MASTER OF THE SITUATION
"What have you come back here for?" Fenwick demanded. "You said you were
tired, and that you were going to bed, long ago."
The girl looked dreamily about her; it was some little time before she
appeared to appreciate the significance of Fenwick's question. She was
more like one who walks in her sleep than a human being in the full
possession of understanding.
"I don't know," she said, helplessly. She rubbed her eyes as if there had
been mist before them. "I was so tired that I lay on the bed without
undressing, and I fell fast asleep. Then I had a dream. I dreamed that
all the miserable past was forgotten, and that Charles was with me once
more. Then he seemed to call me, and I woke up. Oh, it was such a vivid
dream, so vivid, that I could not sleep again! I was so restless and
anxious, that I made up my mind to come downstairs, and, as I was passing
a door just now, it opened, and the face of Charles looked out. It was
only for a moment, then two men behind him dragged him back and the door
closed once more."
"A foolish fancy," Fenwick growled.
"It was not," the girl cried almost passionately. "I tried the door a
moment later, and it was locked. I tell you that Charles is in that room.
I cannot go to bed again until I am certain of the truth. Oh, why do you
keep me in suspense like this?"
"Mad," Fenwick muttered. "Mad as a March hare. Why don't you send her to
an asylum?"
"She is not mad," the cripple said in a curiously hard voice. "Something
tells me that she has made a discovery. You rascal, is it possible that
you have Charles Evors under this roof?"
Fenwick laughed, but there was something uneasy and strained about his
mirth. He glanced defiantly at the cripple, then his eyes dropped before
the latter's steady gaze.
"Why should I worry about Evors?" he asked. "The man is nothing to me,
and if by chance--"
The rest of Fenwick's sentence was drowned in a sudden uproar which
seemed to break out in a room overhead. The tense silence was broken by
the thud of heavy blows as if someone were banging on a door, then came
muttered shouts and yells of unmistakable pain. Hastily Fenwick rose from
his seat and made in the direction of the door. He had hardly advanced
two steps before he found himself confronted with the rim of a
silver-plated revolver, which the cripple was holding directly in the
line of his head.
"Sit down," the latter said tersely. "Sit down, or, as sure as I am a
living man, I'll fire. I could say that I fired the shot in self-defence,
and when the whole story comes to be told I have no fear that a jury
would disbelieve me. Besides, there is nothing to be afraid of. Those
sounds don't come from the police trying to force their way into the
house. On the contrary, it seems to me that some of your parasites are
having a misunderstanding over their cards. At any rate, you are not to
move. If you do, there will be an end once and for all of the millionaire
Mark Fenwick. Sit down, my child--you are trembling from head to foot."
"It was his voice," the girl cried. "I am certain that it was Charles who
called out just now."
Once more the shouts and cries broke out, once more came that banging on
the panels, followed by a splitting crash, after which the uproar
doubled. Evidently a door had given way and the conflict was being fought
out on the stairs.
"Shall we go and take a hand?" Gurdon whispered excitedly. "Murder might
be going on here."
"I think we had better risk it a little longer," was Venner's cautious
reply. "After all is said and done, we must not make ourselves too
prominent. If necessary we will take a hand, but, unless I am greatly
mistaken, the prisoner upstairs has got the better of his captors. Ah, I
thought so."
The sound of strife overhead suddenly ceased after two smashing blows,
in which evidently a man's clenched fist had come in contact with naked
flesh. There was a groan, the thud of a falling body, and the man in the
list slippers came rolling down the stairs. He was followed a moment
later by a young clean-shaven man dressed in a grey Norfolk suit. His
frame suggested power and strength, though his face was white like that
of one who is just recovering from a long illness. He was breathing very
hard, but otherwise he did not appear to have suffered much in the
struggle out of which he had emerged in so victorious a fashion. He made
his way direct to the drawing-room, and immediately a woman's voice
uprose in a long wailing cry.
"I'd give something to see that," Venner whispered. "Only I am afraid we
can't do anything until the man in the list slippers comes to his senses
and takes himself off. There is another one coming now. He doesn't look
much better off than his colleague."
Another man crept down the stairs, swaying as he came and holding on to
the balusters. He had a tremendous swelling over his left eye and a
terrible gash in his lip, from which the blood was flowing freely.
Altogether he presented a terrible aspect as he bent over the prostrate
form of his unconscious companion.
"Here, get up, wake up," he said. "What are you lying there for? He'll
be out of the house before we can turn round, and what will the governor
say then?"
The man in the slippers gradually assumed a sitting position and stared
stupidly about him. A hearty kick in the ribs seemed to restore him to
some measure of consciousness.
"Don't ask me," he said. "I never saw anything like it. Here's a chap who
has been in bed on and off for months coming out in this unexpected
manner and knocking us about as if we had been ninepins. What's become of
him, I should like to know?"
"What are you two ruffians doing there?" came Fenwick's voice from the
drawing-room. "Go back to your room, and I will send for you when I
want you."
The men slunk back again, probably by no means sorry to be out of further
trouble. No sooner had they disappeared than the two friends stood in the
entrance to the door of the drawing-room once more. The friendly mirror
again stood them in good stead, for by its aid they watched as dramatic
and thrilling a picture as ever was presented on any stage.
The young man in the Norfolk suit stood there side by side with the girl
in white. He had his arm about her waist. She clung to him, with her head
upon his shoulder; there were words of endearment on her lips. Just for
the moment she seemed to have forgotten that they were not alone; all
the world might have been made for herself and her lover. For the moment,
too, the dreamy look had left her face, and she no longer conveyed the
impression to a stranger's eyes that she was suffering from some form of
insanity. She was alert and vigorous once more.
"Oh, I knew that you would come back to me," she said. "I knew that you
were not dead, for all they told me so. How cruel they were to tell me
these things--"
"Stop," the cripple cried. "It sounds cruel and heartless for me to have
to interfere just now, but I must insist that you go back to your room,
Beth. Back at once."
"Can't I stay a little longer?" the girl pleaded. "It is such a long time
since Charles and I--"
"No, no, you must do as I tell you. It will be far better in the long
run. We are only two men against three, and there may be others concealed
in the house for all I know. For myself, I am perfectly helpless, and
Charles looks as if he had just come from the grave. Evidently his
struggles have tried him."
"Well, I must confess, I am feeling rather down," Charles Evors said. "I
could not stand it any longer, and I made a dash for liberty. Goodness
knows how long I have been in the hands of those men; and how long they
have kept me under the influence of drugs. I suppose the supply fell
short. Anyway, I had just sense enough to take advantage of my first
opportunity. You can explain all to me presently, but the mere fact of
Fenwick being here is enough to tell me who is at the bottom of this
business."
Fenwick placed his fingers to his lips and whistled shrilly. Almost
immediately sounds of footsteps broke out overhead, and a door opened
somewhere with a loud crash. The cripple turned to the girl, who had
crept reluctantly as far as the doorway.
"Now listen to me," he said quickly. "Listen and act quickly. Go
downstairs into the street and bring here the first policeman you can
find. Tell him a violent quarrel has broken out between Mr. Bates and
some of his guests, and say you fear that some mischief will be done. Do
you understand me?"
The girl nodded quickly. Evidently she quite understood. She
disappeared so suddenly that Venner and Gurdon had barely time to get
out of her way. They heard the street door open--they were conscious of
the sudden draught rushing up the stairs; the sound of passing cabs was
distinctly audible.
The girl had hardly time to get outside before three or four men came
down the stairs. They rushed headlong into the drawing-room, where they
seemed to pause, no doubt deterred in their violence for a moment by the
sight of the cripple's revolver.
"Here's our chance," Gurdon whispered. "The girl will be back with the
police in two minutes, and we have heard quite enough to know the
ingenious scheme which is uppermost in the cripple's mind. Let's lock
them in. Don't you see that the key is in on this side of the door? Turn
it quickly."
"Good business," Gurdon chuckled as he snapped the key in the lock. "Now
they can fight as long as they like. At any rate, they can't do much
mischief so long as they are caged in there."
A din of mingled voices came from the other side of the door, followed
quickly by the whiplike crack of a revolver shot. Then someone tried the
door and yelled aloud that it was locked. Fists battered violently on the
panels, and just as the din was at its height the helmets of two
policemen appeared mounting the stairs. Venner stepped coolly forward as
if he had every right to be there.
"I'm glad you officers have come," he said. "There seems to be something
in the nature of a free fight going on here. We took the liberty of
turning in as the door was open to see what had happened. You had better
go in yourself."
The policeman tried the door, which, naturally, did not yield to his
hand, and he called out to those inside to open in the name of the law. A
voice on the other side pleaded that the door was locked. Venner turned
the key in the door.
"Probably the young lady had the sense to lock them in," he said. "You
had better go inside, officer. No, there is no reason why we should
accompany you. As a matter of fact our presence here is more or less an
intrusion."
The policemen stepped into the room and demanded to know what was the
matter. They could see the master of the house sitting there in his
chair, with a tall young man in a Norfolk suit by his side, and opposite
him Fenwick, flushed and sullen, with his satellites behind him. There
were four of them altogether, and the appearance they made was by no
means attractive, seeing that two at least of them were showing
unmistakable signs of violence.
It was the cripple who first recovered his self-possession.
"I am sorry to trouble you," he said, "but I am afraid we have rather
forgotten ourselves. You know me, of course?"
"Oh, yes, sir," the first officer replied. "You are Mr. Bates, the
gentleman who is supposed to have been kidnapped the other night; the
inspector told me that you were still on the Continent."
"Well, I am not," the cripple said curtly. "I am back home again, as you
can see with your own eyes. The gentleman over there with the yellow
face is Mr. Mark Fenwick, the well-known millionaire. I daresay you have
heard of him."
Both officers touched their hats respectfully; they had probably come
here prepared to make more than one arrest and thus cover themselves with
comparative glory; but the mere mention of Fenwick's name settled that
point once and for all.
"As you are probably aware," the cripple went on, "until quite recently
Mr. Fenwick was staying at the Great Empire Hotel, but the place was too
public for one of his gentle and retiring disposition, and so he made
arrangements to take my house furnished, though the understanding was
that nobody should know anything about it, and nobody would have known
anything about it but for the fact that in the way of business Mr.
Fenwick had to consult these other gentlemen. Perhaps they don't look in
the least like it, but they are all American capitalists, having made
their money by gold mining. They don't look a very attractive lot,
officer, but if you knew them as well as I do you would learn to love
them for their many engaging qualities, and their purity of heart."
The officers touched their helmets again, and appeared to be undecided in
their minds as to whether the cripple was chaffing them or not. But
though his voice had a certain playfulness of tone, his face was quite
grave and steadfast.
"Very well, sir," the foremost of the constables said. "I understand that
neither of you gentlemen desires to make any charge against the other. I
shall have to make a note of this."
"Of course you will," the cripple said sweetly. "Now I appeal to Mr.
Fenwick and his companions as to whether or not the whole thing has not
been a silly misunderstanding. You see, officer, gold mining is rather a
thirsty business, and occasionally leads to rather more champagne than is
good for one. I can only apologise to my tenant, Mr. Fenwick, for losing
my temper, and I will at once rid him of my presence. It is getting very
late, and I can come round in the morning and make my peace here. As I am
a little lame, I will ask one of you officers to give me your arm.
Charles, will you be good enough to give me your arm also? I wish you
good-night, Mr. Fenwick. In fact, I wish all of you good-night. I shall
not fail to call round in the morning--"
"But you are not going," Fenwick cried in dismay. "You are not going away
from your own house at this time of night?"
"You forget," the cripple said, gravely, "that for the time being you are
my tenant, and that I have no more right in this house, indeed, not so
much right, as one of these policemen. I have sent my servants away, and
I am at present staying--in fact, it does not matter much where I am
staying. Come along."
The trap was so neatly laid and so coolly worked that Fenwick could only
sit and gasp in his chair, while his two victims walked quietly away in
the most natural manner in the world.
"We had better be off," Gurdon whispered. "There is no occasion for us to
stay any longer. Let us follow the cripple. By Jove, I never saw anything
done more neatly than that!"