THE PROBLEM OF AN EMPTY HOUSE
The discovery of my identity, combined no doubt with the fact that
I had disarmed Marco, put an end to any thought of resistance, so I
pulled him up and forced him against the wall, and kicked his bag and
coat close to his feet.
“Now, Marco, tell me who is in that house and be quick about it.”
“Will you let me go if I do?”
“I’ll hand you to the police if you don’t. You went to the railway
station to-night and took some tickets. I saw you and then followed you
here. You went into the second house across the road. Now who are in
there?”
“Barosa, Maral, Countess Inglesia and Mademoiselle Dominguez,” he said
sullenly after a slight pause.
“Who else?”
“No one.”
“What have you come out for now?”
“If I tell you everything, will you let me go?”
I repeated my question.
“To fetch a carriage. Mademoiselle Dominguez is in no danger,” he
added, thinking probably to appease me. “She is going to leave with us,
and her mother is to join us at the station. I took a letter to her
this evening. If I tell you everything, will you let me go?”
As a matter of fact I wished to get rid of him now that I had obtained
the information I needed. But I did not let him know it.
“No,” I answered fiercely with an oath. “You tried to murder me
yesterday, you villain, and you shall pay for it with your life. I have
the police in hiding close here and I’ll give you to them!” Then I made
a pretence of hauling him away, but at the time I stooped as if to pick
up his bag and loosened my hold of him.
He saw his chance and took it. He tore himself free, pushed me
violently away, snatched up his bag and coat and darted off. With a cry
of rage, I started in pursuit, but I went no more than a few yards,
just far enough to convince him I was in earnest, and then returned to
my corner well satisfied to have got rid of him so easily.
His information put a different complexion on matters. As he was going
for the carriage which was to take Barosa and the rest to the station,
the time for their departure must be drawing near; and when he did not
return, some one would probably come out to look for him, or they would
all have to start for the station on foot.
I could well afford to wait for either result. Miralda was safe thus
far, and, according to Marco, was willing to trust to Inez and Barosa
to get her away from the city. The two latter had probably patched up
a peace, and it was no doubt Inez’ plan to have the viscontesse with
them--as a useful check on Barosa.
About a quarter of an hour later the door of the house opened and some
one looked out. I could not distinguish whether it was a man or a
woman, however, as my attention had been distracted by three or four
men at some distance away who were coming down the hill in my direction.
I made out soon afterwards that they were police, and as I did not wish
to be seen and questioned at that moment, I slipped along the by-street
and hid in a doorway nearly opposite the house I was watching, to hide
there until they had passed.
Before they reached the turning, however, some one in the disguise of
an old man came out of the house and shambled along toward the corner.
It must be either Barosa or Maral, I knew; and as it would vastly
simplify things if I could scare him away as I had scared Marco, I
slipped like a shadow across the road and got between him and the house.
He heard me and turned.
“I arrest you, Dr. Barosa,” I cried, and started as if to run after him.
Taking me for a police agent, he paused a second, drew out his
revolver, and then, thinking probably he could both save himself by
flight and prevent the others in the house being discovered, he turned
round and bolted.
But in avoiding me, he ran right into the arms of the police who
reached the corner of the street at the same minute. There was a short
sharp scuffle, a cry or two of astonishment, a gruff call to surrender,
a pause, and then a shot.
One of the police fell, and I saw Barosa break away, reach the middle
of the road, and raise his hand to his head. A flash and a report
followed, he lurched heavily and then dropped, as a drunken man drops,
nervelessly and all in a heap.
Everything had occurred with such dramatic swiftness that I could
scarcely realize it. In a few seconds a number of people came hurrying
up, attracted by the noise of the shots, and as they crowded round the
police, I joined them and edged through to the front.
The man whom Barosa had shot was sitting on the doorstep of the house
at the corner, hatless and very white, but I heard one of his comrades
say that he was not seriously hurt.
Two others had carried Barosa close to the same spot and were bending
down, examining his wound and feeling his heart for the pulse.
“Dead,” announced one of them with an oath, and as he rose I saw
Barosa’s face. The false beard and wig he had been wearing had fallen
off in the scuffle; and the right cheek and temple were discoloured
with the powder, the blue-black mark showing plainly in contrast to the
grey pallor of the face.
He had chosen death rather than imprisonment; and after my experiences
of one night in that hell, I was not surprised.
The police did not recognize him and had no idea that he was a man of
any importance.
“Does any one know him?” was asked, and some half-dozen of those
present pressed forward, looked at him, and shook their heads.
I took advantage of the movement to back away, and as I turned I came
face to face with Maral. He had not seen Barosa, and I did not mean
that he should. Very much to his surprise, I linked my arm in his and
drew him away across the mouth of the street to the corner from which I
had kept my watch.
“Come with me or you are lost,” I said in a low voice.
“Who are you?”
“You are Sebastian Maral. The police are there. You must fly or you
will be taken.”
“Who are you?”
“A friend if you go, an enemy if you stay. My name does not matter. A
secret agent--but you once did me a good turn. I am going to raid the
second house over there. I give you a chance to fly; if you stay I must
hand you to my comrades.”
“But I----”
I cut him short. “Say which it shall be. Quick. I can’t give you
another moment or I shall be seen with you. Are there any men left in
that house? We have taken Barosa.”
An oath burst from him and he began to tremble. “There are only two
women there. But--”
At that instant there was a movement among the little throng across
the street. Two or three of the people went running past us and I saw
others hurrying in the opposite direction. They were sent by the police
probably in search of a conveyance.
“My men are coming. Which is it to be. Quick,” I said, and let go my
hold of him. He hesitated for no more than a second and then, tossing
his hands up in despair, he turned away, walked a few steps, then
quickened his pace, and at last ran at full speed.
Barosa having been caught as he was leaving the little side street, it
was possible that the police might take a fancy to search some of the
houses, so I deemed it prudent to hang about until they had gone and
the commotion caused by the affair had subsided.
Two carriages arrived almost together, one from each direction. Barosa
and the wounded man were placed in one and the police drove away. The
driver of the other was moving off, grumbling at having been brought
there for nothing, when I stepped into the roadway and hailed him.
“Drive away and come back in a quarter of an hour, and wait at this
corner for me,” I told him.
“Wouldn’t your highness like a four-in-hand?” he asked with a
contemptuous jeer at my poverty-stricken appearance.
A milreis changed his sneer to a glance of curiosity and amazement. “It
will pay you to do what I say and keep your tongue between your teeth,”
I said curtly.
“I’ll be here,” he replied, and rattled away down the hill.
I crossed to the house at once and knocked lightly at the door. No one
opened it; so I knocked again, a little louder; and again a third
time. Still with no result. The house was, as I have said, all in
darkness, and, although I listened intently, I could not hear a sound.
It was probable that either the three men had had keys or that the door
was to be opened only in response to some agreed knock. I did not know
it, of course, and might stay there rapping all night without being
admitted.
Both Inez and Miralda would be intensely alarmed by the failure of the
three men to return and if they had heard Barosa’s shot or had seen
anything of the commotion that followed, they would certainly conclude
that the three had been arrested and mistake my summons for that of the
police bent upon effecting an arrest.
It was a most provoking and unexpected check. I left the door and
fumbled my way round to the back to try and get admittance there. I
was no expert at burgling, but even if I had been I should have been
puzzled how to get into this house. There was a door at the back
letting out upon a small garden; but it was securely fastened, and
every window in the lower part of the house was protected by both
outside bars and inside shutters. It was hopeless to try and force them.
There was a stack pipe running up to the gutter at the roof; but it
was so placed that if I climbed it I could not reach any window except
one on the top floor; and an attempt to enter that way meant a very
considerable risk that I should break my neck. There was no urgent
necessity to run such a risk, so I went round again to the front of the
house to look for a chance of getting in there.
It was no more promising than the back, so far as the windows within
reach were concerned.
It was almost ludicrous to find myself in such a fix. Here was I able
and eager to save both Inez and Miralda; and there were they shivering
with panic and regarding me as an enemy bent on their destruction
and arrest; and only this infernal locked door and the barred windows
between us.
I tried knocking again, but with no better result than before, and then
it occurred to me that although I had examined the front and the back
and one side, I had not inspected the fourth side.
The chances of breaking in there were better. There was a small
projection built about half-way up the house with a window level with
the first floor, which did not appear to have either shutters or bars.
A stack pipe offered a chance of reaching this window, and although
the pipe was unpleasantly insecure I judged that even if it gave way I
could not hurt myself much, as there was a flower bed with some shrubs
on the spot where I should fall.
I began the ascent very cautiously, digging my toes into the courses of
the bricks where I could, and carefully testing the bearing strain of
the pipe before trusting my full weight on it. It was a very difficult
business, for part of my disguise consisted of a long overcoat which
hampered almost every step I took.
But I made the ascent safely and managed to get a grip of the window
ledge, and then, pulling myself up till my chin was level with the
window, I found a slender but sufficient hold for my feet on a ledge of
the brickwork.
To my relief the window was unfastened. I opened it very cautiously,
climbed in over the sill, into a tiny room quite bare of furniture.
I listened intently and, not hearing a sound, tried the handle of
the door. To my intense chagrin, it was locked. It seemed as if some
diabolical ingenuity was at work to prevent my effecting Miralda’s
rescue.
The door opened outwards and that made it easier for me to force it;
but I was loth to make the row which this would cause and so advertise
the fact that I was in the house.
It had to be done, however, so I put my shoulder to it and tried first
to force it open with quiet pressure. This proving unavailing I dashed
myself against it with all my weight and strength. At the third attempt
it yielded with a crash which echoed through the house, making a din
which would have roused the heaviest sleeper in the remotest part of
the building.
Then I stood listening again intently. Not a sound. I was close to the
head of the stairs. Fearing that the noise I had made would scarce Inez
and Miralda half out of their senses, I tried to reassure them.
“Miralda, Miralda. It is I, Ralph,” I called loudly, but only the echo
of my own voice replied.
Disconcerted at this, I lit a match and hurried through the rooms,
calling her name as I went. I searched first those on the floor where I
was; next those above, and then went below.
Save for the scanty furniture, the house was empty, and there was not a
sign that Miralda had ever been in it.