"To what, pray, do I owe this intrusion?" demanded the old man fiercely,
rising from his bed, and standing erect and defiant before them.
"To your own guilt, Mr Statham," was Max Barclay's quiet but distinct
response.
"My guilt?" gasped the old man. "Of what crime am I guilty?"
"That's best known to yourself," answered the younger man. "But I
think, now that we've investigated your house and discovered your
death-trap, we will bid you good-night."
"You've--you've found it--eh?" gasped the old fellow, pale as death.
"Yes; and, furthermore, we know how Maud Petrovitch had cast your money
at your feet, and defied you."
"I--I must explain," he cried, as in frantic eagerness he put on his
clothes. "Don't leave me. Come below, and--and'll tell you."
The pair remained in the wretchedly uncomfortable room, while the old
man finished dressing. Then all three descended, the millionaire
walking first. They passed the door of the room where stood the coffin,
and by touching a spring the iron door opened, and they descended to the
library.
The noise wakened old Levi, who appeared at the head of the back stairs,
full of surprise.
A reassuring word from his master, however, caused him to at once retire
again.
Within the library old Sam switched on the light, and invited both his
unwelcome visitors to be seated. Then, standing before them, he said:
"I presume, gentlemen, that your curiosity led you to break into my
house?"
Max Barclay nodded.
"I can understand you acting thus, sir; but I cannot understand Rolfe,
who knows me so well and who has served me so faithfully."
"And, in return, how have I been served?" asked Charlie, bitterly. "My
poor sister has been turned adrift, and you have refused to lift a
finger to reinstate her."
"I admit that on the face of it, Rolfe, I have been hard and cruel,"
declared the old man. "But when you know the truth you will not,
perhaps, think so unkindly of me as at this moment."
The old fellow was perfectly calm. All his fear had vanished, and he
now stood his old and usual self, full of quiet assurance.
"Well," Rolfe said, "perhaps you will tell us the truth. Why, for
instance, did Maud Petrovitch visit you to-night?"
"She came upon her own initiative. She wished to ask me a question."
"Which you refused to answer."
"It was not judicious for me to tell her what she desized to know--not
at present, at least."
"But now that we are here together, in confidence you will, no doubt,
allow us to know where she and her father are in hiding," Charlie asked,
breathlessly.
"Certainly, if you will promise not to communicate with them or call
upon them without my consent."
"We promise," declared Max.
"Then they are living in strictest seclusion at Fordham Cottage,
Arundel, in Sussex."
"But you have quarrelled with Maud?" Charlie remarked, at the same time
remembering that closed coffin in the room above.
"Upon one point only--a very small and unimportant one," responded the
old man.
"Where is my sister?"
"Unfortunately, I have no knowledge of where she is at present."
"But you have just assured me that when I know the truth I shall not
regard you so harshly," Rolfe exclaimed.
"And I repeat it," Statham said.
The old man's attitude amazed them both. He was perfectly calm and
quite unperturbed by the grim discoveries they had made.
"You mean that you refuse to tell me anything concerning my sister?"
Charlie asked, seriously.
"For the present--yes."
"Why not now? Why forbid us also from seeking the Doctor and his
daughter?"
"For reasons of my own. I am expecting a visitor."
Max laughed sarcastically. The reason put forward seemed too absurd.
"Ah! you don't believe it!" cried the old fellow. "But you will see.
Your curiosity has, no doubt, led you to misjudge me. It was only to
have been expected. I ought to have guarded my secret better."
Neither man spoke. Both had their eyes fixed upon the grey face of the
old millionaire before them. They recollected his despair before he had
retired to rest, and remembered, too, the tender care of his faithful
Levi.
The clock chimed the half-hour--half-past three in the morning.
The night had been fraught by so many surprises that neither Charlie nor
his friend could believe in the grim reality of it all. They never
suspected that that fine mansion was practically unfurnished, or that
its millionaire owner practically lived the life of a pauper. Had not
Charlie been well aware of his master's shrewdness in his business and
clearness in his financial operations, he would have believed it all due
to an unbalanced brain. But there was no madness in Samuel Statham. He
was as sane as they were. All his eccentricity was evidently directed
towards one purpose.
As he stood there he practically told them so.
"You misjudge me!" said he, his grey face relaxing in a smile. "You
think me mad--eh? Well, you are not alone in that. A good many people
believe the same of me. I am gratified to think they believe it. It is
my intention that they should."
"But, Mr Statham, we have asked you a question to which you have
refused to answer. We wish to know what has become of Marion Rolfe."
"You were engaged to her--eh? Yes, I know," responded the old man.
"For that very reason I refuse to tell you. I can only reassure you,
however, that you need experience no anxiety."
"But I do. I love her!"
"Then I am very sorry, your mind must still continue to be exercised.
At present I cannot tell you anything."
"Why?"
"Have I not already told you? I am expecting a visitor."
It was all the satisfaction they could obtain.
Charlie longed for an opportunity to refer to the gruesome object in
that locked room upstairs. The man who had so suddenly reappeared and
sworn vengeance upon the great financier was dead--fallen a victim, no
doubt, to the old man's clever cunning. He had, without doubt, been
enticed there to his death. The secret reason of the white-enamelled
door at the top of the stairs was now quite plain. In that house was a
terrible death-trap, as deadly as it was unexpected.
They held knowledge of the truth. How would the old man act?
Contrary to their expectations, he remained quite indifferent. He even
offered them a drink, which they refused.
His refusal to tell them anything regarding Marion and his treatment of
Maud had incensed them, and they both were bitterly antagonistic towards
him. He was, no doubt, playing a huge game of bluff. His disregard of
their discoveries was in order to lessen their importance, and his story
of a visitor told to gain time.
Probably he intended to make good his escape.
Both were expecting every moment that his coolness would break down, and
that he would suggest that they kept silence as to what lay concealed on
the floor above.
Indeed, they were not mistaken, for of a sudden he turned to them, and
in rather strained voice said:
"Now, gentlemen, I admit that you have discovered my secret; that my
position is--well--a disagreeable one, to say the least. Is there any
real reason why you should divulge it--at least for the present?"
Charlie shrugged his shoulders, and Max at the same time realised that a
deadly fear was creeping back upon the old man, whose enormous wealth
had stifled all human feeling from his soul.
"I merely ask your indulgence," said the old man, in a low, eager tone.
"For how long?"
"For a day--maybe for a week--or perhaps a month. I cannot tell."
"That means that we preserve the secret indefinitely?"
"Until the arrival of my visitor."
"Ah! the visitor!" repeated Max, with a grin of disbelief. "When do you
expect the visit?"
"I have expected it during many months," was the millionaire's brief
reply.
"And you can tell us nothing more? Is not your story a somewhat lame
one?"
"Very--I quite admit it. But I can only assure you of its truth."
"It is not often you speak the truth, Mr Statham, is it?" asked Max,
pointedly.
"I suppose I am like many another man," was his reply. "I only speak it
when obliged!"
As he uttered those words there sounded in the hall the loud electric
bell of the front door. It was rung twice, whereupon old Sam drew
himself up in an instant in an attitude of alertness.
"The visitor!" he gasped, raising his bony finger. "The long-expected
caller!"
The two rings were evidently a pre-arranged signal.
They heard old Levi shuffling outside. The door opened, and he stood
expectant, looking at his master, but uttering no word.
"Gentlemen," exclaimed old Sam. "If you will permit me, I will go and
receive my visitor. May I ask you to remain here until I return to
you--return to answer any inquiries you may be pleased to put to me?"
The old fellow was quite calm again. He seemed to have braced himself
up to meet his visitor, whoever he or she might be. It was one of his
secret agents, Charlie thought, without a doubt.
Both men consented, and old Sam withdrew with Levi.
"Please remain here. I ask you both to respect my wishes," he said, and
going out, closed the door behind him.
The two men listened with strained ears.
They heard the sound of footsteps outside, but as far as they could
distinguish, no word was spoken. Whether the mysterious visitor was
male or female they could not ascertain.
For several moments they stood at the door, listening.
Then Max, unable to resist his own curiosity, opened the door slightly,
and peered into the hall.
But only Levi was there, his back turned towards the door. His master
and his visitor had ascended the stairs together, passing the iron door
which now stood open for the first time.
Max beckoned Charlie, who, looking outside into the hall, saw Levi
standing with both hands pressed to his brow in an attitude of wildest
despair.
His agitation was evidently for his master's safety.
A visitor at a quarter to four in the morning was unusual, to say the
least. Who could it be?
Levi turned, and as he did so Max closed the door noiselessly, for he
did not wish the faithful old servant to discover him as an
eavesdropper.
Fully ten minutes elapsed, when of a sudden the sharp crack of a
pistol-shot echoed through the empty upstairs rooms.
It caused both men to start, so unexpected was it.
For a second they hesitated; then opening the door, they both dashed up
the forbidden stain.