THE MYSTERIOUS MR STONOR
About half-past ten o'clock Whitlock, who appeared uncommonly restless,
announced his intention of going out for another stroll along the
promenade. The night was bright and glorious, therefore I accompanied
him, and we turned our faces towards the myriad lights of the town
lying in its valley.
Crossing the Spa Bridge we were quickly in the vicinity of the Grand
Hotel, when he suddenly said he wished to call at the post-office again.
In Huntriss Row he left me for a few moments.
"We've had bad luck," he said, on rejoining me. "The telegram has been
returned not delivered, as the addressee has left the hotel."
"And we don't know where he may have gone to."
"He's probably on his way here," my friend said. "And now we have to
decide whether to leave, or whether to wait and face him."
"In either case his sister will tell him of her suspicions," I remarked.
"That's the dickens of it. I was a confounded fool to say that I knew
him. I ought to have started the matter in another way," he declared,
as we strolled slowly along together by the way we had come. At that
hour there were very few people about, for Scarborough retires to bed
early.
"Suppose we remain till he comes home--what will happen?" I queried.
"Both of them are in deadly fear, and he'll clear out again as soon as
ever she warns him."
"In fear of what?"
"Ah, that's the question!" he laughed. "That's what we must find out in
the course of the next few days."
"Well, if he bolts you can have him watched. He would have bolted just
the same had he got his sister's telegram."
"Certainly; but it isn't wise that he should see me yet. I may have to
watch him myself," Whitlock pointed out. "If I only had a man here I'd
disappear to-night, and leave him to meet Stonor and watch where he
bolts to. At all hazards he must not know me yet. I've blundered badly,
and must try and recover lost ground."
"In that case why shouldn't you leave Kazan House, and I'll remain?"
I suggested. "You can keep watch at the railway station for our
appearance."
"No. If you'll wait here I'll disappear until you follow him and
ascertain his hiding-place. Then I can appear on the scene and you can
return to London. I'll go and see your people at the office to-morrow
and explain your absence, if you like."
"Very well," I agreed.
"Then I shan't come into that house any more. Here's the key of my bag.
You can abandon it when you go away, for you'll be off so suddenly you
won't be able to pay Mrs Pennington her bill. Make an excuse for me
to-morrow morning. Tell what lie you like. You've always said you'd
like to do a bit of inquiry work, Keene, and now's your chance."
"I'm delighted," I said, not without some excitement. "Rest assured
that I'll act with promptness and discretion, and wire to you as soon
as I have anything to report."
He gave me certain injunctions, and then, at the foot of the Valley
Bridge, we parted, and he turned back into the town, leaving me in
charge of the inquiry into one of the most sensational and important
London mysteries of the past half-century.
I walked back along the deserted Esplanade to Kazan House, wondering
whether the man Stonor was already on his way from London. He had
left the Hotel Russell, which seemed as though he had started on the
homeward journey. Whitlock had told me that there was a train due in
from London about half-past eleven.
He might come by that.
So, entering the house, I sat alone listening for an arrival. Midnight
struck, and I heard Mrs Pennington turning out the gas in the hall and
bolting the front door. It was evident that she did not expect her
brother that night.
Before I could get to sleep I lay for hours deeply reflecting. It was
nearly a year ago since Louise Lorimer had had her photograph taken in
Bond Street. But with what object did Mrs Pennington persist in those
denials?
Was this man, whose existence we had discovered in such curious
circumstances, the actual assassin? Somehow, notwithstanding all the
varied suspicions of the past few days, I became convinced that it was
actually Stonor who had killed the woman. Had not his sister declared
to us that the pair were enemies? Had she not asserted that they would
never, in the future, be upon friendly terms? Without doubt, that man
had evidently an object in getting rid of the girl.
But who was his enemy? Whose hand had written that curious Press
message which had caused us to go to Woburn Square and find the dead
woman's portrait? That it had been done by an enemy was certain. Yet
how could the person in question have surmised that we should discover
Stonor's existence? Mrs Pennington was filled with fear regarding her
brother's safety, and had secretly warned him. Therefore she must be in
possession of knowledge of his guilt.
The telegraph notice of non-delivery had not been sent to her. Whitlock
had delayed it until the morning, therefore the woman had gone to her
room in the full belief that her brother, having received word from
her, would disappear.
A thousand regrets concerning Daisy arose within me. Her last words
rang ever in my ears. Loving her as fondly as I did, I somehow refused
to believe those allegations against her. The world is cruel to every
woman, and the pure and virtuous are for ever suffering equally with
their erring sisters. Women are the bitterest enemies towards their own
sex, for gossip, lightly said, easily ruins the reputation of the most
honest and upright, and whispers about defenceless women pass swiftly
from mouth to mouth. A man will always seek to conceal a woman's
shortcomings, while a woman invariably endeavours to expose them.
It was a woman who was Daisy's enemy, and who had told Whitlock that
extraordinary story of what he had referred to as a "double life." Of
that I was convinced. Some woman, jealous, perhaps, of my love's good
looks, was seeking to ruin her. Who was she? I wondered. I resolved to
discover her identity and learn the truth with my own ears. It was the
only way.
Before my eyes, as I lay with the gas turned low and my ears strained
to catch every sound, arose a hateful vision--the face of the young man
I had first seen in the Gambrinus, Francis Drayton. They said he was
her lover. What proof had I of that? A very plain one, surely. She had
forsaken me.
I clenched my hands in anger as I realised the ghastly truth. I was
the victim of that man. But he should, I determined, answer to me for
any wrong that he might have done to her. Daisy had been mine, and she
still should be. I loved her, and I still believed as I had always
believed--that she was pure and good.
How long I slept I do not know. I dozed many times, until at last I
found the sun shining in from across the sea, and rose. When I sat
down to my breakfast alone it was just nine. Five minutes previously
Mrs Pennington had entered the room fussily, and I had explained my
friend's absence. He had gone to York on urgent business, and would be
back in the evening. He was a civil engineer, I casually explained,
and had gone to York concerning the plans for a new bridge which the
corporation were proposing to build.
In this she became much interested. It puzzled her, for she no doubt
entertained some suspicion of my friend's real calling. Then, when I
had ordered luncheon, she left the room.
For an hour I idled over the paper, sitting near the window, whence I
had a view along the Esplanade in the direction of the town. Every cab
that passed caused my heart to beat quickly. A number of people were
taking their morning stroll along the cliff, for the day was perfect
and the sea unusually blue for the Yorkshire coast. I longed to be able
to go for a stroll myself, but was prevented by the fact that Stonor
might return at any moment.
In ignorance that her warning had not reached her brother, Mrs
Pennington, believing him safe, had grown quite calm again. But it was
a waiting game. I had, of course, no certainty that he would come,
beyond the woman's expectation expressed on the previous night. That
expectation was that he would arrive in the evening, while it was as
yet the forenoon.
Impatient to be active, I waited in all the morning, seated nearly the
whole time at the same point of vantage, whence I could see without
being seen.
The day wore on. I had lunched, and was seated in the armchair with
a cigarette when I heard the clip-clap of a horse's hoofs upon the
asphalt outside, and springing up I saw a station-fly stop before the
door. From it descended a man whom I saw in a moment was the person I
expected.
A trifle stout, aged about forty-five, with small moustache turning
grey, round-faced, and with ruddy cheeks, he wore a well-cut blue serge
suit and a felt hat. The cabman carried his kit-bag inside the hall,
and receiving his fare drove away.
All this happened within a few moments, and in the brief few seconds
from the instant of alighting until he entered the house I was able to
obtain a good look at his rather bloated features.
His reappearance had, no doubt, entirely upset his sister. My first
object was not to be seen. As soon as she told him her suspicions
he would endeavour to get sight of me. Therefore, I saw that if the
surveillance was to be conducted successfully I must make myself scarce
before he had time to see me. With that object I placed one or two of
my possessions in my pockets, slipped on my coat, took my hat, and went
down the stairs as noiselessly as I could until I gained the front
door, out of which I walked straight, taking great care that anyone who
might be at the lower windows would not be able to get a glimpse of my
features.
I walked straight along the Esplanade, crossed by the Spa Bridge, and
went up through the town to the station. There I left my overcoat, and
going forth again to an outfitter's shop in Westborough, I purchased a
light grey coat and a brown hat, which I assumed, telling the shopman
to send my own coat to London. Therefore, save for my dark tweed
trousers, my appearance was changed from what it was when I had left
Kazan House.
Then I went back to the station, feeling convinced that sooner or later
Stonor would return there in order to get away at once. As he had not
seen my face I would be able to watch and learn his destination.
There was no train to York for another hour and a half, so, feeling
sure that he would make for York, as from there he could get rapidly
anywhere, I idled in the refreshment-bar. Indeed, I hung about the
place for hours, spending a very weary time. The longer Stonor remained
at his sister's house the more remarkable would my absence be regarded.
Though I might have to wait there many hours, I nevertheless had the
satisfaction of knowing that the fugitive must leave that station
sooner or later.
The sunset faded and evening was creeping on, when, soon after half
past five, I saw a porter come upon the platform carrying a bag I
recognised, and behind him Stonor himself. At the moment I was looking
at some books upon the stall, but I saw that the man glanced furtively
up and down, as though in fear lest he might be followed. But he walked
to the York train, where his bag was put into a first-class smoker, he
afterwards purchasing a paper and entering the compartment. Presently
I saw a ticket inspector commence the work of examination at the rear
of the train, and half a crown in his palm resulted in his statement a
few minutes later that the destination of "the gentleman in the first
smoker" was King's Cross.
He was returning to London.
Therefore, I got a ticket myself and entered a third-class compartment
near the engine. Up to the present he was, I saw, entirely unsuspicious
of me.
But had I only known what the result of my boldness was to be, I don't
think I should ever have dared to face the risk.
That moment proved to be the opening of a series of very strange, very
remarkable, and withal exciting adventures, which, if you will bear
with me, I will chronicle as briefly as possible.
They will, I am confident, amaze you, as much as they amazed myself.