IS A REVELATION
The contretemps was certainly a most startling one. I could not believe
my own eyes.
There, through the doorway of the crowded restaurant, entered a tall,
dark-haired, rather handsome young man in crush-hat and black overcoat,
with a white muffler around his neck, while at his side walked a
woman--a woman in dark skirt, a cream jacket, and neat dark-blue hat--a
woman who was none other than my well-beloved!
Yes. The man for whom the detectives were so anxiously watching was
accompanied by Daisy Marvin!
So excited was I at the sudden recognition that I half rose from my
chair. Next instant, however, I sank back again into the obscurity of
the crowd, hoping not to be recognised. I intended to watch in silence.
She was, I saw, playing me false.
If she could, after the theatre, escape from old Annie and meet this
young club-lounger, then why had she always told me that to see me
was impossible? She had cruelly deceived me, but I had fortunately
discovered her perfidy.
Jealousy is the injured lover's torment. In a moment my heart became
filled with fierce resentment. There was the woman whom I had believed
to be mine, and mine only, laughing gaily with that stage-door
idler--the man for whom Whitlock and Kennedy were in wait.
The new-comers found a seat against the wall in the farther corner of
the place beneath a balcony, where they were joined by the old man
who had been awaiting them so long. Then the two men spoke earnestly
together in serious conference, while the detectives, muttering in an
undertone, continued their game.
The instant the new-comer had appeared Whitlock had whispered, "Be
careful! he may know us by sight," and then bent, his elbow on the
table, his hand to his forehead, as though thoughtfully contemplating
his dominoes.
"Who's the girl with him, I wonder?" asked Kennedy, lifting his shrewd
eyes and watching keenly.
"Don't know. Never saw her before," was Whitlock's response. "Rather
good-looking and ladylike, isn't she?"
What would the man at my side think if he knew the truth regarding
the locket? Who, I wondered, was this man who was her companion? What
did they want with him, and why had they waited so patiently for his
coming? How, indeed, did they know that he would come there?
"Who is that man?" I whispered, when the pair had seated themselves.
"Merely a gentleman in whom we have some little interest just now."
"In regard to the Barnes affair?"
"Well--yes."
It was indeed fortunate that Whitlock was at that moment absorbed in
his game, or my countenance would, no doubt, have betrayed me.
Daisy's little miniature of myself being found upon those empty
premises connected her in some way with the mysterious affair;
yet the two officers seated with me were in ignorance of it. They
little dreamed that the tiny portrait had been the property of that
sweet-faced, graceful girl who was now leaning her elbows on the table
and smiling as she chatted with her good-looking cavalier.
Both my companions were interested as to who she might be. They
discussed her, while I, filled with mad jealousy and anger, kept my own
counsel. Seated in such a position that she could not see my face, yet
from time to time I managed to glance back at her, and watch the manner
in which she treated her mysterious and suspicious companion.
Whitlock's patience had been rewarded, and he sat playing on, contented
that at least he would ere long discover more about the man he had
been expecting for so long. He was a marvellously painstaking officer,
and to his inexhaustible patience his success was mainly due. Only by
its exercise had he been able to recover the whole of Lady Dumbarton's
valuable jewels, which, stolen at King's Cross Station, he dug up from
the sands five miles from Ostend nearly three years after the theft.
Besides, was it not he who had recovered the celebrated "Madonna" of
Titian, which, cut from its frame in a Park Lane mansion by burglars,
he was able to take from a hayloft outside a Warwickshire village two
and a half years later? Contrary to the method of many officers of the
Criminal Investigation Department, he never hurried. He waited and
watched, for by that, he always declared, he was able to obtain more
knowledge than if he acted precipitately and made an arrest.
Thousands of pounds' worth of valuable stolen property is lost yearly
by injudicious arrests. The thieves, growing alarmed, destroy their
haul--often getting rid of it by throwing it into rivers or into the
sea; whereas, by careful inquiry and clever observation, the place
where the property is secreted until a safe opportunity is presented
for turning it into money can often be discovered.
What was Whitlock's present game? Why did he not tell me the name of
Daisy's companion?
Again I approached the subject, whereupon he replied--
"Of his real name I have only a suspicion. If that is correct, he is
the man we are looking for--the man whose birth-certificate we found in
such curious circumstances."
"You mean Drayton!" I gasped.
He nodded slightly in the affirmative.
"Marvellous!" I gasped. Here already he had discovered the man, and
knew that his habit was to come to that café.
"It's only a suspicion, remember," he went on; "that's why we are
keeping observation upon him--or, rather, we shall when he leaves here."
The conference between the two men was hurried, and appeared to be in
secret from Daisy. She took up a paper and glanced through it while
they were in confidential conclave. Then, with a few final impressive
words, the old man rose, raised his hat to my well-beloved, and walked
out.
Whitlock made no attempt to follow, and by that it was evident that he
was in possession of all the facts concerning the old man that were of
any importance.
Ten minutes passed.
The man under suspicion was bending to his companion, talking
earnestly. Where could be the faithful Annie, the woman who never let
Daisy out of her sight after she had finished her work at the theatre?
That my beloved should be going about London with a well-dressed
stranger at that hour was to me perfectly incredible.
Smartly attired, he possessed the air of the man-about-town, while she
on her part was speaking with him confidentially. How I wished I could
overhear that conversation!
The finding of the little portrait secreted in that empty upstairs room
had connected Daisy Marvin with the remarkable affair at Barnes in a
manner which was beyond solution. The discovery that my sweetheart
was a friend of this man whom the police were watching had utterly
dumbfounded me.
In the café there were two doors, one leading out into Regent Street
and the other into Glasshouse Street. At Whitlock's suggestion we rose
and passed out by the last-mentioned exit, in order not to be seen by
the pair now in such close consultation.
Outside, Whitlock and I passed round by the Café Monico into Regent
Street, in order to watch the pair if they should emerge that way,
while Kennedy remained idling near the door in Glasshouse Street.
"Who is that man?" I repeated, as I stood with Whitlock on the edge of
the opposite pavement, for I had no desire that Daisy should recognise
me.
"I believe him to be the man Drayton, though at present I am not
certain," was my friend's reply. "If he is, then the affair assumes a
very much stranger aspect than even it does at present."
"How?"
"Well, because this man is known. There's something very curious about
him. If he turns out to be Drayton, then we've tumbled upon one of the
most extraordinary cases of modern times."
His words held me breathless.
"Then you yourself believe him to be Drayton?" I inquired anxiously.
"I have no opinion," he said, correcting me. "Others have, and believe
him to be Drayton."
"And if he turns out to be Drayton?"
Whitlock pursed his lips and looked mysterious.
"Well, then we shall have to consider how to act. This man is, at
anyrate, a slippery customer, and I daresay has a revolver on him at
this moment. I wonder who the girl is? Not one of his crowd, evidently."
"Crowd?" I echoed. "Are there others?"
"Probably," he answered. "We want to find out something about this
interesting person. When he comes out I shall follow him."
"May I come?" I begged, for I wanted to see where Daisy intended going.
Whitlock hesitated.
"Yes," he replied at last. "Providing you promise to drop out when I
tell you. We must run no risk of recognition, remember, for this is a
serious inquiry--a very serious one."
"I'll promise to be discreet."
"Then let us follow them separately. It will be best."
That was just what I wanted, and scarcely had we finished speaking
when the door swung open and Daisy and her companion emerged. In an
instant I left Whitlock's side and turned away, so as not to meet
them. Another moment and I saw that they had mingled with the crowd of
foot-passengers going towards Leicester Square, therefore I followed
quickly.
The man suspected to be the Francis Douglas Drayton--the man whose
birth-certificate was in possession of the police--had linked his hand
in Daisy's arm and was piloting her through the crowd of homeward-bound
pleasure-seekers.
Whitlock, walking in the same direction, was not far from me as we
passed the entrance to the Pavilion, when of a sudden a dirty, unkempt
man, with a contents-bill and a bundle of papers in his hand, pushed
forward, and walking beside him cried--
"'Ere y'are, sir! _'Erald_, sir! Latest news, sir!"
I recognised the man. Whitlock, without pausing, indicated the pair
he was following, whereupon the fellow disappeared instantly into the
crowd. He was a policeman's "nose"--one of hundreds in London who give
the police information, and assist them in a variety of ways of which
the public never dream. The "nose" had been put on the watch, and
Whitlock knew that, wherever the man and his lady friend might go, the
humble seller of evening papers would keep a very watchful eye upon
them.
What he had told me about the man Drayton had greatly interested me.
If this man were actually the person suspected, then he was of bad
character and in no way fitted to be the companion of Daisy. With
eager, jealous eyes I watched them in anger and in wonder. What could
it mean?
Whitlock had suspected two persons--Julian Little and this unknown
young man of leisure. Utterly unconscious that they were being so
closely followed, the pair walked on past Wardour Street, along the
north side of Leicester Square, past the Empire--now closed and
dark--and on through Cranbourn Street, where, at the corner of Charing
Cross Road, the man halted as though in expectation of meeting somebody.
He glanced up and down. From across the way the unkempt man hawking his
papers was watching, while Whitlock had fallen back some distance.
I could see that Daisy was very anxious to leave him and get home, but
on his part he was persuading her to remain, apparently assuring her
that the man expected would arrive in a few moments.
At that midnight hour there was still plenty of life and movement, as
there always is in that quarter of London. The corner was not too well
lighted, now that the Hippodrome doors were closed, therefore there was
but little risk that Daisy would detect my presence there.
She was, I felt, in the hands of unscrupulous persons, and it was
well that I was there to protect her. Indeed, it required all my
self-possession to restrain myself from going boldly up to the man
suspected to be Drayton, and demanding what business he had with the
sweet-faced woman whose heart was mine.
To act thus, however, would ruin all Whitlock's plans. The present
inquiry was both important and difficult, for the mystery at Barnes
must, at all hazards, be cleared up. The affair had got upon my nerves,
and I was as keenly interested in every detail as was the renowned
police-officer himself.
Daisy, at her companion's urgent request, remained idling up and down
near the Hippodrome for about five minutes, when from the direction of
Long Acre there hurried a short, grey-bearded, shabbily-dressed little
man, who had the appearance of a foreigner.
I now saw the keen forethought of Whitlock in employing the services of
one of his unofficial agents.
The two men met, swiftly exchanging some quick words, for the old man
was breathless, and I saw also that he was slightly deformed.
Then Daisy was introduced to the sinister-looking, little old man
by her companion. His profuse manner in greeting her confirmed my
suspicion that he was a foreigner. The manner in which he raised his
shabby hat showed me that he was probably Italian.
He was, however, in great haste. His words to his friend were quick
and to the point. Both consulted their watches, as though making an
appointment to meet later; then, raising his hat again, the queer
little old fellow stepped into a hansom and, giving the man an address,
drove rapidly away.