A MIDNIGHT EXCURSION TO THE SUBURBS.
During the earlier part of the evening, since we had left the hotel, my
companion had shown no disposition to talk. On the contrary, his silence
amounted almost to moroseness, and he had not always answered my
questions. But immediately we had started on this new expedition his
manner underwent a complete change. He seemed to lay himself out with
feverish eagerness to entertain me and to absorb my attention.
"I hope you're not tired," he said suddenly, at the end of one of his
anecdotes. "We have rather a long drive before us."
"Not in the least," I assured him. "What is the place we are going to?"
"A sort of private club. In confidence, I'll tell you why it is so far
out of the way. Some of the members are fond of playing a little high,
and have started a roulette board. That sort of thing is best kept quiet,
you know."
"The place is a gambling-club, then?"
"Something of that sort," he acknowledged. "I shouldn't dream of taking
you there if it wasn't for the sake of meeting Marx. You understand?"
"Perfectly, thanks. Save for that reason I shouldn't think of going."
"What an infernal night!" he exclaimed, looking out of the carriage for a
moment; "almost enough to give one the miserables. Come, we'll shut it
out." He struck a match and, turning round, lit a lamp which was fixed at
the back of the carriage. Then he quietly pulled down the blinds and
began to tell me a story, of which I heard not a word. My thoughts were
engrossed by another matter. M. de Cartienne's action, coupled with the
strangeness of his manner, could bear but one interpretation.
He had some reason for keeping me as much as possible in the dark as to
the route we were taking.
For a few moments I felt, to put it mildly, uneasy. Then several possible
explanations of such conduct occurred to me, and my apprehensions grew
weaker. What more natural, after all, than that M. de Cartienne should
desire to keep secret from me the exact whereabouts of an establishment
which, by his own admission, was maintained contrary to the law? The more
I considered it, the more reasonable such an explanation appeared to me.
I began to wonder, even, that he had not asked me for some pledge of
secrecy. But there was time enough for that.
By degrees the rattling of vehicles around us grew less and less, until
at last all traffic seemed to have died away. Once, during a pause in the
conversation, I raised the blind a little way and looked out. We had left
even the region of suburban semi-detached villas; and, blurred though the
prospect was by the mud which the fast-rolling wheels drew incessantly
into the air and on to the window-panes, I could just distinguish the dim
outline of hedges and fields beyond.
I looked at the carriage-clock and found that we had been already an hour
and a quarter on our journey. From the furious pace at which we were
travelling we must have come nearly fifteen miles.
"This place is a long way out," I remarked.
The Count laughed and lit a cigarette. "Oh, there's a good reason for
that. But the men don't drive here from town--at least, not in the
winter. There's a railway-station only a mile away."
"We're almost there now, then, I suppose?"
He let the blind up with a spring and looked out.
"Nearer than I imagined," he remarked. "We shall be there in three
minutes."
He was just drawing in his head when he gave a visible start and leaned
right out of the window, with his face upturned to the beating rain,
listening intently.
Suddenly he withdrew it, and, snatching at the check-string, pulled it
violently. I looked at him in amazement. His face was ghastly pale, but
his thin lips were set firmly together and his features rigid with
determination. It was the face of a brave, desperate man preparing to
meet some terrible danger.
The carriage pulled up with a jerk and he leaped down into the road. He
did not speak to me, so, after a second's hesitation, I followed him and
stood by his side. There was no mistaking the sound which had alarmed
him. Behind, at no very great distance, was the sound of galloping horses
and the rumble of smoothly-turning wheels.
Round the corner it came, a small brougham drawn by a pair of great
thoroughbred horses, whose heavy gallop, even at fifty yards' distance,
seemed to shake the ground beneath us. M. de Cartienne snatched one of
the carriage-lamps from the bracket and, stepping into the middle of the
road, waved it backwards and forwards over his head. His action had the
desired effect.
Quivering and plunging with fear, the horses, bathed in foam and mud,
came to a standstill before us, and a tall, fair man, with a long fur
coat thrown hurriedly over his evening-clothes, leaped out into the road.
The Count was by his side in a moment.
I remained a little apart, of course, out of earshot, but with my eyes
fixed upon the two men.
They could scarcely have spoken a hundred words before their colloquy was
at an end. The new-comer returned to his carriage and M. de Cartienne
followed his example. I looked at him as he stepped in, anxious to see
what effect the other's news had had upon him. Apparently it was not so
bad as he had feared, for, although he still looked anxious and pale, his
face had lost its ghastly hue.
We drove on in the same direction as before. When we had started he
turned to me.
"Do you know what a police raid is?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"Well, I can't stop to explain," he went on rapidly. "Sir Fred--my friend
there, has just brought down word of some strange rumours about the clubs
to-night. It seems the police have got to hear of this place and are
going to pay it an uninvited visit. They won't be here for an hour,
though, so if you like just to come inside and see whether Marx is there
or not, you will have time."
We had turned off the road into a bare, grass-grown avenue, leading up to
a red-brick house, unilluminated by a single light.
We were barely a minute driving up this uninviting approach and
pulling up at the grim, closed door. The carriage had scarcely come
to a standstill before the Count was on the doorstep, fitting a
curiously-shaped key into the lock. It yielded at once and we both
stepped inside, followed by the man in the fur overcoat, whose carriage
had pulled up close behind ours.
We were in perfect darkness and no one seemed to be stirring in the
house, although the mat under our feet, in some way connected with an
electric alarm bell, was giving shrill notice of our arrival. Then we
heard swift feet approaching and a tall, hard-featured woman in a plain
black gown, and holding a lamp high over her head, appeared before us.
M. de Cartienne took her by the arm and led her on one side. The other
man, who was making vain attempts to appear at his ease and composed,
sank into a chair, palpably trembling. Of the real nature of the danger
which was imminent I could form only the slightest idea; but that it was
something very much to be feared I could easily gather from his agitation
and de Cartienne's manner.
Suddenly the latter turned round.
"Ackland," he said quickly to the man in the chair, eyeing him keenly and
with a shade of contempt in his tone, "you are not fit for any of the
serious work, I can see. Listen! Light up the club-room and the
smoke-room, stir up the fires, bring out the cards and wine-glasses,
empty some tobacco-ash about, make the place look habitable for us when
we come. Ferdinand is on the watch outside and will give you notice of
our visitors. Ring all three alarm-bells at once if he gives the signal.
Morton, I want you to wait for me. I'll send you away all right before
anything happens; but don't go unless you see me again--unless you're
frightened."
He turned on his heel and, without waiting for any answer from either of
us, hurried away down the passage. The man whom he had called Ackland
rose from his seat and, striking a match, lighted the gas-brackets all
around the hall and the burners of a candelabra which hung from the roof.
My companion then threw open a door and I followed him into a
luxuriously-appointed room, furnished with a suite of lounges and
easy-chairs corresponding with those in the hall.
Whilst I was looking round, he hastily began moving the chairs about, as
though they had been recently used, poking the fire and generally making
the place look inhabited. Having done this, he crossed the hall and
entered the opposite room. It was a little smaller, but similarly
appointed and decorated, save that a long table, covered with a white
cloth and laid for dinner, stood in the centre, and a smaller one, with a
green baize covering at the further end. My companion threw a pack of
cards and some counters upon the latter and drew it closer up to the
fire. Then, having placed some chairs around it, he went back into the
hall again and I followed.
All the while we had been moving about, strange noises had been going on
under our feet. Now and then the sound of hurrying footsteps and of
hoarse voices reached us, and, more often still, the steady rumbling of
heavy articles being moved about. I looked at my companion for an
explanation, but he did not seem inclined to offer one.
"What's going on underneath?" I asked at last.
"Bowls!" he answered curtly, "Don't talk, please, I want to listen!"