A DELICATE ERRAND
It looked like being a long, dull evening for Steel if he were not going
to the theatre or anything of that kind. He generally read till about
eleven o'clock, after which he sat up for another couple of hours
plotting out the day's task for to-morrow. To-night he could only wander
restlessly about his conservatory, snipping off a dead leaf here and
there and wondering where the whole thing was going to end.
With a certain sense of relief David heard the front door-bell trill
about eleven o'clock. Somebody was coming to see him, and it didn't
matter much who in Steel's present frame of mind. But he swept into the
study with a feeling of genuine pleasure as Hatherly Bell was announced.
"My dear fellow, I'm delighted to see you," he cried. "Take the big
armchair. Let me give you a cigar and a whisky and soda and make you
comfortable. That's better."
"I'm tired out," Bell said. "In London all day, and since six with Cross.
Can you put me up for the night?"
"My bachelor bedroom is always ready, Bell."
"Thanks. I don't fancy you need be under any apprehension that anybody
has spirited Van Sneck away. In the first place Henson, who seems to have
discovered what happened, is in a terrible state about it. He wanted very
badly to remain at Littimer, but when he heard that Van Sneck had left
the hospital he came down here; in fact, we travelled together. Of course
he said nothing whatever about Van Sneck, whom he is supposed to know
nothing about, but I could see that he was terribly disturbed. The worst
of it is that Cross was going to get me to operate on Van Sneck; and
Heritage, who seems wonderfully better, was going to assist."
"Is your unfortunate friend up to that kind of thing now?" David asked.
"I fancy so. Do you know that Heritage used to have a fairly good
practice near Littimer Castle? Lord Littimer knows him well. I want
Heritage to come into this. I want to get at the reason why Henson has
been so confoundedly good to Heritage. For years he has kept his eye upon
him; for years he has practically provided him with a home at Palmer's.
And when Heritage mentions Henson's name he always does so with a kind of
forced gratitude."
"You think that Heritage is going to be useful to us?"
"I fancy so. Mind you, it is only my idea--what I call intuition, for
want of a better word. And what have you been doing lately?"
David proceeded to explain, giving the events of the afternoon in full
detail. Bell followed the account with the deepest interest. Then he
proceeded to tell his own story. David appeared to be fascinated with the
tale of the man with the thumb-nail.
"So Miss Chris hopes to hypnotise the man with the thumb," he said. "You
have seen more of her than I have, Bell. Does she strike you as she
strikes me--a girl of wonderfully acute mind allied to a pluck and
audacity absolutely brilliant?"
"She is that and more," Bell said, warmly. "Now that she is free to act
she has developed wonderfully. Look how cleverly she worked out that
Rembrandt business, how utterly she puzzled Henson, and how she helped me
to get into Littimer's good books again without Henson even guessing at
the reason. And now she has forced the confidence of that rascal Merritt.
She has saved him from a gaol into which she might have thrown him at any
moment, she has convinced him that she is something exceedingly brilliant
in the way of an adventuress, with a great _coup_ ahead. Later on she
will use Merritt, and a fine hard-cutting tool she will find him."
"Where is Henson at the present moment?" David asked.
"I left him in London this afternoon," Bell replied. "But I haven't the
slightest doubt in the world that he has made his way to Brighton by this
time. In all probability he has gone to Longdean."
Bell paused as the telephone bell rang out shrilly. The mere sound of it
thrilled both of them with excitement. And what a useful thing the
telephone had proved!
"Are you there?" came the quick, small whisper. "Is that you, Mr. Steel?
I am Enid Henson."
There was a long pause, during which David was listening intently. Bell
could see him growing rigid with the prospect of something keen, alert,
and vigorous.
"Bell is here with me at this moment," he said. "Just wait a minute
whilst I tell him. Don't go away, please. Under the circumstances it
might be dangerous for me to ring you ... Just a moment. Here's a
pretty mess."
"Well," Bell said, impatiently, "I'm only a mere man, after all."
"Henson is at Longdean; he turned up an hour ago, and at the present
moment is having his supper in the library before going to bed. But that
is not the worst part of it. Williams heard the dogs making a great noise
by the gates, and went to see what was wrong. Some poor, demented fellow
had climbed over the wall, and the dogs were holding him up. Fortunately,
he did not seem to be conscious of his danger, and as he stood still the
hounds did him no harm. Williams was going to put the intruder into the
road again when Miss Henson came up. And whom do you suppose the poor,
wandering tramp to be?"
Bell pitched his cigar into the grate full of flowers and jumped
to his feet.
"Van Sneck, for a million," he cried. "My head to a cocoanut on it."
"The same. They managed to get the poor fellow into the house before
Williams brought Henson from the lodge, and he's in the stables now in a
rather excited condition. Now, I quite agree with Miss Henson that Henson
must be kept in ignorance of the fact, also that Van Sneck must be got
away without delay. To inform the hospital authorities would be to spoil
everything and play into Henson's hands. But he must be got away
to-night."
"Right you are. We'll go and fetch him. _Et apres_?"
"_Et apres_ he will stay here. He shall stay _here_, and you shall say
that it is dangerous to remove him. Cross shall be told and Marley shall
be told, and the public shall be discreetly kept in ignorance for the
present. I'll go over there at once, as there is no time to be lost. Miss
Henson suggests that I should come, and she tells me that Williams will
wait at the lodge-gates for me. But you are going to stay here."
"Oh, indeed! And why am I going to stay here?"
"Because, my dear friend, I can easily manage the business single-handed,
and because you must run no risk of meeting Henson yonder. You are not
now supposed to know where the family are, nor are you supposed to take
the faintest interest in them. Stay here and make yourself comfortable
till I return.... Are you there? I will be at Longdean as soon as
possible and bring Van Sneck here. No, I won't ring off; you had better
do that. I shall be over in less than an hour."
David hung up the receiver and proceeded to don a short covert coat and a
cap. In the breast-pocket of the coat he placed a revolver.
"Just as well to be on the safe side," he said. "Though I am not likely
to be troubled with the man with the thumb again. Still, Henson may have
other blackguards; he may even know where Van Sneck is at the present
moment, for all I know to the contrary."
"I feel rather guilty letting you go alone," Bell said.
"Not a bit of it," said David, cheerfully. "Smoke your cigar, and if
you need any supper ring for it. You can safely leave matters in my
hands. Van Sneck shall stay here till he is fit, and then you shall
operate upon him. After that he ought to be as clay in the hands of the
potter. So long."
And David went off gaily enough. He kept to the cliffs for the first part
of the distance, and then struck off across the fields in the direction
of Longdean. The place was perfectly quiet, the village was all in
darkness as he approached the lodge-gates of the Grange. Beyond the drive
and between the thick, sad firs that shielded the house he could see the
crimson lights gleaming here and there. He could catch the rumble and
scratch in the bushes, and ever and again a dog whined. The big gate was
closed as David peeped in searching for his guide.
"Williams," he whispered; "Williams, where are you?"
But no reply came. The silence was full of strange, rushing noises, the
rush of blood in David's head. He called again and again, but no reply
came. Then he heard the rush and fret of many feet, the cry of a pack of
hounds, a melancholy cry, with a sombre joy in it. He saw a light
gleaming fitfully in the belt of firs.
"No help for it," David muttered. "I must chance my luck. I never saw a
dog yet that I was afraid of. Well, here goes."
He scrambled over the wall and dropped on the moist, clammy earth on the
other side. He fumbled forward a few steps, and then stopped suddenly,
brought up all standing by the weird scene which was being solemnly
enacted under his astonished eyes.