IN WHICH ENID ORLEBAR IS PUZZLED
THAT night, around the general's dinner-table in Hill Street, a dozen or
so well-known men and women were assembled.
Sir Hugh Elcombe's dinners were always smart gatherings. The table was
set with Georgian silver and decorated daintily with flowers, while
several of the women wore splendid jewels. At the head sat Lady Elcombe,
a quiet, rather fragile, calm-faced woman in black, whose countenance
bore traces of long suffering, but whose smile was very sweet.
Among the guests was Walter Fetherston, whom the general had at last
induced to visit him, and he had taken in Enid, who looked superb in a
cream décolleté gown, and who wore round her throat a necklet of
turquoise matrices, admirably suited to her half-barbaric beauty.
Fetherston had only accepted the general's invitation at her urgent
desire, for she had written to White's telling him that it was imperative
they should meet--she wished to consult him; she begged of him to forget
the interview at Monifieth and return to her.
So, against his will, he had gone there, though the house and all it
contained was hateful to him. With that terrible secret locked within his
heart--that secret which gripped his very vitals and froze his blood--he
looked upon the scene about him with horror and disgust. Indeed, it was
only by dint of self-control that he could be civil to his host.
His fellow-guests were of divers types: a couple of peers and their
womenkind, a popular actor-manager, two diplomats, and several military
men of more or less note--two of them, like the host, occupying high
positions at the War Office.
Such gatherings were of frequent occurrence at Hill Street. It was
popularly supposed that Sir Hugh, by marrying His Majesty's Minister's
widow, had married money, and was thus able to sustain the position he
did. Other military men in his position found it difficult to make both
ends meet, and many envied old Hugh Elcombe and his wealthy wife. They
were unaware that Lady Orlebar, after the settlement of her husband's
estate, had found herself with practically nothing, and that her marriage
to Sir Hugh had been more to secure a home than anything else. Both had,
alas! been equally deceived. The general, believing her to be rich, had
been sadly disillusioned; while she, on her part, was equally filled with
alarm when he revealed to her his penurious position.
The world, of course, knew nothing of this. Sir Hugh, ever since his
re-marriage, had given good dinners and had been entertained in return,
therefore everybody believed that he derived his unusually large income
from his wife.
As he sat at table he laughed and chatted merrily with his guests, for on
such occasions he was always good company. Different, indeed, was his
attitude from when, at noon, he had stood with Weirmarsh in his own den
and pronounced his own fate.
The man who held him in that strange thraldom was seated at the table. He
had been invited three days ago, and had come there, perhaps, to taunt
him with his presence in those the last few hours of his life.
Only once the two men exchanged glances, for Weirmarsh was devoting all
his attention to young Lady Stockbridge. But when Sir Hugh encountered
the doctor's gaze he saw in his eyes open defiance and triumph.
In ignorance of the keen interest which the doctor across the table felt
in him, Walter Fetherston sat chatting and laughing with Enid. Once the
doctor, to whom he had been introduced only half an hour before,
addressed a remark to him to which he replied, at the same time
reflecting within himself that Weirmarsh was quite a pleasant
acquaintance.
He was unaware of that mysterious visit of inquiry to Monifieth, of that
remarkable cipher telegram afterwards dispatched to Brussels, or even of
the extraordinary influence that man in the well-worn evening suit
possessed over both his host and the handsome girl beside him.
When the ladies had left the table the doctor set himself out over the
cigarettes to become more friendly with the writer of fiction. Then
afterwards he rose, and encountering his host, who had also risen and
crossed the room, whispered in a voice of command: "You have reconsidered
your decision! You will commit no foolish and cowardly act? I see it in
your face. I shall call to-morrow at noon, and we will discuss the matter
further."
The general did not reply for a few seconds. But Weirmarsh had already
realised that reflection had brought his victim to a calmer state of
mind.
"I will not listen to you," the old man growled.
"But I shall speak whether you listen or not. Remember, I am not a man to
be fooled by talk. I shall be here at noon and lay before you a scheme
perhaps a little more practicable than the last one." And with that he
reached for some matches, turned upon his heel, and rejoined the man
against whom he had warned Enid--the only man in the world whom he
feared.
Before they rose Weirmarsh had ingratiated himself with his enemy. So
clever was he that Fetherston, in ignorance as to whom his fellow-guest
really was, save that he was a member of the medical profession, was
actually congratulating himself that he had now met a man after his own
heart.
At last they repaired to the pretty old-rose-and-gold drawing-room
upstairs, an apartment in which great taste was displayed in decoration,
and there several of the ladies sang or recited. One of them, a vivacious
young Frenchwoman, was induced to give Barrois's romance, "J'ai vu
fleurir notre dernier lilas!"
When she had concluded Enid, with whom Walter was seated, rose and passed
into the small conservatory, which was prettily illuminated with fairy
lights. As soon as they were alone she turned to him in eager distress,
saying: "Walter, do, I beg of you, beware of that man!"
"Of what man?" he asked in quick surprise.
"Of Doctor Weirmarsh."
"Why? I don't know him. I never met him until to-night. Who is he?"
"My stepfather's friend, but my enemy--and yours," she cried quickly,
placing her hand upon her heart as though to quell its throbbing.
"Is he well known?" inquired the novelist.
"No--only in Pimlico. He lives in Vauxhall Bridge Road, and his practice
lies within a radius of half a mile of Victoria Station."
"And why is he my enemy?"
"Oh, that I cannot tell."
"Why is he your stepfather's friend?" asked Fetherston. "They certainly
seem to be on very good terms."
"Doctor Weirmarsh's cunning and ingenuity are unequalled," she declared.
"Over me, as over Sir Hugh, he has cast a kind of spell--a----"
Her companion laughed. "My dear Enid," he said, "spells are fictions of
the past; nobody believes in them nowadays. He may possess some influence
over you, but surely you are sufficiently strong-minded to resist his
power, whatever it may be?"
"No," she replied, "I am not. For that reason I fear for myself--and for
Sir Hugh. That man compelled Sir Hugh to take me to him for a
consultation, and as soon as I was in his presence I knew that his will
was mine--that I was powerless."
"I don't understand you," said Fetherston, much interested in this latest
psychic problem.
"Neither do I understand myself," she answered in bewilderment. "To me
this man's power, fascination--whatever you may term it--is a complete
mystery."
"I will investigate it," said Fetherston promptly. "What is his address?"
She told him, and he scribbled it upon his shirt-cuff. Then, looking into
her beautiful countenance, he asked: "Have you no idea of the nature of
this man's influence over Sir Hugh?"
"None whatever. It is plain, however, that he is master over my
stepfather's actions. My mother has often remarked to me upon it," was
her response. "He comes here constantly, and remains for hours closeted
with Sir Hugh in his study. So great is his influence that he orders our
servants to do his bidding."
"And he compelled Sir Hugh to take you to his consulting room, eh? Under
what pretext?"
"I was suffering from extreme nervousness, and he prescribed for me with
beneficial effect," she said. "But ever since I have felt myself beneath
his influence in a manner which I am utterly unable to describe. I do not
believe in hypnotic suggestion, or it might be put down to that."
"But what is your theory?"
"I have none, except--well, except that this man, essentially a man of
evil, possesses some occult influence which other men do not possess."
"Yours is not a weak nature, Enid," he declared. "You are not the sort of
girl to fall beneath the influence of another."
"I think not," she laughed in reply. "And yet the truth is a hard and
bitter one."
"Remain firm and determined to be mistress of your own actions," he
urged, "and in the meantime I will cultivate the doctor's acquaintance
and endeavour to investigate the cause of this remarkable influence of
his."
Why did Doctor Weirmarsh possess such power over Sir Hugh? he wondered.
Could it be that this man was actually in possession of the truth? Was he
aware of that same terrible and hideous secret of which he himself was
aware--a secret which, if exposed, would convulse the whole country, so
shameful and scandalous was it!
He saw how pale and agitated Enid was. She had in her frantic anxiety
sought his aid. Only a few days ago they had parted; yet now, in the
moment of her fear and apprehension, she had recalled him to her side to
seek his advice and protection.
She had not told him of that mysterious warning Weirmarsh had given her
concerning him, or of his accurate knowledge of their acquaintanceship.
She had purposely refrained from telling him this lest her words should
unduly prejudice him. She had warned Walter that the doctor was his
enemy--this, surely, was sufficient!
"Try and discover, if you can, the reason of the doctor's power over my
father, and why he is for ever directing his actions," urged the girl.
"For myself I care little; it is for Sir Hugh's sake that I am trying to
break the bonds, if possible."
"You have no suspicion of the reason?" he repeated, looking seriously
into her face. "You do not think that he holds some secret of your
stepfather's? Undue influence can frequently be traced to such a source."
She shook her head in the negative, a blank look in her great, dark eyes.
"No," she replied, "it is all a mystery--one which I beg of you, Walter,
to solve, and"--she faltered in a strange voice--"and to save me!"
He pressed her hand and gave her his promise. Then for a second she
raised her full red lips to his, and together they passed back into the
drawing-room, where their re-entry in company did not escape the sharp
eyes of the lonely doctor of Pimlico.