After that first horrible moment it was perhaps Anna who was the more
self-possessed. She dropped on her knees by his side, and gently
unbuttoned his waistcoat. Then she looked up at Brendon.
"You must fetch a doctor," she said. "I do not think that he is quite
dead."
"And leave you here alone?" he asked, in a hoarse whisper. "Come with
me."
"I am not afraid," she answered. "Please hurry."
He reeled out of the room. Anna was afterwards astonished at her own
self-possession. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the
blood seemed to be coming from. Then she stood up and looked around
the room.
There were no evidences of any struggle, no overturned chairs or
disarranged furniture. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt
paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. On
the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. Anna saw it,
and for the first time found herself trembling.
She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front
of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with
damning insistence. It was Annabel's. The lace was family lace, easily
recognizable. The perfume was the only one she ever used. Annabel had
been here then. It was she who had come out from the flat only a few
minutes before. It was she----
Anna's nerves were not easily shaken, but she found herself suddenly
clutching at the table for support. The room was reeling, or was it
that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme
effort. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. She took up
the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. Almost at the same moment
the door opened and Brendon entered, followed by the doctor.
Anna turned round with a start, which was almost of guilt, the poker
still in her hand. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man,
between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire.
Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her
side and took the poker from her.
"Forgive me, madam," he said stiffly, "but in such a case as this it
is better that nothing in the room should be disturbed until the
arrival of the police. You have been burning paper, I see."
"Are you a detective or a doctor?" she asked calmly. "Do you need me
to remind you that your patient is bleeding to death?"
He dropped on his knees by the man's side and made a hurried
examination.
"Who tied this scarf here?" he asked, looking up.
"I did," Anna answered. "I hope that it has not done any harm."
"He would have been dead before now without it," the doctor answered
shortly. "Get me some brandy and my bag."
It was nearly half an hour before they dared ask him the question.
"Will he live?"
The doctor shook his head.
"It is very doubtful," he said. "You must send for the police at once,
you know. You, sir," he added, turning to Brendon, "had better take my
card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that
Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business."
"Is it necessary to send for the police?" Anna asked.
"Absolutely," the doctor answered, "and the sooner the better. This is
a case either of suicide or murder. The police are concerned in it in
either event."
"Please go then, Mr. Brendon," Anna said. "You will come back, won't
you?"
He nodded cheerfully.
"Of course I will," he answered.
The doctor and Anna were left alone. Every moment or two he bent over
his patient. He seemed to avoid meeting Anna's eyes as much as
possible.
"Does he live here?" he asked her presently.
"No."
"Far away?"
"I have no idea," Anna answered.
"Who is the tenant of these rooms?" he inquired.
"I am."
"You will have no objection to his remaining here?" he asked. "A move
of any sort would certainly be fatal."
"Of course not," Anna said. "Had he better have a nurse? I will be
responsible for anything of that sort."
"If he lives through the next hour," the doctor answered, "I will send
some one. Do you know anything of his friends? Is there any one for
whom we ought to send?"
"I know very little of him beyond his name," Anna answered. "I know
nothing whatever of his friends or his home. He used to live in a
boarding-house in Russell Square. That is where I first knew him."
The doctor looked at her thoughtfully. Perhaps for the first time he
realized that Anna was by no means an ordinary person. His patient was
distinctly of a different order of life. It was possible that his
first impressions had not been correct.
"Your name, I believe, is----"
"Pellissier," Anna answered.
"Allow me," the doctor said, "to give you a word of advice, Miss
Pellissier. A detective will be here in a few moments to make
inquiries into this affair. You may have something to conceal, you may
not. Tell the whole truth. It always comes out sooner or later. Don't
try to shield anybody or hide anything. It is bad policy."
Anna smiled very faintly.
"I thank you for your advice," she said. "I can assure you that it was
quite unnecessary. I know less about this affair perhaps than you
suppose. What I do know I shall have no hesitation in telling anyone
who has the right to ask."
"Just so," the doctor remarked drily. "And if I were you I would keep
away from the fire."
Brendon reappeared, followed by a tall thin man with a stubbly brown
moustache and restless grey eyes. The doctor nodded to him curtly.
"Good evening, Dorling," he said. "Before you do anything else I
should advise you to secure those charred fragments of paper from the
grate. I know nothing about this affair, but some one has been burning
documents."
The detective went down on his hands and knees. With delicate touch he
rescued all that was possible of them, and made a careful little
parcel. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded
man.
"Shot through the lungs," he remarked.
The doctor nodded.
"Bad hemorrhage," he said. "I am going to fetch some things that will
be wanted if he pulls through the next hour. I found him lying like
this, the bleeding partly stopped by this scarf, else he had been dead
by now."
The doctor glanced towards Anna. Considering his convictions he felt
that his remark was a generous one. Anna's face however was wholly
impassive.
He took up his hat and went. The detective rapidly sketched the
appearance of the room in his notebook, and picked up the pistol from
under the table. Then he turned to Anna.
"Can you give me any information as to this affair?" he asked.
"I will tell you all that I know," Anna said. "My name is Anna
Pellissier, sometimes called Annabel. I am engaged to sing every
evening at the 'Unusual' music hall. This man's name is Montague
Hill. I saw him first a few months ago at Mrs. White's boarding-house
in Russell Square. He subjected me there to great annoyance by
claiming me as his wife. As a matter of fact, I had never spoken to
him before in my life. Since then he has persistently annoyed me. I
have suspected him of possessing a skeleton key to my apartments.
To-night I locked up my flat at six o'clock. It was then, I am sure,
empty. I dined with a friend and went to the 'Unusual.' At a quarter
past eleven I returned here with this gentleman, Mr. Brendon. As we
turned the corner of the street, I noticed that the electric light was
burning in this room. We stopped for a moment to watch it, and almost
immediately it was turned out. We came on here at once. I found the
door locked as usual, but when we entered this room everything was as
you see. Nothing has been touched since."
The detective nodded.
"A very clear statement, madam," he said. "From what you saw from the
opposite pavement then, it is certain that some person who was able to
move about was in this room only a minute or so before you entered
it?"
"That is so," Anna answered.
"You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?"
"No one," Anna answered firmly.
"Then either this man shot himself or some one else shot him
immediately before your arrival--or rather if it was not himself the
person who did it was in the room, say two minutes, before you
arrived."
"That is so," Anna admitted.
"I will not trouble you with any questions about the other occupants
of the flats," Mr. Dorling said. "I shall have to go through the
building. You say that this gentleman was with you?"
"I was," Brendon answered, "most providentially."
"You did not notice anything which may have escaped this lady? You saw
no one leave the flats?"
"No one," Brendon answered.
"You heard no pistol-shot?"
"None."
The detective turned again to Anna.
"You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?" he
asked.
"No."
"There is no one else who has a key to your rooms?"
"No one except my maid, who is away in Wiltshire."
"The inference is, then," the detective said smoothly, "that this man
obtained admission to your rooms by means of a false key, that he
burnt some papers here and shot himself within a few moments of your
return. Either that or some other person also obtained admission here
and shot him, and that person is either still upon the premises or
escaped without your notice."
"I suppose," Anna said, "that those are reasonable deductions."
The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket.
"I brought a man with me who is posted outside," he remarked. "With
your permission I should like to search the remainder of your rooms."
Anna showed him the way.
"Have either of you been out of this room since you discovered what
had happened?" he asked.
"Mr. Brendon went for the doctor," Anna answered. "I have not left
this apartment myself."
Nothing unusual was discovered in any other part of the flat. While
they were still engaged in looking round the doctor returned with a
nurse and assistant.
"With your permission," he said to Anna, "I shall arrange a bed for
him where he is. There is scarcely one chance in a dozen of saving his
life; there would be none at all if he were moved."
"You can make any arrangements you like," Anna declared. "I shall
leave the flat to you and go to a hotel."
"You would perhaps be so good as to allow one of my men to accompany
you and see you settled," Mr. Dorling said deferentially. "In the
event of his death we should require you at once to attend at the
inquest."
"I am going to pack my bag," Anna answered. "In five minutes I shall
be ready."
_Chapter XXV_