A KIND UNCLE
Ralph crept toward the door. Marion came close to him, her hands
fumbling nervously with the bolts and bars. Some of the bars were heavy,
and Marion was fearful lest they should fall with a clang and betray
her.
Ralph stretched out his hand and drew back a bolt.
"Allow me to assist you," he said. "I am used to this kind of work."
A scream rose to Marion's lips, but she suppressed it. The effort set
her trembling from head to foot. Yet it seemed to her that there was no
cause to be frightened, for she had never heard Ralph's voice so kind
before.
"Uncle," she stammered, "what are you doing here?"
By way of reply Ralph opened the door. He gave the sign for Marion to
precede him, and then followed her out into the night. The heavy door
closed behind him.
"I might with equal justice ask you the same question," he said. "Nay,
more; because you are merely a young girl and I am a man. And you know I
don't sleep like most virtuous people. I suffer from insomnia and never
sleep for long anywhere. Perhaps I am like the cat who prowls about all
night and slumbers in the daytime. But where are you going?"
"Uncle Ralph, I cannot tell you. It is a secret. If you knew everything
you would pity me."
There was a deepening ring in Marion's voice. Ralph caressed her hand
tenderly.
"Don't trouble," he said. "I know."
"You know where I am going. You--you know!"
"Certainly I do. I know everything, my dear."
"Not everything, uncle. Not of my connection with that woman, for
instance."
"Indeed I do, Marion."
"You are aware of our relationship! You know that!"
"My dear child, I have known it for years. But your secret is safe with
me. I am not going to betray you. Could I have the heart to do so after
all you have done for my family? Angel Marion."
He repeated the last words over and over again in a low, caressing
voice, pressing the girl's hand softly as he did so. Even then Marion
was not sure whether he was in earnest or whether he was grimly
ironical.
"I never thought of this," Marion murmured.
"Perhaps not," Ralph replied. "Mrs. May is a bad woman, Marion."
"The worst in the world," Marion replied. "You only know her as Mrs.
May?"
"I only know her as she is, dear. And yet I feel that in some vague kind
of way she is mixed up with our family misfortunes. Oh, if I could only
see, if I could only use my eyes. Then I might know that woman still
better."
Marion shuddered at the steely, murderous tones. Ralph patted her hand
reassuringly.
"But you need not be afraid," he said. "You are all right--the brightest
angel in the world. You are torn by conflicting emotions; you fancy your
duty lies in certain directions, and you are troubled over it. And yet
it will come right in the end, Marion. We did not lose Geoffrey after
all."
"Thank God, no. And yet there is plenty of time."
"There is ample time for the right as well as the wrong, Marion. But do
not let us talk of the past any more, my dear. I am not going to pry
into your secrets, and I know how far to trust you. Let me walk part of
the way with you. I can wait by the barn till you return."
Marion raised no objection. It was the dead of night now and there was
no fear of meeting anybody. Yet Marion started uneasily as Ralph began
to whistle. She ventured to suggest that the noise was not prudent.
"Perhaps you are right," Ralph said amicably. "At any rate I will wait
here till your return. You have not far to go, of course?"
"I have a very little way to go, uncle. I am going to Jessop's farm."
Ralph nodded. The farm loomed up not far off. As Marion darted off Ralph
lighted his pipe and whistled again. Something moved in the bushes.
* * * * *
Meanwhile Tchigorsky and Geoffrey were nearing the window. Tchigorsky
moved on resolutely and confidently with the air of a man who is sure of
his ground. He put up his hand and fumbled for the catch. It gave at
once and the pair of burglars slipped quietly into the room.
"We shall be safe," he said as he proceeded to strike a match. "It is
just as well to take every precaution. What would the estimable Jessop
say if he could see into his parlor?"
Geoffrey smiled.
"He'd be astonished," he said, "a little dismayed, too. But he would say
nothing so long as I am here. Jessop would stand on his head for me."
The strong rays of the lamp lighted up the room. There were flowers
everywhere, dainty china on the table full of blooms, bowls filled with
choicest fruits. Wines sparkled in the crystal goblets on the sideboard,
a silver cigarette box was conspicuous, and on a safe lay an object to
which Tchigorsky called his companion's attention.
"What do you make that out to be?" he asked.
Geoffrey picked up the drapery. On the top of it lay something red with
a feather in it. It appeared to be a costume of some kind. As Geoffrey
held it aloft a light gradually broke in upon him.
"Well," Tchigorsky asked, "have you solved the problem?"
"I have," Geoffrey replied. "It is the blue dress and tam-o'-shanter
hat which have played so conspicuous a part lately. But what brings them
here? Has Mrs. May a companion hidden somewhere, a companion who might
be Marion's sister?"
"Seems like it," Tchigorsky said with a dry smile. "But I am not going
to enlighten you any further on that question at present. Mrs. May and
the girl in the blue dress are two separate people, anyway."
"You forget that I have seen them together," said Geoffrey.
"I had forgotten that. Well, it won't be long now before the identity of
the lady in the smart dress and coquettish hat is established. Meanwhile
we came here in search of something far more important than a woman's
costume. Help me to turn out all those drawers, and be careful to
replace everything exactly as you find it. We have a good three hours
before us and much depends upon the result of our search. Keep a keen
eye open for papers in any language that is unfamiliar to you."
For an hour the search proceeded and yet nothing came to light. There
were plenty of bills, most of them emanating from West End
establishments--accounts for dresses and flowers, boxes for theaters,
and the like, but nothing more.
Tchigorsky glanced keenly round the room.
"I am afraid we shall be compelled to show our hand," he said. "Mrs. May
is so clever that I half expected to find private papers in some simple
place, while an examination of her safe would disclose nothing. She has
not anticipated burglary and what I am looking for is in the safe."
"Dare you open it?" Geoffrey asked.
"And show my hand, you mean? I fancy so. We are so near success now that
it really does not matter. Put the safe on the table," replied
Tchigorsky.
The heavy iron box slipped as Geoffrey raised it and clanged on the
floor. An exclamation of anger and annoyance came from Tchigorsky and an
apology from the younger man. They both stood upright for a few minutes
listening intently. But the people upstairs were sleeping the sleep of
the just. There came no answering sound.
"Blessings upon the pure air and the high conscience that hold these
people," Tchigorsky muttered more amicably. "It's all right, my young
friend. Hoist up the box, and let us see if my little steel jimmy will
have any effect. I would rather have had the key. It is never well to
betray your plans if you can----"
The speaker paused. From outside a little way off there arose a long,
shrill scream, the cry of a woman in distress. The sound set Geoffrey's
blood leaping; he pushed for the window, but Tchigorsky detained him.
"Where are you going?" he asked sternly.
"Outside," Geoffrey exclaimed. "A woman is there. She asks for
assistance. Can you stand there calmly and see----"
"See you making an ass of yourself, eh? My dear boy, on my word of honor
there is no woman in danger yonder. In a measure I am glad to hear that
cry, though it proves to me that our allies have not been so artistic
over their work as they might have been. You will not hear that cry
again."
"Perhaps not," Geoffrey said, reassured considerably by Tchigorsky's
placid manner; "but I hear footsteps outside."
Tchigorsky smiled. He had taken some steel bits from his pocket, but he
replaced them again.
"If they are, then they are the footsteps of a friend," he said. "This
being so, there will be no need for me to give you lessons in the way
not to open a safe. Are you right? It seems as if the window was
opening."
The window was indeed opening. It moved half an inch, and then there was
a "hist," and something clanged on the floor. Tchigorsky took the matter
as coolly as if it had all been arranged beforehand. He did not move as
the window closed again and stealthy footsteps outside moved away.
"It is all right?" Geoffrey asked.
Tchigorsky smiled broadly.
"Splendid!" he said. "It could not have been better. My boy, this is the
night's work which is going to crown our endeavors. Yonder we have the
proofs, and here we have the means of getting them."
He picked the metallic object from the floor. He fitted it to the lock
of the safe, and instantly a mass of queer things was discovered.
Tchigorsky's eyes gleamed as he saw this; they positively flamed as he
turned out a lot of papers.
At the bottom was a book in metal covers. As Tchigorsky fluttered it
open a cry broke from him.
"Found!" he exclaimed, "found! We have them in the hollow of our hands."