ROOM NUMBER FOUR IN THE CORRIDOR.
It has now become requisite to return to Captain Ducie, whose
proceedings have been neglected for some time past.
When we left him last he had just found on the floor of his host's
private library one of the tiny paper pellets which he had dropped
purposely from his pocket when blindfolded the previous night. The
finding of this pellet he looked on as proof-positive that the
entrance to the hiding-place of the Diamond must be in that room. His
discovery was an important one. It was his first step towards that
goal whither all his hopes and wishes now tended. It placed him at
once on a certain vantage ground. Still he was puzzled by the
consideration of what his second step ought to be. For some time he
could not see his way at all.
On the pretence of wanting some particular volume from its shelves he
contrived once and again to visit the private library while Platzoff
was engaged elsewhere. But he could not visit it without first asking
permission, owing to the simple fact of its door being always kept
locked. The required permission was grudgingly granted by Platzoff--he
could see that, also that it would not be wise to court the privilege
too often. Indeed, it was a privilege that proved of little or no
service, either Cleon or Jasmin being sent with him to unlock and
relock the door, and evidently having secret instructions not to leave
the library so long as he was in it. While looking for the required
volume he could merely take a few careless glances around, and such
glances merely served to show him that the line of book-shelves was
unbroken except by the two doorways and the fireplace. He had not,
indeed, been sanguine enough to expect that such a casual examination
would reveal to him the secret entrance that led to the cavern. But he
had half hoped that by some faint sign, by some insignificant token,
which to those not in the secret would seem utterly meaningless, he
might be able to seize on the first hint of the wished-for clue. But
in so far he was doomed to disappointment. No sign nor token of the
faintest kind was visible to his quick-searching eyes.
So day after day came and went till but two days remained before the
time fixed for his departure, and it seemed to him that he might just
as well have never heard of the existence of the Great Mogul Diamond,
much less have been favoured with the sight of it, for any use that he
could make of his knowledge. Turn the subject in his mind which way he
would, in this light and in that, there seemed no egress from the
difficulty in which he now found himself. But however much Captain
Ducie might be inwardly chagrined he betrayed no traces of it on the
surface. On the contrary, he had never striven more assiduously to
make himself agreeable to his host than he did during this period of
his deepest mortification. In every way that he could possibly think
of he tried to make himself indispensable to Platzoff--or, if not
indispensable, such a pleasant element, such a piquant seasoning to
the course of everyday life at Bon Repos, that the Russian should part
from him with regret, and nothing be wanting to secure another
invitation to the same roof in time to come. These exertions were not
without their reward--a more immediate reward than he had ventured to
hope for. On the morning of the day but one before that of his
departure, as he and Platzoff were sitting together in a summerhouse
that overlooked the lake, said the captain, after a pause in the
conversation:--"Three days hence, instead of having this pleasant
scene to gaze upon at will, I shall have nothing but London's dusty
streets with which to solace my eyes. But, in any case, I shall have a
store of pleasant recollections to take back with me."
"Is the time of your leaving me so near?" said the Russian. "In the
pleasure of your society I had almost forgotten that such a time must
necessarily come. But why go, _cher ami?_ Why not extend your visit
till--till you are tired of us and our quiet life, if, indeed, you are
not that already?"
Captain Ducie shook his head. "My sojourn at Bon Repos has been a very
pleasant one," he said, "and I am by no means tired of it. But other
engagements claim my attention, and I am afraid that I dare not make
any longer stay here."
"See, then. You can do this to oblige an old man," said Platzoff. "Of
late I have not been well--in fact, I have never quite got over that
accident on the railway. My doctor down here does not seem to
understand what ails me, and I have had some thought of going up to
London for the sake of better advice. I cannot, however, go for three
weeks: there are certain matters that must be attended to before I can
leave Bon Repos even for a few days. See, now. You shall put off your
journey for three weeks, and then we will go up to town together. _Que
dites vous?_"
Of course Captain Ducie could do nothing but accede as gracefully as
possible to his host's request. He was, in truth, very well pleased to
accede to it, even although the three weeks in question might do
nothing towards the accomplishment of his secret hopes. Bon Repos was
decidedly preferable to two stuffy rooms in a London back street,
especially at a season of the year when the hegira of the fashionable
world was just setting in. He would stay where he was as long as it
was possible to do so.
There had been no conversation between Ducie and Platzoff respecting
the Diamond since the night they two had visited the cavern together.
Ducie had tried to broach the subject once or twice, but Platzoff had
fought so shy of it that the captain had not ventured to proceed, but
had turned the conversation into other channels. It seemed to Ducie as
if Platzoff half repented having taken him so fully into his
confidence. It was evidently not his intention to enlighten him any
further in the matter.
The first week of the three had come to an end. According to custom,
Ducie and Platzoff were sitting together on a certain evening in the
smoke-room. It was one of the Russian's drashkil nights. He had been
smoking hard and fast, and was already in a state of coma, lost to all
outward influences. Ducie looked at his watch, debating within himself
whether it would not be wiser on his part to go off to bed than to
sit there any longer with his unconscious host. And yet it was only
half-past ten--rather early for bed. He sat staring at his host, and
toying absently with his watch-guard, when, clear and vivid as a shaft
of lightning, there flashed across his brain a thought that struck him
breathless for one moment, and the next startled him into the most
intense life. He rose noiselessly to his feet, and stood for a full
minute with his fingers pressed to his eyes, thinking, so it seemed to
him, as he had never thought before.
That one minute sufficed to elaborate the scheme that had come to him
as suddenly and as startlingly as a veritable inspiration of genius.
Had his thoughts clothed themselves in words, they would have
expressed themselves somewhat after this fashion:--
"It is only half-past ten o'clock, and Platzoff has smoked himself
into a state of unconsciousness. On no account is he ever disturbed by
his valet till the clock strikes twelve: ergo, I have an hour and a
half before me safe from interruption. Platzoff always carries about
with him a silver pass-key that will open every door in the house,
unless it be those of the bedrooms of his guests and his servants.
Suppose I possess myself of that pass-key for the time being, and
penetrate by its assistance into the library. Once in the library with
a clear hour and a half to call my own, it will be strange if I cannot
succeed in making some discovery that will prove of service to me."
The first thing to be done was to satisfy himself that Platzoff was
really and truly unconscious. Taking him by the arm, he shook him,
gently at first, and then with greater violence. But the Russian only
uttered a low, inarticulate moan of protest. Then Ducie ventured to
lift up one of his eyelids. The glazed, fishy look of the eye below it
was sufficient to convince him that from Platzoff himself he had
nothing to fear. Then with a light-fingered dexterity that would not
have discredited a professional pickpocket he began to search for the
silver key. He was not long in finding it. There it was, in a small
inner pocket of Platzoff's vest. He drew it out with a heart that beat
a little faster than common. So far all was well. He stood for a few
moments with the key in his fingers, listening intently. Not a sound
of any kind inside the house or out. As he stood thus, he bethought
himself of a little brass bolt on the inside of the door that, opened
into the corridor. By means of this bolt Platzoff could at will secure
himself even against the intrusion of Cleon. This bolt Ducie now shot
noiselessly into its socket. If Cleon--or rather Jasmin, now that
Cleon was ill--were inadvertently to come before his proper hour, he
would have to wait till the door was opened for him from within.
Having thus secured himself against any possible interruption, Ducie,
after taking a last glance at his host, walked boldly across the room,
and applying the key, opened the inner door and passed forward into
the dressing-room. From the dressing-room he gained access to the
bedroom, and from thence into the library. The latter room being in
entire darkness, he had to go back into the bedroom for a candle, two
of which were always lighted there at dusk and kept burning till M.
Platzoff went to bed.
As already stated, the library had two doors opening into it, one that
gave from the bedroom, and another that faced you as you went in. A
brown curtain fixed by means of rings on a brass rod hung before this
second door. Ducie never remembered having seen this curtain more than
three parts drawn, leaving visible a small portion of the door. In
fact, it appeared to him, considering the matter, as though the
curtain were never touched, its exact position seemed so unaltered
from time to time. His first idea on his first visit to the library
after his sight of the Diamond, had been that through this second door
lay the secret entrance to the cavern. But it was an idea that found
no resting place in his mind. The Russian was not the sort of man to
adopt such a palpable expedient as an ordinary door to mark the
entrance to the secret staircase. Ducie had felt convinced at the time
that behind those ponderous bookshelves lay the hidden entrance, and
he was equally convinced of it to-night. Therefore, instead of taking
any notice of the second door, he at once proceeded, candle in hand,
to make an examination of the shelves.
They were made of mahogany, substantial and old-fashioned, with
elaborate flutings between each compartment, and were crowned with
carved bosses of fruit and flowers intermixed. Every shelf was
completely filled with books, none of which were dummies, as Captain
Ducie took care to verify. Beginning at the right-hand corner, he went
completely round the room. The fireplace, too, came in for an amount
of critical examination such as had probably never been bestowed on it
before. The window that gave light to the library was in the outer
wall of the house, and looked on to the lawn. Like all the windows in
M. Platzoff's private suite it was crossed and recrossed by some
half-dozen iron bars artfully let into the woodwork so as not to be
visible from without. The outside walls of Bon Repos were of an
antique thickness, as though they had been built to last a thousand
years. They were, in fact, quite thick enough to allow of a narrow
staircase being hollowed out of their substance. It seemed, therefore,
to Ducie just as necessary to examine carefully that side of the room
as it did to examine the inner side.
He examined both the sides and the ends, carefully, thoroughly; but
the result of his examination was that he was exactly as wise when he
left off as when he began. Not a crevice, not a cranny, not a
discoloration of the wood, not the faintest trace of a secret spring
was anywhere to be found. He tapped each panel and compartment
separately with his knuckles, but he was unable to trace any
difference in the dull dead sound given out by each and all. Then
he went down on his knees to examine the carpet. It was a sombre
velvet pile, and was nailed down at the edges with a number of small
tin-tacks driven through it into the floor. The corners of the carpet
had not been carefully swept, and the tiny indentations in it where it
was pressed down by the heads of the tacks were full of dust. "Now,"
argued Captain Ducie with himself, "if the entrance to the cavern
where the Diamond is hidden is through an opening in the floor of this
room, then, in order to reach that opening this carpet or a portion of
it must be taken up. Is it likely that M. Platzoff, who by his own
account visits his Diamond at least once a week, would take up and
nail down his carpet every time he wishes to look on his wonderful
gem? Further: if the carpet had been lately taken up, the indentations
caused by the heads of the nails would not be full of dust as they are
now. The nails now in have not been touched for a month at the least."
Captain Ducie rose from his unwonted position, and put down his candle
on the table with a muttered oath. He was baffled at every turn. He
felt ready to knock his head against the wall, so eaten up was he with
inward rage and mortification. But it was the cunning of the serpent
and not the rage of the lion that was needed in his case. He flung
himself into a chair, and in a few minutes had cooled down
sufficiently to consider what his next step ought to be. Was any other
step possible to him? he asked himself.
And then he answered himself with a lugubrious shake of the head. Only
one thing remained to be tried, and that was the second door. It might
be just as well to ascertain, if it were possible to do so, on what
part of the house it opened. He had no recollection of having seen
such a door in his perambulations about the interior of Bon Repos.
The brown curtain that hung before the second door was only half
drawn. Captain Ducie drew it impatiently on one side and inserted his
pass-key into the lock. It turned without difficulty, but on trying to
push open the door, he found that it stuck and did not readily give
way. This fact, slight as it seemed, proved to the captain that the
road to the hiding-place of the Diamond did not lie through that door.
The door when opened revealed a narrow and gloomy corridor thickly
carpeted with dust. One side of this corridor was formed by a bare
unbroken wall. On the opposite side, at intervals of a few feet, were
four doors, all now locked. There was yet another door at the end of
the corridor opposite to that by which Ducie had entered. This last
door was not merely locked but was further secured by some half-dozen
large screws drawn through the inner side and wormed deep into the
massive posts.
When he had so far completed his examination, Captain Ducie turned to
the four side doors. In the case of these also he found his pass-key
available. Still carrying the light in his hand, he opened the first
door and found himself in a gloomy and shuttered bedroom which had
evidently not been occupied for a very long time. From this an inside
door opened into a dressing-room, also shuttered and thick with dust.
The second door in the corridor led also into this dressing-room. The
third door in the corridor opened into another bedroom, and the fourth
into its adjoining dressing-room. These two latter rooms, like the
first two, had apparently not been entered for years.
To Captain Ducie it seemed plain enough why these rooms were kept
untenanted, and the door at the extreme end of the corridor nailed up.
M. Platzoff evidently did not choose that any one should come into too
close proximity to the room within which lay the secret of the hidden
door. For that the hidden door was in the library everything he had
discovered that night went indisputably to prove. He relocked the four
rooms, and went back to the library musing upon all he had seen. He
was just about to shut and fasten the curtained door when a sudden
thought struck him and caused him to pause. He stood musing for a few
moments, his face gradually brightening the while, and then taking up
his candle, he retraced his way to the fourth room in the corridor. He
went in, put down his light, and succeeded after some difficulty in
unfastening the shutters, which were strongly barred with iron. This
done, he shut up his candle for a while in an empty wardrobe, and then
proceeded to fold back the shutters. The night was a fine one, and the
stars afforded him sufficient light for what he wanted to do next.
Between the shutters and the window was a faded green blind, at
present drawn up about three parts of the way to the top. From this
blind depended a green cord that ended in a tassel. In this cord
Captain Ducie tied a simple slip knot. When this was done, he unhasped
the window, and tried whether the lower sash would work up and down
readily and without too much noise. Finding that the window worked
satisfactorily, he left it unfastened, and then proceeded to put back
the shutters, which also he left unbolted. Then he took his candle out
of its hiding-place and went back to the library, closing behind him
both the door that led into the corridor and the curtained door, but
leaving them both unlocked.
Midnight was now close at hand, and it was necessary that he should
get back to the smoke-room. But even with more time at his command,
he could have done nothing more to-night. When he got back to the
smoke-room, he found Platzoff to all appearance precisely as he had
left him. He put back the pass-key into the pocket from which he had
taken it, and unbolted the outer door. Ten minutes later Jasmin, the
new valet, acting temporarily in place of Cleon, coming into the room,
found Captain Ducie quietly smoking beside the comatose body of his
master.