer; but the one before which I halted was apparently
occupied, therefore I boldly ascended the steps and rang the bell.
My summons was answered by a burly, ill-dressed man in carpet slippers,
who, when I inquired for Mr Ashwicke, responded--
"He don't live here; this is Mrs Stentiford's."
"But he did live here," I protested. "How long has he been gone?"
"I don't know. I've only been here a fortnight, but I believe the
mistress has lived here for three or four years."
"Is your mistress in?"
"No; she's away in Switzerland."
"And you're taking charge of the house?"
"That's so."
"Well," I said, "Mr Ashwicke lived here until a short time ago, that's
very certain. I feel sure I haven't mistaken the house; I used to be a
visitor here. Would you mind me glancing at some of the rooms?"
He eyed me with distinct suspicion.
"No," I laughed, "I'm not a swell mobsman, nor a burglar on the look-out
for a likely house to rob--I'm a doctor." And, to convince him, I took
off my silk hat and displayed my stethoscope in the lining, as well as
giving him a card.
"Well," he answered, rather ill-manneredly, "I don't see why I should
satisfy you. You aren't a friend of Mrs Stentiford's?"
"No," I admitted; "but I only desire a glance at the library and at the
bedrooms upstairs, just to satisfy my curiosity."
"Why?"
"Well, to tell you the truth, there occurred here, in this house, an
incident which was the crisis of my life. For that reason I am full of
curiosity to see the rooms again, and I ask you as a favour to allow me
to do so."
"Very well," he said at last, after a moment's hesitation, "come along.
You say you want to see the library." And I followed him down the hall,
at the end of which he opened a door.
I went in and looked around. Yes; it was the same. Nothing had
apparently been moved.
I looked into the dining-room--that same handsome apartment in which
champagne had been drunk to my health and happiness. Bah! what a
mockery it had been!
We went into several of the other rooms after that, and all of them
were, I found, well furnished in a style rather out-of-date but
nevertheless comfortable.
"And how long have you been in Mrs Stentiford's service?" I inquired,
as we descended the stairs.
"Just a fortnight."
"You're a police-officer, aren't you?" I inquired.
"Yes--a sergeant," he answered. "But how do you know?"
"Oh," I answered, laughing, "when a man's been in the police there's
little mistake about it. We doctors have our eyes open, you know."
He smiled, but was apparently surprised that I should have detected his
calling.
"There are none of the other servants here, I suppose?"
"No--none. Why?"
"Because I'm anxious to find out whether Mrs Stentiford has ever let
her house furnished."
"I don't think so."
"What gives you that impression?"
"Because before she went away she told me that she preferred to close
the place and pay me, rather than to let her things be ruined by
strangers."
"And I suppose you've heard from neighbours about the house?"
"Yes," he replied; "I've heard that a gentleman lived here about four
years ago--I think the name was Ashwicke."
"But he was living here a few weeks ago," I declared; "I visited him
here."
The retired police-sergeant looked at me incredibly.
"I think you must be mistaken. Mrs Stentiford was certainly occupying
the house then."
"But you were not here?"
"No; I wasn't here, that's true."
"She might have let it for a few weeks, during the London season--eh?"
"She certainly might," he responded; "but, if she did, she kept the
matter a secret, for none of the neighbours are aware of it."
"Then you have already inquired?" I asked, somewhat surprised, for he
spoke so positively.
"Yes," he replied. "Curiously enough, a few days ago I had some one
else call and ask for Mr Ashwicke."
"Who was it?" I demanded quickly.
"A lady--a young, rather good-looking lady."
"What was she like? Describe her to me."
"Well, she wore a thick white veil so that I couldn't see her face quite
distinctly," the man answered; "but she, like yourself, declared that
she knew Mr Ashwicke, and had been a visitor here. She asked to see
the very same rooms as you have seen. Very curious, isn't it?"
"Very," I exclaimed in wonder. "Did she give any further explanation?"
"No; she gave me half a sovereign instead," he laughed.
"And she also declared that Mr Ashwicke had lived here recently?"
"Yes; that's what caused me to inquire."
"Very remarkable," I said. "I wonder who she could have been. Can't
you give the slightest description of her?"
"I only noticed that she spoke in a soft, refined voice, and that she
had very pretty eyes, blue-grey, I believe they were. But those thick
white veils, with embroidery on them, make it very difficult to see a
woman's face clearly."
"And her hair? Was she fair or dark?"
"Between colours."
"Fair?"
"No; not fair, and not dark. Almost chestnut colour, I think it was."
"Was she tall?"
"Middling. She came in a hansom, and it waited for her. She was
evidently a lady."
"She gave no name?"
"No; she was very discreet. And that's what made me scent a mystery
when you called and asked for the same person, and to see the same
rooms."
"Well, it is extraordinary," I remarked. "Most extraordinary!"
I was sorry that I had no money to give him a tip, but my last
half-crown reposed in the corner of my pocket, and I could not summon
courage to leave myself penniless; so I merely thanked him, and,
descending the steps, left him with disappointment plainly depicted upon
his face.
The man might be useful, I felt, therefore I had decided to return at an
early date, when my funds were not so low, and give him a similar tip to
the one he had received from the veiled lady.
Who was she? I wondered. Surely it could not have been Beryl herself.
By good fortune, on my return to Rowan Road, I found a letter awaiting
me, and on opening it discovered that it was from a doctor practising in
Bayswater, who, in reply to my application a week before, appointed me
his _locum tenens_. Therefore, on the following day, I thanked Bob
warmly, for all his hospitality towards me, and bade him good-bye.
"Promise me one thing, Dick," he said, as he stood in the hall, holding
my hand in a firm, friendly grip of farewell.
"Well," I asked, "what is it?"
"That you'll try and forget all about this mystery of yours," he said
earnestly. "You'll be getting brain fever, or something equally
disagreeable, if you don't try to control yourself and think no more of
it. The experience is unusual, but, depend upon it, the mystery is so
well kept by the set of scoundrels into whose hands you fell, that
you'll never get to the bottom of it."
"But I mean to solve it," I said resolutely. "I'm married, my dear
fellow, and--well, I love her."
"I know. That's just the devil of it," he answered bluntly. "You're
gone on her, and the mystery makes you the more eager to claim her as
your wife!"
"Exactly, old fellow," I answered. "I know that you're my best friend.
Indeed, you have kept me out of the gutter or the common lodging-house
these past weeks, and I am ready to repay you in any way in my power;
but as to taking your advice in this matter, I really can't."
"Then, you're a fool, Dick."
"I may be," I responded; "but I mean to clear up the mystery."
"Because you are jealous of this young Chetwode."
"I don't deny that I'm jealous," I replied with perfect frankness. "But
I know that Beryl is in danger, and, as her husband, I should be at her
side to protect her."
"That's all very well; but, after all your exertions, you've really
discovered absolutely nothing."
His words were, alas! only too true. I had made many discoveries, but
each of them had only served to render the veil of mystery more
impenetrable.
"But why do you urge me to give it up?"
"For your own sake," he responded. "You can't practise properly when
your head is full of such a bewildering puzzle. Don't you see that in
this affair your reputation is at stake?"
"But her life is of greater moment to me than my own reputation," I
declared. "Let me have my own way, there's a good chap." And I wished
him good-bye.
An hour later I became installed as temporary assistant to a surgeon in
Richmond Road, Bayswater, who, having been "run down" by the unusual
number of cases of influenza, had resolved to take a month's vacation.
The Bayswater surgeon proved a genial fellow, but I saw little of him,
for he left for North Wales with his family early next morning, after
handing me his visiting-book and giving me general instructions. A
fortnight went by, and so large was the practice--for I had to attend a
number of the large drapery establishments in Westbourne Grove, where my
principal was medical officer--that I had but little leisure. To forget
the strange enigma which so troubled my brain I had thrown myself
heartily into the work.
One hot, oppressive evening, after I had been in Richmond Road about
three weeks, I was busy seeing the patients who, crowding the
waiting-room between the hours of seven and nine, entered the
consulting-room one by one to describe their physical ills, when the
servant came in with a card, saying--
"A lady wishes to see you at once, sir."
I took the card she handed me, and started with mingled surprise and
satisfaction when I recognised the name--Lady Pierrepoint-Lane. At last
she was in London again! But how, I wondered had she discovered my
whereabouts. Quickly I went into the hall, and there found her with
blanched face and in a state of great agitation.
"Ah, Doctor," she gasped breathlessly, as I greeted her and our hands
met, "I am so glad I've found you? I went to Hammersmith, but your
friend, Doctor Raymond, told me you were here."
"What is the matter?" I inquired, surprised at her eager manner. "Has
anything occurred?"
"Yes, something most mysterious!" she answered hoarsely. "You are the
only doctor whom I can trust. Will you come with me at once? I have a
cab in waiting."
"Where?" I inquired. "To your house?"
"Yes," she urged. "Do not let us lose time. Apologise to your other
patients here, and come at once. It's a matter of life or death."
"Of life or death?" I cried. "Who is ill?"
"It's all a mystery," she answered in the same breathless manner. "But
you will keep it a secret--promise me."
"I have many family secrets entrusted to me," I answered. "Rest assured
that I shall betray no confidence."
"Then come quickly, and recollect that what you may see or hear to-night
you must never divulge. On your word of honour as a gentleman."
"I give you my word of honour," I answered, wondering what fresh mystery
was in store for me.
Then, turning, I asked a servant, who stood near, to tell the patients
waiting for me that I had been unexpectedly called out to an urgent
case, and would return in an hour.
"Good!" her ladyship exclaimed. "Let us not lose an instant."
Instinctively I placed my instrument case in my pocket, and took down my
hat.
"Tell me the nature of the illness," I urged. "How did it occur? Who
is the patient?"
"How it occurred nobody knows. It is a mystery, as I tell you. My
cousin Feo, to whom I think I introduced you, is dying!"
"Dying!" I gasped, staring at her amazed. "Here in London?"
"Yes, at my house. I have called you because you are a doctor, and I
can rely upon your secrecy."