Some five hours later General Sadgrove, at his house in Grosvenor
Gardens, was taking his morning tub, when a servant tapped at the door
of the bathroom and informed him that Mr. Alec Forsyth wanted to see him
very urgently. The General as speedily as possible donned his
dressing-gown and descended to his sanctum. His keen eyes just glanced
at the troubled face of the young man standing on the hearth-rug; then,
in his laconic way, he asked:
"What's wrong, laddie? Your chum Beaumanoir been in the wars?"
Forsyth favored him with a startled stare, and then broke into an uneasy
laugh.
"You seem to have been exercising your faculty of second-sight already,
Uncle Jem," he said.
"The man was being _stalked_," said the General. "Has anyone caught
him?"
"Very nearly," replied Forsyth; and he proceeded to narrate the events
of the night, and also what Beaumanoir had told him of the previous
attempts on his life. At mention of the Duke's absolute refusal to
disclose the cause of the vendetta and to invoke the protection of the
police, General Sadgrove drew a long breath. On hearing that he had in
the small hours of that morning, thanks to the vigilance of Sybil
Hanbury, held one of his would-be assassins at his mercy, but had
quietly escorted him to the door and let him go, the whilom hunter of
Dacoits uttered inarticulate grunts.
"And now, Uncle Jem, I have come to you for help," Forsyth proceeded
earnestly. "I have persuaded the Duke to permit me to tell you in
strictest confidence as much as he has told me, and I think if you can
make any suggestions for baffling these unknown malefactors that he will
adopt them--always provided your advice does not entail going to the
police. He has given me his word of honor to remain at Beaumanoir House
until I return; but the odds are they'll have another shy at him
directly he pokes his nose outside."
The General had been absently toying with a tray of Indian curios, but
he now looked sharply up at his nephew.
"You are not exactly blind, Alec, and can read between the lines," he
said. "Reluctance on the part of a man threatened with murder to
communicate with the authorities must mean that he has got an ugly sort
of secret himself."
"You know his record, sir. Charles Hanbury was never anyone's enemy but
his own, and I expect the Duke of Beaumanoir is much the same," replied
Forsyth with a warmth which left the General quite unmoved. The old
warrior reverted to his curios and spent a couple of minutes in
balancing an Afghan dagger on his finger, till, apparently inspired by
the performance, he laid the venomous blade aside.
"I agree with you in one aspect of the case," he said. "An insurance
company, knowing what we know, would be ill-advised to take a risk on
his Grace's life. The chances are in favor of his being a dead man
within twenty-four hours of his quitting his present shelter. I presume
that precautions have been taken against any more bogus detectives, or
bogus anything else, gaining access to him during your absence?"
Forsyth replied that the Duke had promised to remain in his own room
till he returned, and that the butler had been instructed to admit no
one into the house on any pretence whatever. Moreover, he added, with a
proud note in his voice, Sybil was co-operating, and was thoroughly
alive to the emergency.
"Then," said the General, briskly, "I will finish dressing, and when we
have had a mouthful of breakfast I will go back with you to Beaumanoir
House. We must get your Duke into the interior of a safer zariba than a
Piccadilly mansion before we can open parallel trenches against such a
persistent enemy."
General Sadgrove and Alec breakfasted alone together, the former,
indeed, hurrying the meal purposely so as to get away before the ladies
appeared. He had seen enough the previous day, when the Duke was calling
on the Shermans, to make him shy of explaining to his guests that he was
bound for Beaumanoir House at nine o'clock in the morning, both Mrs.
Sherman and Leonie being aware that his acquaintance with the Duke only
dated from yesterday. He shrewdly suspected that the young people who
had been fellow-passengers on the _St. Paul_ took more than a platonic
interest in each other, and he did not want to stimulate that interest
into anxiety until he was better informed.
He pursued the subject apologetically as soon as he was in the cab with
his nephew.
"Sorry I made you bolt your food," he said. "I hate lying to women if it
can be avoided. The Shermans, who are staying with me, know
Beaumanoir--traveled in the same ship with him. It would have excited
remark to mention our destination."
Forsyth, who had experience of his uncle's methods, perceived that he
was being pumped, and he had no objection. Having summoned this wily
man-hunter to his assistance, he was not foolish enough to expect
results without full disclosure.
"I understand your reluctance to disturb the Shermans," he replied.
"Beaumanoir has spoken several times about them--in fact, he seemed
rather unduly excited when he first heard from me that they were at your
house. I have thought that he might be _epris_ of Leonie, though, as I
have not seen them together, I can form no opinion whether the
attraction is mutual."
The General, having acquired his information, relapsed into silence,
which was only broken by Forsyth as the cab turned into Piccadilly. The
short drive was nearly over, but before the cab stopped he contrived to
describe briefly his chance meeting with the Duke, on the day of the
latter's arrival in England, at the Hotel Cecil, and with an effort of
memory he recalled the name of the man--Clinton Ziegler--whom the Duke
had been to see.
"I dare say it's not important, but it just occurred to me that I had
better mention it while there was an opportunity," he concluded,
stealing a sidelong glance at his uncle's face, which, as usual, was
illegible. But a movement of the General's well-gloved right hand in the
direction of his left shirt-cuff, coupled with the gleam of a gold
pencil-case, suggested that the name of Mr. Clinton Ziegler had been
deemed worthy of record.
They were admitted to the ducal residence by Prince, whose dignity
barely enabled him to stifle the inward curiosity with which he was
devoured. In common with the other servants, he had not been told of the
midnight alarm, and his orders to put the house practically into a state
of siege had naturally mystified him. The damage to the bedroom door was
not visible except under close examination, and Sybil having swept up
the sawdust, none of the household had yet discovered it.
"No one has called, sir, except one or two of the usuals to the
tradesmen's entrance, and they were kept outside," the butler remarked
as he relieved the two gentlemen of their hats and canes.
At Forsyth's request they were shown into the smoking-room--a cozy den,
with only one window overlooking Piccadilly, to which the General
immediately walked. His gaze roved over the crowded thoroughfare,
comprehending pedestrians and passing vehicles in one swift scrutiny,
and, apparently satisfied, he turned away just as Sybil entered, looking
as fresh and sprightly as though she had slept the clock round. The
General greeted her in the curt manner he affected to all women
impartially, but an extra pressure of her hand may have had reference to
her vigilant gallantry.
"His Grace is sulking," she said, with a smile. "At least, he refuses to
leave his room until he has seen you, General Sadgrove. I tapped at his
door and told him you were here, but he said that if you want to see him
you had better go upstairs. Very rude of him, isn't it?"
"Very sensible," replied the General. "I would prefer to see him alone,
if you will be so good as to escort me, Miss Hanbury. Alec," he added,
"while I am gone just sit on this ottoman behind the window-curtain and
keep your eye on that apple-woman under the railings of the Green Park.
When I come back, be prepared to tell me exactly what she has done and
how many customers she has had."
Forsyth nodded, and the General went away with Sybil, who conducted him
up the grand staircase and left him at the door of the Duke's room. It
was characteristic of the man that, having heard all there was to hear
of her proceedings from his nephew, he forbore to waste words on what
had occurred, but dismissed her with an injunction.
"Now run away and help Alec, but don't let the apple-woman know that
those sharp eyes are observing her," he said, unbending so far as to
give her a playful push.
His knock and mention of his name was followed by the sound of footsteps
as the occupant of the room remembered that he had turned the key and
hastened to admit the visitor. Beaumanoir was fully dressed, and had
just finished breakfast.
"Don't think me a coward for locking the door, General," he said, as he
shook hands. "This is a pretty bad gang that I am dodging."
The General's comment was to turn and re-lock the door himself, after a
critical glance at the sawn panel. "I have spent my life in breaking up
bad gangs," he said, when he had taken the chair indicated. "I am a bit
rusty with disuse, but I should very much like to try conclusions with
this one. From what I hear, they must be worthy of anyone's steel."
Beaumanoir indulged in a careworn smile.
"Three attempts in forty-eight hours speaks to their zeal, at any rate,"
he replied. "But seriously, General, you start badly handicapped," he
went on. "I don't even know that I want them broken up, as you call it,
for there must be no publicity. I can give you no clues nor answer any
questions. All I ask of your great experience is how to thwart a
determined hankering after my poor life--a hankering which may possibly
cease if I survive for another week."
"You positively decline to give me any assistance?"
"Positively; the honor of my house forbids it."
The General tried to look pensive--a difficult matter to a gentleman of
iron visage and bushy eyebrows.
"I am not going to ask questions," he said almost plaintively, without
mentioning that there were some he had no need to ask and others which
he fully intended to answer himself. "I am here to give advice, and it
is to get out of London into the open, so that your friends can look
after you. Professors of crime find their art more difficult in the
country, where every gossiping woman in the village street is a possible
witness. I want your Grace to go down to Prior's Tarrant, and allow me
the honor of accompanying you as a guest."
The suggestion was met by a blank negative, and caused the Duke to rise
and pace the room in more agitation than he had yet shown.
"Why, the very place is hateful to me since last Sunday night," he
exclaimed. "You would realize that yourself, General, if you had been
introduced to those silent fumes stealing down the chimney. I was
thinking of going to some hotel by the sea when Forsyth and Sibyl
induced me to remain here for the night, with such lively consequences.
Come with me as my guest anywhere else, but not to Prior's Tarrant."
"Nevertheless, I should feel surer of your safety there than anywhere,
and I do not speak without reason," replied the General, with a metallic
snap in his voice. "I should wish at least to be accorded the privilege
of finishing my proposition."
Beaumanoir promptly apologized very gracefully for his discourteous
interruption, excusing it on the score of the strain on his nerves. He
would be delighted to listen to any proposals, but nothing would shake
his determination not to go back to Prior's Tarrant.
"My dear sir, the tangled woodland of the park there is the ideal spot
for a lurking assassin. Mediaeval architecture provided the house with
nooks and corners which it would tax even your foresight to patrol," he
insisted.
"But," said the General, "there is safety in numbers; and I was going to
propose--rather coolly, perhaps--that you should have a house-party
there. If I might bring Mrs. Sadgrove, and Alec and Sybil Hanbury would
also give us their company, it would lend color to my own presence. The
last two-named, as you have occasion to know, form a valuable
body-guard."
The Duke stared at his visitor with something like horrified amazement.
"You forget, General, in your kind eagerness to serve me, that you have
guests staying in your own house whom you cannot desert," he said,
wondering how even an old man with his years behind him could suffer
such lapse of memory when Leonie Sherman was one of the guests. He was
almost angry that his visitor, being thus reminded, did not instantly
abase himself.
But instead of shame General Sadgrove had only justification to
offer--not profuse, because that was not his way--but complete.
"I had not forgotten the Shermans," he replied, in a tone of oddly
contrasted reproof and apology. "I had it in my mind that if you
entertained my view you would stretch a point, and make matters easy for
me by inviting my guests as well." And the shrewd old diplomatist
succeeded in looking as though the barefaced bait he was dangling was a
piece of effrontery he only dared moot under stress of the emergency.
Beaumanoir, flushing scarlet, stopped short in his restless pacing and
swallowed the hook.
"I never thought of that," he said, looking down at the General with
more interest than he had yet shown. "And," he added, with unaffected
modesty, "I very much doubt if they would come."
This was virtual surrender, and the General had an easy task to brush
away objections obviously raised in the hopes of their demolition. Short
notice? Well, perhaps; but Americans were used to a less formal
hospitality than ours, and would take it as a compliment. Brief
shipboard acquaintance? Nonsense. Five days' association on a "liner"
was equivalent to a friendship of years. The chance of the Shermans
being involved in a tragedy in which they had no concern? The General
pledged his word that, whatever happened at Prior's Tarrant, no harm
should befall the Senator's wife and daughter or breath of scandal
assail them.
Before he left the room the General had arranged to return later in the
day, possibly bringing with him his Pathan servant, Azimoolah Khan,
whose aid he meant to enlist in securing the Duke's safety at his
country-seat. In the meanwhile, he would go home and prepare the ladies
for joining the party on the morrow, Beaumanoir's formal invitations
following by post.
On his way down the broad staircase General Sadgrove chuckled audibly to
himself: "I thought the prospect of entertaining Leonie in his ancestral
halls would fetch him. Mustn't have her falling in love with him,
though, till he can show a clean sheet." A little lower down he stopped
and stared at a huge canvas of the third Duke, but without heeding the
bewigged and lace-ruffled counterfeit of the Georgian courtier.
"Concentration!" he muttered. "The first axiom in a crime-problem is to
concentrate the items. I shall have two of 'em now, by George, right
under the same blanket--and with luck I'll have three."
In the hall Prince was hovering fatuously, assisted by a brace of tall
flunkeys who fell under the General's critical gaze. One of them was the
absent-minded William, all unconscious that he had allowed "Inspector
Chantrey's" understudy to slip upstairs the night before. Him Sadgrove
severely rejected, selecting his colleague.
"There's an apple-woman under the rails opposite," he said, producing a
sovereign. "Run across and offer this for her basket and its contents.
If she refuses, the chances are that she will almost immediately move
away. In that case, if you can follow her a little distance, without
letting her observe you, bring me back word directly she stops and
speaks to anyone."
The well-trained servant, with scarcely the blink of an eyelash for his
extraordinary mission, started to fulfil it, and the General hastened on
to the smoking-room, where Forsyth and Sybil were still on guard at the
window.
"Has the woman been doing any business?" he asked as he entered.
"She has only had one customer, who got off a Hammersmith 'bus and
walked on," replied Sybil, without removing her gaze. "And now--why,
it's one of our liveries--Steptoe, the first footman, is going up to
her. Oh, but this is interesting. He is offering her a coin, and she is
shaking her head."
"Go on," said the General.
"Steptoe is recrossing the road towards the house without buying
anything, and--yes, the woman has taken up her basket and is leaving her
pitch, don't you call it? She too is crossing to this side of the road,
but higher up. Steptoe has turned and is looking after her, and--now I
can't see any more without putting my head out of window."
Sybil stopped, breathless; and, without comment on the episode she had
just witnessed, the General informed her and Forsyth of the proposed
move to Prior's Tarrant. As was to be expected, neither of the engaged
couple had any objection to an arrangement which would bring them
together under the same roof, Sybil remarking naively that it was one
thing to be allowed solitary house-room as a poor relation, and quite
another to stay with the Duke as a guest. She promised to hold herself
in readiness to join Mrs. Sadgrove and the Shermans on the morrow and go
down with them, while Forsyth was to wait for his orders until the
General returned in the afternoon.
"We may have a ticklish job in getting our noble convoy from one laager
to the other, and I shall want you as an aide-de-camp, Alec, as well as
Azimoolah Khan for the more serious work," the General explained.
"Azimoolah!" Forsyth exclaimed, remembering certain blood-curdling
stories of his uncle's old orderly, who had exchanged the fierce joys of
Thug-hunting for the milder enjoyment of valeting his beloved Sahib in
Belgravia. "Surely his methods smack too much of the jungle and the
nullah for this country."
"That's why I want to cart the whole bag of tricks into the jungle,"
said the General, grimly. "Well?" he added, as Steptoe entered and
tendered the sovereign on a salver.
"The woman wouldn't take it, sir," was the reply. "She got up and went
round the corner into Air Street, where she was met by the person who
called here last night dressed as a clergyman, only he was dressed as a
working-man to-day. They went away together in a four-wheeler."
"Thank you--that simplifies things considerably," said the General, and,
announcing his intention of returning later, he bade the footman call a
cab and followed him out of the room.
"I wonder what he has got up his sleeve," Forsyth mused aloud, as he and
Sibyl watched the wiry figure into the cab. "The spirit of the chase has
gripped him tight, and he's in full cry already."