BELL ARRIVES
There were more sides to the mystery than David Steel imagined. It had
seemed to him that he had pretty well all the threads in his hands, but
he would have been astonished to know how much more Hatherly Bell and
Enid Henson could have told him.
But it seemed to Bell that there was one very important thing to be done
before he proceeded any farther. He was interested in the mystery as he
was interested in anything where crime and cunning played a part. But he
was still more intent upon clearing his good name; besides, this would
give him a wider field of action.
In the light of recent discoveries it had become imperative that he
should once more be on good terms with Lord Littimer. Once this was
accomplished, Bell saw his way to the clearing up of the whole
complication. It was a great advantage to know who his enemy was; it was
a still greater advantage to discover the hero of the cigar-case and the
victim of the outrage in Steel's conservatory was the graceless scamp Van
Sneck, the picture dealer, who had originally sold "The Crimson Blind" to
Lord Littimer.
It was all falling out beautifully. Not only had Van Sneck turned up in
the nick of time, but he was not in a position to do any further
mischief. It suited Bell exactly that Van Sneck should be _hors de
combat_ for the moment.
The first thing to be done was to see Lord Littimer without delay. Bell
had no idea of humbly soliciting an interview. He proceeded to a
telegraph office the first thing the following morning and wired Littimer
to the effect that he must see him on important business. He had an hour
or two at his disposal, so he took a cab as far as Downend Terrace. He
found Steel slug-hunting in the conservatory, the atmosphere of which was
blue with cigarette smoke.
"So you are not working this morning?" he asked.
"How the dickens can I work?" David exclaimed, irritably. "Not that I
haven't been trying. I might just as well take a long holiday till this
mystery is cleared up for all the good I am. What is the next move?"
"My next move is to go to Littimer and convince him that he has done me a
great wrong. I am bound to have Littimer's ear once more."
"You are going to show him the spare Rembrandt, eh?"
"That's it. I flatter myself I shall astonish him. I've sent a telegram
to say I'm coming to-day, after which I shall proceed to storm the
citadel. I feel all the safer because nobody knows I have the engraving."
"My dear chap, somebody knows you have the picture."
"Impossible!" Bell exclaimed. "Only yourself and Enid Henson can possibly
be aware that--"
"All the same, I am speaking the truth," David said. "Last night when you
went into the hospital you gave me the print to take care of. At the same
time I noticed a rough-looking man presumedly asleep on the seat in the
road facing the hospital. Afterwards when I looked round he had
disappeared. At the time I thought nothing of it. When I came in here I
placed the precious roll of paper on my writing-table under the window
yonder. The window is a small one, as you can see, and was opened about a
foot at the top. I sat here with the light down and the room faintly
illuminated by the light in the conservatory. After a little time I saw a
hand and arm groping for something on the table, and I'm quite sure the
hand and arm were groping for your Rembrandt. The fellow muttered
something that I failed to understand, and I made a grab for him and got
him. Then the other hand made a dash for my head with an ugly piece of
gas-piping, and I had to let go."
"And you saw no more of the fellow?"
"No; I didn't expect to. I couldn't see his face, but there was one
peculiarity he had that I might tell you for your future guidance. He had
a thumb smashed as flat as the head of a snake, with one tiny pink nail
in the middle of it. So, if you meet a man like that on your journey
to-day, look to yourself. On the whole, you see that our enemies are a
little more awake than you give them credit for."
Bell nodded thoughtfully. The information was of the greatest possible
value to him. It told him quite plainly that Reginald Henson knew
exactly what had happened. Under ordinary circumstances by this time
Henson would be on his way to Littimer Castle, there to checkmate the
man he had so deeply injured. But fortunately Henson was laid by the
heels, or so Bell imagined.
"I am really obliged to you," Bell said. "Your information is likely to
be of the greatest possible service to me. I'm sorry you can't work."
"Don't worry about me," David said, grimly. "I'm gaining a vast quantity
of experience that will be of the greatest value to me later on. Besides,
I can go and compare notes with Miss Ruth Gates whilst you are away. She
is soothing."
"So I should imagine," Bell said, drily. "No, I must be off. I'll let you
know what happens at Littimer Castle. Good luck to you here."
And Bell bustled off. He was pleased to find a recent telegram of
acceptance from Littimer awaiting him, and before five o'clock he was
in the train for London. It was only after he left London that he began
to crawl along. Thanks to slow local lines and a badly fitting cross
service it was nearly eleven o'clock before he reached Moreton Station.
It did not matter much, because Littimer had said that a carriage
should meet him.
However, there was no conveyance of any kind outside the station. One
sleepy porter had already departed, and the other one, who took Bell's
ticket, and was obviously waiting to lock up, deposed that a carriage
from the castle had come to the station, but that some clerical gentleman
had come along and countermanded it. Whereupon the dog-cart had departed.
"Very strange," Bell muttered. "What sort of a parson was it?"
"I only just saw his face," the porter yawned. "Dressed in black, with a
white tie and a straw hat. Walked in a slouching kind of way with his
hands down; new curate from St. Albans, perhaps. Looked like a chap as
could take care of himself in a row."
"Thanks," Bell said, curtly. "I'll manage the walk; it's only two miles.
Good-night."
Bell's face was grim and set as he stepped out into the road. He knew
fairly well what this meant. It was pretty evident that his arch-enemy
knew his movements perfectly well, and that a vigorous attempt was being
made to prevent him reaching the castle. He called back to the porter.
"How long since the carriage went?" he asked.
A voice from the darkness said "Ten minutes," and Bell trudged on with
the knowledge that one of his enemies at least was close at hand. That
Reginald Henson was at the castle he had not the remotest idea. Nor did
he fear personal violence. Despite his figure, he was a man of enormous
strength and courage. But he had not long to wait.
Somebody was coming down the lonely road towards him, somebody in
clerical attire. The stranger stopped and politely, if a little huskily,
inquired if he was on the right way to Moreton Station. Bell responded as
politely that he was, and asked to know the time. Not that he cared
anything about the time; what he really wanted was to see the stranger's
hands. The little ruse was successful. In the dim light Bell could see a
flattened, hideous thumb with the pink parody of a nail upon it.
"Thanks, very much," he said, crisply. "Keep straight on."
He half turned as the stranger swung round. The latter darted at Bell,
but he came too late. Bell's fist shot out and caught him fairly on the
forehead. Then the stick in Bell's left hand came down with crushing
force on the prostrate man's skull. So utterly dazed and surprised was he
that he lay on the ground for a moment, panting heavily.
"You murderous ruffian," Bell gasped. "You escaped convict in an honest
man's clothes. Get up! So you are the fellow--"
He paused suddenly, undesirous of letting the rascal see that he knew too
much. The other man rolled over suddenly like a cat and made a dash for a
gap in the hedge. He was gone like a flash. Pursuit would be useless, for
pace was not Bell's strong point. And he was not fearful of being
attacked again.
"Henson seems to be pretty well served," he muttered, grimly.
Meanwhile, the man with the thumb was flying over the fields in the
direction of Littimer. He made his way across country to the cliffs with
the assured air of one who knows every inch of the ground. He had failed
in the first part of his instructions, and there was no time to be lost
if he was to carry out the second part successfully.
He struck the cliffs at length a mile or so away, and proceeded to
scramble along them till he lay hidden just under the terraces at
Littimer Castle. He knew that he was in time for this part of the
programme, despite the fact that his head ached considerably from the
force and vigour of Bell's assault. He lay there, panting and breathing
heavily, waiting for the signal to come.
Meanwhile, Bell was jogging along placidly and with no fear in his heart
at all. He did not need anybody to tell him what was the object of his
late antagonist's attack. He knew perfectly well that if the ruffian had
got the better of him he would never have seen the Rembrandt again.
Henson's hounds were on the track; but it would go hard if they pulled
the quarry down just as the sanctuary was in sight. Presently Bell could
see the lights of the castle.
By the lodge-gates stood a dog-cart; in the flare of the lamps Bell
recognised the features of the driver, a very old servant of Littimer's.
Bell took in the situation at a glance.
"Is this the way you come for me, Lund?" he asked.
"I'm very sorry, sir," Lund replied. "But a clergyman near the station
said you had gone another way, so I turned back. And when I got here I
couldn't make top nor tail of the story. Blest if I wasn't a bit nervous
that it might have been some plant to rob you. And I was going to drive
slowly along to the station again when you turned up."
"Oh, there's nothing wrong," said Bell, cheerfully. "And I don't look as
if I'd come to any harm. Anybody staying at the castle, Lund?"
"Only Mr. Reginald Henson, sir," Lund said, disparagingly.
Bell started, but his emotion was lost in the darkness. It came as a
great surprise to him to find that the enemy was actually in the field.
And how apprehensive of danger he must be to come so far with his health
in so shattered a condition. Bell smiled to himself as he pictured
Henson's face on seeing him once more under that roof.
"How long has Mr. Henson been here?" he asked.
"Only came yesterday, sir. Shall I drive you up to the house? And if you
wouldn't mind saying nothing to his lordship about my mistake, sir--"
"Make your mind easy on that score," Bell said, drily. "His lordship
shall know nothing whatever about it. On the whole, I had better drive up
to the house. How familiar it all looks, to be sure."
A minute later and Bell stood within the walls of the castle.