SUICIDE
The paper contained a whole-page advertisement of Hugo's great annual
sale, and also a special half-page advertisement headed 'Hugo's Apology
and Promise'--a message to the public asking pardon of the public for
the confusion, inconvenience, and disappointments of the previous day,
hinting that the mystery of the affair would probably be elucidated in a
criminal court, and stating that a prodigious number of silvered
fox-stoles would positively be available from nine o'clock that morning
at a price even lower than the figure named in the original
announcement. The message further stated that a special Complaint Office
had been opened as a branch of the Inquiry Bureau, and that all
complaints by customers who had suffered on New Year's Day would there
be promptly and handsomely dealt with.
In addition to Hugo's advertisements, there were several columns of
news describing the singular phenomena of the sale, concluding with what
a facetious reporter had entitled 'Interviews with Survivors.'
As he read the detailed accounts Hugo knew, perhaps for the first time
in his life, what it was 'to go hot and cold all over.' However, he was
decidedly inclined to be optimistic.
'Anyhow,' he said, 'it's the best ad. I ever had. Still, it's a mercy
there were no deaths.'
He began to dress hurriedly, furiously. Already the second day of the
sale had been in progress for more than an hour, and he had not even
visited the scene of the campaign. Simon had said nothing; it was not
Simon's habit to speak till he was spoken to. And Hugo did not feel
inclined to ask questions; he preferred to reconnoitre in person. Yes,
he would descend instantly, and afterwards, when he had satisfied
himself that the evil had been repaired, he would consider about
Camilla.... By neglecting all else, he could reach her in time for
dinner.... Should he?... (At this point he plunged into his cold bath.)
... No! He was Hugo before he was Camilla's lover. He would be a
tradesman for yet another ten hours. He had a duty to London....
Then Ravengar wandered into his thoughts and confused them.
Just as he was assuming his waistcoat, Simon entered.
'Mr. Galpin, sir.'
'And who the d---l is Mr. Galpin?' asked Hugo.
'Mr. Galpin is the gentleman who saved your life yesterday, sir,' said
Simon with admirable sangfroid. 'He has called for a hundred pounds.'
'Show him in here immediately,' said Hugo.
Mr. Galpin appeared in the dressing-room, looking more than ever like an
extremely successful commercial traveller. Hugo could not think of any
introductory remark worthy of the occasion.
'I needn't say how grateful I am,' Hugo began.
'Certainly you needn't,' said Mr. Galpin. 'I understand. I've been under
lock and key myself.'
'I should offer you more than this paltry sum,' said Hugo, with a smile,
'but I know, of course, that a man like you can always obtain all the
money he really wants.'
Mr. Galpin smiled, too.
'However,' continued Hugo, detaching his watch from his waistcoat, 'I
will ask you to take something that you can't get elsewhere. This is the
thinnest watch in the world. Bréguet, of the Rue de la Paix, Paris, made
it specially for me. It is exactly the same size as a five-shilling
piece. It repeats the quarters, shows the time in four cities, and does
practically everything except tell the weather and the political party
in power. It has one drawback. Only Bréguet can clean it, and he will
charge you five guineas for the job, besides probably having you
arrested for unlawful possession. I must write to him. Such as it is,
accept it.'
The golden, jewelled toy was offered and received with a bow. The
practised hands of Mr. Galpin had opened the case in two seconds.
'How do you regulate it?' demanded Mr. Galpin, staring at the movement.
'You don't,' said Hugo proudly; 'it never needs it.'
Mr. Galpin stood corrected.
'If there's anything in my line I can do for you at any time, sir,' said
he.
Hugo pondered.
Mr. Galpin put the watch in his waistcoat-pocket, and, tearing the
hundred-pound note in two halves, placed one half in the left breast
pocket of his coat, and the other half in the right breast pocket of his
coat.
'Could you have opened that vault,' Hugo asked, 'if both keys had been
lost?'
'No, sir, I could not. It's such people as you who are ruining my
profession, sir.'
'You think the vault is impregnable?'
'Yes, sir,' said Mr. Galpin. 'I should say its name was just about as
near being Gibraltar as makes no matter.'
'I was only wondering,' Hugo mused aloud, 'only wondering.... Ah, well,
I won't trouble you with my fancies.'
'As you wish, sir. Good-bye.'
'Good-bye, Mr. Galpin. And thank you!'
'Thank _you_, sir,' said Mr. Galpin, and disappeared.
'Simon,' Hugo ordered immediately afterwards, handing Simon the token,
'run down and get me the best gold watch in the place.'
Throughout the morning Hugo's thoughts were far away. Most frequently
they were in Belgium, but now and then they paid a strange
incomprehensible visit with Ravengar to the vault.
While he was lunching under the dome, Albert Shawn came in with the
early edition of the _Evening Herald_, containing a prominent item
headed, 'Feared Suicide of Mr. Louis Ravengar.' The paper stated that
Mr. Ravengar had gone to Dover on the previous evening, had been seen to
board the Calais steamer, and had been missed soon after the boat had
left the harbour. His hat, umbrella, rug, and bag had been found on
deck. As the night was quite calm, there could be no other explanation
than that of suicide. The _Evening Herald_ gave a sympathetic biography
of Mr. Ravengar ('one of our proprietors'), and attributed his suicide
to a fit of depression caused by the entirely groundless rumours which
had circulated during the late afternoon connecting him with the
scandalous disturbances at Hugo's sale.
Hugo dropped the organ of public opinion.
'H'm!' he observed to Albert.
'I'm not surprised, sir,' said Albert.
'Aren't you?' said Hugo. 'Then, there's nothing more to be said.'
Since Louis Ravengar had certainly been talking with Hugo that selfsame
morning, it was obviously impossible that he should have committed
suicide in the English Channel some twelve hours earlier. Why, then,
had he arranged for this elaborate deception to be practised? What was
his scheme? His voice through the telephone had been so quiet, so
resigned, so pathetic; only towards the end had it become malevolent.
Hugo perceived that he must go down to the vault. No! He dared not go
himself. The sight of that vault, after yesterday's emotions, would
surely be beyond his power to bear!
'Albert,' he said, 'go to the Safe Deposit.'
'Yes, sir.'
'And inquire if anyone named--'
Hugo stopped.
'Named what, sir?'
'Never mind. I'll go myself. By the way,' he said, 'I must run over to
Belgium to-night. Perhaps I may take you with me.'
'Don't forget the inquest on Bentley to-morrow, sir. You'll have to
attend that.'
Hugo made a gesture of excessive annoyance. He had forgotten the
inquest.
'Take this telegram,' he said, suddenly inspired; and he scribbled out
the following words: 'Darcy, 16, Boulevard des Italiens, Paris. Please
come instantly; urgent case.--HUGO, London.'
'At any rate, I've made a beginning,' he murmured when Albert had gone.
'I can find out all that is to be known about Camilla from Darcy--if he
comes. I wonder if he'll come. He'd better.'
And then, collecting his powers of self-control, he went slowly down to
the Safe Deposit, and entered those steely and dreadful portals.
'Getting on all right?' he said to the newly-installed manager, a young
man with light hair from the counting-house.
'Oh yes, Mr. Hugo.'
'Any new customers?'
He trembled for the reply.
'Yes, sir. Two gentlemen came as soon as we opened this morning, and
took Vault 39. They paid a year's rent in advance. Two hundred pounds.'
'What did they want a whole vault for?'
'I can't say, sir. There was a lot of going to and fro with parcels and
things, sir, and a lot of telephoning in the waiting-room. And one of
them asked for a glass and some water. They were here a long time, sir.'
'When did they go?'
'It was about ten-thirty, sir, when one of the two gentlemen called me
to bring my key and lock up the vault. The vault was properly locked,
first with his key, and then with mine, and then he left. Perhaps it
might be a quarter to eleven, sir.'
'But the other gentleman?'
'Oh, he must have slipped off earlier, sir. I didn't see him go.'
'What did he look like?'
'Oldish man, Mr. Hugo. Gray.'
The manager was somewhat mystified by this cross-examination.
'And the name?'
'The name? Let me see. Callear. Yes, Callear, sir.'
'What?'
'C-a-l-l-e-a-r.'
'What was the address?'
'Hotel Cecil. He said he would send a permanent address in a day or
two.'
In half an hour Hugo had ascertained that no person named Callear was
staying at the Hotel Cecil.
He understood now, understood too clearly, the meanings of Ravengar's
strange utterances on the telephone. The man had determined to commit
suicide, and he had chosen a way which was calculated with the most
appalling ingenuity to ruin, if anything would ruin, Hugo's peace of
mind for years to come--perhaps for ever. For the world, Ravengar was
drowned. But Hugo knew that his body was lying in that vault.
'Louis had an accomplice,' Hugo reflected. 'Who can that have been? Who
could have been willing to play so terrible a rôle?'