THE MIDDLE DOOR
"Tell her two gentlemen for a consultation," Jack Manners announced at
Madame Veno's door, Nickson at his heels.
"Madame can see no more clients this afternoon, sir," replied the neat
woman in black silk. "She closes for business at six, and----"
"It's not six yet," cut in Jack.
"No, sir, but she has a lady with her now. I have orders to receive no
one else."
"Can't you forget those orders, and persuade her to make an exception
for us?" As he spoke, Manners took from his pocket a cigarette-case
and extracted from it a twenty-dollar bill.
It would have been simple--physically--to push past the spinster-like
person in black, but Jack could more easily have got over a high stone
wall. Luckily she liked the look of the bank-note.
"I might try, sir," she hesitated. "If trying's worth twenty dollars
to you."
"It is," he replied, promptly.
The money changed hands.
The woman in black silk ceased to bar the entrance with her neat person.
Jack walked into the flat, Nickson after him.
Again there was hesitation. Evidently their guide was not sure where
she ought to put them. Jack imagined that he could read her thoughts.
She feared to lead the forbidden visitors into the ordinary
waiting-room. Either there was someone there, or something that ought
not to be seen; or the room was next the one where Madame Veno was with
her "last client"--Juliet! In that case, words might be overheard
through a wall or door.
As he and Nick were invited into a dining room, Manners counted three
doors on the opposite side of the hall, all closed. Behind one of
those he believed Juliet to be hidden at that moment, probably in
process of being blackmailed. He made up his mind quickly as to a plan
of action, already half-decided on between Nickson and himself.
"We're in no great hurry, so long as we see Madame sooner or later," he
told the woman who had let them in. "We wouldn't think of having you
interrupt her."
"Oh! I shouldn't dare do _that_, sir!" she broke in, pocketing the
twenty dollars. As she spoke, Jack caught a glance of awed respect
which she cast across the corridor.
"_The middle door_," he said to himself.
"Of course not," he said, aloud. "We'll wait. How'll you know when
the client goes?"
"I expect Madame will ring for me to open the front door, and let the
lady out. That's what she usually does."
"Very well, when the lady's gone speak for us."
Perhaps the black-silk woman wondered why the nice young gentleman
hadn't given her ten dollars to try, and a promise of ten more if she
succeeded. But that was his affair. Personally, she didn't expect to
succeed. She was not acquainted with Madame's private business, but
there was certainly something of the first importance "on" this
afternoon. No clients had been admitted since four o'clock except the
beautiful blonde young lady who had announced herself the other day as
the Duchess of Claremanagh or some name like that. Before she was due
two gentlemen had come up and hadn't given their names. But Madame had
expected them, and they were still with her when the Duchess arrived.
The black-silk woman had seen those gentlemen before, though never
together. She had not much curiosity about them, for she was not of a
curious disposition. That, Madame said, was one reason why she had
engaged her. She had been a stewardess on board ship, but had disliked
the sea, especially during the war, when she had been torpedoed once.
Madame had crossed with her on three occasions, and the last time had
offered her this place. Some things she had seen had surprised and
even shocked her a little, but she was well paid, and dry land was a
good deal better than that nasty grey wet thing, the sea!
She felt that she had done right in putting these two new gentlemen
into the dining room. If Madame firmly refused to see them, they might
possibly be smuggled away without her knowing they had actually been
let into the flat.
"That elderly party isn't going to stay on watch," Jack said to
Nickson, when they had been shut into the commonplace little room where
Madame Veno ate her meals. "There's no uneasy curiosity in that meek
make-up."
"That's wot I was thinkin' myself, sir," agreed Old Nick.
"We're in luck so far," Jack went on. "It's time to begin
reconnoitring." He went to the door. "If that decent body is in the
hall, I shall ask her what time it is, and say my watch has gone
slow--which is more than my heart has!"
Nickson grinned.
Jack peered out into the white-and-red corridor. Nobody was there.
The red glass lamp suspended from the ceiling looked to him like a mass
of clotted blood.
He took two steps across to the middle door, and listened. Then he
returned hastily to Nick. "They're in there! I heard the Duchess's
voice. Sounds as if she were angry or frightened, or both. And there
are two or more men. You and I have got to open the door, locked or
unlocked."
"That's it, sir!" said Nickson. "But it won't be locked. Why should
it? They don't suspect nothin', and if there's two men, 'er Grice
couldn't get past 'em. You let me make a dash and see wot 'appens,
sir!"
"No," Jack decided, "the dash is my job. You stand by, and if there's
any dashing from the wrong side of the door, you'll know how to stop
it, male or female."
"Yes, sir!"
Manners went again to the middle door. As he moved, Nickson closed in
behind him, a substantial bulk, and in his eyes the light which made
"Old Nick" his right name. He stood in such a position that if any one
rushed for the front door or even some back exit, escape could be made
only over his body. He saw that Captain Manners took hold of the
doorknob with his left hand. The right hand was in the outer pocket of
his coat, and Nickson knew what else was there. A similar thing was in
a similar pocket of his own coat. It had been given to him by the
Captain, whom he now liked and respected next to the Duke.
Suddenly Manners turned the handle and flung the door wide open with
such violence that it struck the wall. He strode into the room.
Nickson blocked the doorway, but seeing with one glance that there was
a door leading to another room, he took a step back to guard both.
It was a very green room--green as arsenic, he thought--lighted by one
lamp, like a big emerald, on a centre table. Looking in from across
the threshold, however, Nick could see four figures besides Manners'.
There was the Duchess, tall and strangely white in a black dress and
wide hat. There was another woman without a hat, also in black; a big,
common hussy she looked to Nickson, with an eye like a fierce snake's.
And there were two men.
About the pair an odd thing was that they had some thin black stuff
tied over their faces. Captain Manners went for one man--the one who
seemed to show fight, and when the other (who hadn't spied Nick yet)
made for the door, Nick received him in open arms.
The big woman squealed, and the Duchess shrank back against the wall,
then started forward again.
"Oh, Jack!" she cried, "they mustn't be killed! They know where Pat
is. They say if they aren't back there soon, someone will put an end
to him!"
Nick saw the woman, Madame Veno, he didn't doubt, spring for the
electric-light button, but dragging his man with him, he was upon her
like a tiger. One hand was enough for the man, who must have been a
coward for he splashed about like a jelly with Nick's fist in his
collar. The other hand seized Madame's arm as it was stretched out,
and twisted it sharply. She gave a shriek, and sat down on the floor.
Then Nick became conscious of a stealthy intelligence in the jelly. It
was feeling toward his pocket, _the_ pocket. But before the groping
fingers reached their goal Nick had snatched out the Browning, and
pressed the muzzle against a crape-covered forehead.
There wasn't much time for looking round just then, but Nickson had
done observation work in the war. The sixth of a second showed him
that Captain Manners had reached this identical stage in his programme:
which meant that each had a man at his mercy.
"Take your mask off," ordered Jack.
"Same to you, my beauty," echoed Nick.
The two obeyed.
"Bill Lowndes!" cried Manners.
"Know this brute, sir?" enquired Nick.
"I do!" Juliet gasped. "Oh! you horrid wretch! And Bill Lowndes! I
shouldn't have dreamed----"
"They're nightmares, both of 'em," broke in Jack. "Now, Juliet, don't
be scared. That's all rot about Pat being done away with. Nick and I
are going to save time by making these--these _skunks_--tell us where
he is. But we've a minute or so to spare. They've kept Pat safe, I
bet, for the sake of the ransom they meant to get out of you. There's
a third-degree stunt going on in your house. Sanders is grilling
Defasquelle and Simone. It all comes back to this building that's like
the web of a black spider--the _Inner Circle_--and we'll repeat that
third-degree stunt here. Who's this man you call a wretch?"
"His name's Piggott," Juliet panted. "He--was editor of a hateful
paper in London--_Modern Ways_--almost as vile as the _Inner Circle_.
Emmy West introduced me to him. She said he wasn't bad really--if I'd
meet him he'd put nice things in his paper instead of
horrors--especially about Pat. I said 'Yes' for Pat's sake--Emmy
insisted so. He came to Harridge's, where I was staying, but before he
or I had time to speak, Pat was shown in. He gave one look, and begged
me to go out--to leave this man to him. I had never seen Pat like
that--and I went. I never even heard the wretch's voice or I'd have
recognized it, I think. He came here and talked to me three days
ago--with this mask on. Now Bill Lowndes comes with him. I don't know
yet how or why he should be mixed up----"
"I do," said Jack. "It's because they're both concerned with the
_Inner Circle_, on the floor below. They've had Simone in their pay,
selling them news, and as for the pearls----"
"Oh! if you'll let my husband go, I'll tell you everything!" wailed
Madame Veno; stumbling up from the floor. "That's my husband, Sam
Piggott. He's got nothing to do with the _Inner Circle_, except a
little interest he's bought, because the owner is my step-brother. I'm
English, and Sam's Irish, and our being in this business is an
accident. It was all the Duke's fault and Markoff's fault----"
"Shut your mouth," grunted the big man whom Old Nick held--a man few
others could have held at all.
"Shut yours--that's more to the point!" said Nickson. Apparently he
meant the pistol's point. And Piggott was silenced.
"Will you let him go if I tell you things?" repeated the woman,
shuddering at Nick's gesture.
"That depends on how much you can tell," decided Jack, coolly.
"I can tell _everything_," she moaned.
"Begin by telling where the Duke is."
Both men started, but collapsed. Madame Veno choked and went on:
"He's in a room downstairs--in the basement. He's been there all the
time. What happened was like this: The Duke came one night to the
office--I mean of the _Inner Circle_. He'd heard the editor would be
there. I may as well tell you he'd got an anonymous letter to say so.
It was found in his pocket. The Duchess's maid or Mademoiselle's
French pal is sure to have sent it, wanting to get the Duke out of
their way. And they _did_ get him out! It was the night of the first
'Whisper' about the pearls and Pavoya calling at the Phayre house. The
Duke got into the place by a trick--sent word by an office boy that he
had information to give. He was let into a room divided by a partition
from the one where my step-brother was--the editor. You have to say
what you've got to say by telephone there. You don't see any one. But
the Duke guessed who was on the other side. He put the chair on the
table, and climbed up, so he could get over the partition. He'd
wrenched off the receiver from the 'phone, to hit my step-brother with.
When he was going for him my husband heard the row, and ran in from
another room. He didn't make any noise, but came up from behind and
cracked the Duke over the back of the head with a big ruler. He had a
right to do that, because the Duke horsewhipped him publicly in London
for what he'd published in _Modern Ways_, and spoiled England for us
both. That's why we came to New York, and I took over the 'Madame
Veno' business. I was 'Madame Ayesha' in Bond Street, and wore
Egyptian dress. I told you it was an accident we were mixed up in
this. It wasn't my husband's fault. He _had_ to defend his
brother-in-law against a cowardly attack like that!
"As for Mr. Lowndes, he hated the Duke for marrying Miss Phayre--just
as Lady West (who used to send us lots of news about folks she didn't
like in London and Paris) hated Miss Phayre for marrying the Duke. Mr.
Lowndes is one of the 'Whisperer' lot. I mean he's one of several men
who put together the 'Whisperer' stuff that comes out under one name.
He was in the office that night, and so was Markoff the Russian! Your
private detective was after Markoff----"
"More about him and the others by-and-by," Manners cut her short almost
gently, "Nick, would you like the job of going down to look for the
Duke?"
"I would that, sir!" Nickson answered. "I'll give this big chap a
smash the way he did 'is Grice, and put him out o' count for while I'm
way."
"No need for that. See if he's armed."
Nickson "went through" his prisoner's pockets. There was only a
pocket-knife, for Piggott and Lowndes had expected to meet no one more
formidable than the Duchess of Claremanagh.
Lowndes was also unarmed.
"That's all right," pronounced Jack. "I and a Browning can keep the
pair and Madame, too, in order. No, on second thoughts take her down
with you. She'll show you the way, won't you, Madame?"
"Needs must, when the Devil drives," she snapped.
"Thanks for the compliment," laughed Jack. "If any one knows the
gentleman by sight, it must be you!"
"I shall go with them," Juliet said.
"Of course!" agreed Manners.
Madame Veno turned and glared at her. "You gave us away in spite of
your promise. You deserve to see what you _will_ see down there. A
dead man--killed by your husband. You'll save your dear Duke only to
have him sent to the chair."
Juliet gave her look for look. "I didn't give you away. I did not
dream my cousin was coming here! And I'd know by your face, even if I
didn't know Claremanagh, that he has killed no man. If there's a dead
man where my husband is, someone else committed the murder."
"Hear, hear! your Grice!" shouted Nickson, before he could remember to
be respectful.
Suddenly Juliet heard herself laughing. Then she began to sob: "Oh,
Pat--Pat! Nick, take me to him!"
Nickson flung Piggott across the room, and grabbed Madame Veno by the
arm.
The next thing the Duchess knew, the door had shut behind them. Jack
was left alone with the two men. But Juliet had forgotten Jack.