LADY RIVERSREADE
As Hetherwick was breakfasting next morning, Mapperley, outwardly
commonplace and phlegmatic as ever, walked into his room.
"Brief outline first, Mapperley," commanded Hetherwick, instinctively
scenting news. "Details later. Well?"
"Spotted him at once at Victoria," said Mapperley. "Followed him down
there. He was at Riversreade an hour. Then went back to Dorking--had
lunch at 'Red Lion.' He stopped there till four o'clock, lunching and
idling. Went back to town by the 4.29, arriving 6.5. I followed him
then to the Café de Paris. He dined there and hung about till past
ten. And then he went to Vivian's Night Club."
Hetherwick pricked up his ears at that. Vivian's Night Club!--here, at
any rate, seemed to be a link in the chain of which Matherfield
believed himself to hold at least one end. The five-pound note found
on Granett had been traced to Vivian's Night Club: now Mapperley had
tracked Lady Riversreade's mysterious visitor to the same resort.
"To Vivian's Night Club, eh, Mapperley?" he said. "Let's see?--where
is that?"
"Entrance is in Candlestick Passage, off St. Martin's Lane," replied
Mapperley with promptitude. "Club's on first floor--jolly fine suite
of rooms, too!"
"You've been in it?" suggested Hetherwick.
"Twice! Not last night, though. You didn't give me any further orders
than to see where he went finally, after returning to town. So, when
I'd run him to earth at Vivian's, I went home. I argued that if he was
wanted further, Vivian's would find him."
"All right, Mapperley. But before that? You followed him to
Riversreade Court?"
Mapperley grinned widely.
"No!--I did better than that. I was there before him--much better
that, than following. I spotted him quick enough at Victoria, and made
sure he got into the 10.10. Then I got in. As soon as we got to
Dorking, I jumped out, got outside the station and chartered a taxi and
drove off to Riversreade Court. I made the driver hide his cab up the
road: I laid low in the plantation opposite the entrance gates.
Presently my lord came along and drove up to the house. He was there
the best part of an hour; then he drove off again towards Dorking. I
followed at a good distance: kept him in sight, all the same. He got
out of his conveyance in the High Street: so did I. He went into the
Red Lion: so did I. He had lunch there: so had I. After that he
lounged about in the smoking-room: I kept an eye on him."
"I suppose he didn't meet anybody?"
"Nobody!"
"Well, and at the Café de Paris? Did he meet anybody there?"
"He exchanged a nod and a word here and there with men--and women--that
came in and went out. But as to any arranged meeting, I should say
not. I should say, too, that he was well known at the Café de Paris."
"Did he seem to be a man of means? You know what I mean?"
"He did himself very well at lunch and dinner, anyway," said Mapperley,
with another grin. "Bottle of claret at Dorking, and a pint of
champagne at the Café de Paris--big cigars, too. That sort of man, you
know."
Hetherwick considered matters a moment.
"How do you get in to this Vivian's Night Club?" he asked suddenly.
"Pay!" answered Mapperley laconically. "At the door. Some nonsense
about being proposed, but that's all bosh! Two of you go--say Brown
and Smith. Brown proposes Smith and Smith proposes Brown. All rot!
Anybody can get in--with money."
"And what goes on there?"
"Dancing! Drinking! Devilry! Quite respectable, though," replied
Mapperley. "Been no prosecutions, anyway--so far."
"What time does it open?"
"Nine o'clock," answered Mapperley, with a suggestive grin. "In the
old days it didn't open till after the theatres. But now--earlier."
"Really not a night-club at all--in the old acceptation of the term,"
suggested Hetherwick. "Evening, really?"
"That's about it," agreed Mapperley. "Anyhow, it's Vivian's."
For the second time in the course of his investigations, Hetherwick's
thoughts turned to Boxley. Boxley's love of intimate acquaintance with
all sides of London life had doubtless led him to look in at Vivian's:
he would ask Boxley for some further information. And he looked up
Boxley at the club.
Boxley knew Vivian's well enough--innocent and innocuous now, said
Boxley, what with all these new regulations and so on: degenerated,
indeed--or improved, just whichever way you regarded it--into a supper
club and that sort of thing. Dancing?--oh yes, there was dancing, and
so on--but things had altered--altered.
"Well, I don't want to dance there, nor to go there at all, for that
matter, unless I'm obliged to," said Hetherwick. "What I want to know
is something about a man who, I believe, frequents the place--a
somewhat notable man."
"Describe him!" commanded Boxley.
Hetherwick retailed Rhona's description of Baseverie: Boxley nodded.
"I know that man--by sight," he said. "Seen him there. I believe he's
something to do with the proprietorship: that place is owned by a small
syndicate. But I don't know his name. I've seen him outside
too--round about Leicester Square and its purlieus."
Hetherwick went from Boxley to Matherfield and told him the result of
Mapperley's work.
"I know Vivian's, of course," said Matherfield. "Been in there two or
three times lately in relation to this five-pound note. Don't remember
seeing this man, though. But in view of what your clerk says, I'd like
to see him. Come with me. We'll go to-night."
"Make it Monday," suggested Hetherwick. "To-morrow, Sunday, I shall be
meeting Miss Hannaford again, and before we go to Vivian's I'd like to
know if she has anything to tell about the last visit of Baseverie to
Riversreade Court--the visit that Mapperley watched yesterday. She may
have."
"Monday night then," agreed Matherfield. "I don't know what we can
expect, but I'd certainly like to know who this man is and why he goes
to Lady Riversreade."
"No good, you may be sure!" said Hetherwick. "But we'll ferret it
out--somehow."
"Odd, that things seem to be centring round Vivian's!" mused
Matherfield. "The fiver--and now this. Well--Monday evening
then?--perhaps Miss Hannaford can supply a bit of extra news to-morrow."
Hetherwick, meeting Rhona at Victoria next day, found his arm grasped
in Rhona's right hand and himself twisted round.
"If you want to see Lady Riversreade in the flesh, there she is!"
whispered Rhona. "Came up by the same train--there, going towards the
bookstall; a tall man with her!"
At that moment Lady Riversreade turned to speak to a porter who was
carrying some light luggage for her, and Hetherwick had a full and good
view of her face and figure. A fine, handsome, capable-looking woman,
he said to himself, and one that once seen would not easily be
forgotten.
"Who's the man?" he asked, looking from Lady Riversreade to her
companion, a tall, bronzed man of military appearance, and apparently
of about her own age.
"Major Penteney," replied Rhona promptly. "He's a friend of hers, who
takes a tremendous interest in the Home--in fact, he acts as a sort of
representative of it here in town. He's often down at the Court--I
believe he's in love with her."
"Well-matched couple," observed Hetherwick, as the two people under
notice moved away towards the exit. "And what's Lady Riversreade come
up for?"
"Oh, I don't know that," replied Rhona. "She never tells me anything
about her private doings. I heard her say that she was going to Town
this morning and shouldn't be back until Tuesday, but that's all I
know."
"That man, Baseverie, came again on Friday?" suggested Hetherwick.
"But I know he did--Mapperley watched him. Anything happen?"
"Nothing--except that Lady Riversreade told me that if Dr. Baseverie
called he was to be brought in to her at once," answered Rhona. "He
came at the same time as before, and was with her an hour."
"Any signs on her part of being further upset?" asked Hetherwick.
"No--on the contrary she seemed quite cool and collected after he'd
gone," said Rhona. "Of course she made no reference to his visit."
"Has she never mentioned him to you?"
"Never! In spite of the fact that his professed object was to see the
Home and the patients, he's seen neither."
"Which shows that that was all a mere excuse to get speech with her!"
muttered Hetherwick. "Well--we're going to find out who this Dr.
Baseverie is! Matherfield and I intend to get in touch with him
to-morrow night."
But when the next night came Hetherwick's plans about the visit to
Vivian's were frustrated by an unexpected happening, and neither he nor
Matherfield as much as crossed the threshold of the night-club in
Candlestick Passage. They went there at ten o'clock: that, said
Matherfield, was a likely hour--between then and eleven-thirty the
place would be full of its habitual frequenters: the notion was to
mingle unobtrusively with whatever crowd chanced to be there and to
keep eyes and ears open for whatever happened to transpire.
Candlestick Passage, unfamiliar to Hetherwick until that evening,
proved to be one of the many narrow alleys which open out of St.
Martin's Lane in the neighbourhood of the theatres. It wore a very
commonplace, not to say shabby complexion, and there was nothing in its
atmosphere to suggest adventure or romance. Not was there anything
alluring about the entrance to Vivian's, which was merely a wide,
double doorway, ornamented by two evergreen shrubs set in tubs and
revealing swing-doors within, and a carpeted staircase beyond.
Hetherwick and Matherfield, however, never reached swing-doors or
staircase: as they approached the outer entrance a tall woman emerged,
and without so much as a look right or left turned down the passage
towards the street. She paid no attention to the two men as she walked
quickly past them--but Hetherwick softly seized his companion's arm.
"Lady Riversreade, by all that's wonderful!" he exclaimed under his
breath. "That woman!"
Matherfield turned sharply, gazing after the retreating figure.
"That," he said incredulously, "coming out of here? Certain?"
"Dead sure!" affirmed Hetherwick. "I knew her at once--I'd had a
particularly good look at her, yesterday. That's she!"
"What's she doing at Vivian's?" muttered Matherfield. "Queer, that!"
"But she's going away from it," said Hetherwick. "Come on!--let's see
where she goes. We can easily come back here. But why not follow her
first?"
"Good!" agreed Matherfield. "Come on then! easily keep her in sight."
Lady Riversreade at that moment was turning out of the passage, to her
left hand. When the two men emerged from it, she was already several
yards ahead, going towards St. Martin's Church. Her tall figure made
her good to follow, but Matherfield kept Hetherwick back; no use, he
said, in pressing too closely on your quarry.
"Tall as she is and tall as we are," he whispered, as they threaded in
out of the crowds on the pavement, "we can spot her at twenty yards.
Cautiously, now--she's making for the cab rank!"
They watched Lady Riversreade charter and enter a taxi-cab: in another
minute it moved away. But it had scarcely moved when Matherfield was
at the door of the next cab on the rank.
"You saw that cab go off with a tall woman in it?" he said to the
driver. "There!--just rounding the corner, know its driver?
Right!--follow it carefully. Note where it stops, and if the woman
gets out. Drive slowly past wherever that is, and then pull up a bit
farther on. Be sharp, now--this is----" he bent towards the man and
whispered a word or two: a second later he and Hetherwick were in the
cab and across the top side of Trafalgar Square.
"This is getting a bit thick, Mr. Hetherwick," remarked Matherfield.
"Your clerk tracks his man to Vivian's on Friday night, we find Lady
Riversreade coming out of Vivian's on Monday night. Now I shouldn't
think Lady Riversreade, whom we hear of chiefly as a humanitarian, a
likely sort of lady to visit Vivian's!"
"She came out of Vivian's, anyway!" replied Hetherwick.
"Then, of course, she'd been in!" said Matherfield. "But why? I
should say--to have a meeting with Baseverie, or with somebody
representing him, or having something to do with the business that took
him to Riversreade Court. What business is it? Has it anything to do
with our business? However, there's Lady Riversreade in that cab in
front, and we'll just follow her to find out where she goes--no doubt
she's bound for some swell West End hotel. And that knowledge will be
useful, for I may want to see her in the morning--to ask a question or
two."
"Somewhat early for that, isn't it?" suggested Hetherwick. "Do we know
enough?"
"Depends on what you call enough," replied Matherfield dryly. "What I
know is this: that man Granett was poisoned. He had on him a brand new
five-pound note. That note I've traced as far as Vivian's, where it
was certainly paid to some customer in change on the very day before
Granett and Hannaford's deaths: Vivian's is accordingly a place of
interest. Now I hear of a mysterious man visiting Lady
Riversreade--the man is tracked to Vivian's--I myself see Lady
Riversreade emerging from Vivian's. I think I must ask Lady
Riversreade what she knows about Vivian's and a certain Dr. Baseverie,
and, incidentally, if she ever heard of a place called Sellithwaite and
a police-superintendent named Hannaford? Eh! But we're leaving the
region of the fashionable hotels."
Hetherwick looked out of the window, what he saw seemed unfamiliar.
"We're going up Edgware Road," said Matherfield. He leaned out of the
cab and gave some further instructions to the driver. "I don't want to
arouse any suspicion there in front," he remarked, dropping into his
seat again. "The probability is that she's going to some private
house, and I don't want her to get any idea that she's followed.
Ah!--now we turn into Harrow Road."
The cab went away by Paddington Green, turned sharply at the Town Hall,
and made up St. Mary's Terrace. Presently it slowed down; proceeded
still more slowly; passed the other cab which had come to a standstill
in front of a block of high buildings; a few yards farther on it
stopped altogether. The driver got down from his seat and came to the
door.
"That tall lady!" he said confidentially. "Her as got into the other
cab. She's gone into St. Mary's Mansions--just below."
"Flats, aren't they?" asked Matherfield.
"That's it, sir," answered the driver. He looked down the street.
"Cab's going off again, sir. Porter came out and paid."
"That looks as if she was going to stay here awhile," remarked
Matherfield in an undertone. "Well, we'll get out, too, and take a
look round." He paid and dismissed the driver, and crossing over to
the opposite side of the roadway, pointed out to Hetherwick the block
of flats into which Lady Riversreade had disappeared. "Big place," he
muttered. "Regular rabbit-warren. However, no other entrance than
this--the old burial ground's at the back, no way out there, I do know
that! So she can't very well vanish that way."
"You're going to wait, then?" asked Hetherwick.
"I don't believe in starting out on any game unless I see it through,"
replied Matherfield. "Yes, I think we'll wait. But there's no
necessity to hang around in the open street. I know this
district--used to be at the police station round the corner. You see
all these houses on this side, Mr. Hetherwick? They're all
lodging-houses, and I know most of their keepers. Wait here a minute,
and I'll soon get a room that we can watch from, without being seen
ourselves."
He left Hetherwick standing under the shadow of a neighbouring high
wall, and went a little way down the street. Hetherwick heard him open
the gate of one of the little gardens and knock at a door. There some
little delay. Hetherwick passed the time in staring at the long rows
of lighted windows in the flats opposite, wondering to which of them
Lady Riversreade had gone and what she was doing there at all. It was
clear to him that this was some adventure connected with the mysterious
Baseverie and with Vivian's Night Club--but how, and of what nature?
Matherfield came back presently, cheerful and reassuring.
"Come along, Mr. Hetherwick!" he whispered. "There's a man
here--lodging-house keeper--who knows me. We can have his front
parlour window to watch from. Far better that than patrolling the
street. We shall be comfortable there."
"You're intent on watching, then?" said Hetherwick as they moved off.
"I'm not coming all that way for nothing," replied Matherfield. "I'm
going to follow her up till she settles for the night. That won't be
here; she'll be off to some hotel or other before long."
But Matherfield's prediction proved to be faulty. Time dragged slowly
by in the stuffy and shabby little room in which he and Hetherwick took
up a position and from the window of which Matherfield kept a constant
watch on the entrance of the flats, exactly opposite. Midnight came
and went, but nothing happened. And at half-past twelve Hetherwick
suggested that the game wasn't worth the candle, and that he should
prefer to depart.
"You do as you like, Mr. Hetherwick," said Matherfield, stifling a
suspicious yawn. "I'm sick enough of it, too. But here I stop till
she comes out--whether it's this side of breakfast or the other side!"
"And what then?" asked Hetherwick, half derisively.
"Then we'll see--or I'll see, if you're going--where she goes next!
Don't believe in half measures!" retorted Matherfield.
"Oh, I'll see it out!" said Hetherwick. "After all, it'll be daylight
soon."
Daylight came over the house-tops at four o'clock. They had seen
nothing up to then. But at twenty minutes to five Matherfield tugged
his companion's arm. Lady Riversreade, in a big ulster travelling-coat
and carrying a small suit-case, was emerging alone from the opposite
door.