"The message, sir, is: `Please ask Mr Kemball to ring up, if possible,
802 Bournemouth--the Royal Bath Hotel--at six o'clock this evening--from
Miss Seymour.'"
My heart gave a bound of delight.
"Nothing else, Tucker?"
"No, sir. That's all the lady said. She seemed very anxious indeed to
speak to you."
"All right, Tucker. I'll be back in a day or two. By the way, send on
my letters to the Grand Hotel, Bournemouth."
"Very well, sir."
"And tell the police not to worry any further over the burglary. Tell
them I will see the inspector in Newport Pagnell on my return."
"All right, sir."
And then I hung up the receiver and rang off.
Asta was at Bournemouth! My first impulse was to start at once to see
her, but recollecting the reason I had come there to Bath, I managed to
curb my impatience, eat my dinner in the quiet, old-fashioned
coffee-room, and afterwards wait until darkness fell.
I had no fixed plans, except to approach the Manor-House unobserved. I
longed to call boldly upon the woman whom I knew to be an adventuress,
but I could not see what benefit would accrue from it. If any
conspiracy were in progress, she would, of course, deny all knowledge of
Shaw's whereabouts.
Therefore I bought some cigars, which I placed in my case, and when the
autumn twilight had deepened into night I put on my motor-cap, and
taking my stick, set out again to cover the three miles or so which lay
between the hotel and the residence of the wealthy widow.
I did not hurry, and as I approached the village and passed the inn with
the red blinds I kept a wary eye, fearing lest Tramu might be in the
vicinity.
That it was he who had been making inquiry of the landlord there was no
doubt. In what manner the French police had gained knowledge of the
woman Olliffe's address I knew not, and why he was in England watching
her, was equally a mystery. One fact was evident--namely, that the
Paris Surete had some serious charge against her; and further, that she
must be all unconscious of the presence of the renowned police-agent.
Should I discover any hint or gain anything by giving her warning? I
asked myself.
No; she was far too clever for that. If, as I had suspected, she had
had any hand in poor Guy's death, then it was only right that the
inquiries and action of the police should not be interfered with.
Again, was it not a highly suspicious circumstance that, with her
husband--the man King, who posed as her brother--together with a
stranger, she had returned home at that early hour in a car, a few hours
after a car had left the King's Wood, half a mile from my own house?
I passed through the village unobserved, and out again up the steep
hill, until I came to that low wall behind which lay the part
surrounding Ridgehill Manor--that same wall from which a few weeks
before I had obtained my first sight of the house of the adventuress.
Fortunately, the night had become cloudy, threatening rain, and the moon
was hidden. So, mounting the wall, I entered the park and walked across
towards the broad lawn in front of the manor. A dry ditch separated the
lawn from the park to prevent cattle from approaching, and this I
presently negotiated, at last standing upon the lawn itself. Near by, I
saw a weeping ash, and beneath its bell-like branches I paused and there
waited.
From where I stood I could see into the big lighted drawing-room, the
blinds of which were up, but there was no one within, though the French
windows stood open.
I could hear voices--of the servants, most probably--and the clatter of
dishes being washed after dinner. But the night was very still; not a
leaf stirred in the dark belt of firs which lay on my left, and which
presently afforded me better shelter, allowing me to approach nearer the
house.
The night-mists were rising, and the air had become chilly. Certainly
this woman of many adventures, even though she were a convicted
criminal, managed to live amid delightful surroundings.
As the evening wore on I caught a glimpse of her crossing the room in a
black low-cut dinner-dress edged with silver--a truly handsome gown.
She swept up to the piano, and next moment there fell upon my ear the
music of one of the latest waltzes of musical comedy.
Then her husband, cigar in hand and in well-cut evening-dress, came to
the French window, looked out upon the night, and retired again.
But after that I saw nothing until an hour later, when the butler closed
the window carefully and bolted it, and then one by one the lights in
the lower portion of the fine mansion disappeared and those upstairs
were lit. Two windows, evidently the double windows of a corner-room
opposite me, were lit brilliantly behind a green holland blind, but half
an hour later they also were extinguished.
I glanced at my watch. It was then half-past eleven, and the house was
in total darkness. Yet I still waited, wondering vaguely if Tramu were
still in the vicinity.
I found an old tree-stump, and sitting upon it, waited in watchful
patience, wondering if the agent of French police would make his
appearance. Suddenly, however, a bright stream of light, evidently from
an electric torch, shot from one of the upstairs windows, and continued
for some seconds. Then it was shut off again, only to be renewed about
a minute later.
It was a signal, and could be seen from the high road!
My curiosity was now thoroughly aroused, and I moved cautiously across
the lawn to such a position that I could see any one leaving or
approaching the house by the drive.
Again I waited for fully twenty minutes, when a slight movement caused
me to turn, and I saw the figure of a woman hurrying along the side of
the lawn in the shadow of the belt of firs. At first I was puzzled as
to who it might be, but presently, when she was compelled to pass out of
the shadow into the grey light cast by the clouded moon, I saw that it
was the woman who called herself Olliffe. She wore a dark dress with a
dark shawl thrown over her head.
In her eager hurry she had not noticed my presence as I stood there in
the shadow; therefore, when she had passed out into the misty park with
its dark clump of trees, I quickly followed with noiseless tread over
the dewy grass.
She had evidently signalled to somebody, unknown to her husband!
Straight across the wide grass-lands I followed until she gained a spot
where a stile gave entrance to a dark wood on the opposite side of the
park. There she halted, and I was only just in time to draw back in the
shadow and hide myself.
I watched, and a few minutes later I was startled at hearing that
peculiar whistle of Shaw's, and next moment he emerged from the wood and
joined her.
"Well, what's the fear?" I heard him ask her quickly. "I had your wire
this morning, and got to Bath by the last train. Couldn't you have
written?"
"No; it was highly dangerous," was her low response; and then she
uttered some quick explanation which I could not catch.
Was it possible that she had learnt of Tramu's visit, for I distinctly
heard him cry--
"You fool! Why did you bring me here? Why weren't you more wary?"
But in her reply she turned her back upon me, so that I could not
distinguish her words.
They stood close together in the darkness, conversing in low tones, as
though in earnest consultation, while I, holding my breath, strove in
vain to catch their words.
The only other sound was the mournful hooting of an owl in the trees
above; for the dead stillness of the night was now upon everything.
"Exactly," I heard the woman say. "My own opinion is that he suspects.
Therefore you must act quickly--as before."
"I--I am hesitating," the man's voice replied. "I can't bring myself to
do it. I really can't!"
"Bosh! Then leave it to me," she urged, in a hard, rasping voice.
"You're becoming timid--chicken-hearted. It isn't like you, surely."
"I'm not timid," he protested. "Only I foresee danger--great danger."
"So do I--if you don't act promptly. Get her away from Bournemouth. Go
anywhere else you like."
They were speaking of Asta! I strained my ears, but her further words
were inaudible.
In a moment, however, I became conscious of a slight stealthy movement
in the bushes near where I was standing, and turned my head quickly.
The next second I realised that only a few yards distant from me the
dark figure of a man had come up through the undergrowth, but so
carefully that he had made no noise.
He stood ten yards away, peering out at the pair, but all unconscious of
my presence there. He was watching intently, and by his silhouette in
the darkness I recognised the bearded face of none other than the great
agent of the Paris Surete, Victor Tramu!