"What's that?" rapped out Cleek, sitting up sharply. His interest
had been trapped, just as Mr. Narkom knew that it would. "Vanished
from a glass-room into which people were looking at the time? And
yet nobody saw the manner of his going, do you say?"
"That's it precisely. But the most astonishing part of the business
is the fact that, whereas the porter can bring at least three
witnesses to prove that he showed the boy into that glass-room,
and at least one to testify that he heard him speak to the occupant
of it, the two watchers who were looking into the place at the
time are willing to swear on oath that he not only did not enter
the place, but that the room was absolutely vacant at the period,
and remained so for at least an hour afterward. If that isn't a
mystery that will want a bit of doing to solve, dear chap, then you
may call me a Dutchman."
"Hum-m-m!" said Cleek reflectively. "How, then, am I to regard the
people who give this cross testimony--as lunatics or liars?"
"Neither, b'gad!" asseverated Narkom, emphatically. "I'll stake my
reputation upon the sanity and the truthfulness of every mother's son
and every father's daughter of the lot of them! The porter who
says he showed the boy into the glass-room I've known since he
was a nipper--his dad was one of my Yard men years ago--and the
two people who were looking into the place at the time, and who
swear that it was absolutely empty and that the lad _never_ came
into it----Look here, old chap, I'll let you into a bit of family
history. One of them is a distant relative of Mrs. Narkom--an
aunt, in fact, who's rather down in the world, and does a bit of
dressmaking for a living. The other is her daughter. They are two
of the straightest-living, most upright, and truly religious women
that ever drew the breath of life, and they wouldn't, either of
'em, tell a lie for all the money in England. There's where the
puzzle of the thing comes in. You simply have _got_ to believe
that that porter showed the boy into that room, for there are
reliable witnesses to prove it, and he has no living reason to lie
about it; and you have _got_ to believe that those two women are
speaking the truth when they say that it was empty at that period
and remained empty for an hour afterward. Also--if you will take on
the case and solve at the same time the mystery attending the
disappearance of both father and son--you will have to find out
where that boy went to, through whose agency he vanished, and for
what cause."
"A tall order that," said Cleek with one of his curious, one-sided
smiles. "Still, of course, mysteries which are humanly possible of
creation are humanly possible of solution, and--there you are. Who
is the client? Miss Larue? If so, how is one to be sure that she will
not again call a halt, and spoil a good 'case' before it is halfway
to completion?"
"For the best of reasons," replied Narkom earnestly. "Hers is
not the sole 'say' in the present case. Added to which, she is now
convinced that her suspicions in the former one were not well
grounded. The truth has come out at last, Cleek. She stopped all
further inquiry into the mysterious disappearance of her brother
because she had reason to believe that the elder Mr. Trent had
killed him for the purpose of getting possession of those jewels
to tide over a financial crisis consequent upon the failure of some
heavy speculations upon the stock market. She held her peace and
closed up the case because she loves and is engaged to be married to
his son, and she would have lost everything in the world sooner
than hurt his belief in the honour and integrity of his father."
"What a ripping girl! Gad, but there _are_ some splendid women in the
world, are there not, Mr. Narkom? What has happened, dear friend,
to change her opinion regarding the elder Mr. Trent's guilt?"
"The disappearance of the son under similar circumstances to that of
the father, and from the same locality. She knows now that the
elder Mr. Trent can have no part in the matter, since he is at
present in America, the financial crisis has been safely passed, and
the son--who could have no possible reason for injuring the lad, who
is, indeed, remarkably fond of him, and by whose invitation he
visited the building--is solely in charge and as wildly anxious as
man can be to have the abominable thing cleared up without delay.
He now knows why she so abruptly closed up the other case, and he
is determined that nothing under heaven shall interfere with the
prosecution of this one to the very end. It is he who is the client,
and both he and his fiancee will be here presently to lay the full
details before you."
"Here!" Cleek leaned forward in his chair with a sort of lunge as
he flung out the word, and there was a snap in his voice that fairly
stung. "Good heavens above, man! They mustn't come here. Get word
to them at once and stop them."
"It wouldn't be any use trying, I'm afraid, old chap; I expect they
are here already. At all events, I told them to watch from the other
side of the way until they saw me enter, and then to come in and go
straightway to the public tearoom and wait until I brought you to
them."
"Well, of all the insane----Whatever prompted you to do a madman's
trick like that? A public character like Miss Larue, a woman whom
half London knows by sight, who will be the target for every eye in
the tearoom, and the news of whose presence in the hotel will be all
over the place in less than no time! Were you out of your head?"
"Good lud! Why, I thought I'd be doing the very thing that would
please you, dear chap," bleated the superintendent, despairingly.
"It seemed to me such a natural thing for an actress to take tea
at a hotel--that it would look so innocent and open that nobody would
suspect there was anything behind it. And you always say that things
least hidden are hidden the most of all."
Cleek struck his tongue against his teeth with a sharp, clicking
sound indicative of mild despair. There were times when Mr. Narkom
seemed utterly hopeless.
"Well, if it's done, it's done, of course; and there seems only
one way out of it," he said. "Nip down to the tearoom as quickly
as possible, and if they are there bring them up here. It's only
four o'clock and there's a chance that Waldemar may not have returned
to the hotel yet. Heaven knows, I hope not! He'd spot you in a tick,
in a weak disguise like that."
"Then why don't you go down yourself and fetch them up, old chap?
He'd never spot _you_. Lord! your own mother wouldn't know you from
Adam in this spiffing get-up. And it wouldn't matter a tinker's curse
then if Waldemar was back or not."
"It would matter a great deal, my friend--don't deceive yourself
upon that point. For one thing, Captain Maltravers is registered at
the office as having just arrived from India after a ten years'
absence, and ten years ago Miss Margaret Larue was not only unknown
to fame, but must have been still in pinafores, so how was he to
have made her acquaintance? Then, too, she doesn't expect to see
me without you, so I should have to introduce myself and stop to
explain matters--yes, and even risk her companion getting excited and
saying something indiscreet, and those are rather dangerous affairs
in a public tearoom, with everybody's eyes no doubt fixed upon the
lady. No, you must attend to the matter yourself, my friend; so nip
off and be about it. If the lady and her companion are there,
just whisper them to say nothing, but follow you immediately. If they
are not there, slip out and warn them not to come. Look sharp--the
situation is ticklish!"
And just how ticklish Mr. Narkom realized when he descended and
made his way to the public tearoom. For the usual four o'clock
gathering of shoppers and sightseers was there in full force,
the well-filled room was like a hive full of buzzing bees who
were engaged in imparting confidences to one another, the name of
"Margaret Larue" was being whispered here, there and everywhere, and
all eyes were directed toward a far corner where at a little round
table Margaret Larue herself sat in company with Mr. Harrison
Trent engaged in making a feeble pretence of enjoying a tea which
neither of them wanted and upon which neither was bestowing a
single thought.
Narkom spotted them at once, made his way across the crowded room,
said something to them in a swift, low whisper, and immediately
became at once the most envied and most unpopular person in the
whole assembly; for Miss Larue and her companion arose instantly
and, leaving some pieces of silver on the table, walked out with him
and robbed the room of its chief attraction.
All present had been deeply interested in the entire proceeding, but
none more so than the tall, distinguished looking foreign gentleman
seated all alone at the exactly opposite end of the room from the
table where Miss Larue and her companion had been located; for his
had been the tensest kind of interest from the very instant Mr.
Narkom had made his appearance, and remained so to the last.
[Illustration: "Count Irma has told," said Narkom. "It's all out at
last and ... I know now. I'm to lose you."]
Even after the three persons had vanished from the room, he continued
to stare at the doorway through which they had passed, and the
rather elaborate tea he had ordered remained wholly untouched. A soft
step sounded near him and a soft voice broke in upon his unspoken
thoughts.
"Is not the tea to Monsieur's liking?" it inquired with all the
deference of the Continental waiter. And that awoke him from his
abstraction.
"Yes--quite, thank you. By the way, that was Miss Larue who just left
the room, was it not, Philippe?"
"Yes, Monsieur--the great Miss Larue: the most famous of all English
actresses."
"So I understand. And the lame man who came in and spoke to her--who
is he? Not a guest of the hotel, I am sure, since I have never seen
him here before."
"I do not know, Monsieur, who the gentleman is. It shall be the
first I shall see of him ever. It may be, however, that he is a
new arrival. They would know at the office, if Monsieur le Baron
desires me to inquire."
"Yes--do. I fancy I have seen him before. Find out for me who he is."
Philippe disappeared like a fleet shadow. After an absence of about
two minutes, he came back with the desired intelligence.
"No, Monsieur le Baron, the gentleman is not a guest," he announced.
"But he is visiting a guest. The name is Yard. He arrived about a
quarter of an hour ago and sent his card in to Captain Maltravers,
who at once took him up to his room."
"Captain Maltravers? So! That will be the military officer from
India, will it not?"
"Yes, Monsieur; the one with the fair hair and moustache who lunched
to-day at the table adjoining Monsieur le Baron's own."
"Ah, to be sure. And 'passed the time of day' with me, as they say
in this peculiar language. I remember the gentleman perfectly. Thank
you very much. There's something to pay you for your trouble."
"Monsieur le Baron is too generous! Is there any other service----"
"No, no--nothing, thank you. I have all that I require," interposed
the "Baron" with a gesture of dismissal.
And evidently he had; for five minutes later he walked into the
office of the hotel, and said to the clerk, "Make out my bill,
please--I shall be leaving England at once," and immediately
thereafter walked into a telephone booth, consulted his notebook, and
rang up 253480 Soho, and, on getting it, began to talk rapidly and
softly to some one who understood French.
Meantime Mr. Narkom, unaware of the little powder train he had
unconsciously lighted, had gone on up the stairs with his two
companions--purposely avoiding the lift that he might explain
matters as they went--piloted them safely to the suite occupied by
"Captain Maltravers," and at the precise moment when "Baron Rodolf
de Montravanne" walked into the telephone booth, Cleek was meeting
Miss Larue for the first time since those distressing days of
eleven months ago, and meeting Mr. Harrison Trent for the first
time ever.