DEFEATED
Virginia drew a little breath of relief. After all it had been very
easy. She had simply walked into the flats, entered the lift, ascended
to the fifth floor, opened the door of No. 57, and walked in. She had
had a moment of fear lest there should be a servant in the rooms, but it
was a fear which proved groundless. She had found herself in a tiny
hall, with closed doors in front and on the right of her, and an open
one on the left leading into a small, plainly furnished but comfortable
sitting-room. This she entered, and closed the door behind her. At last
she was in Norris Vine's sanctum.
She drew a little breath, half of relief, half of excitement, and then
repenting at the closed door, quietly opened it, and left it about a
foot ajar. She looked round the room with a swift comprehensive glance.
There was only one place where it seemed possible that papers of
importance might be hidden, a small desk with pigeon-holes, before the
window. She sat down in front of it, and methodically, one by one, she
examined every paper she found, bills, receipts, prospectuses,
charitable appeals, circulars, memoranda of literary matter. She found
many of these, but nothing in the least like the paper for which she was
in search.
With a little sigh she closed the desk, and, turning away from it,
seated herself in the easy-chair in front of the fireplace. Almost as
she did so she received a shock which sent the blood tingling through
her body. The outer door had opened very softly. She had the idea that
some one was standing outside hesitating whether to enter. Thoughts
flashed quickly through her mind. This was not Norris Vine, or he would
have entered his own room without hesitation. She affected to be
absorbed in the magazine which she had picked up, but it was almost
certain, from the fact that the door was gently pushed open another inch
or two, that some one was looking through the chink. She read on
unmoved, although she even fancied that she could hear the stifled
breathing of some one peering into the room. Then she heard the door of
the room outside, his bedroom without a doubt, softly opened. The
intruder, whoever he might be, had evidently stolen in there.
Virginia laid down her magazine for a moment, and with half-closed eyes
tried to think. Within the next room, only a few yards away, and nearer
to the door leading into the flat than she herself was, was hiding the
person who for two thousand five hundred pounds was proposing to rid the
world of Norris Vine. What would happen if she sat still? If Norris Vine
should come in, and it was almost the time at which he was expected, his
assailant would probably be waiting behind the door. She had no doubt
but that the attack would be swift and sudden, and that once made some
means would be taken to keep her a prisoner in the room where she now
was, or perhaps there might be even worse things in store for her. In
any case, within a few yards of her a man lay in hiding with murder in
his heart, and between them the closed door which might at any moment be
opened. What chance would she have to warn Norris Vine? None at all!
She rose to her feet and sat down again. The very thought of moving
nearer to the room where this man was waiting filled her with horror,
and yet it was surely as dangerous to remain where she was, too far away
to warn any one entering, and herself at the mercy of the conqueror in
the brief struggle. Her breath began to come more quickly as she
realized that she was trapped. Probably that man in the next room knew
all about her, knew just why she was there, and had made up his mind how
to deal with her. She found herself listening in ever-deepening horror
for that turn of the handle which should signal the coming of the man
for whom they both waited. Intervention of any sort would be welcome. An
intervention came, in a manner as commonplace as it was startling. The
bell of a telephone instrument on the top of the desk began to ring. A
moment's breathless indecision, and then she walked to the instrument
and took the receiver in her hand. Simultaneously she heard a stealthy
movement outside. Her fellow-watcher, whoever he might be, had also made
up his mind to know who was ringing up Norris Vine so late.
"Who's that?" the voice asked abruptly.
"Coniston Mansions, No. 57," Virginia answered, disguising her voice as
much as possible.
"Yes! but who is it in my rooms? That isn't Janion's voice, is it?"
Then Virginia knew that the person who spoke was Norris Vine himself,
and before every word she uttered she hesitated, thinking always of the
listener outside.
"No, it's not Janion," she answered. "What do you want?"
"I wanted to know whether my servant was there," the voice replied. "Who
are you, and what are you doing in my rooms?"
"Gone into the country?" Virginia said, speaking in a loud tone of
surprise. "You mean that he will not be here to-night, after all?"
The voice down the telephone came angry and perplexed.
"What the devil are you talking about?" it asked. "I am Norris Vine, and
I am speaking into my own rooms. I want to know who you are, and what
are you doing there."
"Then I think," Virginia continued, still speaking loudly, "that you
might be a little more careful before you send me on a fool's errand
like this. Here have I been waiting for half an hour for a man who you
declared was certain to come here before eleven o'clock. Now you tell me
that he is not returning to-night at all, gone into the country, or some
rubbish. Why can't you make sure of your facts? You seem to repeat any
stuff that's told you, and then think that it doesn't matter so long as
you say that you're sorry. How about my wasted time sitting here, to
say nothing of the risk of being taken for a thief!"
"If you don't tell me who you are at once," the voice came back, "I
shall send a policeman round. Can't you understand that I want my man
Janion? I want him to bring my evening clothes to the club. If you don't
tell me who you are, and what you are doing in my rooms, I shall be
round there with a policeman in five minutes."
"Of course I shan't stop," Virginia replied, still in a loud voice.
"What on earth is there to stop for if the man isn't coming back for
several days? I shall be away before the police can come. Ring
off, please."
"I don't know who the devil you are," the voice came back, "but I jolly
soon will. You'll have to hurry, my friend, if you mean to get away. I
am going to ring up the manager's office."
Virginia threw down the receiver. She hesitated for a moment before the
looking-glass, as though straightening her hat--in reality to give the
listener outside time to get back once more into hiding. Then she walked
with fast beating heart and steady footsteps towards the door. She
opened it boldly. The little hall was empty; the door of the room
opposite, which had been closed when she had entered, was ajar now, but
there were no signs of any living person. She opened the door leading
into the corridor and safety. For the first time she noticed that the
key was in the inside. She withdrew it, passed out, closed the door,
and stood in safety in the corridor. Thoughts chased one another through
her mind. She had only to lock the door on the outside, call for help,
and the person who had waited with her for Norris Vine's return was
caught in a trap. Would there be any advantage in it? Would she be able
to clear herself?
Reluctantly she decided that it was better to let him go. She rang for
the lift, and then turned with fascinated eyes to watch the door leading
into Norris Vine's apartments. The lights were very dim on the landing.
There were no servants or any one about. She watched the closed door
with fascinated eyes. What if it should open before the lift came! She
rang again, kept her finger upon the bell; then with a great sense of
relief she heard the creaking of the wire rope, and saw the top of the
lift beginning to ascend. It drew level with her, and the page-boy threw
open the iron door. Almost at that moment she saw the door of Norris
Vine's apartment softly opened from the inside. She sank down upon
the seat.
"Down, please!" she said, and the lift began to descend. Her safety was
assured. She turned to the boy. "Does Mr. Vine generally come up this
way to his rooms?" she asked.
"Always at night, miss," the boy answered. "The other lift don't run
after eleven."
She reached the hall. The commissionaire opened the doors and she
passed out into the street. She crossed the road, and stood perfectly
still watching the entrance. Five, ten minutes passed; then a man came
out in evening dress, with silk hat, and a white handkerchief around his
neck. He was smoking a cigarette, and he carried a silver-headed cane.
Virginia crossed the road once more, and, trusting to the crowd, kept
within a few yards of him. He turned to the edge of the curb and
called a hansom.
"Claridge's Hotel!" he said. "As quick as you can, cabby!"
She gave a little start. Not only had she recognized the voice of the
man who had sat behind her in the café that afternoon, but she also knew
at once that this was one of the three men who had sat opposite her only
an hour or so ago at dinner!