MY VISITOR
For long enough after Gatton's departure I sat thinking over our
conversation. Despite the lateness of the hour at which he had
departed, he had had no thought of rest and was setting out in quest
of further evidence to point to the author of Sir Marcus's death. The
room was laden with tobacco smoke, for our conference had lasted more
than two hours, but dusk was very fully established and when presently
as I sat there in the dark contemplating the horrible labyrinth into
which my steps had drifted, Coates entered.
"Ah, Coates," I said, "light up."
He switched on the electric light and I saw layers of smoke--clouds
drifting from the open window towards the newly opened door.
"Shall you be going out again to-night, sir?" asked Coates, standing
rigidly to attention as was his custom when addressing me.
"I think not, Coates," I replied. "I have done enough for one day, but
I should be glad if you would ring up the New Avenue Theater and
inquire if Miss Merlin will speak to me. It will be about time now for
the performance to have finished."
"Very good, sir," said Coates, and proceeded to make the call, whilst
I sat listlessly smoking and listening to his voice. Presently:
"Miss Merlin did not appear to-night, sir," he announced: "she is
indisposed."
"I thought as much," I muttered. "I could hardly have expected after
such a day of horror and excitement that she would have been capable
of appearing to-night. Ring up her flat, Coates," I added. "I should
like to speak to her, for I know she is in great trouble."
"Indeed, sir," Coates permitted himself to remark. "Is it something to
do with the discovery at the docks this morning, sir?"
"It is, Coates," I replied. "It is an utterly damnable business."
"Indeed, sir," said Coates again, and went to the telephone.
Three minutes later I was talking to Isobel.
"I find it utterly impossible to tell you what has happened," she
declared, "since I saw you last. I feel incapable of thinking, and of
course it was quite out of the question for me to go to the theater
to-night. But it is not so bad as it might have been." She hesitated,
then: "I was only able to give them very short notice unfortunately,
but from a selfish point of view, as you know--I was leaving the
stage--very shortly--"
"Yes," I answered dully, "I know; but have you seen the police?"
"I have seen Inspector Gatton," she replied; "but as he told me that
he was coming along to you, no doubt you know what took place."
"No," I replied; "he did not mention the visit, but you quite
recognize the fact, Isobel, that he does not regard you as being in
any way concerned in this ghastly affair."
"He was awfully kind," she admitted; "in fact I quite changed my
opinion regarding the methods of the police authorities after my
interview with Inspector Gatton; but although he was so extremely
tactful with me, I really cannot forgive him his suspicions, which he
was at scarcely any pains to disguise, regarding Eric."
"Regarding Eric!" I exclaimed.
"Oh," continued Isobel, "he may have concealed his views from you, as
he knows that you are--a friend of Eric's; but he was less careful
about concealing them from me. To all intents and purposes Eric is
under police surveillance!"
"But this is utterly incredible!" said I. "You don't mean to tell me,
Isobel, that Coverly has persisted in his silence respecting his
movements last night? If he has done so, in the circumstances he has
only himself to thank. Social position and everything else counts for
nothing when an inquiry concerning a murder is concerned. He knows
that perfectly well."
I think I spoke hotly, and certainly I spoke with a certain
indignation, for I very strongly resented Coverly's attitude in the
case, which could only add to the difficulties and sorrows of Isobel's
position.
Yet a moment afterwards I regretted that I had done so, for:
"Are _you_ going to quarrel with me, too?" she asked pathetically.
"What do you mean? Who has been quarreling with you?"
"Eric quarreled with me fiercely at the solicitors' to-day, and when I
begged of him to be frank respecting his movements last night, his
attitude became"--she hesitated--"almost unbearable. He did not seem
to realize that I was only thinking of him, nor did he seem to realize
the construction which I might have placed upon his silence. I mean,
Jack, what can he possibly have to conceal?"
Temporarily I felt myself to have become tongue-tied. What _could_ it
be that Coverly was concealing? The idea of complicity in the crime I
scouted; nothing could have induced me to believe it. Only one
explanation presented itself to my mind, as evidently it had presented
itself to Isobel's--another woman. However:
"You may depend," I said, endeavoring to speak soothingly, "that he
has some good and sufficient reason for this silence, and one which is
not in any way discreditable. Nevertheless he will have to reconsider
his attitude in the near future. Of course there are times when almost
every one of us would be hard put to it to establish an alibi if we
were called upon to do so--as regards witnesses of our movements, I
mean; but at least we can state roughly where we were during any hour
of the day, even if we have to trust to luck to find witnesses to
prove the truth of words. His attitude of silence, Isobel, is
ridiculous."
"Have you seen the evening papers?" she asked pathetically.
"Some of them," I replied.
"They have got my name in already," she continued, "and my photograph
appears in one. It is outrageous how they leap at an opportunity for
scandal."
"It will all be cleared up," I said, speaking with as much confidence
as I had at my command. "You know and I know that Coverly is innocent
and I don't believe that Gatton thinks him guilty."
A while longer we talked and then I returned rather wearily to my
chair in the room where the air was still laden with tobacco fumes.
Without believing it to contain any very special significance as I had
supposed, but merely attracted by the strangeness of the passage, I
remembered how Gatton had harped upon Maspero's description of the
attributes of Bâst. "Sometimes she plays with her victim as with a
mouse," etc. The big book with its fine plates, several of them
representing cats similar to that which Gatton had left behind for my
more particular examination, still lay open upon the table, and I
reread those passages appertaining to the character of the
cat-goddess, which I had marked for Gatton's information. Scarce
noting what I read--for all the time I was turning over in my mind the
manifold problems of the case--I sat there for an hour perhaps, in
fact until I was interrupted by the entrance of Coates.
"Shall you require me again to-night, sir?" he inquired.
"No," I replied; "you had better turn in now, as in all probability we
shall be early afoot to-morrow, Coates. Inspector Gatton will probably
be calling for me."
"Very good. Good-night, sir," said Coates; and performing a smart
about-turn, he walked out of the room.
I went on reading, not in quest of any particular information, but in
that idle mood when one reads anything, interesting or otherwise. For
a time I heard my conscientious batman fastening doors and windows as
was his nightly custom; then the door of his own room closed and I
heard him no more.
When I first became aware of the howling of distant dogs I know not;
but it was with a great start that I was aroused from my semi-reverie
by the ringing of the door-bell. I realized that I had sat much longer
than I had supposed. It was a quarter to one.
Gatton was my first thought; there must be an unexpected development
in the case calling in some way for my services. Coates was a sound
sleeper and evidently had not been awakened by the ringing of the
bell; therefore, arrayed as I was in pajamas, slippers and bath-robe
(for this, during the hot weather was my indoor costume) I walked out
along the little corridor, unbolted the front door and opened it.
A woman stood there.
For a moment I thought foolishly that it was Isobel, and my heart gave
a great leap. But the delusion was instantly dispelled when my visitor
spoke.
Her voice had a totally different tone from that of Isobel--it was a
low, almost caressing voice, with a vaguely husky note in it,
fascinating in a way, yet although I found myself unable to account
for the fact, vaguely uncanny--queer.
"Please excuse me," she said. "You will naturally wonder what has
brought a visitor to your door at this hour of the night, and indeed
my explanation is a strange one."
She glanced apprehensively over her shoulder as she spoke, out into
the darkness of the roadway. I observed that she was apparently in
evening dress and wore a very handsome cloak, having a thick silk
scarf so draped about her head and shoulders that her face was quite
concealed. Very clearly, now, I could hear the howling of dogs.
Instinct is a curious thing, and that which it prompted me to do at
the moment when I found myself confronting this strange woman was
promptly to awaken Coates! Honestly I was afraid of her and wished for
nothing better than to have the closed door between us. This was all
the more unaccountable as she had the appearance and manners of a
cultured woman, presenting indeed a figure of great elegance as she
stood there with her tall slender form outlined by the moonlight which
slanted down through the trees to form a scimitar of light upon the
path behind her.
Of course I could never have acted upon this singular instinct, but
the decision was taken out of my hands; for suddenly my visitor
uttered a low cry of fear, swayed dizzily and seemed about to fall.
Perforce I stepped forward to support her and before I knew what had
happened, she had tottered into the passage, resting heavily upon my
shoulder.
"Close the door!" she said in that low husky voice. "Quick! Quick! I
have seen them again!"
An unpleasant chill communicated itself to me.
"The eyes!" she whispered. "Two great eyes have followed me! That was
why I knocked at your door. I was afraid."
It was enough, the mention of two great eyes. Leaving my visitor
temporarily to take care of herself, I sprang to the door and closed
it hurriedly. As I turned, in the light from the partly open study
door I saw the woman walking slowly ahead of me. I overtook her,
holding the door fully open for her to pass in.
"Please sit down a while," I said. "You have evidently been seriously
alarmed."
Still there was no sign from Coates, whose voice would have been
welcome music to my ears, for I could not reconcile myself to this
woman's presence, strive how I might, nor could I understand how she
had come to be wandering alone in such a place at that hour. One bond
of sympathy there was between us. I could forgive any one fearing
those awful eyes, for I had feared them myself; and I could no longer
doubt that some strange apparition was haunting the vicinity.
"Believe me, I quite understand," I said, turning to my visitor. "It
is most extraordinary, but I believe there is some unusually large cat
frequenting the neighborhood at present."
I stood by the side table and was on the point of pouring out a glass
of water when the woman raised her white-gloved hand in a gesture of
refusal.
"Thank you," she said, "thank you, but I am quite recovered, and
indeed if the cause of my alarm is no more than a cat, as you say, I
will proceed."
She laughed, and her laughter was low-pitched, but very musical. In
the light of the shaded table-lamp I could see the gleam of white
teeth through her veil, but I could not imagine why she swathed
herself in that manner. Yet in spite of this enwrapping she could not
disguise the fact that she possessed remarkably large and beautiful
eyes. She seemed now to have recovered her composure, but I noted that
she made no attempt to remove her veil.
"Are you quite sure that you will not be nervous on your way?" I
asked.
"Oh, no. I am staying with some friends quite near," she explained,
detecting my curiosity; "and I was indiscreet enough to wander out at
this hour to post a letter."
Possibly this explanation might have satisfied me; it is even possible
that I should have thought little more about the incident at that time
when I lived in a constant turmoil of episodes even stranger, but by
one of those accidents which sometimes seem to be directed by the hand
of an impish fate, I was to learn who or what my visitor was. When I
say I was to learn what she was, perhaps I err; more correctly I was
to learn what she was not, namely, an ordinary human being.
It was as she rose to depart that the hand of fate intervened. I had
only one lamp burning in the room, a table-lamp; and at this moment,
preceded by a sudden accession of light due to some flaw of the
generating plant, the filament expired, plunging the room into
darkness! I stood up with a startled cry. I do not deny that I felt
ill at ease in the gloom with my strange visitor; but worse was to
come. Looking across the darkened room to the chair upon which she was
seated, I saw a pair of blazing eyes regarding me fixedly!
Something in their horrid, luminous watchfulness told me that my
slightest movement was perceptible to my uncanny visitor of whom I
could see nothing but those two fiery eyes.
What I did or what occurred within the next few seconds I am not
prepared to state in detail. I know I uttered a hoarse cry and threw
myself back from those dreadful eyes which seemed to be advancing upon
me. The cry awakened Coates. I heard the pad of his bare feet upon the
floor as he leaped out of bed, and an instant later his door was
opened and he came blundering out into the darkened passage.
"Hello, sir!" he cried, in a half-dazed voice. "Here, Coates!" I
replied, and my tones were far from normal.
Falling over a chair on his way, Coates came running into the study.
An impression I had of a flying shape, and the dimly seen square of
the open window (for that side of the cottage lay in shadow) seemed
momentarily to become blackened.
"Bring a light, Coates!" I cried. "The lamp has gone out."
"Matches on the table, sir," said Coates.
Instantly I remembered that this was the case, that they lay in fact
near to my hand. I struck one, and in its flickering light looked
about the room. My visitor had gone--palpably through the window, for
certainly the front door had not been opened.
"She has gone, Coates!" I exclaimed.
And on this occasion it was Coates who repeated in an amazed voice:
"_She_?"
But even as he spoke, my attention had become diverted.
I was staring at that portion of the table upon which Maspero's book
lay. Beside it had stood the little Bubastis statuette ... but the
statuette was there no longer!